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Left Foot Poet Jun 2018
a thousand brilliant lies
(Hafez, Iran 1320-1389);      (L.F.P., USA 20~21st century)

- Hafez -                                 - Left Foot Poet-

“I have a                                  if only, in my meager posses,
thousand brilliant lies,          but one lie when easy asked
For the question:                    the simplest damning of,
How are you?                          are you generally happy?

I have a                                    what is god you ask,
thousand brilliant lies.          no lies required,
For the question:                    many answers upon my face visible,
What is God?                          unsure if any worthy of believing

If you think that the               8 centuries separate us, yet
Truth can be known,              you lie; we poets - you, I, all believe

From words                             in the divinity of words

If you think that the                a thousand brilliant sparkles
Sun and the Ocean,                 when Sun loves the Ocean,
Can pass through that            each one a poem passing,
tiny opening Called                my mouth, my wide eyes,
the mouth,                                uttering a Cohen's hallelujah

O someone should                 So we gleam, mirthing in glorious
start laughing!                         and gleeful delight at ourselves
Someone should start             for your brilliant happy lies easily
wildly Laughing Now!"       
                            
                      
­                            unravel into a thousand laughs
hafez
Tammy M Darby Jul 2013
It is said by smell
Impossible be detected
I am here to say they are quite mistaken
For it is as heavy as night blooming jasmine
Overpowering
Intoxicating

The smell of white calla lilies
Heralds the coming of death
Announcing another soul from life taken
Despair  indeed has a scent

Lain on a headstone in reverence
The wreath of flowers
Posses a perfume of its own
Depression and loss infiltrate the heart
A cologne that permeates the air
There is I can assure you
A fragrance of despair

This poem is copyrighted and stored in author base.  All material subject to Copyright Infringement laws
Section 512(c)(3) of the U.S. Copyright
Act, 17 U.S.C. S512(c)(3),
Tammy M Darby
Still Crazy Sep 2014
I don't ask your permission
to make a fool of myself,
tell you publicly
what my near, dear ones
have almost no clue

my mental torment,
headache-constant,
imperial and impervious
poetry, pills, therapy,
caring words
don't pay my kind of bills

a man has a job.
Feed you family.
Protect and serve.

do  it well,
there is no acceptable excuse.
none.

was supposed to be easing on down,
slipping under.

come so far, my soul is old.
my tired is w/o definition.
the legs, knotted shoulders,
body aging faster than I can write.
the doctors only give me
if's and unless's,
contingencies in order
to die a little slower

warped, reversal of causality,
the older I get,
the more mouths to feed.
tough, this unexpected situation,
a nine lives time survivor,
do it again?

defraud myself,
living like I can afford
to write,
with courageous reckless abandon,
when earnest is deadly
and Lady Luck gave me the finger.

simply amazing.
eyes, constantly tearing,
nobody notices.

Do not ! Like this poem,
don't.
hate weak,
been strong so long.
this well, just got dregs left,
drudgery ain't potable, or even
worth drinking.

need nothing,
for myself, need nothing.
not one object on this planet
want to posses or be possessed by.

Monday wrestle with strife,
star in my reality show once again.
now, deny reality.

Do not!
Like this poem,
don't.
hate weak,
been strong so long.

my voice is stilled,
it's poverty exposed,
ashamed of every word I ever wrote.

hush me not, for tis true,
write on for an audience of one,
on but one subject,
a life, mine,
yet, still unmastered,
after decades of trying.

poverty exposed,
a life unmasked
for what it is worth,
or not.
Tammy M Darby Dec 2013
Charge in bravely
Release the components of intent
Seek justice long in coming
Press steadily forward
Refusing to relent
Contumacious in action and thought
Until the last drop of courage is spent

Demand respect from enemies
If given with honor
Return in kind the same
But by no means or reason
Ever concede the game

Instead
Cry Chaos
Inflict stinging blows
Focused
This strange power you now posses
Take hold
Scream chaos in defiance
Unsheath your sword

(This is the result of reading Shakespeare)
My new word for the day   Contumacious    (rebellious or defiant in nature)

This poem is copyrighted and stored in author base. All material subject to Copyright Infringement laws
Section 512(c)(3) of the U.S. Copyright
Act, 17 U.S.C. S512(c)(3), Tammy M. Darby
Sebastian Macias Aug 2016
It is a weight I walk with
Even when the sky is blue
I can not look up

