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To See It With Open Eyes

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From the anthology, Scenes From the Cerebellum, a work in progress.

I wrote this poetic rant in about 45 minutes, a reaction of disgust on my part at what the United States is becoming. Fueled by social media, two types of racists have come crawling out of the woodwork in recent years: "Front door" racists get in a person's face and tell them they're inferior. The "back door" racist constantly complains adout being a victim of "systemic" racism. Both kinds are destroying this country with their collective intolerance for those they deem to be inferior/ intolerant. Poets need to speak up boldly about it.

 

To See It With Open Eyes? What is wrong with everyone? Every time I turn around, someone is accusing someone else of being a racist. What is this racist thing? Is it a disease of some kind? Does it bite? You all sound like something slinking in the dark garden, croaking and oozing there with the slimy toads and the rude crickets. “Racist! …Racist!... Racist!”… What creature is this that lurks so loudly in the wet weeds? What vile manner is this, that makes a person wonder, Will it kill me when it jumps out at me? Will it bite me when I bend down close to see it with open eyes? “Racist! …Racist!... Racist!”... What is this annoying debased thing, which squirms and squishes loudly in the dark garden? What repulsive grunt is this, that makes a person wonder, Will it sting me when it lunges at me?, Will it attack me when I bend down close to see it with open eyes? “Racist!... Racist!... Racist!”… There it goes again, making that same irksome insane sound. Will it ever cease? Will it ever just keel over, and die? What is this racist thing? Does it have a big drooling mouth with hungry teeth? Is it some grotesque monster from far beneath the surface of the earth? I think… it stinks like something that’s been dead for centuries. “Racist!... Racist!... Racist!”… What is wrong with everyone?

Copyright © | Year Posted 2019




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Date: 1/30/2019 6:38:00 PM
Yes, prejudice is ignorance on the defence and it's a lazy man's substitude for thinking.
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Book: Shattered Sighs