Today we have the labeling of people groups.
Yesterday we had the suggestion of an inherent disposition to dishonesty and violence in some groups.
Tomorrow we will have the careful counting of individuals and the placing of individuals into each people group.
But today,
today we have the labeling of people groups.

For those of you who are new here, we recommend this period drama underlining racial differences with a subtle suggestion of inferior intellect in some groups indigenous to warmer climes.
And here we have a persuasive and tabloid friendly research paper that hints that children of mixed race tend to struggle in school. You'll be relieved to see that it hasn't any distracting data.
And on the shelf beneath you'll see there's a picture book version for younger children.

Over here is the arbitary divide between us and them, with a useful circle of arguments to differentiate ourselves from others.
Here we have colour coded lables to more easily distinguish between  people groups. Yes, that's correct, we have three labels: white, black and, a recent addition which is now available for added distinction, rainbow.
Oh yes, when engaging in any discussions, for your own safety please ensure you wear these ear defenders.
To ensure a free flow of visitors we have erected large signs in three languages marking where charity at home ends. Yes, after rigorous focus group testing we have selected the English language in three font sizes.

We are coming to the end of this orientation tour.  Please note the subtle but effective shedding of compassion for those who appear or sound different to us.  This underpins the necessary disregard for the rights of others that we assume for ourselves and for those like us. It is almost imperceptible I think you'll agree.

But the priority for today, as I say, is the labeling of people groups. 
No questions.
Shall we begin?

Alexander K Opicho
(Eldoret ,Kenya ;aopicho@yahoo.com)

On 13th January 2014 Dr. Wafula Chesoli of Mt Kenya University, at Lodwar campus in the north western part of Kenya published a scathing attack against homosexuality in the Neighbourhood, a daily circulating paper of the River Delta state in Nigeria.Dr Chesoli justified his contumelious position against human homosexuality by basing his stand on the scriptural citations of the Bible. The Bible which  Dr. Chesoli has operationally defined as the word of God in  this article that he entitled Strong holds of Homosexuality ;Biblical Persapectives.Chesoli’s argument has a depth of Biblical groundings, however I beg to differ with him in principle, given the  scientific scintillations on humanity of homosexuality from the recent researches of health education and psychology.
Firstly, I humbly remember that about three years ago I also published an article in the East African standard which harshly condemned social and behavioral position of gay and lesbian marriages. This was when the Anglican archbishop Dr. Eliud Wabukala of Kenya had in a similar tone lambasted the archbishop of Canterbury for suggesting that there was need for the office of the gay Bishop in the Anglican Church. I strongly supported Wabukala in that I even called gay and lesbian behavior as cultic and satanic hence to be condemned with all forms of capital nemesis. Some of the contents of my article in which I condemned homosexuality are here;
Let us support Wabukala stand on gays and morality
(January 13th 2011 at 00:00 GMT; By Alexander Opicho, Eldoret)
Practice of psychology and Christianity operates on a universal principle of unconditional positive regard for all. However, there has been a twist in this convention when media in Kenya at the start of this week carried a story that depicted moral fortitude of Bishop Eliud Wabukala; who has out-rightly dismissed the idea of establishing the office of a gay bishop in the leadership of the Anglican Church. Wabukala has come out boldly on this against the strong currents in support of gay marriages from his superiors in the Church. The efforts by Wabukala befit all manner of felicitation from all of us who believe in morality as a basis of humanity. The basis of gay relationships is legalistic and political. African culture conscientiously discourages a cult of gayism. And in Kenya living as a gay is living in contradiction to the Constitution. These collectively fall in an agreement with basic teachings of Christianity. Gayism, lesbianism, celibacy and trans-species ****** behaviour are admonished by Biblical teachings. Gayism is social deviance that originates from degradation in ****** behavior; it is a state of ****** depravement. Read more at;
http://www.standardmedia.co.ke/?articleID=2000074879&story;_title=-Let-us-support-Wabukala-stand-on-gays-and-morality.­
Little did I know that as I was publishing this article two percent of my friends and my family members are victims of ****** behavioural disability, which we are calling homosexuality in the above juncture. As university teacher in the departments of social sciences where student populations is usually high, I again came to discover sometimes later that ten percent of my students always have disordered ****** or gender conditions. I found these to be substantial revelations that provoked me to carry out both desk research and investigative *** socialization researches into this bamboozling human phenomenon of homosexuality and other related disordered ****** behaviours.
The order of explanation would first require a position which posits that; religions both Christianity and Islam don’t have any intellectual nor social machinery to carry out a socially ameliorative process in relation to disordered gender and ****** behavior in any society. Their approach have been and would still be parochial in the sense that the only outcome to be achieved is prejudice, bigotry and discrimination with full harassment against Christians or Moslems with ****** or gender disability. Thus religion should pave way for other competent social players over this matter.
Dr Chesoli’s Position that the Bible is the word of God and the Quran is the word of Allah and hence those with physiological conditions in contrast to the word of God and Word of Allah are satanic, only to face wrath of God on the judgment day is simply devoid of modern logic. I want to sensitize Dr Chesoli on the fact that not every thing in the Bible is the word of God neither   every thing in the Quran is the word of God otherwise called Allah. To support my position before I just explain scientific position of homosexuality, I want Dr. Chesoli to learn that; 159 psalms in the Bible are poetries of Kind David, Kind David whose leadership was full of Machiavellian tricks just like the current leadership of Yoweri Museven of Uganda. The book of Job is theatrical and poetical literary creation of Moses. But not the word of God. This is so because the land of Uz in which Job lived is pure fiction. All papyrological surveys have never established geographical evidence of this land. The last part of the Bible is made up of 21 epistles or letters of Paul the benjaminite. Paul’s writings display eminence of intellect as a lawyer and a person schooled in the Greek classics of Homer’s Iliad and Odysseus as well as Sophocles’ Oedipus Rex.The idea that the words which Paul wrote was the word of God is not founded ,perhaps the last stage of Jewish casuistry.
Homosexuality has to be understood as lameness or disability like any other animal or human disability. I am aware that Dr. Chesoli belongs to the old school which only appreciated the fact that lameness is limited to physical, mental, eye and hearing impairment.However, this position is now scientifically obsolete. Humanity is now understood to be sometimes a victim of ****** lameness, intellectual lameness, emotional lameness, racial relational lameness and other plethorae of lameness to be uncovered, courtesy of science and research.
Like the condition of ****** disability can be heterosexual disability or homosexual disability. Heterosexual disability can be indicated by misfortunate human ****** conditions like; early *******, erectile disfucntion,oversize *****,undersize *****,frigidity,phobia of opposite ***, oral ***, **** ***,****** appetite for your own child, ****** appetite for your sisters, brothers, uncles or aunts, frigidity, small ******, abnormally big ******,insatiable libido or insatiable appetite for ***.
But on the other  hand  homosexual disability are often indicated in the perverted ****** behavioural positions like male to male *** also known as gay and female to female *** also known as lesbian, or female to male to female to male *** also known as bisexuality. We also have other ****** phenomena like celibacy, voyeurism, *** with non human creatures, *** with inanimate objects, *** with ghosts and *** with spiritual creatures like the one accounted in the Bible between Mary the mother of Jesus and an Angel Known as Gabriel. There is also *** with dead family members. Dear reader just accepts that the list in this line is long.
Now labeling above positions as satanic or ungodly can be misleading in the modern sense. The motivation for all the above behaviours is sensual satisfaction. But the physiological cause of the behaviour is few and far between. Some of these conditions are caused by genetic misprogramming or mutation; some are due to body malformation. Like having female reproductive system in a male human casing or male female reproductive system in a female human casing. But the sorriest part of this human experience is that victims of these conditions always feel that they are right human creatures in the wrong body from which they struggle to jump out but they have never succeed.
This is why the Journal of Pan African Voices known as Pambuzuka news has a platform for anti – homophobic journalism, which actually purport to promote social and intellectual awareness among the Africa societies about matters relating to ****** and gender disabilities. This journal strives to minimize homophobic positions like the one taken by Dr. Chesoli in a smokescreen of Christianity or Islam which will ultimately only end up as heinous violations of human rights.
An empirical position has facts that gender and ****** disability conditions is rampart in urban areas than rural areas and more rampart in industrialized or developed countries than peasant rural based countries. Thus logic will tell you that we have most gays and lesbians in America and United Kingdom than in Kenya or Malawi. This is why President Barrack Obama in an imperial stretch conditioned the govermenent of Uganda to make a legislation that favour gays and lesbians. This was also reflected three years ago in the United kingdom when David Cameroon warned the government of Ghana that if they don’t make a legislation that appreciate homosexuals then United Kingdom would not give economic aid to Ghana.Contextually,both Cameroon and Obama were wrong. We don’t use vents of desperate imperialism to manage a misfortunate social condition. We first of all begin by educating our people, then socializing the idea among our people then we finalize by positioning the idea among our people. Thanks for your audience.
Alexander K Opicho, is a social researcher with sanctuary research agencies in Eldoret, Kenya.He is also a lecturer for Research Methods in Governance and Leadership.