In the bubble life wraps you in
You're stuck with a desperation
Between the fruits of life,
And a struggle to stay awake
To live, to love, to enjoy
The weight blinds you
It takes over your body
And forces you to walk
Looking at everything you posses
And whispers, "Not yet."
ELK Jul 2018
As the rolling hills pas by
I wonder where they go
where they come from
and how something so beautiful and rural
could be created with a single thought
Such power and freedom
I cannot comprehend
But oh, to be able to mold your
passions
Create your dreams
And control all that is around you
What I would give to have
that power
But then I come to the realization
that I do
Everything I need is within my grasp
All I need is to open my
mind
to what I already posses.

-Esther L. Krenzin -
-Roguesong-
KiraLili Aug 2016
Growing up we all sat down to dinner at our spots with one plate each.
Traditional times and meals
Heavy on the gravy and potatoes
Even at restaurants we sat in the same spots
As I travelled and saw more cultures and places
I began to experience shared plate dining
Sitting on floors surrounded by curries
At picnic tables loaded with corn and craw daddies
Pots of paella on Spainish verandas
Or mussels in seawater on the beach
Grilled coiled bratwursts with beer on long tables
There is communion to these meals leads to more open dialogue
The food in front of you isn't yours it's everyone's
You don't posses the food but share in all
You become so mindful of the expierenc since all are doing it together
Conversations begin first on all the flavours
Then spiral eccleticly and naturally
The mundane act of sustenance becomes an expierence shared
One remembers more of all this way
Stiff is the nature of  the dining table meals , even ones words and posture
But a shared platter or *** or plate is laid open for all and we open up
To pass a loaf or Naan and break off pieces while wine is poured into cups not glasses
Brings all closer and frees us from the walls we *****
Personal space limitations are gone as all interact
No divisive boundaries or ones same spot
The meal truly brings all together and closer
More relaxed , flavours are truly enjoyed and committed deeper to ones memory
You are not there just to eat
Shared Meals
Nat Lipstadt Aug 2018
disclaimer: unedited rambling and overly long and frankly, Scarlet, don't give a **** anymore...

Thus spake and quested
another, younger poet to me,
a far better one than I,
but obligations thus provided,
are serious business,
to those who understand
poetic responsibilities, and
under his own Rules of Order,
an answer,
though long in coming, AR,
must be provided.

Well well well
all is not well,
the faucets offers choices....
chrome hot
chrome cold

there is no such thing as
lukewarm truth in
clear waters that
run run,
yet never
run stilled,
birthed at turned-on conception,
to drain death removal,
another daily poetic miracle,
unappreciated by most,
overly consumed by their
own passage on this Earth

peddler wayfarer,
passing through with truth
poem pots and rattling pans
(nowadays, mostly panned),
a historic factoid,
and not what Amazon delivers...
truth is a genetically modified
bitcoin currency, misunderstood,
prone to sometimes useful,
but never ever, to stick or stain,
for I got excuses and who gives a ****,
yesterday is forgotten instantly

The coldest truths,
the confirmation of same
by mirrored image text sent,
(immediacy a necessity,
for though poor, it is 'real')
the twitter that methodically
A-lists your major crimes
B-lists your petty,
hope-you-didn't miss my
exposé of latest misdemeanors

the hot truths,
only whispered,
merely mint hinted
in a hot cuppa,
the heat itself
a cover up,
for what you do not
wish me to plainly speak
or plainly sell,
is accursed truths,
won't sell, even if free

Can't write about moon and June,
alabaster is a fine word,
but white suits me fine,
don't know the diff
tween dragon flys and lullabies

The way I write is
just the way I think, believe,
from my eyes to paper
there is no misdirection,
just silent labor conception

Poor poor real truth
is out of favor these days,
because there is nothing
no one won't cease or hesitate
to expose himself,
flaunt the anguish,
copy other's jive,
but that is real,
but it is not truth

Had a bad day,
You need to know about it
Right away!

Though I meander and excuse,
there is one state of truth,
I need yet to annotate

Too oft when tapped turned on,
it is rusty water and rusted truths
expelled and this, my stuff, my days,
not in vogue, or a top seller

I love the color rust,
overused in my poems,
but compulsion is not a
conditional, but a must

This then is the form
they spill in these,
my final days here

You might think that rust implies
lack of use,
a non-caring
for his voice,
his well practiced instrument

Au contrarie, amigo!

