Undeveloped
A hard shell, bumpy and rough.
White and pale, cold to the touch. Through a crack, an eye appears.
Soft and moist, not ready, dripping tears.
Skin soft, untested, untouched.
Waiting, wanting, to be loved.
Hidden from the world, sensitive nerves
Wet, still, from birth it serves
Seeking sun, seeking sight.
Ugly because it was sheltered from light
Doesn't know what to do.
It never had a chance to be loved by you.
As time goes on, chances missed
Not knowing for what it had wished
Never will it live again
Only here to endure its pain.
Love thy enemy.
Those with the will to act out utterances will act out what they deem is “good.”
Those without the will to act out will be acted upon by others.
There are no bad people!
Only those who act out of fear, thos who act out of hate, and those who act out of love.
One is stronger than the others...
Broken home
A boy who had lost his family, lost his home, lost all his meaning. Stumbled into an orphanage. Carrying all but his bag of clothes. Sitting, waiting for his life to go by, he made some friends. Some folk who enjoyed the company of others, and so they went off to a great party! There was drinking, feasting, sex and the music was hearty. All of which he could not afford, he sat and watched while his friends ran amok. After the party, he found himself alone. Shockingly sober and awfuly cold.
As he walked, tried to walk home, he came by a house. A beautiful abode, empty and quiet after the nights roar. There lie a waste of easter eggs on the floor, half-eaten, still in perfect condition! A little bite was taken here-and-there, but over all what was left was to share? The boy bent down and picked up some chocolate. Oh, it tasted soo good. His tongue wriggled, keen to indulge, suddenly he found himself seeking for more. Found himself upstairs, by the entrance of a bedroom door. Peering inside, there was an elderly couple sleeping. Holding each other, cuddling after a nights celebrating.
"Happy 50th anniversary!" was written on soft cloth strung over a table. On the table though! There was a chocolate. Fully wrapped, still in perfect condition. The boy couldn't resist, he took the chocolate. He put it into his back pocket.
On his way out of the house, a man wearing white stopped and said: "Put it back."
But the boy played deaf. Not five steps further, the next person asked: "Did you take the chocolate?"
"No! I didn't!" The boy said. Further on, more and more gathered from all around.
"Did you take it?" "Did you take it?" "Did you take the chocolate?"
"No" "What chocolate?" "Stop!" The boy cried! The chocolate could be seen just above his backside! Everyone could see the chocolate in his pocket, but still they asked, to judge, to mock him. He ran back to what was his new home, running inside, he hid the chocolate in his bag. The only thing of value he possably had. It was so little, but yet so much. Everyone looked, everyone judged.
After a while, he didn't even touch it, he forgot the taste of lust for it. He finally knew what he did was wrong. He took up his will, and tried to give it back. No one would accept it, the chocolate turned black.
"You want some? You hungry?" The boy cried, but everyone just turned a blind eye.
For when meaning is lost, so is value.
This is how, little means a lot. Too much to save the whole, from what was lost.
South Africa
A man made of ivory encountered a black parade. All but one were chanting to their god of love: “If you love me, give me!” “Love me!” “Give me!” Shouting towards the sky, their chants ecoed across the world. Men of all sizes knelt and gave their tribute.
“If you love me, give me!” They continued to praise. Their cries grew louder, louder. The world began to shiver to their rhythm. Women gave their wombs to their praise, housed their love with their own till they themselves were consumed.
“Love me!” “Give me!” They cried, but the ivory man stood firm.
“I love you.” The man whispered.
“Give me! Give me!” They bellowed, they quivered, their voices fell silent,
“No.”
“Why wont you love me! Love me! Love me!” The storm grew louder.
“No, I won’t.” The ivory tower didn’t lean, didn’t tilt.
“Give me! Give me!” The assembly grew louder, louder, surrounding the ivory tower. Demanding their tribute, their sacrifice.
“I love you, no, no I won’t.” The skies heard his plea and grew darker. Clouds gathered and the sun itself hid from sight.
A frenzy awoke from within the mass. Orgasmic trances overcame the herd, swaying their arms wildly like flames reaching for the summit.
“I love you.” The ivory man said.
With that, the swarm began to climb, to reach the peak, to get the point. Their words turned to iron spears, digging deep into the ivory tower. “Why won’t you love me! Love me! Why won’t you give me! Give me!” The chorus peaked. Reaching the height of the very pinnacle. But still the man said: “No.”
As the notion grew, grew to the top of the tower. The man never shook, never beckoned. Standing firm, the tower held it’s own. “I love you, I love you more than you know.” The man spoke with words that failed to eco, failed to ring for it held the love of man.
“Then give me, give me!” The black parade cheered as the foundation cracked and crumbled. The tower was failing, faulted by the very ground that held it. All was lost for the ivory man, for no more white could be seen. Not for miles around, not from the sky nor the ground. The sun had failed him. Took his glisten and hid it under the heavenly mists.
“Why won’t you give!?” The final cry grew. With no more chance, the ivory man said: “You have not suffered, you cannot know, you would not know.”
Then the sky rolled up like a scroll, and the heavens began to rain.
Mostly true...
I had this baaaad feeling, Dad was looking pale and scratching his head. So I followed him to his room, sat on the couch and made some minor conversation. My Dad had a lot on his plate back then, and so, he ask me to light him a ciggerette. I scoffed as a lit him a cigerrette along with my own. As I handed it to him, I commented on his bad health and recomended some excercise or diet changes. He didn't take me seriously, "I'll see my daughters children!" he retorted as he dragged deep.
I did the same, condemming myself for practising the same act, but I recognized the nesseccity for the change: "Instead of judging you for smoking Dad, I'd rather smoke your last ciggerette with you." I said naively.
Not two drags later my Dad fell back onto his bed, heart attack mixed with a minor stroke.
He survived the ordeal, and yet we still smoke. Only now I realise what it means to be alive, and we're wasting it...
An opinion...
Equality alone can't define humans. Differences are too great! On a biological standpoint, everyone is both the same and different. Both hold truth's, both hold flaws that if exasperate can lead to floods and towers being built to biblical praportions. Both hold consequence, hence we have both! Balance is the only working formula humans have, and its always shifting.
Change is the only constant, such statement offers same conclusion... Wheres the change in equality?