Sun cascading through the window,
The Mountains my blanket
Everything in its right place, and I in mine
For surely life is a wonderful thing
and I am no mistake.

Can a person be defined by a word? Can we, in reality chain a person to one word, or even a great sum of words? Can all that is encompassed within each individual human being, be summed up with a word, a description, a label? For the very meaning of word is a unit of language, consisting of one or more spoken sounds or their written representation, that functions as a principal carrier of meaning. Are words the most effective "carrier of meaning"? Or is it possible that there might just be something more, something deeper? This makes me think of the quote from The Mozart Effect, where Don Cambell says, “On the psychiatrist’s couch, the board of the local PTA, or at a job interview, we strive to assert our identity as strong, independent persons, our persona or public mask—all from the Greek roots per son, or ‘the sound passes through.’” Our very core nature is that we desire to hear a vocal confirmation of who we are and labeling ourselves and others with words, gives us a false security. The way we are labeled and seen and judged passes through us, it effects us to our core. When someone “fails” they are then in turn labeled a “failure”? My question is, by labeling a person who has made mistakes, or is even continuing to make mistakes a f a i l u r e , are we really encompassing all that is within them when we say the word “failure” and chain it around their neck? Is every action that they have done a “failure”? Do they not also have things that are successful about them, and isn’t simply their state of being a success?

I am convinced that we are all on the same level, one person no greater than another person. No person a mistake, no person a failure. For let us all challenge ourselves to not define people but rather feel them, seek to understand them. Let us really see them, for who they are, not for who we think they are or what we may see. Like the quote from T.S Elliot’s book Family Reunion, where it says
“I tell you, it is not me you are looking at, Not me you are grinning at, not me your confidential looks incriminate, but that other person, if person, You thought I was: let your necrophilia feed upon that carcass.”

Or the quote from the Invisible Man,
“I am an invisible man. No, I am not a ***** like those who haunted Edgar Allan Poe; nor am I one of your Hollywood-movie ectoplasm. I am a man of substance, of flesh and bone, fiber and liquids- and I might even be said to posses a mind. I am invisible; understand, simply because people refuse to see me. Like the bodiless head surrounded by mirrors of hard, distorting glass. When they approach me they see only my surroundings, themselves, or figments of their imagination-indeed, everything and anything except me.”