My rust is from overuse,
my eyes don't see
what the popular want nor
could I provide it
even if
it was demanded,
which it is not....

Rusted but unvarnished,
undisguised by fancy words
or silent cries, what you read
is what you get
until I find
a more "authentic" voice,
one that satisfies the world
not just me...he sneers....

Feel for me in the summer breeze,
from whence my best stuff
has always been plucked
sent on its way, to you,
in self-same wind,
to kiss your cheeks,
slap you alert

I used to write
on both feet
upstanding,
then Hillel was asked for
the whole truth
while standing
on just one leg

His reply:
"Love they neighbor as you love thyself"

So I switched
and now compose,
in quiet ignorance,
a wrong footed poet,
left only with his what's left,
and to put his left foot truths
first, forward and foremost,
is what he got, and
what I got, you'll get....

But a cautionary note,
drinking riposte rustys,
bad for the body,
but kindly
for your mental
wealth,
if your have the
only other element
most needed,
in your pocket posses,

courage
Rambling, unedited, and yet fresh so off to the presses..and at 4:21am,
I frankly, Scarlet, don't give a **** anymore...
Kiprotich vinny Jul 2019
My heart sings your name
I love yu to the moon n back,
In you is the definition of true love

You carry beauty, you posses beauty,
You an epitome of beauty,
I gonna make you my Queen,
In my heart you are an Angel,

For real princess I heart you,
And none shall replace,
I have to say,
my love, I love you.
Nat Lipstadt Apr 2014
Thus spake and quested
another, younger poet to me,
a far better one than I,
but obligations thus provided,
are serious business,
to those who understand
poetic responsibilities, and
under his own Rules of Order,
an answer,
though long in coming, AR,
must be provided.*

Well well well
all is not well,
the faucets offers choices....
chrome hot
chrome cold

there is no such thing as
lukewarm truth in
clear waters that
run run,
yet never
run stilled,
birthed at turned-on conception,
to drain death removal,
another daily poetic miracle,
unappreciated by most,
overly consumed by their
own passage on this Earth

peddler wayfarer,
passing through with truth
poem pots and rattling pans
(nowadays, mostly panned),
a historic factoid,
and not what Amazon delivers...
truth is a genetically modified
bitcoin currency, misunderstood,
prone to sometimes useful,
but never ever, to stick or stain,
for I got excuses and who gives a ****,
yesterday is forgotten instantly

The coldest truths,
the confirmation of same
by mirrored image text sent,
(immediacy a necessity,
for though poor, it is 'real')
the twitter that methodically
A-lists your major crimes
B-lists your petty,
hope-you-didn't miss my
exposé of latest misdemeanors

the hot truths,
only whispered,
merely mint hinted
in a hot cuppa,
the heat itself
a cover up,
for what you do not
wish me to plainly speak
or plainly sell,
is accursed truths,
won't sell, even if free

Can't write about moon and June,
alabaster is a fine word,
but white suits me fine,
don't know the diff
tween dragon flys and lullabies

The way I write is
just the way I think, believe,
from my eyes to paper
there is no misdirection,
just silent labor conception

Poor poor real truth
is out of favor these days,
because there is nothing
no one won't cease or hesitate
to expose himself,
flaunt the anguish,
copy other's jive,
but that is real,
but it is not truth

Had a bad day,
You need to know about it
Right away!

Though I meander and excuse,
there is one state of truth,
I need yet to annotate

Too oft when tapped turned on,
it is rusty water and rusted truths
expelled and this, my stuff, my days,
not in vogue, or a top seller

I love the color rust,
overused in my poems,
but compulsion is not a
conditional, but a must

This then is the form
they spill in these,
my final days here

You might think that rust implies
lack of use,
a non-caring
for his voice,
his well practiced instrument

Au contrarie, amigo!

My rust is from overuse,
my eyes don't see
what the popular want nor
could I provide it
even if
it was demanded,
which it is not....

Rusted but unvarnished,
undisguised by fancy words
or silent cries, what you read
is what you get
until I find
a more "authentic" voice,
one that satisfies the world
not just me...he sneers....

