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WitheredWings Nov 2011
Why can’t we do this
Why am I not allowed to love
Why would I never get your kiss
Why would you never love?

Come on now, they love you they say
Put you in your social place only to stay
Stay there until you find him there
A person that knows and will care

But
Why can’t I fall in love with another
How is me, blushing, such a bother
What obliges me to not want a touch
Or a kiss or a caress or such?

Stop it, they tell me
This is not how it’s meant to be
You know your status and how you look
You know he picks up girls rather than a book

But
Here I stand, my own team
Trying to fight for love
Trying to fulfill my dream.
Brycical Sep 2012
When the vast majority
of a population decides
to define something.
Steve Page Oct 2017
Today we have the labeling of people groups.
Yesterday we had the suggestion of an inherent disposition to dishonesty and violence in some groups.
Tomorrow we will have the careful counting of individuals and the placing of individuals into each people group.
But today,
today we have the labeling of people groups.

For those of you who are new here, we recommend this period drama underlining racial differences with a subtle suggestion of inferior intellect in some groups indigenous to warmer climes.
And here we have a persuasive and tabloid friendly research paper that hints that children of mixed race tend to struggle in school. You'll be relieved to see that it hasn't any distracting data.
And on the shelf beneath you'll see there's a picture book version for younger children.

Over here is the arbitary divide between us and them, with a useful circle of arguments to differentiate ourselves from others.
Here we have colour coded lables to more easily distinguish between  people groups. Yes, that's correct, we have three labels: white, black and, a recent addition which is now available for added distinction, rainbow.
Oh yes, when engaging in any discussions, for your own safety please ensure you wear these ear defenders.
To ensure a free flow of visitors we have erected large signs in three languages marking where charity at home ends. Yes, after rigorous focus group testing we have selected the English language in three font sizes.

We are coming to the end of this orientation tour.  Please note the subtle but effective shedding of compassion for those who appear or sound different to us.  This underpins the necessary disregard for the rights of others that we assume for ourselves and for those like us. It is almost imperceptible I think you'll agree.

But the priority for today, as I say, is the labeling of people groups. 
No questions.
Shall we begin?
Prompted by Through by David Herd.
Lori  Nov 2018
Lables
Lori Nov 2018
Belittled by the labels i was trapped in the four walls of my own mind
g clair  Sep 2013
skuff marks
g clair Sep 2013
"Skuff marks" he says
with disgust in his voice
and he looks at my shoes
and says, "Garbage."

We both knew from before
what they'd do to his floor
but I wore them
in spite of the carnage.

They went with the look
I snuck into my nook
and plastered the heels with
green lables.

"Advance Directives" now
"Floor Protectives"
the scuffle and stuff
it disables.

I don't advertise
my messes or lies
they just find themselves out
and what's more...
I simply rely on
the passing of time
now it's green from my heels
on the floor.
Delaney Dunn May 2014
The summer you came along I found myself running red lights and passing stop signs. I lived like I was on fire and you were the one who kept those flames ignited. I disregarded the caution signs that stood in front of you for miles when I was making my way towards you and now I can only wish that I had paid more attention to the warning lables. The winter that you left, I washed away my flames with tears that settled beneath my eyes and as those tears mixed with each sleepless night the ash piles grew bigger and I wondered how much I could hold. Those days, I lived furiously but more importantly I lived with you by my side. That summer you came along you left your marks on me like foofootprints in wet cement. I knew that those marks could never be undone so I convinced myself that you had to stay so maybe that's why the winter that you left I didn't drive when the light turned green and I didn't pass the stop sign even after I was sure there were no cars passing through. I hoped that I could fill your void so I cast my shadow so wide that almost everyone seemed to fit under my wing. When I realized that I could only find your eyes in every pair I looked into, I had to move away from my shadow. That summer you came around I found what it meant to be the worst version of myself and the winter you left I found what it meant to not remember what I ever was before I fell in love with you.
Ottar Apr 2015
eyes that drink it in,
eyes that glaze, eyes tempted sin,
walk, drive, hear or see,

        scent or feel,
what has this to do with me,
is it all the outside objects of desire for poetry,
is it for a friend,
is it at the end of the day, in a wild free-
verse way, is this a dress rehearsal for after-play,

in love,
of love, gone astray
of self-image, renovation reconstruction,
but you can no longer see the dysfunction,
but,
but;
the broken exploded pieces of your heart,
are lodged in every nerve, you can only writhe
to your pain.  

you have meter, you have mitre, cut the rhythm so
close to perfection, a pentameter of frustration, first
name, iambic.

Will you be content,
with the content,
language sounds
hard and rounds,
soft supple syl-
lables slipping silently,
off your tongue,

the strongest muscle,
a double edged, an implement,
sword for word play too.

Poetry is special, as those who strive
to write it,
they may be life lessons shared
to right their ship,
poetry may be long,
it may be short,
you may
write in
privacy,
and no one will
ever read your poetry,
but if they do, you may know, that their
life has changed, and they may never thank you.