These are both excellent examples of how our own judgments, preoccupation with our problems or ourselves, anything and everything, can distract us from really getting to know someone, to understanding them in the cell of their heart. For if we were silent and simply allowed the music of life surround us, we would listen and hear, the people when they spoke. For “to listen is to vibrate together with another human being.” And how eloquently Lao Tzu said that, I can’t think of a better way to describe what I am trying to say. What a provocative way to think about the simple act of listening. Think of feeling what people are saying as two harps being played in perfect unison, vibrating together. To really hear someone we must reach a place where we can be receptive to whom they really are, throwing aside our preconceived ideas.

How could we take the sacred and beautiful act of listening and distort it into something that is so uninvolved, so impersonal? How can we, how can I, constantly throw away the precious gem that is to listen, only to pick up the garbage of judgment and lack of concern? I’m convinced that constantly doing this has left quite a toll on the human race. When was the last time you felt that someone got you, really got you, or saw past your flaws or the masks you wear and simply heard you, felt your pain, knew where you were coming from, simply was just there with you? Chances are it’s probably not often. I believe that no matter the outward appearance or what people do that it’s the state of their heart that matters. We are all fallible because we are h u m a n, so when people in their own state of humanity, hurt us, let us choose not to take offence, but rather choose to see past our own pain and see their own pain that caused them to hurt us.

I believe there is beauty in our shortcomings, and humanity. Not that we continue to remain the way we’ve always been but rather accept that we are flawed and that can’t do this on our own, and then we will begin to grow. In our state of being humbled and broken, we grow, we change, we transform. Slowly and surely as the flower that springs from the cold ground and bursts forth from it’s shell and becomes something completely different, we as humans will break through our own “shells”. First we must admit that we have flaws for this process to begin. Being flawed is beautiful because it’s something everyone shares. We’ve all been hurt, but once we come to the place where we understand the pain behind the flaws and see how we can’t possibly judge anyone because we all have flaws, we all have failed.

We are all equals. We are all connected. We are all sons and daughters of humanity. We are connected to the earliest of times and the latest of times.

What happens to someone on the other side of the earth does in fact, effect us. I believe because we are numb to the reality of that connection, never listening, never feeling, that we miss the beauty of this great fellowship of human beings. When we isolate ourselves, not only are we denying ourselves that desire to b e l o n g that dwells in our innermost being, but we also can begin to elevate ourselves over another person. Which leaves me to wonder why we spend our lives awarding ourselves for being better then the person next to us, not doing what they did, when shouldn’t we be listening to them, hearing them, seeing them for who they are in their own brokenness, and helping them through?

We spend our lives harboring anger towards and event, person, or even ourselves and judging and comparing ourselves on a made up idealistic scale to define our worth. We are already worth so much simply because we are humans, and we are alive. Is not even a single rose still admired by the gardener? We are special, and if someone were to bring all the wealth of the world to offer for one person, or to measure the worth of that person, it would not even begin to compare to our worth, no matter our mistakes or who we are.

Just as we hurt and long to be accepted and approved of, so does the person that has hurt you or the person you see yourself as better then. Do we not feel our connection to humanity when we feel the sense of deep loss in our spirit, our innermost being, when our actions cause pain to another person? So since we are all one, all connected, why not shower people with love and grace and feel them, feel with them, instead of labeling them and trying to judge ourselves against them.

We have exhausted ourselves by denying ourselves the basic needs to be known, loved, heard, connected, and accepted, for far too long. It’s time for change, in both my life and the lives of those around me. We’re beaten and bruised from holding on to our anger, relentlessly trying to gain approval, judging our own mistakes and comparing them to others to see if our mistakes were ‘slightly less bad then those of the other person’. If we would set aside those chains that imprison us, and allow ourselves to feel the pain of others, allow them to see our own pain, then, although we will never reach perfection, we will grow, the deep yearnings and aches of our body crying out to be known and our pain from the wrongs done to us will stop.

If we’re willing to bare the burden of feeling with someone, or simply allowing ourselves to just be, exist, beside someone who’s hurting and be open to simply let the sound, the vibrations of their words penetrate our souls, then, and only then will our lives and the lives of others be drastically changed for the better. It would be infectious; spreading to every person we came into contact with, causing a worldwide revolution.

So what I’m saying is even after all this, I believe in changed lives, I believe that our impact on others is far greater then we will ever know.I believe that one single person, no matter how flawed, who stops for one moment and simply listens to another human being, and sees them as they are, then proceeds to reach inside their chest to reveal their beating, heart, alive and full of dreams, will change that person forever, whether we see it right away or never see it. It's the same in our lives, we may never see the fruits of our labor, but we must focus on the goal and not the distance needed to reach our goal. We impact people. When we judge people or don’t see them for who they are, they become dead to us, they can no longer change into who they were meant to be, or we simply do not hear them, the passions and dreams are not awakened, and in doing this, we are robbing ourselves the joy of knowing someone, investing in them, and seeing them change and they feel the effects too.

We all need to be awakened from being the living dead, to a state of constant awareness of our body and all our senses and the surroundings around us, the people around us. People as a whole are hurting so deeply, and I believe that one person can in fact change that. All it takes is one [broken] person to spark the flame and soon, others, much like kindling for a fire, will catch ablaze. I believe, that we must allow ourselves to climb into another person’s skin and feel, and see the world as they do.

We must realize that we are no better then one another, for we are all broken and need one another. I believe that no one is hopeless, no one a lost cause, for if we take the time to listen to them and care for them, something in them will change no matter what we may see on the outside. In this investing and caring, listening and feeling, seeing and believing, we will awaken in both the people around us and in ourselves the dreams which we thought for so long to be dead, and the world will see change like it has never been seen before in history.