Feel for me in the summer breeze,
from whence my best stuff
has always been plucked
sent on its way, to you,
in self-same wind,
to kiss your cheeks,
slap you alert

I used to write
on both feet
upstanding,
then Hillel was asked for
the whole truth
while standing
on just one leg

His reply:
"Love they neighbor as you love thyself"*

So I switched
and now compose,
in quiet ignorance,
a wrong footed poet,
left only with his what's left,
and to put his left foot truths
first, forward and foremost,
is what he got, and
what I got, you'll get....

But a cautionary note,
drinking riposte rustys,
bad for the body,
but kindly
for your mental
wealth,
if your have the
only other element
most needed,
in your pocket posses,

courage
Rambling, unedited, and yet fresh so off to the presses..and at 4:21am,
I frankly, Scarlet, don't give a **** anymore...
Luz Hanaii Jun 2018
In this life I can count the times that I've become enraged
It's not a feeling which assails me nor care to cultivate
I avoid confrontations and the toxic harshness they provoke

Steering clear of discord, anger and hate
closing my eyes to your darkness thinking I was safe
living in a painting of pastels

Drawn to your portrayal of virtue
fawning the gentleness and kindness you failed to posses
abusing my heart, my spirit, my naive servitude

I was trapped behind religious facade
no empathy, love or compassion to display
fooling yourself, others, but not my heart

Letting offenses go, giving you the benefit of doubt
'till the day that righteous indignation set me free
from the likes of you and your abuse

It's not my fault if you fail to see or admit
nor take your part of the blame
and learn from past mistakes

I'm finally thankful for the lesson, I choose to forgive
Greater instruction comes with much pain and gain
lots taught here, if you care to perceive

I'll take my part of the blame, "remove myself" and repent
I forgive, wish you well and turn the page
Thank God, you've set me free!
Oh, witch!
Oh, with what magic have you bewitched me?
It is like all the forces of heaven and hell.
Oh my God how  I am bewitched by you!
Oh, what a heavenly  form you posses
like on other creature
who ever walked upon the earth.
Oh, and I know
that I shall forever seek
the heaven of your arms
through all the paths
that lead to eternity
till I rest in your lovely kingdom
though it be
through life or death
through which I must roam
to posses a heart so lovely
till my rest I find
in your loving arms.
MaxiM Jun 2018
For i have found myself basking in sin,
i ask those who share this to come forth,
stand with me,
for who walks this earth as an innocent,
pray.

No man, no woman, no child,
no one of this title,
no matter the stature of them,
no matter the wealth they posses or lack.

For the divine see all,
and in seeing all they see the dark buried in all light,
as a grain of sand casts a shadow when confronting the sun,
just as we all have sin.
-RepenT-
Seema Dec 2018
(I)
A word unspelt
The words unsaid
A wrong turn again
It may be bad
From one end to another
The evidence makes no sense
There could be another way
Why feel tensed
The heavy clouds will soon fade
And moon will give us the way
It's gotta be somewhere
Not so far away
Whoever has laid hands on
The buried old scripts
Have gone missing
On their adventurous trips
What is in it,
That one craves to find
Is it a treasure map
Or a portal of any kind
I feel it isn't a good idea
To join this group of five
It is still time
To run and be alive

But wait...

What is that noise, I hear
The other five lanterns
Seem to have disappeared
Like being swallowed
By some form of evil
I may be wrong, coz am quite behind
To even reach the grounds
Where, burried are those scripts
And a curse that bounds
I decided not to continue
Any further and put my life in danger
So I waited for day break
And that's when, I met a stranger...

(II)

An unusually dressed figure
That like of an ancient priest
With a hood covering
Emerging, from behind the trees
May be, he is one of the five
But how can I be sure
As the figure looked strange
Or perhaps, trying to lure
I sat next to a big rock
Keeping my eyes fixed
A sudden brush of winds
And the place seem to be mixed
I blinked to clear my view
Of that of dirt and dust
Pieces of rags flew
In the wildly gust
Intoxicating scent caught my senses
And I seemed to be drowning
From below my feet
Hours later, opening my eyes
On a hard solid ground
Surrounded by
Unearthly or earthy crowd?

(III)

Whispers of death
Rang in my ears
Blurred vision gave way
To my crouching fears

Where am I?

Above the ground of below
Is it my grave
Or a tomb
Like cave
Dim lights sprawl
As I try to stand
The ground suddenly shakes
And on my chest, I land

Is it my end?