And as I often do and this is not an insult but
sometimes true, though I write poetry from
that awful place of woe in me, I seldom
see myself a poet. But my Muse I believe
and it tells me that I am.
Are there two Haiku?
You think, you speak... you wander, you crave... you search for meaning you search for love. You say you love and hate and maple syrup lables follow the species to the grave... you ask forgiveness you ask for respect you find the ones you know the best. Its all so sad its all so real, its all an illusion cast from the reeling.. ask youself now, why is the atomic nature of thought without any origin we can dictate, why do we think others have an answer... its the absurd nature kicking the tires of our ball spinning in oblivion... ask yourself...
Ken Pepiton Dec 2020
The merged generations, emerge from first
cold night in the mountains,
announcing,
This is screen-free Sunday.
I say this is the first day of ever after.
I read a bit
-- Infinite Jest, just a stream that contributes,
from time
to time, finity to finity, a dead man's former
mind fitted into words,
emanating from
the audible version of the words processed
in the Nineties, flowing through the
post I-Mac realm of words to the wise
and otherwise,

flooding the lexagraphic learners of grammar
for sense in silence,
self-reading silently,
breathing commas,
allow our pauses to perpetuate se per
selah… say

la la la
as time flows by, like a wild river in the spring,

Infinite Jest, there is a thread
through environs unimaginable to me,
until the inventions were given as inspirations,

did you know, I heard,
Steve Jobs yoosta
stand in the comode,
and flush it, gnoshit. In a state
like meditation,

zoned out of bounds in mere mistaken chance,
ping ping ping

a good idea, a bell of a thought.

We think in words, not all minds do.

Plenty punishments puns provideo please
if -ish is sortalike… shitilised, four syl-lables
la la la
ra ra ra, boom

sort on those, and mix up the story,
in the bubble you be reading in,

give us a universe, fit into the final bubble,
beyond imagining minds,
this world of words.

Here is where we word wise do as we heard,
when we read what the prophets say,
the angels said… re-
conciliation - nation to nation, peace
on earth {as in heaven BTW}
goodwill… the real deal, to fill the flaw, in the law,
which allowed imaginary places power
in carnal minds.

Jesus fixed that. Jah, no joke, he took it,
the joke on me, I traded for the
joke on you, he said,
I heard.
First day of ever, after the grands and their dogs and disgruntled cats, moved into my fortress of solitude... life is now a serial story epic song.
I think we have a different sort of problem now...
One which has probably always plagued us,
Sometimes its embrace has held hold of us for so long
Realities were changed
The concept of "the other"
A simple idea, that you are not like me
A mechanism of the smallest
Most unevolved parts of our brains
Yet without which we could not "be"
The sense that
I am
The sense that
you are not what I call "me"
The basest recognition that we are different
How simple an idea - independent consciousness
That even genetically identical twins
Can recognize themselves from each other
"The other"
We've weaponized this basic perceptual function
Since the very dawn of our species
And through complexities of
Environment
Genetic bottlenecks
Genocides
We are all "I" now
Nearly 9 billion "I"s
All seeking an ability to be "we"
That is the basic function of civilization
To define "me" among the "we" and split our burden of work
For the greater survival of the "us"
But "us" is so much weaker than "we"
"Us" desperate in our divisions still seeking to be "I"
In a complex infrastructure that "me" can be a part of "we"...
This is how humanity is gas-lit and misled
Told to always be seeking, and never to be sought,
And if the "I" of a "me" is charismatic enough...
"We" let them lead "we" and in doing so
define an "us"
For now
Civilization must be governed
but "we" continue to give away all of our "I"s
to be "me" among the "we"
In theory to push "us" to progress
It's why terrorism has the wrong name
Each ruling faction in history
Was a "terrorist" to someone else
- to have made someone afraid
"Terrorism" seems to declare that the objective
Is nothing more than fear - so reductive
A sentiment to dehumanize their "us"
and label their "we" - "them"
To make their "we" less than our "us"
I prefer Organized Non-Unified State Actors (ONUS)
"Terrorism" sounds like an individual act
Coordinated by a conspiracy of individual acts
Robbing "their" identities of recognition
- which is probably what it all is ultimately about to begin with
"They" do not fit the fold of the agreements of the many civilized "we"s and want to be their own "us"
But there is no room, resource,
There is no time
Food
Water
"We" have already identified, occupied, and commodified
Every resource for an unaligned "us"
"You" must be "we" for your share and to survive
"Their" methods are poorly rationalized, but very intelligent
Bad intellect and severe commitment
"We" dream of conspiracy to make "our" "us" look capable
But their "us" is organized and capable
If "we" ever want to end terrorism
"we" need to call it what it is
Revolution with no vacancy
Organized groups of disuinified elements taking action
It doesnt matter that the "they" may not reach "their" goals
- "they" dont have enough "we"s on their team
"They" make "we" hurt
And shame "them" for it, ignorant to their "us"'s hurt
I am not making excuse or any compassion
for those among the universal "us"
Humanity, sapiens,
Who cannot get on board with "we"
because the most of the "we"s decided this is how it will be
And it is broken
And it is wrong
And there are many hurt
But "us" lives in a universe
finite in 'isms confined to our limited time
So as much as I or any "me" tries to recognize an ONUS
in the attempt of just being seen by "we"
It is always "the other", how are "they" unlike "me"
Not what do both "we"s share.
The world's greatest collection of "we"
Wrote arbitrary rules rules of "us" in this time
That "they" isn't yet a "we" for all
"we" are not yet "us"... too many "we"
too many poisoned by "me"
and worse
entitled by "I"
When "we" do we dont need lables anymore
Race, theology, gender - ways to describe "the other"
That will be a beautiful day
When the sun rises on a dead rock
Condemned to death by fire in unyeilding climate change
And then further pushed to annihilation by nuclear winter
Robert Frost was right
The world will end in Fire and Ice

— The End —