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jakwoby Mar 2015
POLITCALLY CORRECT**

Is it saying the wrong word?
Is it the tone of which you address someone?
How can we have courage in society if we can be oppressed by a mere mispronunciation?
Why does the way one introduces things affect the end result?
Who stands up for those who speak their mind?
Society preaches to stand up for what you believe while they tell you how to stand and present yourself in the process
Creativity is defeated
Uniformity of proper approaches destroys over achievers
Doing things different is thought of as wrong
If everyone is doing the same things to get to the same places
Imagine where one could end up by doing things differently
Open your mind
Try in everything you do, be good, be sincere
but never do things because how everyone else does it
or because its how its suppose to be done
Be real and yourself
Allison Jun 2019
Not many daughters can say they have a transgender father.
Paper never felt so heavy as I sat at the kitchen table, reading your letter.
“Did you do anything with your dad this weekend?” people would ask,
Threatening the perfectly crafted image
I had served to them on a silver platter of you.
It wasn't that you wanted to embody femininity that made me hide you away
In a half-empty closet filled with the brittle and fragile skeletons of my past.
Normal----that’s what you tried to make me feel,
That people fall in and out of love faster than it takes
To sign in and out of a social media account.
That divorce is just a word Americans use
To throw in the towel and wash away the misunderstandings at play.
That in the midst of insurmountable change,
I was supposed to put on a smile and remain the same.
Normal----What does that even mean?
Who defines the standard we all live in and breathe?
“I’m transgender,” you wrote to me on the scribbled page,
As a recently discovered fact,
Like the idea of Pluto as a planet no longer intact.
The nauseating smell of aftershave in the air,
The bellow of rage beneath your tongue,
And the thirst for control sewn to your skin
Were all the makings of a masculine costume
You fashioned for speculative minds to fool.
Pretending----we all indulge in this deceptive practice.
Houses appearing spotless in the company of guests,
Combing our hair straight out of bed,
Or a broad grin to mask our heart’s discomfort.
The truth is everyone is afraid to be messy,
Despite the facade of their Instagram stories.
It wasn’t the smack of your hand on my bottom,
When I told a white lie.
It wasn’t the abrupt rise of your voice,
When you heard the sound of my eleven year old cries.
It wasn’t the awkward questions you would ask,
When you arrived home in the clothes of a workaholic.
It wasn’t the way your hellos felt like goodbyes
Or the way your hugs felt like pressed cement on my chest.
It was how you made me learn who strangers really are,
People you know your whole lives without really knowing,
Incapable of building bridges between two hearts,
Or unable to weld two souls together.
Society will always be there to stuff us into boxes,
To make our souls quiver and shake
Beneath the intangible clutches of expectation.
You are my Dad,
Though I don’t know if it is politcally correct to call you that.
You forced me to push my emotions into the same bottle,
You plunged your own into.
Pretend---that’s what you made me do.
Pretend---what I, on my own, should only have the urge to pursue.
james nordlund Apr 2020
The great Ellis Marsalis, Jr., died of corona virus in NOLA,
one of a thousand that passed away this Avril Fool's, from it,
all of whom will be missed dearly, "...we(e),..."'ll ever bay.

In his day, near his death, (W.A.) Mozart said to his wife,
"I fear I am writing a requiem for myself", as he composed
'Requiem Mass in D minor- Lacrimosa', of unparalleled beauty.

With rheumatic fever hitting Europe at that time, and soon
after, yellow fever in Philly, here, epidemics and pandemics
became common, the worst, 1918 Spanish Flu, 1/2 a bill dead.

listening to comedy ring hollow, a necessary alternative to
the news that isn't new, my ear longs for his veracious music.
How can USA have the worst response to it among technocracies?

Our king-kong sized terrible-two, ****, playing his keystone
President act for 3 months has determined the repub conspiracy's,
global oligarchy's agenda's yoke tighten around the people's neck.

The stealing of social security from the elderly, infirm, through
Covid-19 exterminating them more than others, this couldn't get
done politcally by the repubs for 2 decades.  As well, the poor

to lower-middle-class, especially people of color, can't afford
to defend themselves usually, now it's worse. "Stimulus bills"?,  
over 1/2 a trill to bail out small, big businesses, pay big Pharma,

medical supplies corps, who're already making hand over fist from
the bidding war between States, federal agencies, dictating Bush,
**** klans who're heavily invested, ever increasing kafknching.

Coastal regions, big cities, mostly dems, are murdered more by
virtue of #, close proximity, needs, ****'s re-election plan.
This while he kept his criminal cuts to SNAP, still stealing food

from mouths of babes and handing it to billionaires.  Same as
it ever was, class war, repubs using jobs they don't do, to mass-
exterminate non-repubs instead.  like the serial murderers who

masquerade as cops, killers ..., as doctors, judges as justices.
The 'big fix' is in, if it ain't fixed don't break it, stop all
criminal insanity, if not you then who, here, where, now, when?

This leaf of poetree, although it just a twig be, may be my last.
If so, I'm honored to pass with such great artists, yet, hopefully
not from skyrocketing price of living.  Social distance, wear mask.
"The sleepers must awaken" (before they're extincted by climate change), movie Dune.  Thanx for all you All do.  Have a great eve'   ;)   reality
Syomone Apr 2020
sometimes id wonder why .
our seasonal
love song cry...
hearts intertwine
by something
so amazing
but yet we are
politcally imperfect
unforgiving eyes gazing.
gazing into our love ...
judging loving
hating contiplating souls .
but as time flies
by the deeper our love grows

— The End —