I’m not saying that I have any of this down pat, I’m not by any means a model for not judging someone and seeing them and hearing them. If anything, I am the complete opposite of this consumed in my own problems and too busy to stop and feel. This is my apology of some sort to those i have hurt, and giving recognition to those who have helped me along the way. So thanks for believing in me. I believe that it’ll take some time, but that I can and will gradually change into someone who is aware of people around them, someone who is awakened. Even when my actions, are completely opposite of everything I’ve just talked about, there is still a part of me that is quietly reminding me to humble myself and see myself for who I am, no more, no less, and then see others for who they are. Somehow, I’m going to get to where I want to go, and I’m going to become who I want to become, I just have a lot of judgmental ideals, preconceived ideas, bitterness, pain, and self-absorption to leave behind to step into who I want to become. So I’m going to commit to this journey even if it means sometimes the only thing I can do is just be, in my failures and my success, and even when the pain seems unbearable, it is my deepest desire to stay on this path. I want to change and help the people around me, but before I can do that I have a lot of work to do.

society society society
we were so happy
why did you drive us insane
my labeling humanity

we are growing younger
because of your dense behavior
you should have been silent
instead of calling us a failure

what you gain is satisfaction
But, in us
what is lost is compassion
you are blind, you don't see
you don't know, what is reality

you don't speak
because you are afraid
afraid, that you may not be happy
like you are today

-Kaya

Let's hold out hope for the crippled.
Hope for the crippled?
No thanks, this crip doesn't need your hope.
This crip needs you to stop.
Stop labeling me.
Stop feeling sorry for me.
Stop pitying me and my 'poor life'
Just ******* stop!
No, really, I'm okay. I don't need you.
I don't need you or your miracles.
Don't tell me God works miracles
And to hold out hope
Because maybe one day I'll walk
Or maybe I'll get to see from both eyes
Because God works miracles
But you're too busy fixing what isn't broken that you forget
If I was truly made in his image this crip doesn't need healed.
This crip doesn't need your prayers or miracles.
This crip doesn't need your God or your salvation.
This crip doesn't need your hope.

Poor soul, she's diminished by her disability.
Diminished by my disability?
The only thing I'm diminished by
Is your inability to understand
That before anything else I am human.
I make mistakes and have flaws.
I feel, probably more than most,
And sometimes those feelings get in the way.
I empathize but I am done sympathizing.

You say my wheelchair is a blessing in disguise.
Why can't it just be a blessing?
A blessing that comes with lots of lessons.
Some that I learn the hard way and some that come easy.
But this wheelchair doesn't need a reason
To teach me (or you) a lesson.
Sure, it frustrates me when a wheel breaks or I fall on a broken sidewalk
But it teaches me humility and patience.
And there's no reason to disguise that this wheelchair is a blessing.

So, please take your hope and pity
Your guilt and salvation elsewhere
Because they're defeating the purpose. They're detracting from the point.

I am not diminished by my disability.
I am not to be quieted or pitied
I am not your reason to feel guilty
I am not a burden
I am human.

Ugly, pretty, Terrible,Terrific.
Labels of different things.
Some we can't really explain.
Maybe one of these days, we will find out what this labeling is all about?

Being present means I'm not mentally labeling
Creating inner space and stillness, a being's haven

Being present means I'm not feeling emotionally drained
Creating inner space and stillness, more and more gained

Being present means I'm not waiting to react
Creating inner space and stillness, a being's habitat

Being present means I'm not clinging to the past
Creating inner space and stillness, it is so vast

Being present means I'm not worrying about the future
Creating inner space and stillness, and this I will nurture

Being present means I'm not compulsive thinking
Creating inner space and stillness, to God I am linking

Being present means I'm not judging what others think, say or do
Creating inner space and stillness, a being's point of view

Being present means I'm not resisting what is
Creating inner space and stillness, a native of this

Being present means I'm not attached to any kind of form
Creating inner space and stillness, a being's norm

Being present means I'm alert and alive
Creating inner space and stillness, a being's high five

Being present means I have the time for you
Creating inner space and stillness, and wholeness too

Being present means I enjoy what I do
Creating inner space and stillness, consciously too

Being present means I am consciously speaking, doing and acting
Creating inner space and stillness, of which there is no lacking

Being present means I am aligned to my purpose
Creating inner space and stillness, alive and alertness

Being present means I am at peace
Creating inner space and stillness, and flowing with ease

Being present means I accept its isness
Creating inner space and stillness, that is growing within us


Being present means I know there is no more important moment
Creating inner space and stillness, and feeling atonement

Being present means I'm connecting to a depth within
Creating inner space and stillness, for all to live in

Being present means there's nowhere else I'd rather be
Creating inner space and stillness, and the power To Be

Plant your flower ........

Being present means
I know there's no more
Important moment
Than NOW


© Delores Wiltse 2008 Excerpt from:
A Door Is Opening/AuthorHouse.com  
  
Fresh Spiritual Poetry via:
http://peacefromwithin.shawwebspace.ca/

You are the early 2000s playlist in my memories
A poster ******* and faded, advertising a white face
Pictures of the past I struggled to survive
The words which I spewed on a dime

I still dream of the things I want to say
I want to be your good time
But also your whole life
You see, this is the dilemma in my own weird way
But I don't want to fall back and die
Or live beside the ocean
Because that would be the same as all my other days
Lonely

