They died in silence, but they died
They cried in silence, but they cried
They shrieked they shouted, who knew?
You ask why know, what could you do?
But you focus on some trendy cause
A life under a lamppost, to peer applause
Outside the light, the monsters roam
I don't see you straying out of the dome.
You live in a bubble, a bubble others made
Its a shallow pond in which you wade
confirmation bias, and a wrong path
Few people leave it, few do the math.
One day the fists will rattle your door,
You'll plead for reason, you'll ask "what for?"
So, investigate now, let the circle extend
When the mob refocuses, every man needs a friend.
I wrote this poem, after I read Raymond Ibrahim
He talked of places where some lose, some win
Lots of conflict of which I knew zero
I can't really help, but he's a hero.
away from the unconscious bias in the world
i escape my comfort zone and open up my mind and my heart
new ways of doing introduce themselves to me
new worlds worth seeing welcomes me with unexpected open arms
new people with interesting personalities meaningfully school me as well as own me with the best intent
tears flow rather freely because i am experiencing and discovering beyond complicated, constipated fear
i am totally and completely inspired to find out about and experiment with More
away from the unconscious bias of the world
Honest salesman is a semi-oxymoron
Just like an honest politician
Please do not laugh, all lawyers or
Accountants are not crooks. When the door
Is wide open a mouse, a rat, a cockroach
Would me more than happy to approach
Some politicians have tried to be better
And more credible. Some are men/women of honor
However, others are pathological liars
They are professionals who behave like traitors
They think that the "truth is not the truth". They're confused
Lies are lies. Dogs are dogs. Politicians play politics
Call the exterminators to annihilate the ticks
Liars always ignore the truth. Please, let's not mused
In politics, it is probably not easy to be too honest
Because so much is involved. Let's chase the pests
The corrupt politicians who are ruining everything
And destroying the dream. Let them flee. Let's ring
The bells. Not all politicians are crooked or criminals
That's true. I am not lying, just check the election polls.
Copyright © November 2018, Hébert Logerie, All rights reserved.
Hébert Logerie is the author of several books of poetry.
---unconscious bias
I crawl as my tongue slither back
forth lies and untruths,
my rock heart, my mouth spews
-out disproportionately facts
represented or excluded from certain roles
my verbal statement of reform mine associations we hold
I and my friends (I mean fiends) be a sign of
---unconscious bias
Who are we as I and we snap judgments?
Assessments, who whom are I and we to past testaments
Them there whom they be negative attitude,
We in ourselves outside of self can’t let them be
Of which one is not consciously aware,
Against a specific social group none of which we I care
Eternal hatred, jealousy and slander
Why? Must I (we) inside those hearts speak aloud ill of
--Oh? What wroth,
Such a lot
Is this unconscious prejudice
Human resources do they measure this
--- Those whom internally thinking unconscious bias
9/11/24
For This or That, Vol 27 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Edward Ibeh
Written: September 08, 2024 For Edward Ibeh Contest
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
He has blue eyes and lovely blond hair,
Curls rose above his pink and pretty ware.
Do not mention his background or affairs,
With Africa by people who settled there.
His father's family tree has extensive roots,
Has Swedish, Cajun French, and British limbs.
Grafts from Choctaw and Cherokee wood routes,
That got some black stems from long-time whims.
His mother comes from a Creole background,
Descendants of a native African tribe.
Parentage from France and Spain was found,
And mingled with Bayou Indians and more vibe.
Because intolerance and hatred confine,
They also obstruct the expansive plain.
Therefore, bigots are vindictive and supine,
It is only clear to observe the gutter drain.
There are no pleasant views of the spleen,
There are no cloverfields or rolling greens.
Restricted minds lack the ability to see,
a breathtaking panorama of the scene.
And biased men with pretentious pride,
While in white, they become narrow-eyed.
who despise Blacks, Jews, and Native side,
They are completely sealed and closed inside.
Child when born is born to a culture
Loves to smile, feels safe with familiar face
Parents think hard to give a good name
Search, consult, decide, toss for one pretty
First name, easy to choose middle name
last name.
For grace they name after lineage
Who dealt with hardships to earn such good name
And had lived a good life, with virtue
Or like to choose some social star, from film
From sports, from divine, successfully
Lived life.
Name is everything, it shines bright on
Physical existence, on culture, creed
Whispers to all about their land born
Cheers loud, stands first, stays cautious, courteous
to native clan, sings sweet if rich and
famous.
Name keeps one's bloodline warm and running
Once named, sense and soul warms up to that sound
Whenever called out loud or murmured
It brings cheer to loving heart, pleases mind
One strives to live up to it, loves the
Named name.
Startling thoughts on name I read, I see
Prejudice has spurned me n times by name
Yet, I wear her with love on my sleeve
Polish with truth, kindness and honesty
I smile when someone calls me by my
First name.
In the quiet hush of morning light,
He stares at her with tender eyes,
A face familiar, yet out of sight,
In the fog where all memory lies.
Her voice, a melody he once knew,
Now stirs something deep inside,
A warmth, a pull, a feeling new,
Or perhaps, an echo that won’t subside.
She smiles, a tear begins to trace,
The lines of time upon her face.
He wonders, is this love I feel?
A heart awakened, but wounds unhealed.
Then comes the truth, soft and kind,
A tale of love left far behind.
"You’ve loved me once, and still you do,
Though your mind has made me new."
He grasps her hand, both old and fresh,
A bond that time could not repress.
For in his heart, though memories fade,
Love remains, unscathed, unafraid.
In this moment, they both find,
That love transcends the fragile mind.
A love forgotten, yet still it flows,
Through the heart, where true love grows.
Beneath the surface where thoughts often stray,
Lies a bias that colors our view each day.
Invisible threads weave through the mind,
Shaping perceptions we're blind to find.
