TRUTH Vigilante: Ew, Icky. How Gross?

NOT for everyone

My mom was apparently famous for saying, "I'm for everyone."
I'm infamous for inferring I'm not for everyone.
In fact, very few can endure (cliche) insufferable (end cliche) me.

Where's all of this headed?

Mom had a cat named "Nigger Bob" when she was growing up as a kid in South Dakota.
She didn't see anything wrong with that when I called her a racist.
We were both ignorant.
Now, I'm some kind of something.
She was better than me because she knew how to behave, except
not how to raise a 'different' kid she sometimes called a 'dumb bunny'.

I know I'm not dumb. Somethings take more time. Some things
need be handled with 'kid gloves'. Sometimes, parents
don't have the tools to raise a 'special child'.

But there is time, as one ages,
to set things right. If given a chance
to not let truth spoil in their hands
when no one else will realize what they've discovered.

Boxed by people's perceptions, races, genders,
disabilities and sexual proclivities aside, it's hard
why people can act so progressive and still be regressive
when they decide to shun one another.

I heard my mom was for everyone after she was gone.
I would have said, no, she wasn't. She was
and wasn't for me and was ignorant, as was I.
But, I keep searching for truth and answers, rebuffed
when I go poking in 'the wrong places' because
inhumanity, dehumanization, hatred and ignorance
intermingle, coexist more than branded people
who lack distinguishing marks. How will you know
how to compartmentalize a world around you, encroaching
begging your alms of love. Not realizing, you can
sit down, enjoy your tea or coffee in the houses
of communion and step off whatever podium soap box
that collects those stubborn toes toeing.

I am just a boy with a mom who was average
and unique, to me. And I don't have to explain myself,
my disabilities, so I can find elbow space in the houses
where I've sought love. It's over. I can't open
a heart any wider to let others in who only want to savage
from the inside, a circuitry that has been messed
since it was created in her womb of words, her ignorant
acts of love toward others, world, me that I reflect
or reject based on some impulses of my own to act
or now, not react, to the manipulators and ignorance
that surrounds in a sea of soft, soft heads.

We aren't progressing as humanity, but regressing
to our safe spaces with machine calculators figuring us out.

I could go on. No one is listening. This was not planned.
Neither will the next collection of words tapped
from fingers to spacing thumbs. We all have senses and
sensibilities rooted in our past, brought to the present
in some bath still simmering, aging, now regressing.

It's hard to find faith in communion of thought
with so much disparity among the disparaging to those
reserving their thoughts, until the right moment, they think,
to strike and cancel one another until one remains?

I fight for peace of thought while others purchase
poison or guns to demonstrate their right to terminate.


4.16.23

last rambling thought of the hour, day, week, month, year, life?

edit...later? checks, mouth. is it all counterfeit? should I be locked up?
I hear a resounding YES in my head. i might be close, and not.