I don’t think you understand,
because I don’t, this wasn’t what I planned.
So I’m wondering how you can understand, when I don’t.
I won’t lose myself loving you, I won’t.
You’ve got me feeling too many different things,
got me contemplating cutting our tethered strings.
Falling in love has me tripping
over my own two feet? Maybe. All I know is I’m slipping
face first into this tangled mess
and now guilt eats at me as I slip from your arms half dressed
in the mornings when all I want is to escape,
wishing I was Wonder Woman with that red cape.
I slip away, but it hurts-
but I’ve seen it; my family, we’re cursed.
Concerning love, we’ve had no luck
I can’t lose you, so I’m labeling us a causal ****.
I hear you yelling now that you know my reasons,
promising our love could survive even the coldest season.
But how can he be so sure?
Doubts plague me as I slip toward his front door,
because love didn’t come with a brochure.
I hear you figuring aloud that I don’t love you enough.
You come to the conclusion,
“if this is how you feel, then I’ll set you free”
I got in my car, driving around till the clouds were dark and the clock said three.
Your words had been like knives,
but then I started thinking about my dad’s four wives.
My brain’s all jumbled,
it’s like there was one second left, I was on the one yard line, and I fumbled.
Is the risk worth it?
Could my heart even take the hit?
When I got home, in the dark I saw you standing
my heart was demanding
that I make my way over to you
but my brain said these feelings needed to be subdued.
I heard you say “I love you too much to set you free”
It was then when I looked in your eyes, love was all I could truly see.
My scalp tingled in realization,
as I floated toward you with some type of natural gravitation.
My heart had already taken the risk, without permission
and that’s when I mumbled my belated admission;
“I love you too and I’ll take my chances,”
My brain finally conceded to your romantic advances.
But really, truth was, I’d been under an illusion
because our love had always been a foregone conclusion.

Last week, among friends black and white,
among some discussion of protests in Ferguson
and the related looting of stores, I invoked
the word.  It was an admission, in a round
of confessions, of something about myself
that I didn't like:  that I had perceived Michael Brown
in that way based on his possible participation
in a strong-armed robbery.  

When Travon Martin was in the news,
I was inflamed like many others who wanted
George Zimmerman in jail for ******.
The outcome of that trial was an injustice,
I was utterly certain.  Why does this case
in Missouri feel different?  More importantly,
Who is inside me that still wants to rise
in defiance of 48 years of learning how
to be a better person, a person without prejudices,
stereotyping, labeling of others, hurtful language?

Where is the hippie girl now?  How does she live
with this other person?  Am I Sterling, Gibson,
a hater and spewer of viciousness, a lover
of separation and separateness, that I should
invite damage to my own relationships
with those I love and cherish and respect?

What is a **** but a bully, and what is a bully
but someone who pushes words around like
weapons, spits them out indiscriminately,
so that they land on the already bruised heart
and set it on fire.

Whose heart, besides mine, now sits in smoke
and ash, with that word like a brand
still sore and permanent, having been spoken
aloud?

Socialist agendas destroying pride
labeling me based upon appearance
a racist with a bald head
just another neo-****
just guilty of being white

political correctness negating free speech
when all i do is speak the truth
free of racist intent
yet i am just another redneck
just guilty of being white

white pride tattooed upon my chest
iron crosses upon my arms
but you look for a hidden meaning
when all it means it white pride
and respect for my German heritage

its funny, the double standard that exists
when minorities do the same
and its nothing more than pride
but i am guilty without reason
beyond a doubt in your mind

yet you call me a racist
what does that say about you?

And love is really important,
even if just for one night.
It can chase away your biggest fears,
it can get your through your toughest fight.

Don't let society make you feel cheap
for only needing love in small, temporary amounts.
Your value as a person
isn't derived from your *** partner count.

Don't let them make you feel ***** or small,
because some of us need this to survive.
The night of love we get from strangers,
we use just to stay alive.

Because relationships can be messy,
and hearts are so easily broken.
But through nights of whisky and hotel rooms,
we find words of peace that were never spoken.

And some of us don't have hearts,
as they were stolen long ago.
From men called "Dad"
and men in suits,
and men who we've never known.

And maybe the word "****" makes the people feel okay.
This type of labeling has been going on since the Biblical days.
Maybe it makes them feel better about their own sinful ways.
Maybe when the Earth crumbles, they'll have a price to pay.

Because they don't know what it's like to be empty for so long,
That the thought of being full terrifies you.
They don't know that you'd rather be wrong,
than risk the pain that being right can put you through.

But I do, my dear.
For I am one of you.
I've felt closer to heaven in the arms of strangers
than I ever have kneeling on a pew.

I know what you dream of, darling.
I know that you dream of lasting and healing love.
I know that you feel prisoner by your demons,
I know you hope for a sign from above.

Don't let the world bother you much.
I understand you; I know you're doing your best.
For now, it's okay to find comfort in a stranger's touch,
to let love fall from your mouth.
To let pain flow from of your chest.

I don’t know if 1 +1 = 2,
If I had to count I’d point at you and you,
I don’t know how to subtract one but if one person leaves I’d be pointing at the one I didn’t lose,
I don’t know how to learn from a book,
I thought knowledge was attained through experience;
How did that turn into labeling kids with disorders; as if the archetypes that are non linear were mysterious,
We call our kids special,
Treat them different,
As if that type of nurturement were helpful;
Baffled, because these types of accusations exploit a misunderstanding that’s serious,
He learned about friendship through Toy Story,
He learned about friendship through war stories,
His imagination gave life to toys; they created the picture after that,
His application made a child a boy; a missing picture was aftermath,
He promised to never forget the love he gave before moving,
He had an obligation to forget the meaning of love before duty,
Friendship was movie,
Friendship was duty,
We may learn different; but are we truly?

We used to take these things slow,
We was too young, we used bowls,
Blunts only came with the shows,
High only came without goals,
Now I don’t even have bros,
And this was the life that I chose,
Love was up under the nose,
Had to let go, I couldn’t show,
Experiences hurt me the most,
What is a home, I am alone,
Finding my life in a post,
It’s cutting close…

Eyes closed; I feel uncomfortable in the physical,
**** me please; I find normal in the mystical,
I don’t mean to be dark but its the psychedelics that make life livable;
Jedi flipping with acid and molly,
The fungi was just a treat,
Confronting thoughts nowadays because earlier we didn’t meet,
Something went wrong; I.e. unbalanced,
Destiny discrete; to meet was an unbound chance,
And I couldn’t time it,
Now every word spoken is a time I didn’t speak,
I try to stretch my mind to find the other reality,
The gravity of this situation is projecting real without me;
Whatever happened to Chinese philosophy,
The time in which I was I and death was life and opportunity expressed divine in a time frame where we were destined to be...

