We're so caught up in the world's rituals
its saddening
We wake up every morning and groan about our jobs and lives yet we don't do anything to change it
We follow the double consciousness of social norms and self thoughts
We keep our true selves hidden
We present what's "acceptable"
We live two faced

Anything that is not considered normal is unorthodox and therefore denied
Anything that is not considered beneficial to the society should not be brought up at all
Anything that is change and not following conventional practices is heretical and sinful

We're too focused on whats normal
                                                  good
                                                  acceptable
                                                  perfect
However, should an immoral desire stem from this freedom we're all doomed
We should all expand the normal ground for all people
If not we should create haven for those considered abnormal
All talk and no action
Unacceptable

No matter where you go
remember one thing
"It is not society that determines people’s future. It is people who determine society’s future"

They agree with me
retroactively,
say they
were always
against the hate,

but I remember when
those women
and men
came rolling in
with their rage,

when they said
the immigrants
were to blame,
when the few
who stood against them
were defamed.

It has happened
again and again,
blacklists,
secret prisons,
social poisons,
marches,
white rage,
fascism.
The masses join in
while we keep struggling.

Then when
peace swings
back in,
when the pendulum
is less threatening
I hear them say
that they never behaved
that way. *******!

I’ll bet their grandchildren will proclaim
“I could never be led astray the same way.”
Then make the same about face.

I was woven in the collection
of your weaving. But was I the
illegitimate thread of so many
stitches that were woven incorrectly.

But within the faults,weren't there
patterns that were unique to the fashion
of what were meant as perfection.
But was perfection diluted beyond sight.

The ride is
a sickly set of statues
circling,
an ornate beauty
of predictable movements.

A carousal of fools,
stallions set stern in silence,
a caravan
of unwilling men
and women
that never stride
outside
the pre-ordained.

I watch them
still as mannequins,
eye set in the same positions,
seeing and thinking
the same thing.
They do not listen to
or hear the words I sing
when I try to bring
them their freedom.

The circle stops,
plastic bodies drop.
Paint chipped
they all dip
and rise no more
as I go on to explore
everything, alone.

math plus history equals hindsight.
science plus art equals human.

If that will be that, then
breathe it while it lasts.

We could have grabbed
each others' hands and
stretched our existence,
turned time's fabric to
our bed and blanket,

but this is it, as I feel your
sweat and sweet breath I
prepare to feel the repeat
sequence, I repeat it

The empty smile
spreads cheek to
cheek

She's beside me in
splendid silence, I
whisper

my regret over driving
such high speeds, when
I know for a fact, the road
and its changeless dangers
to her saintly, sleeping form.

I'm sleepless.