'To **** A Mockingbird' is a very controversial book,
It boasts certain values that no modern day book should,
At least that's what I understand,
Having not read the book through.

But this is a common literary problem,
Even more prominent than genre prejudice,
Which we all know,
Or judging the book by its cover,
An even more common cliche within literary review.

It's people writing reader's guides and summaries,
Based off of common ideas and ideals taken from the tale,
Carefully penning their slander towards each story,
Without gracing or gazing a single one of its pages.

Some people can't keep their opinions to themselves.
Have you ever noticed what an a$$hole
that girl in the bathroom mirror is?
.
.
A song for this:
Twiggy Twiggy by [re:jazz]

You guys really messed up that message-
Do you have the postage? Addresses?

The records & reports
For what you purport?
Are all the passages
Just rewritten, or
Pages overwritten?
Torn out or rearranged?
Perhaps overlooked?

No longer properly understood?

Is the truth lurking out there,
Somewhere?
Buried under heaps of rubble,
Covered by mud & dirt.

Wipe the muck off.

Through the weeds & brush,
Thorn & thrush,
Save the vine & water the bush.

Get looking.

I looked at the "
                         E
                           L
                             I
                              T
                                E
                                  S
                                    "
                                     and then back at
                                                               us,
                                                                    but I could see
                                                                                           N
                                                                                             O
                                                                                                difference.

Well, I think a lot

is wrong, very unhealthy --


they are: opinions.

We shout many views,

are seldom examining --


our very standpoints.

A freethinker thinks

about questions, the answers --


he doesn't want to hear.

that hour is black
it is the hour to singe clothes, arsonists
the hour to burn houses and towns

that hour for children
to bolt from their swing sets for cover
the hour to board up windows

girls with guns
pistols in sweaty palms
deliberately weaponizing silence

that hour is red
a baleful war fought with ****** fists
sanguine faces flushed

that hour for isolation to prevail
to spread and slither into the crevices
the hour to bathe in ***** waters

cleanliness is seen as abrasiveness  
shadows of girls with guns
vile offspring with foul mouths

that hour is emerald green
months fly past like moths
roots sprout with intensity

that hour for desperation
the hour for skeletons to roam
piles of revengeful bones

the flies are swarming
on corpses

the hour is black in shadows
red in ****** waters
emerald green in dying beginnings