Past Lies

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“Whites saw Indians as obstacles to settlement, not rightful proprietors. Whites possessed presumptive rights because they represented a superior civilization. Indians were merely “savages”, incapable of putting the land to its highest possible use.” “Feel-good morality tales, in which the good guys can do no wrong and the bad guys can do no right, are far from harmless. They feed the notion that one side, inspired by righteousness, possesses the right to kill. They fuel the destructive cycle of revenge, for the villainous acts committed by the bad guys must be avenged. The emotions stirred in stories such as The Patriot are elemental but base: we want the enemy to go down. Justice is achieved through killing.”
Ray Raphael, author of Founding Myths – Stories That Hide Our Patriotic Past

This thought-process explains why the military defense gets over half of the US budget. The mindset of the powerful is and has always been one of conquest. They expect everyone to feel the same and fall in line. Those who whitewash history know this. It’s precisely why our children don’t learn the reality of this country’s past as teachers shovel feel-good stories about patriotism. The United States tries to deflect on every level all the shit they have done.

It’s disgusting.

 

It’s Lacking

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this on-again
off-again affair
it’s all just practicing
at the grown-up table

the repetition of the immature
the relationship nostrum
of the stupid
hot-cold-over, hot-cold-over

the connection fails
time and time again
when the heads in the game
are unequipped to love properly

The Hustle

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being present
feeling connected
and neutral

enjoying life
filling it
with joy

but beware
the underbelly
unseen

evil lurking
waiting
to be seen

life
a constant battle
the good fight

strength gained
in victories
over the darkness

Disparate Beings

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Our exteriors present a line of similarities.
A million influences offer up different presentations.

Variety is the spice of life. Or so they say.

Some are kind.
Or evil.
Or mean.
Or liars.

Some are immature.
Or honest.
Or hard-working.
Or decent.

Some talk openly.
Or hide.
Or cheat.
Or pretend.

Some are rude.
Or helpful.
Or giving.
Or caring.

Some are decent.
Or takers.
Or users.
Or slime.

More like butting heads with what we can’t align with.

Worth it? So many years are wasted trying.

Let’s teach our children to find the alikeness for connection, with some.

To choose the respite from the struggle of interdependence with the dissimilar.

Getting along without giving up anything that shaped us, with some.

Let’s help to create an environment of peace.

For with some, it happens.

Originally published on WP 1/28/18

Languishing Here

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relationship blues
twenty years hemming, hawing
death would be kinder

Hot Again, Not Again

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love hot
then awry
smooth and gellin
then rage and yellin
deep expressions of amore
trampled hurt feelings are telling
of the up, down, left, right, inside and out
this relationship changes at a fever pitch from good to bad and back

let me get off this ride

 

 

Trapped

cryptic
Inspired by Reena’s Exploration Challenge #85

we are entangled
a tedious commitment
rings of life showing
we’re rooted without water
hard to go, dug in deeply

Status Quo

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ALL the communities they stomp on have been pounded down long enough.
As the oppressed, we’ve seen and taken abuse in all forms.
Many have died.

We’ve watched and endured their childish ways.
And been on the receiving end of their vile behavior for way too long.
Suffered too much.

The oppressors – all shapes, colors, and forms – have ignored decency for an eternity.
The torture, the depravity, the madness of their control must end.
It is ENOUGH!

Things must change for the better.
We’re done with going two steps forward and six back.
There is no place for them at the table of civility.

ALL who they deem disposable will have their revolution.
They’ve pushed them too far.
There is a storm coming.

It’s time to clear out the rot.
Return the evil to the rocks from under which they crawled out.
May we learn to never repeat the sins of our past.

And may the nefarious never return…

In Recovery

Forever Alone

It took my last bit of strength to pick up
every last bit of shredded me off the floor.

Left with bloody fragments of a torn heart,
a distorted mind and a shaken psyche.

My existence, Picasso’s The Weeping Woman feel to it.

Feeling awkwardly out of place and lost in my space.

I had to recalibrate; I needed to rebuild.

Now I’m new and different, possibly improved.

A little wiser for the wear; a lot harder around the edges.

More protective of me, not so naive anymore.

Self-preservation took me to new heights.

I’m back and ready.

Don’t ever hurt me again.

Clueless

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Pixabay.com

Involved. There. With me.

Right.

So far removed from reality.

I know.

You don’t.

Still fighting the wrong things.

Proudly arrogant.

You go, boy.

You lose, boy.

Growing weary.

Moving on.