"foulness" poems - 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?