"scapegoating" poems
we make up demons
so that we have someone to blame
when we look in the mirror
and realize that we've ****** up.
original sin is
a ******** way
of scapegoating adam and eve
so we don't have to face our own consciences at night.
Feb 27, 2018
Feb 27, 2018 at 10:01 AM UTC
My feelings on the world are a complex dichotomy. If I could control the world, my rule would be to control nothing. To give freedom and agency to everyone and let every culture and kind shine as they do and **** superiority and focus on growth, not **********
But, not all people aren't as communally minded as that. And though in theory I could change the rules, I can't change people.
In its own way, that's beautiful. The visceral strength and resiliency of humanity fascinates me, with the chaotic undertones that lie beneath every eye. I love the spectrum of pain and brilliance it brings. But it also makes a utopian world of understanding and lack of control impossible to keep people safe; because never will there be a human race that doesn't at least have some people craving absolute control.
I think this dichotomy within myself parallels my standing with humanity very well. There is something on most every end I can find fascinating: free will, selflessness, unpredictability, tenacity. But also I can never seem to be pleased with how humanity could be but never amount to.
Not that it gives me much trouble. I've always kept humanity at an arm's length, choosing books and stories over the flesh-bags in front of my face. The only thing I ever struggled with was not being normal with my human relationships, and trying to make my methods match.
My methods won't match because I might as well be an alien for all I care about directly interacting with humanity.
Yet, I love humanity, in a way. I could write about human transcendence and growth until I die. I am madly in love with human potential. But I don't love humans. I don't love a species that muscle arms its way into dominance and can be arrogant and small-minded. After all we've managed to accomplish, and we're still start wars over skin color and scapegoating? Its laughable, in a way.
I suppose I look at humanity as if I was an alien scientist. I have no way of measuring things or conducting research because I'm foreign, but I can see the greatness in their eyes and am floored by it. Yet I also see the violence in their eyes and am repelled by it. The most tragic, push and pull love of my life has been for this species.
I've learned lately I'm okay with being alien. But its strange to find a foothold in a world where I feel constantly at odds and different.
But I like strange, so I think its what works best.
Between humanity and me, things are complicated. Things are wonderful and painful and all worth the while in its own, ****** way. I suppose all I have is my words and I'll share them, and humanity can listen if it will. I hope it will. I hope it can help people who feel like aliens too, and maybe then being an alien and a human can be easier.
But for those things, we'll just have to see.
Apr 5, 2017
Apr 5, 2017 at 8:32 AM UTC
I consider myself fortunate, that I discovered absurdism at eighteen. It seems to me, one of those things, discovered in old age when you wish then, you could go back and do all differently. I don't have that, I am free to live the absurd life, maybe I will feel I should have lived otherwise, when I am old. But absurdism makes sense, for right now. I've tried religion, I was scapegoating, putting my problems onto a deity rather than taking responsibility. I suppose, I must live. And we will see.
Jul 25, 2017
Jul 25, 2017 at 5:51 AM UTC
#
*Not all was lost
to the beast,
nor to the silence
that sheltered it.
For deeper still,
beneath the rubble
of unspoken years,
the child remained.
Bruised, yes..
but not extinguished.
Hidden;
but not erased.
A breath still moved,
a spark unclaimed
by the darkness.
The beast does not feed only
on the wound itself,
but on the hollow it leaves behind.
Gaslighting, scapegoating, silence..
all these are its masons;
carving out a chamber in the soul
where the beast makes its abode.
There, in the aloneness of the child,
it feeds from within,
claiming the silence as its fortress;
the emptiness as its throne.
And the door creaks again..
not always the first door,
but another..
a new figure cashing in
on the void they sense.
Their entry feels like company,
even love,
yet it is only continuance...
a repetition of the first harm.
Worse still when the creak
is painted with a smile,
when exploitation wears
the mask of care--
The abode deepens,
and the beast settles further
into the soul.
Yet the fortress cannot hold forever.
The silence cannot smother forever.
