Friday, July 4, 2008

this poem goes to ideas hidden underneath clutching fingernails

this poem is dedicated to all the knocked down knock arounds
to anybody and everybody who’s been called a minority
root word minor meaning lesser in size, extent and importance
this poem is dedicated to all pained peopled driven by circumstance
and all those boats that came across surface waters
when underneath swam glowing creatures unchanged by religion
or war and all burning skin peeling horrors humans like to claim
as their own as their own they laid waste to centuries of thought
of culture ritual tradition keeping the bearing straight out of mind
out of sight and focusing on the ‘others’ plight from lands claimed
as their own trying desperately to tame, maim and cage
no one even thought about where it all came this rage out of left
fields clear cut cause things like world series and hotdogs became
the new

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