Color me your color baby,
I know where you are,
Cover me your love is fading,
We shouldn’t have been too far,

I’m not happy with the results,
Ignorance is the reason I accept it,
Nothing’s expected, but I’m praying that I eject the next second,
I can only be respected after neglection,
I’m better off expressing a resurrection,
Left too early and life says it’s right,
Lead loaded caskets; well I’ll continue to write,
Left hand can be now, tomorrow’s my right,
Wait…
Happy nation, living in a happy nation,
“where the people understand andd dream of perfect man”;
WAIT...
Where’s my patience; I’m living in a happy nation,
We the people understand andd dream a perfect plan,
And I keep waiting for being to become our way in…

I want to be quiet, this is a crash,
I’m lacking nutrients; that’s my validation on why I’m thinking bad,
I’m thinking pessimistic; “She’s the best I nevver hadd” or “I swear I’m always thinking sad”,
This is the illusion, and I ain’t alluding,
I never picked a side my friend.

I took a breath to channel my inner jedi,
Lili was a witness, however she’d  disagree,
I told her , “we are god”; she had a different belief,
I stopped that ****, the fun guy was keeping me head high; I told her I accepted her the moment she accepted me,
There was a sudden relief,
I was expressing a lesson and received a blessing in the form of treat,
Now I am stuck in disbelief,
Because I literally experienced my mind and became a Jedi,
Existence itself only validated one thing, and that is the existence of me.

<>

Every summer, I relearn a new language.
Every winter, it departs for warmer climes,
Its charms and naked arms,
Its own alphabet,
Clean forget.

Multi-lingual in the summer's peculiar
One language, one aleph bet,
With a mega-millions of dialects,
Know them all, cold,
know them all, hot.

I speak Woman.

Summer is soft, shapely, sweet,
Clean, bare, lush in a sparse way,
And Woman is spoken thusly.

There are no harsh sounds,
Guttural exclamations, nein!

I speak Woman.

There is no ugly in the summer.
Ugly being an ugly word.  
It cannot exist in an atmosphere of
Sun, greenery, sand, carefree days,
vacations, no school, no ways
Is there ugliness in any woman of the summer?

You could take this writ many places.
Most of them wrong,
So sputtering sexist or other labeling words,
Makes you ugly and wrong.

Could not give a good *******,
In the summer of 2013,
There should be no ugly, no prejudice.

In any summer,,
There should be no ugly, no prejudice at all.

Long past my primal,
I still speak Woman
With almost perfect fluency,
Au naturel,
Naturellement, à la française.

Gym clothes, denim short shorts, yoga pants gone mad,
A-line skirts swishing in the breeze,
High, god, so high the heels,
Flats clip clopping, flips flip flopping,
Stilettos making love craters,
All over my heart, like a surgeon doing good work.

It is the bare arms and the fluorescent, mint stripe hints of
Summer Cleavage, the short skirts,
Body hugging one piece fabrics,
stretching from here to down there
That do not hint.

The shoulder strap of the underthings,
Asking, commanding me to
Wonder where these paths lead...

Even the light shoulder wrap,
Casual over bare shoulders slung,
A late night elegance that mocks me,
Like gift wrapping over a
Smile demure, a teasing blindfold...

All these say:

Write us poetry in our very own tongue of
Woman.

Will oblige.

I curve with curve of the *****,
Invert geometry of the S arc of the waist,
Mystifying, how it is the designed place
For my hands to grasp, never failing...never letting me fall

The crayola musical colors of flesh variations,
Boggle the senses...
How can
Tan and pale,
Dark and Light
Have so many
Symphonic variations?

Adagio, slow and leisurely, a pas de deux
For two eyes, following ******* by eyes sparkling,
Timpani crashing heart and thunderous pulse quickening,
Violin heart crying out, joyous wailing need and desire sparking.

Just as Byron wrote:

"Music arose with its voluptuous swell,"

Yeah, just swell,
a voluptuous sea swell.

Well,
Enough.

My eloquence is a poor instrument to portray my
Fluency.

Early May man glorious loves life,
Late July, sadder man,
Knowing  the summer foliage colors will soon, fall-fade,
Come August, my vocabulary, already diminishing.

But
Never forget
how to say in the language of Woman, this:

Without you,
I am nothing,
With you,
I am more than everything.

Tho I can no longer say it well,
It is is still true and
Beyond belief.

My one true language of love
In a world gone mad.


August 2013 ~ July 2016 - May 2017

Some people define 'feministing' as
"Girl, you crazy."
"You really think you can change the world?"
"Tough ****."
Or
"Nobody's ever gonna love you"
"Because of your fat body and fatter mouth."
Well, contrary to your opinion
I am fighting to be more than just a body and mouth.
A body because men do not have the right
To use it as their own personal welcome mat
And a mouth because I refuse to swallow them up
To be an opening in which they find their home.
My mouth is for more than pleasing a man
My body is for more than pleasing his eyes.
'Feministing' is not me being hotheaded
Or hating all men
No, I hate the men who feel they are entitled to use me
Who feel they can retreat into my breast
Into my womb
As if to mimic their mother's
Just because I came out a woman.
I hate the men who derogatorily call women
*****, *******, prudes
Just because they have too much ***
Or refuse to have it with a particular person.
Just because you came out a woman
Don't you know that it is your sole purpose
To give up autonomy over your own body?
Your own body is no longer your own
It is a maple tree that lovers carve their names into
He scratched his name into your bark
Labeling you as his
Labeling you as the government's
Labeling you as someone else's
Because you, a little girl
A helpless woman
Cannot be trusted to know yourself well enough
To own yourself.
I hate the society that instructs little boys to be entitled
And teaches little girls that
Just because you have a body
Just because you are a woman
You are asking for it
Your cleavage is a stamp that says you want him
And should you say the word "no"
You are inherently leading him on.
Should you say "yes"
You are a disgrace
A pariah
An outcast.
You, girl
Should not be ******
You, child
Should not be independent
You, woman
Should not be.
How can I be?
We, women
Do not have the option
Our voices are lost in the static noise around us
We cannot live
Because we are systematically shut down
When we try to be who we are.
So, next time you complain about 'feministing'
Give me a feasible alternative
About how to be who I am.