Even the grave-dirt of denial
cannot bury it whole.
For the child endures
where walls collapse,
and the smallest cry
outlives the loudest lie.
The beast devoured much,
but not all.
And in what survives,
the future breathes;
a testimony,
a beginning,
a voice
that will not be hushed.*
#
Sep 2, 2025
Sep 2, 2025 at 3:44 PM UTC
once I beat a television to death
it was a very bad television, always showing me bad things
almost as if it had some proclivity for badness
but how can an inanimate thing have an inclination
surely what it showed to me was of my persuasion
So soon after I'd thrown it out
I sat around fulminating in something of a pout
at first I missed the sensation, the noise and the thrill
and observed I'd become quite inured to the ****
and little by little as such thoughts soon languished
it occurred to me also such thoughts would be vanquished
So after a spell, I obtained another set
and soon I was reminded, it wasn't finished with me yet
oh the gore, the blood, oh the sinister grime
oh you and me what a ghastly good time
and then and there I again realized
the images I'm viewing are choices of mine
How quickly we forget
memories of convenience
blaming the other guy
scapegoating reason
nobody forces you to watch the modern megalith
and once again I beat another television to death
May 22, 2013
May 22, 2013 at 10:38 PM UTC
Trumpty Dumpty spoke like a clown.
Trumpty Dumpty, he put ev'ryone down.
All the king's losers and all the king's rubes,
Now live in a country, jobless, unruly!
*Fa la la, la la la la . . . *
Trumpty Dumpty cast hate and lies.
Trumpty Dumpty, he won no surprise.
All the king's biggots and all the king's drones,
Now live in a country of fear and control!
*Fa la la, la la la la . . . *
Trumpty Dumpty wants a Great Wall.
Trumpty Dumpty, shuns Mexicans all.
All the king's cowards and all the king's dummies,
Only feel safe by scapegoating with Trumpty.
Fa la la, la la la la . . .
Feb 27, 2016
Feb 27, 2016 at 2:49 PM UTC
Are they good people?
Friendly folk?
Good neighbors perhaps,
Willing to lend a helping hand-
Loving family members?
When they are not preaching hatred, I mean,
Waving symbols of terror and oppression;
Scapegoating people who fled oppression
Torture, death or economic hardships
Such as we have never endured..
Or denying the rights of fellow citizens
(who's ancestors were stolen, enslaved, tortured, terrorized and
Stripped of as much dignity and humanity as was possible even years after the promises of freedom and equality.)
And when the parades and riots are over,
Are they good people, nice folk, once more?
Sep 23, 2017
Sep 23, 2017 at 11:56 PM UTC
The depths of my depravity sink
My cruel and careless mind is aligned
With eyes affixed on all I've solely lost:
I dance with my scapegoating ghosts
Yearning to turn the page:
My hands are cut off by Hammurabi--
To keep from gouging Oedipus' eyes:
I am written out of the story
Ambition does not lust after me
I am forgotten in Dante's Inferno
My hands have denied any involvement--
They cite my brain for a lack-of-character(s)
Volition is cemented in the mire of Regret
Yet, She still screams to me:
"'Out damn'd spot! Out, I say!'"
So, we bury my tell-tale heart under the floor...
Jul 25, 2018
Jul 25, 2018 at 6:00 AM UTC
Turn to the tyrants in your desperation
Then bow to the despots who promise salvation
To make a great nation again just be patient
The sickness and hunger and carnage
Is ancient
So just keep on waiting
And praying and voting
For new revolutions
To end the scapegoating
Promoting of puppets who serve in the ranks
Of the NRA super pacs thinking of tanks
Before hospitals, schools and a job on the line
When the self-serving interests know only the grind
Of the country club, mansion and stock-sucking life
And the left is in pockets of whites on the right
And now dark is the night and it never sees dawn
Just a loaded handgun to what’s already gone
Nov 8, 2017
Nov 8, 2017 at 1:17 PM UTC
One of those days
When agitation drives productivity
Up the wall and out through
Dark chimney
As little eye contact
As possible to continue breathing
Non stop doing not enough
While hanging somewhere in the air
With feet not grounded on the soil
That holds my truth
Was there ever a piece of land that did?
