I hate god
He devises strategies to invade
His' home and haven

Weakness being the sole characteristic of son
Constant is the spirit
Strengthening his' decedent onslaught

I cannot win
The Kingdom has come
Without any rain

Holding a crown of stone
Encased in gold
Lined with silver

I have no choice
But to worship
The tyrant who controls bold seduction
This Christmas,
I have no sermon
For the "Tiki Torch Nazis".
When one feels EXCLUDED,
It's natural to hate.
It's more a game of Economics and Power
Than Race.
It's natural to strive to be  accepted
To become  part of the "Establishment",
But in order to REMAIN
Part of this "Establishment",
It's necessary to figure out
How to keep other people OUT.
So, those who fought their way to Acceptance in the Past
Become the Gatekeepers,
Restricting admittance pf others
Into the Establishment
As their careers mature.
Eleanor Webster Oct 2017
"I'd like to be a fly on the wall," you say.
Would you?
Would you really like to be privy to all
that drama and intrigue, without ever being noticed?
Sounds nice, I suppose.
But I'll let you in on a little secret-
That, my dears, is false advertising.
Truth is, people always notice flies
They just choose to ignore them
And lower their voices when you buzz by on sugar-spun wings of self-confidence-
Maybe it's just all in your head
Maybe you've misinterpreted things-behind kaleidoscope eyes
It always looks like there are more of them than you.

So you gain confidence
You hover on the fringes of their circle
And drone out a low hum of 'what've you been up to today?'
Or 'how're you?'
Or 'long day, huh?'
The response is offhand
A verbal flick of the wrist
Batting the ball back into your conversational court
Because coming at you with a fly swatter
Or a rolled up Cosmo magazine
Takes more effort than they're willing to give.

You buzz about some more
Hoping maybe the silence will entice them to engage
But no,
They can't hear your buzzing
Or they won't.
So instead you stand
Fly on the wall
Content with watching the light catch your wings
Repeatedly wringing your hands near your face
In a way they probably think is malevolent
I promise I'm not plotting-
I'm just juggling the weight of my loneliness
Maybe if I shift it from one palm to another
Somehow I will lighten the load.

Take comfort in this, little fly-
The sun makes your wings iridescent
And even though they'll never get close enough to see that, you can.
It's not a trick of the light
Your fractal eyes do not deceive you-
They are duplicate.
A poem about social exclusion.
Don't strive too hard
For acceptance from others.
Most people
Have a hard  time
Accepting themselves
The Social Boundaries that we erect
Might protect us from getting hurt emotionally,
And enable us to continue practicing
Our Extreme Individualism,
But they won't protect us
From getting murdered,
When a Las Vegas sniper
Brings more luggage than normal to his room,
The hotel clerks just think,
"He must be here for a long stay."
No one suspects
That he's about to commit
A Massacre.
When your ex tells you that she's your "friend",
She just says that to be diplomatic
As you give her enough cash
To make her leave.
In reality,
She contributed to your social isolation
While you were married,
And she will never include you
In her clique.
When she first came to Denver from Florida,
She seemed like such an intriguing,
Beautiful mestiza girl  of Panamanian ancestry,
But she was desperate to fit into a clique......
Dyed her hair green......
Hardly talks to me any more.
I belong someplace,
Where she doesn't go.
That sort of insecurity
Makes me sick.
I don't want to see your
Any more.
I don't want to eat your
I am not interested
In your phony
I don't want to look at
The Hot Chicks
That eat at your cafe.
I don't want to waste my time
Trying to cultivate a relationship
With someone
Who is too
Full of himself.
It's hard for me to give a damn about anything any more.
The younger  generation will have to be the Revolutionaries,
I'll be excluded from the Revolution of the Youth,
Because I'm 51 years old,
Any Exclusive Revolution
Is not an Authentic Revolution.
It's like a Che Guevara T-Shirt
Purchased at a Trendy Boutique
If I'm excluded from caring about anything
Because I'm not hand sexy enough to seduce
The Youthful  Female Revolutionaries
Any more.
What's the point?
I don't know?
I suppose things are gonna' change
Whether it's our Intention
Or not.
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