There are too many hairs
I keep blowing off my keyboard
To pretend they aren’t there
And that they can be ignored.
I can't pretend I have gone blind,
I am admitting they are all there
And that they come from me;
They truly are my own hair.

It must be true, I hazard
Because I can see my scalp.
It’s a situation from aging
For which there is no help.
I have long expected it.
It will do no good to whine.
The disappearing tonsure
I needs must claim as mine.

And so I placate myself
With selfish comparisons
I may look older than others
But much better than some.
Not many decades ago
I once thought sixty was old.
I am thankful for my friends
Who decided not to scold.

They knew I was being
Just the least bit callow.
But they avoided labeling me
With words like vain and shallow.
So, perhaps the vain part
I have with me even now,
And I would abandon that
If I could figure out how.

I’ve been squeezing moose all over my body in an attempt
To give it more volume
Which is to say I was trying to give my life more depth

When you’re finished reading astronomy you’ll end up
Throwing oranges at pedestrians because **** it, Earth is
Meaningless and everyone needs to cheer up

**** it because being content is the hardest
Thing you can possibly do
Which is to say throwing oranges at people is the hardest
Thing to do without getting your *** kicked

**** it because when an orange concentrates hard enough it becomes juice
And if I concentrate hard enough I **** myself
Which is to say I need to have a seat and calm down—
Enjoy this cigarette while it lasts

I am no longer able to print Handle-With-Care labeling
And tape it to my body like someone who actually believes that works
While the sun laughs and harasses me with oranges all day
**** it, there’s too much moose and I’m wearing a white shirt.

some people find labels oppressing

straight
gay
cis
trans
black
hispanic
girl
boy
none of the above

even the absence of a label is a label itself

labels are things that corner you in,
limit you to one word,
a word in which you MUST fit the bounds

labels only exist for things we know about,
what if we don’t even have a word for it yet?
they’re limiting in this way too

yet,
i find that i enjoy labels

i enjoy labeling myself as a white, cisgender, pansexual girl

labels help me fit in
they help me to make sense of myself
and place myself in certain categories

labeling gender can be tough for some people
but i like identifying as a girl

labels can shut you in but they can also free you

free you from yourself
from the expectations of society
from embarrassment and dysphoria

i like labels
i don’t know about you
but they make life a whole lot easier for me

One phonecall? Alert the public
Who would you call in a stance of conundrum in case the sky's falling down?
Desperate measures in desperate times
I carry an emergency kit with extra ink for my rhymes
And a band aid for my lips to cover up the disease they diagnosed me with;
Of Spitting up filthy ****
Labeling ill kids,
With conditions made up like myths
Deluded? Please.
Excuses are sad pleas to ensure the public's attention skips the obvious.
So I'd rather lock myself away,
And use my notebook to convey my love;
For the person I'd dedicate one last phone call to.
Lock myself away like Anne frank in the attic and write so much fire it produces sparks
the static is electric; the rush through my veins has me lost,
In the cosmic abyss of my thoughts
While I'm lit... I concoct schemes to conquer mics
If you dissect my insides with jabs, I'll retaliate with clever forensics;
Cut myself open for the world to see,
That all I'd bleed is metaphors in overdose...
Infinite similes are the catalyst to my rhythmic metamorphosis

It's funny how open we can be.
When the real person inside you,
Starts to run and leap.
The only problem is the others,
Who have not yet decided to be free.
Constantly judging those around them,
And labeling you a freak.
But I love the real me,
The one who can be everything,
Show courage and be sweet.
Why can't you do the same?
Are you broken? Incomplete?
Have you not solved your puzzle?
The one your life stands to beat?
I don't see why you can't just be real with me.
Tell me how you feel, let me know when your glad,
That little grimace you made,
Did someone hurt you bad?
Let me see who you are,
Let us giggle and laugh,
I just want what's real,
Not some conservative drag.
I love when your silly,
It makes the day worthy not bad.
Don't be afraid to admit that, that is your favorite snack.
I'll share it with you, no one will bag,
The real you is worth while,
It's all I'll ever ask,
I can't wait for the real you,
To step out and feel glad.

sound and noise-
two chapters of the same book.
Sound: the quiet ripening of music notes over wind, or the fluttering of bird and butterfly wings.
Noise: the static between radio stations, gun fire, weeping.

There would be no such thing as the overlooked if there wasn't anything highlighted, and so I would not be writing about our neglect of sadness unless there were such a thing as happiness.

young love and youth and destruction and dreams are all noise, all left in the shadows of their more bright, elder predecessors.

And we mistaken noise for sound more often than not, which makes the ability to hear a blessing and a curse.

For we mistaken a teen's cries as a sign of teen angst, or a mother's book of rules as a restriction of our lives, and the noise we think is being produced is the music of our lives. Sound isn't beautiful, sound is real. Noise is heard, sound, you feel.

So before you go labeling something as noise, remember what is missing: noise implies that everyone can hear, but no one is listening.