Gulping for a sense of belonging
Just like i did since long before anything
Started happening
So far away from the start
Yet held by the same forces
My best frenemies
That uncover
The illusion of being
When it does not come
From within
Pushing away the
Aliveness to be properly
Placed in the net of sameness
Normality of boredom
Oh how I hate it
Sep 23, 2016
Sep 23, 2016 at 10:39 PM UTC
blessed are the nights,
when, not a single word
of worth comes to mind...
that revelatory stare
into a blank page...
when the page reads
me, as if writing itself
in the ink from the feast
of Belshezar...
invisible yet
somehow there...
such nights,
and all the day's conclusions
come begging for
the noose of snooze,
hanging from
the curvature of a scythe
moon...
and the promise of tomorrow,
bound to refreshing
a grsndmother's kitchen,
hiding the faded nectarine,
with lemon peel...
because, just sometimes...
adding more to the already
congested rubick narrative
and the debilitating insomnia...
fails spectacularly...
nights when
nothing spectacular happens...
a ticking clock,
a tap dancing drop after
drop of waer from a water-tap...
a hushed radio...
and the thought,
that somewhere,
elsewhere, anywhere but here,
people are busy living lives,
complicated lives,
busy lives, exhausting lives...
ratty lives...
scaremongering
and scapegoating each other,
faking gods, killing gods
and in the names of
other, more earthly deities
doing what people
do best...
which is:
being unable to sit still...
it becomes comforting,
to have so many people
do so many things,
esp. those people
who demand that life
be drama...
in the *****
of theatre's patron saints,
whether Judas, or Brutus...
who somehow, managed
to climb out of the king's mouth...
closer to "home"
it would seem that you can
forgive a ****** poem
by someone well read...
but a poem in cuffs
of a rawness...
the standing naked
effigy by concensus
of mere literacy?
a question not worth
asking, let alone answering...
a tsunami of youth
and the drowning sound
of gurgling middle-men...
it must be blinding,
to be surrounded by nothing
other than compliments...
with no firm reaction
that can detach you from
writing to a shadow,
as if, standing on sand...
how can people
allow let alone stand
this insidious flattery?
never mind...
tomorrow,
and refreshing a grandmother's
kitchen.
Apr 8, 2018
Apr 8, 2018 at 6:55 PM UTC
(alternately titled: aery diction galloped jocosely)
Abbreviation asper "FAKE"
abdication (wishful thinking),
an aberration Trump accepted
abjuration (or alternative) i.e.
ablation, thee apprenticed
president, would never forsake
abnegation (sooner his cold,
dead paws pried loose Putin
on the Ritz Carlton), this
abomination, his indiscriminate
abrogation appears (underwent)
acceleration autocratic accentuation
Americans aver acceptation,
acclamation, acclimation,
accommodation "FAKE"
accreditation, averse Hispanic
refugee acculturation, he blithely
asseverates, viz faux ******* up)
accumulation unfairly *********
accusation (baseless bigotry)
scapegoating fifty plus shades
brown illegal aliens despite
provable residency status
conveniently citing himself
perforce repetition validates
accustomation touts "FAKE"
non hardy laurels spilt, spelt,
and smelt acetification reign
ruination unleashing acetylation
promoting political acidulation
SCOTUS acrimonious activation
authoritarian smug egoistic
actualization nepotism, jingoism,
despotism actuation atavistic,
apathetic, allergic adaptation
acquiescent, arrant, abhorrent
adjudication Machiavellian aggressive
adjuration acrimonious atrocious
administration alarming, appalling,
arresting admiration abysmal,
artificial, asymmetrical adoration
awful adulation, ambivalent
apathetic adulteration avast
averse adumbration adulteration
affair advocation barren aeration
puffed hirsute aerosolization.
Sep 6, 2018
Sep 6, 2018 at 2:32 AM UTC