#marginalization - Hello Poetry

Months burst with potential understanding Thyroid, Childhood Cancer, Breast Cancer And Autism - a landscape of perception I knew little once Before lived experiences carved pathways Of comprehension Hand flapping, repeated movie scenes Specific sensory needs Neurological landscapes diverse as humanity itself From verbal to non-verbal From sibling to parent From self-discovery at 34 My perspective widens like a lens Societal Echoes The world whispers harsh narratives "Discipline them" "Fix them" "Normalize" But we are not broken We are different Intricate neural networks Misunderstood symphonies Digital age amplifies cruelty Marginalization becomes performance Awareness transforms to spectacle, Unfolding Truth Intricate neural pathways Misread as discordant tunes The digital age sharpens cruelty's edge Marginalization dressed as entertainment Awareness turned into spectacle, A truth slowly unraveling Hatred cloaked in the guise of compassion Bigotry masquerading as care April - a month of performative understanding We see what others refuse to witness Complexity beyond simple categorization Humanity in all its beautiful, challenging variations Spectrum wide as consciousness Unbound by neurotypical constraints

0

Nov 18, 2024

Nov 18, 2024 at 9:06 PM UTC

SoulPhelan_Unbound

The Cruelty of Compassion

Months burst with potential understanding Thyroid, Childhood Cancer, Breast Cancer And Autism - a landscape of perception I knew little once Before lived experiences carved pathways Of comprehension Hand flapping, repeated movie scenes Specific sensory needs Neurological landscapes diverse as humanity itself From verbal to non-verbal From sibling to parent From self-discovery at 34 My perspective widens like a lens Societal Echoes The world whispers harsh narratives "Discipline them" "Fix them" "Normalize" But we are not broken We are different Intricate neural networks Misunderstood symphonies Digital age amplifies cruelty Marginalization becomes performance Awareness transforms to spectacle, Unfolding Truth Intricate neural pathways Misread as discordant tunes The digital age sharpens cruelty's edge Marginalization dressed as entertainment Awareness turned into spectacle, A truth slowly unraveling Hatred cloaked in the guise of compassion Bigotry masquerading as care April - a month of performative understanding We see what others refuse to witness Complexity beyond simple categorization Humanity in all its beautiful, challenging variations Spectrum wide as consciousness Unbound by neurotypical constraints

40

I seem to be at home on the margins where I can be alone with my folly sweltering in my private bowl of stew simmering in the sins surrounding and piercing me but you found me there invited me into your heart where you loved me redeemed me sewed my seams pulled together my crazy quilt made separate parts into a whole.

0

Jun 6, 2020

Jun 6, 2020 at 11:34 AM UTC

glenn-currier

On Edge

I seem to be at home on the margins where I can be alone with my folly sweltering in my private bowl of stew simmering in the sins surrounding and piercing me but you found me there invited me into your heart where you loved me redeemed me sewed my seams pulled together my crazy quilt made separate parts into a whole.

13

My existence isn’t something you test out your empathy on My humanity is not something that asks for your sympathy My life and loves and lived experiences are liberated from your thin, watery approval Your opinion holds no bearing in my body.

0

Jun 28, 2019

Jun 28, 2019 at 7:54 PM UTC

crepuscularrays

I want for nothing

My existence isn’t something you test out your empathy on My humanity is not something that asks for your sympathy My life and loves and lived experiences are liberated from your thin, watery approval Your opinion holds no bearing in my body.

8

I fix my tea before I dream The herbs swirl in my subconscious A ritual warm and full of steam I wake knowing, “I want this.” I read someone else’s words before I sleep Losing myself to a story A healthy escape that I’ll keep up To bide off darkness and worry. I wash my face before I slumber Washing away the day Tomorrow any anxiety I may encumber Must in the future stay. I pen my thoughts to the night’s sound Striking the ink to the rhythm of my thoughts Meanwhile fear and curiosity abound I must momentarily quell my haves and have nots.

0

Jun 21, 2017

Jun 21, 2017 at 4:30 PM UTC

lizhck

Ritual

I fix my tea before I dream The herbs swirl in my subconscious A ritual warm and full of steam I wake knowing, “I want this.” I read someone else’s words before I sleep Losing myself to a story A healthy escape that I’ll keep up To bide off darkness and worry. I wash my face before I slumber Washing away the day Tomorrow any anxiety I may encumber Must in the future stay. I pen my thoughts to the night’s sound Striking the ink to the rhythm of my thoughts Meanwhile fear and curiosity abound I must momentarily quell my haves and have nots.

16

in awe of the marginalized in awe of the QTPOC in awe of the survivors in awe of the femmes in awe of the fat in awe of the trans/gender non conforming in awe of the creators in awe of the disabled in awe of the ones who don’t/won’t/can’t recover in awe of the ones the world is trying to shut up, lock down in awe of the ones who didn’t make it in awe of the ones who did in awe of all of us I love us

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Jan 17, 2016

Jan 17, 2016 at 4:08 PM UTC

anjana-rao

"We are my favorite poem"

in awe of the marginalized in awe of the QTPOC in awe of the survivors in awe of the femmes in awe of the fat in awe of the trans/gender non conforming in awe of the creators in awe of the disabled in awe of the ones who don’t/won’t/can’t recover in awe of the ones the world is trying to shut up, lock down in awe of the ones who didn’t make it in awe of the ones who did in awe of all of us I love us

16

The kid in the background The one who doesn’t smile Who goes mostly unnoticed And has for quite awhile. The kid in the background Who stands there all alone. Is the child an orphan The baby nobody owns? The one who is forgotten When family gathers. Is this the only child With no father or mother? And what of the brothers And sisters to this kid. Why do they ignore him? Is it something that he did? The kid in the background The last one to get picked In a neighborhood game. Is it some king of mean trick? Are his glasses the problem Or some condition of skin? What can be the excuse For the sad state he is in? The kid plays by himself It seems he has to pretend That he is having fun alone And that he has a friend. Are these children like birds That pick on an injured creature? Where are the parents here, The adults, the teachers? The kid in the background Might be the brightest one But how will we ever know If he shines brighter in the sun Unless we ask the questions Of what brings this all about That children on the playground Want to leave this kid out?

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Nov 27, 2015

Nov 27, 2015 at 9:51 PM UTC

brent-kincaid

KID IN THE BACKGROUND

The kid in the background The one who doesn’t smile Who goes mostly unnoticed And has for quite awhile. The kid in the background Who stands there all alone. Is the child an orphan The baby nobody owns? The one who is forgotten When family gathers. Is this the only child With no father or mother? And what of the brothers And sisters to this kid. Why do they ignore him? Is it something that he did? The kid in the background The last one to get picked In a neighborhood game. Is it some king of mean trick? Are his glasses the problem Or some condition of skin? What can be the excuse For the sad state he is in? The kid plays by himself It seems he has to pretend That he is having fun alone And that he has a friend. Are these children like birds That pick on an injured creature? Where are the parents here, The adults, the teachers? The kid in the background Might be the brightest one But how will we ever know If he shines brighter in the sun Unless we ask the questions Of what brings this all about That children on the playground Want to leave this kid out?

40

Something is broken Whole lives reduced to numbers Disposable lives

0

Mar 30, 2015

Mar 30, 2015 at 10:59 PM UTC

derrick-feinman

Disposable

Something is broken Whole lives reduced to numbers Disposable lives

3