Molesting Innocent's
Taking
advantage of young un-suspected victims,
****** away hope,
Beating out trust as
"they"
tell you it's all for your own good.
The System
Verbally sales you,
Mentally
making you believe thing's aren't
really what they seem.
Hey pretty girl,
You
want to come home with me,
Like
stranger's using Candy,
Creeping in the middle of the night
stealing away dreams,
Snatching babies outta arms
For not being what "they"
want you to be.
Jumping through hoops
to prove your worthy.
The System cover up lies,
Disguised
Your Shame
It's not "their fault for you
becoming pregnant at 10,12 & 13.
Abortion isn't in my beliefs,
Forcing us,  Breaking us, Making us do what "They want!
Telling Lies while Judges become your executioners
Fostering empathy's,
Making you live in misery
Parents- Grandparent's
Crying Screaming,
Dreaming of they days you'll be back.
Depressions, PTSD, Bipolar
Explosive disorders
Meaning a person gets angry fast
with no reason or for the littlest of things....,
Label's
from Misuse,
Misrepresentation's
Misuse of my or even your body,
******, Molesting, Physical, Mental,
The System
took me from a Exceptional-Good home,
Placing me
with Monster;
Who called themselves: wholesome,
loving- Good- God fearing Church goers;
Foster Parents.
A Preacher  
phrasing the almighty book,
every Sunday
While every night
He'd say I was better then his wife,
As
my eye's cried,
Hoarsely I beg him to stop.
Case-Worker & The Systems
cover up.
From home to home
Group home to group
I'd run as fast as I can,
To  my
own family even thou
We were  broker then sin
at least I was so safe there.
Repeat & repeat these step every chance
I'd get & still they'd  Placed me in home's
until
I got old enough to make it on my own.
Even then The System wouldn't let me be,
See I knew "their" ***** deed,
All the well kept secrets....
unfortunately for me,
16 going on 17 mother already of 2 while
expecting another lil girl,
The System tryna step in once again,
Robbing me of my Children,
Their
words: labeling me,
I'm tooo crazy to love or ever be a mother.
I'm not doing what "They " want....
I had it,
Life was it for me,
I wanted to commit Suicide
I just couldn't thou & Lucky for me
cuz
I Finally found away out at 18.
Got my kids- Sued & Beat
The System!
Always Me Ayeshah
Copyright © Ayeshah K.C.L.N
1977-Pesent Day(s)
All right reserved

Let it be known~
        Beyond the mere musings of tool bearing monkeys
               Lies an ineffable essence which deflects archaic labeling.
                      
This is the direct experience of non-discriminatory equalization
        Of conceived notions.
               All which may be considered good and true
                       Vaporizes in the blinding eye of this clarity.

Language is the battleground of ignorance and illiteracy
        Of what begs not be named~

Thatcher vacuum seals nicotine
Slurps cigarette like mosquito
Ravenous lungs gnaw and grind for the slow pander,
Thatcher’s just another name for the labeling
We plaster and pine for an out,
Stitch that finite lie beneath squeamish child skin,
Thatcher’s the black lung paradise,
******* infancy coddling cigarette stifle,
The caloric crack of his canines fletching out lust and sickly groove
As he’s scopes out fiend and vexed vandals,
Clutches the sick theistic *******
Cuddle those bruise licked hips
Give God the gross percent,
Cause heaven’s in those greenbacks
and God’s in the ******* kick,
Suckling bout the American tip
The Christian capitol,
Seething on shadow puppet ****** and American dream,
Gods got nothing to do with the slickened crinkle of gain and glamour,
Thatcher’s just the candy man give and cult,
Cough the crutch of contagion greed
And clutch the cuff of your porcelain sleeve,
Thatcher gleans your blackest suite tight,
Struts raven blade shoulders perched on American made spine,
Thatcher does as Thatcher please,
Thatcher thinks as Thatcher bleeds,
And Thatcher bleeds venereal blend,
Gout with the American veneer of broken girl and scabbed moral traumatic,
Trauma tastes as the hollow pixies give out the get out,
Bandaged baby girls,
The teenage horror show,
Just another blazoned hit of one two take the hand me down generic give away,
Desensitize the humanize,
Girls got to get the days glossy puff and sniff,
Thatcher’s content to satisfy,
Callous coroner a spectator suckling Marlboro lick,
Lodging thick smoke and toxin between spittle slick lips,
Albino plumes clotting and unfolding,
Thatcher clicks back the cartridge
Filter and cigarette,
Thatcher gulps back the need because brain’s got a favoring kink for the buzz,
Thatcher sings with the screaming in his straggling lungs,
Hums the western creed
Laughs fickle with God at his need,
Thatcher’s the true American dream

young people,

they think nobody has the
same thoughts as them
they take great pride in some made up
originality

as if really nobody ever thought up
scenarios of themselves descending
some rope from some helicopter and
dropping in the middle of enemy forces and
starting to shoot around, all movie like ‘an ****
and killing all the bad guys while not
taking one bullet
One man army

or there’s those other thoughts
of being simply the greatest at some
sport and being admired and envied for it

also, the thoughts of *** in all its forms

the thoughts of mindless violence

of saving the day

of being somewhere else and doing something else

all kinds of thoughts
and all the minds who think them label them as original

but they’re not original

they’re every young person’s thoughts

and me,
I also have thoughts I consider original

I think of how it is to be old
pretty much every **** day
I think of me being old and dried up and weak
and waiting for death

it’s not a very pleasant thought
especially for someone in their twenties
but it’s my way of labeling my thoughts original

maybe in some wheel chair
with a nurse pushing me from behind
No kids
no family
no fortune
no achievements
a life wasted
death watching from above
mockingly

and myself looking up at it
smiling
*******, you think you got me
but little do you know that
while I was able, while I was more lively than
a rotting carrot
I defied you by ripping apart pieces of me
that will stick with the world
long after I’m gone

Oh, they might not be great pieces or even good ones
but behind they remain as you take me away

and all of them branded with my name
It’s through them that I am
immortal

and there’s nothing you can do about it

great, good
or bad,
you cannot **** a poet