#raggedy - Hello Poetry

an all purpose cleaner response to the how-ya-doing-question, as my vibe unmistakable; the hatred in the world directed at MY PEOPLE, is inexplicable, beyond reason, a hatred raw and pure in the tiny places we humans hide it, lest our ancient linkage to an unreasoned, embarrassing emotion, be revealed but now revealed it is reveled, as the freedom to despise is a valued thing is an ancient scar, now freshly wounded and the two thousand year old accumulated, callused, surrounding wafer thin, layered upon layer of tissue, wiped away in utter disbelief cleansed, a different kind of impure clean, “like” an ethnic cleansing, traceless, whisked away in a wink of moment, a goner. like hope, prior sentient optimism sentenced to life imprisonment and this sentence, and this very sentence! written finally understanding that it is a punishment far worse than the quick relief of death. c’mon, how about a few “fukk you jew” cri de coeur, heartfelt, genuine, pointless hate no, not I, no, not me, spare me the pithy comments, the pointless sympathy, glistening like evaporating water droplets before disappearing, I ask myself, not why they hate, why it persists, for this I understand and accept the foulness of what we are capable of is, beloved, as a secret pleasure, now secreted in torrents. no, I ask myself, why do I write poetry, for it is as pointless as the hatred directed at me, from birth, till death, and ever after, the humanity of poetry just another fraud another reason why this man cries in the bathroom,^ not from any shape of shame, because poetry is pointless in times of hatred, and now we know, recognize, it is always somewhere, nearby, always present and prescient, pointless hatred, itching to be pointed at me, makes for pointless poetry. To whom shall I point my poetry?

0

Nov 12, 2023

Nov 12, 2023 at 2:08 AM UTC

nat-lipstadt

“raggedy^ around the edges” (jew hatred, pointless poetry)

an all purpose cleaner response to the how-ya-doing-question, as my vibe unmistakable; the hatred in the world directed at MY PEOPLE, is inexplicable, beyond reason, a hatred raw and pure in the tiny places we humans hide it, lest our ancient linkage to an unreasoned, embarrassing emotion, be revealed but now revealed it is reveled, as the freedom to despise is a valued thing is an ancient scar, now freshly wounded and the two thousand year old accumulated, callused, surrounding wafer thin, layered upon layer of tissue, wiped away in utter disbelief cleansed, a different kind of impure clean, “like” an ethnic cleansing, traceless, whisked away in a wink of moment, a goner. like hope, prior sentient optimism sentenced to life imprisonment and this sentence, and this very sentence! written finally understanding that it is a punishment far worse than the quick relief of death. c’mon, how about a few “fukk you jew” cri de coeur, heartfelt, genuine, pointless hate no, not I, no, not me, spare me the pithy comments, the pointless sympathy, glistening like evaporating water droplets before disappearing, I ask myself, not why they hate, why it persists, for this I understand and accept the foulness of what we are capable of is, beloved, as a secret pleasure, now secreted in torrents. no, I ask myself, why do I write poetry, for it is as pointless as the hatred directed at me, from birth, till death, and ever after, the humanity of poetry just another fraud another reason why this man cries in the bathroom,^ not from any shape of shame, because poetry is pointless in times of hatred, and now we know, recognize, it is always somewhere, nearby, always present and prescient, pointless hatred, itching to be pointed at me, makes for pointless poetry. To whom shall I point my poetry?

65

<> ~ “Above everything else, guard your heart; for it is the source of life's consequences.”~ Proverbs 4:23) these days, good advice overnight trebles in value, no one I’m sure has consulted Proverbs today, not me, not you, not anybody, but these words came to we, the confined, lonely hearted prisoners, we who are needy to reflect, we raggedy people in solitary. tonight, some of us will recall an exodus to free, an escape from slavery, how we put at risk our bodies in a sea, a desert, more crazy, in an invisible deity, when that was a heretical concept, we who are needy to reflect, we raggedy people in solitary. Above everything else, guard your heart; for it is the source of life's consequences, the ***** above/beyond mouths, eyes, even lungs, it’s what purposed we fragile, petal edging humans who are needy to reflect, we raggedy people in solitary.

0

Apr 9, 2020

Apr 9, 2020 at 9:10 AM UTC

poetoftheway

We Raggedy People: Above Everything Else, Guard Your Heart

<> ~ “Above everything else, guard your heart; for it is the source of life's consequences.”~ Proverbs 4:23) these days, good advice overnight trebles in value, no one I’m sure has consulted Proverbs today, not me, not you, not anybody, but these words came to we, the confined, lonely hearted prisoners, we who are needy to reflect, we raggedy people in solitary. tonight, some of us will recall an exodus to free, an escape from slavery, how we put at risk our bodies in a sea, a desert, more crazy, in an invisible deity, when that was a heretical concept, we who are needy to reflect, we raggedy people in solitary. Above everything else, guard your heart; for it is the source of life's consequences, the ***** above/beyond mouths, eyes, even lungs, it’s what purposed we fragile, petal edging humans who are needy to reflect, we raggedy people in solitary.

18

People like you and me have grown used to dancing along, To the raggedy tune of someone else's song. We are able to dance, and smile, and duck, and roll, and weave, While still clinging tightly to the things that we believe. Sometimes we are led to believe we will lose it all; our heart, our soul, our very name, Afraid they'll take away the us-ness of us; but still we play their game. I wonder how many others know how to fake their hand? Who keep the love caged up inside, to appear "normal" and bland? Perhaps it is just us, perhaps just you, or, again, perhaps just me, Or perhaps each individual just sees what they want to see. Perhaps. Perhaps... Or perhaps, but... I had a vision once; all the bad thoughts in the world were mine; I ****** them in from everyone else, so that all the world felt fine, And while all other folk were safe at rest, I cried and cried and cried, And toddled down some empty street, slumped down a wall, and died, Taking with me all the evil thoughts- the hate, the pain, the strife; I believe it was the happiest I'd felt in all my life. I tell you that to tell you this; all people's pain is pain to me, And I would gladly give you happiness, in exchange for misery. Don't keep those thoughts locked up inside, and hoard them for your own, Or both you and I will surely die depressed- afraid- alone.

0

Jan 1, 2018

Jan 1, 2018 at 6:56 AM UTC

nigel-finn

People Like You And Me

People like you and me have grown used to dancing along, To the raggedy tune of someone else's song. We are able to dance, and smile, and duck, and roll, and weave, While still clinging tightly to the things that we believe. Sometimes we are led to believe we will lose it all; our heart, our soul, our very name, Afraid they'll take away the us-ness of us; but still we play their game. I wonder how many others know how to fake their hand? Who keep the love caged up inside, to appear "normal" and bland? Perhaps it is just us, perhaps just you, or, again, perhaps just me, Or perhaps each individual just sees what they want to see. Perhaps. Perhaps... Or perhaps, but... I had a vision once; all the bad thoughts in the world were mine; I ****** them in from everyone else, so that all the world felt fine, And while all other folk were safe at rest, I cried and cried and cried, And toddled down some empty street, slumped down a wall, and died, Taking with me all the evil thoughts- the hate, the pain, the strife; I believe it was the happiest I'd felt in all my life. I tell you that to tell you this; all people's pain is pain to me, And I would gladly give you happiness, in exchange for misery. Don't keep those thoughts locked up inside, and hoard them for your own, Or both you and I will surely die depressed- afraid- alone.

23