Glitters and shine
From the passing ray of lights
A graveyard of buried treasures
Below many heights
It, definitely must be a dream
Yet, I can still feel
The chill of hovering death
Crawling beneath my heels
I dare not look down
To scream my head out
So I slowly, crawled
Towards the faint light
From where I heard the strangers call
Standing slowly,
not to disturb the peace
I followed the voice
That led among the trees...

(IV)

The moon was bright
And I felt the cold breeze
Brushing enough
For my ears and nose to freeze
Then a voice cracked
Of that of an old man

"he who bares no greed,
shall walk free",
"he who dares to steal,
shall be buried alive"


The stranger -

Your life is spared
From the cursed wrath
Your soul is pure
In the eyes of death
You lack the ingredient
That most posses
So have perished
And left lifeless
It is the greed
That is cursed in a being
Thus, all five got buried
With their share and sin
You walk free unharmed
Return to your people
And let them know
Whoever walks through
The path in search of scriptural treasure
Shall be cursed and buried
Within the treasure

And I, blink -

Far from the place
As I was in the night
Back to my senses
Welcoming day light
Life of mine is precious
That no penny or treasure
Can ever buy
Who wants to live a cursed life
And live behind their lies
I lack the seed
Of greed
That I don't intend to plant
I shall read
And educate
On how harmful, is this
Greed...


©sim
Spilling imagination. A story poem.
Kelly Weaver Aug 2018
I didn't think anything of the ringing in my ears until you told me that silence shouldn't be so loud
You had that same problem.
Too many concerts that were far too loud
Too many nights driving with the windows down
Blasting our favorite songs and screaming our hearts out
I wouldn't take a single second back given the chance
And I'd hope for the same of you.
I think of you whenever it rains because you loved it so much
As did I.
I think of sitting in your car while the raindrops on the window shone onto my thigh
That's when I learned to find beauty in the smallest of things
Like the way your laugh was rough and sweet
And how your eyes glimmered when they met mine.
The other day there was a firefly outside of my bedroom window
I had been crying over the empty feeling that tends to settle in my chest when I am alone
And when I saw its tiny flickering on my windowsill
I managed a smile.
Because I thought of the day we met
And how the cranberry bog hosted as many as I had ever seen in one place
You walked behind as I chased them in my bright yellow shoes
And you held me as I sobbed over their tiny significance.
When I can feel past unwelcome hands on my skin and in my bones
I think of the night you saw me scared shitless, sobbing next to you in bed
I covered my mouth to muffle the sound of my fear as hot tears fell onto my cheeks.
You held my shaking palm in your own
And then held me in your arms, which I have grown accustomed to call my home.
If I had one wish, it would be to posses the ability to evoke the feeling of your arms around me at will.
When you'd ask if I have ever been in love I'd find myself lost
Because in all of the past relationships I've taken part in
I have never felt nearly as happy and alive as I did when you were by my side.
So I guess, though current,
The answer to your question
Is yes.
i've slept a lot lately because my dreams are the only time i get to see you anymore
Apoorv Bhardwaj Feb 2019
It's not that I can't love,
That I can't pay a little more attention to the beauty you spread all around the mirk,
The happiness you bear,
The glow you posses that even the brightest of the stars feel dull,
It's not that I can't love a women full of grace,
Where people come and go leaving traces and traces of memories,
Where we swim alone in the oceans anticipating that someone might be swimming right there just to save us,
Where we dive deep believing that someone will dive with us,
Where the sun hide behind the horizon of broken hopes,
The moon behind the broken trust,
It's not that I can't love,
It's just that I don't.
It's not that I'm cold. I chose to be this way seeing you never cared !
Abbey Oct 2018
Dear Wikipedia,
you get so much **** and none of it deserved
for the world of knowledge which you preserve
teachers seem to hate you, say you're unreliable
but to me you are the most desirable
the bounty of general knowledge you posses
is the pinnacle of finesse
So yeah that was my poem I just made. I was overcome with a defensive affection for Wikipedia just now because everyone always says 'anyone can write anything on Wikipedia so its not a good source' but I disagree. firstly how many people go onto Wikipedia pages and make stuff up for fun? there cant be that many and there's a crap-tonne of Wikipedia pages anyway so the likelihood that the one you're looking at has been ******* with is slim. '
And while i agree that it may not give you the most in depth understanding of a topic, its certainly a good starting point anyway to give you a quick overview of a topic to perhaps see what part of it you want to explore more.
okay.
rant over.
later potaters.
AN UNHINGED MELODY