We see through lenses that age has stained,
Distorting the world with judgments ingrained.
The mirror reflects a skewed truth's face,
A filtered reality, a hidden disgrace.
History’s shadows linger, stark and clear,
Biases persist though we claim to steer.
Masks of fairness cloak the hidden guise,
Concealing the biases that our heart denies.
Turn the gaze inward, seek the inner light,
Where biases drift in the depth of night.
Only by facing what's buried inside,
Can we untangle the truth that’s denied.
Acknowledge the flaws that quietly remain,
And let our minds break free from this silent chain.
For true change begins when we recognize,
The unconscious biases veiled from our eyes.
do you ever get days when you feel broken
totally empty of inspiration
flat and deflated
you are almost unconscious
unaware, invisible, numb
and you must write
your pen has fallen on the floor and rolled
drowsy you are able to find it
lethargic and dazed
you look at your crisp white paper ...
you have a bias for poems about your life
and also favor nature themes
of life I pen ....
my life is adrift
a ravaged garden tangled ...
serene and quiet
of nature I write ...
the birds sing me a song in the cemetery
as I walk a winding path deeper and deeper
into the ethereal peace .... oh, I am getting close
and then, the engraved cold mossy stone
all of a sudden I am no longer repressed
I feel calm and awake
I gather my blank pages
now, I write not caring about other peoples
preconceived bias to my poetry
because I write for me
Unconscious bias can upset one's heart
if kin or friends might shun your written art-
to look upon good poetry as play-
negating words that might uplift their day.
Some think of poetry as silly writes
that jumble words and do not meet the rights
to be upheld as literary worth-
with any thoughtful meanings to unearth.
Perhaps poetic metaphors give pause
and render writers void of earned applause.
Ambiguity somehow dismisses sense;
unconscious bias- inborn to commence.
Most poets may unveil views quite obscure
that sometimes deems their sanity unsure
by those who harbor this unconscious fact-
and hold back ways by which they should react.
We're thankful other poets read our art
with no unconscious bias on their part.
They understand the nuances displayed
in chosen thoughts so artfully conveyed.
Why would someone judge someone
by what color their skin is?
Or where they are from?
or who they love?
Life is truly not fair
and people aren't nice to each other
There are so many beautiful things
in this world
Nature, love, music, and some people
There are many people with nice pretty faces
that show a different side to different people
they are very friendly to some yet spew hate to others
There are people that I love dearly that have darker
skin than I do. So what?
There is someone that is very dear to my heart
that is gay. So what?
One of my dearest friend's child is married to someone
of a different nationality. So what?
I strive to be the person that does not judge the outside
wrappings of a person. But if you have a hard heart,
then all bets are off!
Midst unconscious bias along fulfillment height
Against scarcity feelings of carnality’s pest
Brought by low self-esteem, attacking virtuous best
I claim triumph of spirituality-delight.
Praise-propelled as recipient of God’s precious grace*
I'm gripped with serene eternal salvation’s bliss
Though egoistic opinions show mocking hiss
My heart is grateful for blessings through all the days.
Unconscious bias makes me admit what I need
It’s to share with others love that makes them complete
Midst kindness and care, selflessness can’t deplete
Vanquishing vain jealousy, likewise grievous greed.
Truth freely reinforces reality-seal
Against flaws of bias, though unconsciously done
Always earnest while honesty is surely won
Living gladly with others in reaching-out zeal.
*Ephesians 2:8 For by grace are ye saved through faith; and that not of yourselves: it is the gift of God.
August 27, 2024
2nd place, "This or That, Vol 27" Poetry Writing Contest
Sponsored by Edward Ibeh; judged on 9/27/2024
Unconscious bias, an interesting subject indeed.
While I would never be biased, allow me to proceed.
Bias is experienced by dummies, crazies, and kooks.
Not something that would apply to someone with my good looks.
When you give me new information, I just throw it out.
I know what I need to know. The rest I can do without.
But I'm open-minded, to your idea I'll attach
merit, if, to what I already believe, it's a match.
I do not like to bother myself with data and stuff.
I already know most everything. Isn't that enough?
Did I hear someone rudely interrupting? Was that you?
I'll kindly ignore it and continue to tell you what's true.
It's so wonderful that all of us in this great nation,
like me, have achieved such enlightened civilization.
No sir, not one of us suffers from delusions.
Unconscious bias never results in illusions.
Yet, why is it that I reach the dreadful conclusions
that political debates will lead to contusions,
and there will be a rise in demand for transfusions?
No wonder I live in seclusion.
Conditioned belief and our jaundiced eye,
prejudges other souls we chance to meet
and we pause not to ask the reason why,
our deluded soul feels not their heartbeat.
Our stuporous stance causes soul to sink,
looking at outer form and not heart warm,
ignorance our chink; we’re free if we blink,
surrendering to love’s benign bliss storm.
God’s sublime light is aflame in each heart,
beheld by souls who are childlike and pure,
based upon their choice to add love to cart,
garnering clear sight, making touch demure.
Shift from head to heart is what sets us free,
unshackled at long last, from our mind tree.
What a cop out, for one
who always sleeps on their right side
To admit to ignoring the context,
the background and milieu,
which colors your decisions and choices,
and side you lean towards.
There is nothing implicit in bias ingrained,
and the norms and context,
in which you were born, learned and grew up,
that allow you to claim you're
asleep at the wheel, dozing lazily in blissful ignorance.
How can that possibly excuse you
from not learning about the other side,
not discovering how others may see, feel and think,
given their different background and pathway through life.
To claim you're unconscious when you decide, and bleat forth
is a conflict of interest,
with implicit, explicit, disinterest on show,
for all to see.
It's a cop out,
an excuse to be biased
irresponsibly.
Wake Up!
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