They all see it on the news,
They all turn the TV off
“Poor girl, poor thing
Too sad, too bleak.”
They ignore all the worries
And put on a smile
But when it happens to Them, it’s everything.
They shout on the rooftops and cry so people know
But the rest of Them don’t listen at all
“Poor girl, poor thing
Too sad, too bleak.”

No paper has no folds. Look closer and it will be apparent;
A crease, hidden beneath its purported smoothness—
Though blatant once told of, a fool, sir, will not see it patent,
And seizes within a denial of but his faulted blindness.

No paper is of even thickness. Feel it and it will be known;
A bump, then a sudden thinness somewhere on it—
So whether his benevolence hides it, he hides it from his own,
And dumb as he may’ve been, will never confess of it.

No paper is of ideal quality. The fact cannot be denied;
No man can ever craft a sheet of paper beyond half-perfect—
And thus, sir, do accept readily, for it has to be resigned, that
Likewise, no man is of perfect character, nor hasn’t defect.

As I travel back to my younger days,
I remember my occluded mind.
The doings of neighbourhood and community,

Being taught always,
Darkness is sorrow,
White light is where
Peace and beauty you'll find...

That black shirt  needs no washing,
As you cannot see its furrow,
White ones should be cared...

Hide yourselves with a black cloth,
Show yourself off to the world
With an angel ring that's white....

My heart is about to rot,
My mind with agony was already whirled,
I shall now began to fight,
For my skin Is dark,
But is brighter than your soul...

Let me tell you
Something about me,
I view everything as energy.
***, gender, ethnicity,
I cannot see.

That is simply me.

I'd like to read a poem
Written by our world;
In any style, it won't matter:
A sonnet or an ode?
In rhyme or free verse?
Figurative or Found?
But, and this is critical,
The world must write it
To help heal our wounds,
Share our victories and good values,
And expose us in mixed metaphors
In all our human frailties.
It's a poem we'll all understand.
And each spot on Earth,
Every country that's birthed,
Adds a personal verse.
Allow me to read this poem
To all our nations,
With a theme to unite us
As the one and only human race.

He is not normal,

homeless, pretending to be –


the same as I am.

What's the scariest book you ever read? ... Some Stephen King book like Salem's Lot or The Shining? For me it's Kate Millett's ****** Politics ... Oh, man ... Now THAT will scare you to death if you're female.

I discovered a man, overheard at my church, who actually believes his *** is a sign of power and of superiority. WHY am I so startled? Some childish trust not yet scrubbed off?" Or worse yet, some belief, not yet strangled, in a better world? See, stupid me, I thought this bill had been paid, by sufferance, by real people like Elizabeth Stanton, Carrie Catt and Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. ... by entire generations who ran through those tangled woods emerging cut and bruised ... if at all.

What is it like for HIM? I see him eyeing us, his little inferiors who bleed with the moon, with secret, catlike distaste ... regarding female opinions as slightly impure ... then, with calm, Godlike grace, granting females the forms of servant to assume.

Can I, can we, be forced to accept this inheritance? I don't know ... All I know is that this prejudice, so strangely without substance, strikes me like a dueler's lucky ******, robbing me of attendant rights and wit ... springing a tender trap of doubt in the future and abandoning me to stammering.

We spend our days watching, by the hour,
The Kardashians in their ivory tower

Fifty-one million one can make,
And yet from the poor we continue to take.

With another tape, they could make more
Here men are, paying, preaching; “she’s a *****!”

Punter, performer; why is only one disallowed?
Sexes sin equally; Mz Davidson would be so proud

But a role model she is! Some also bark.
What about Wu Zetian, Zenobia, Joan of Arc?

They are lost, not as important as ingot
Instead we’ll recall Weinstein, bigot.

Stories of their tweets dominate the BBC
But where is the plight of the LEDC?