In the clouds above
I see no silver lining
There is no moon
And no stars are shining

It is such a dread
Feeling forsaken
Night after night
My dreams are taken
By the spirts that posses me
And the demons unbounded
Thoughts that swirl
The feelings unfounded

I tell the story
Of all that is hidden
All that is known is
All that's forbidden

M. N. R.
05 JANUARY 2019
carminayasmin Dec 2018
I think march has returned though it snows outside I can hear you outside and I’m slurring forgetting my senses and ignorant to the truth you posses; pretending it could be but would never be because this
is me forever.
unrequitedunrequitedunrequited; get it tattoed on me it will make no alteration because I can face it everyday needlessly.unrequited you are silenced from the rest. In the movie you are the fool  and unrequited you are unvisible/invisibe.no one cares to correct you for spelling because everyone forgets to read or write. As have you so what has drawn you back here; to march?
maybe she missed her letdown glazing her tear fire maybe she missed how the pen and the dark proved a healer and wanted to feel saved again from a nightmare.
2:50 am hello an old friend I was empty for a while but the silenced night let me into this again
Of all the fears I posses
death is not one of them
Living!
Living without a purpose I fear
Live with purpose
Meeting a stranger
In a bus station
A housewife became
Tempered to cheat
On her husband
"It is alright
As it will be
One night stand!"

She found
The adulterous fling
A nice thing
Which must be kept going.
She began to say
"What could  my husband
possibly bring?"

The couples marriage
Went dangerously awry
When the husband continued
To beset her by
"Why, Why,...Why?"
"Didn't we vow
To stay united
Till we die?
I am afraid
In a fit of rage
I could make a revenge!"

The man who wandered into
Her life off guard to wholesale
Posses her
Continued to demand.
"After lunch we could
Attend a music band,
Before dinner
We could go to a cinema
In the village yonder,
For breakfast
We must drive
To the shore fast!

In vain she began to lament
"Do not hesitate
My peevish husband
Could 2 in 1 pierce us
With a bullet!"
So how can we
Go to another village
Or open
A new page?
Keep we better
Things under cover."

By the time
She got home with a bruise
And a fictitious answer
For ready use
To be accompanied by
The usual
"Give me a break?"
In their bedroom
She found her husband
With a noose
Around his neck
Written on his face
'Give me a break!"

Ironically
The rope was
The self same tie
Up on their marriage
She gifted him
"Forget you
I shall not
Till I die!"
Angel'Lea Mar 2019
Power and energy
looking at you, is what I see
I can feel your aura around me
when we share the same space

Your aroma soothes me
It appeases my senses
makes me crave you
wanting you to make me whole

I am full within my own system
My universe comprised of my own wonders
Yet your light beams bright
even when the darkness is suffocating

I can feel you more than just as a presence
Your existence is dominant
I want to consume its essence

Join beings with me
Allow me to enter your atmosphere
My desires refuse the distraction of your flesh
Your vessel is all but oxygenated atoms
harboring energy
releasing voltages in bounty

Relinquish your electricity within me
Let me feel your currents as they flow

Collide forces with me
Creating a new galaxy

Arriving at our apotheosis
Existing infinitely
carrying out the act of creation
we have reached our highest potential
Our primal grounds for existence

Joining life forces to birth another
Can you even fathom the power we posses?
Surging powers of light
energies passing through space
Manipulating time
Creating life

We are pure in nature
While gravity keeps us grounded
our energy flow is limitless

We must live beyond our exteriors
For sin has contaminated its cells
Creating a dimming effect
Forcing us to see ourselves only as flesh
We are more than that reduction

Power and infinite capabilities are ours to hone
We are made one through our expression
Our artistic creation
Our charging energies
Existing in a universe of our own
Abbie Victoria Apr 2019
This race war has me confused,
Their opinions are outdated views.
If you posses A endoskeleton,
I can assure you, this is relevant -
Racism formed by past hierarchy ?
Forgive those who caused this anarchy.
Racism based on prejudice, fear, presumption?
Forgive the ignorant for their assumption.
We are no more than particles and atoms,
shaped by our historical pattern.
In two thousand and nineteen,
people still can’t see,
that I’m like you and your like me.
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