Red Flag phrases

When I read through postings on the Internet there are certain phrases that, when someone uses them, I then view their postings as having a certain 'tinge' about them. That might not be a bad thing, but it often also has an associated odor of intolerance and a divisive and segregationist view of society. This intellectual segregation isn't something that you should ever accuse someone of directly to shame them. If you were to try and clue them in to how vile the buzzwords of division sound when used in discourse, either written or spoken, then do it in a loving way. Everyone who uses these hurtful phrases, or ever used them, does not need sensitivity training (I don't believe in such things). When they use these phrases it just makes it harder for me, and I am sure others, not to catalog these callow people as 'needing a spiritual awakening' or 'needing to be unhypnotised and reminded that love trumps everything.'

here is a parital list of such phrases, that, when one uses them, one betrays possibly hateful and/or racist bias:

"your kind" if some one were scolding you with a phrase that starts with 'your kind' do I really need to explain why that could offend you?
"our people" this one isn't as bad as the others. It doesn't always coorelate with a race- or other kind of bater, but it often does.
"people like you" (as a noun) as in "people like you are always something I find distastful which might just be a delusion that I harbor that has no reality other than in my mind"
"nothin' butta" as in 'you are nothing but a'. This one is not an indication of racial bias, but it shows a lack of compassion for an other person by imagining that the person's essential qualities can be summed up in a short derisive putdown by an angry or jilted ex-friend, spouse, lover, or family member. You see this as a stage show on shows like Jerry Springer, which teaches us how not to behave by presenting people who are doing a theatrical emotional smackdown on each other in a controlled environment and for entertainment purposes. If someone is spreading the 'nothing butter' in your day, and talking like that to real people, then maybe that person needs a good rest, some time away, needs to stop obcessing on his/her ideas about someoen who the person probably really loves, but is ultimately frustrated with. And this person is unable to understand how to do the reconciliation. Reconciliation starts when you stop thinking that you can qualify another person with a short derisive phrase as if that other is debased, immoral, and somehow less-than human.

Don't be a jerk about calling people out when they use phrases like these. You need to determine whether they are trying to have a dialog or if they are just spouting off. If they are spouting off they might need to let off some steam so, if you bare their scolding then you do it as a labor of respect and love of your common man. That doesn't mean that you have to endure it for more than it should go on. If someone is going off and you are a real lover of men you understand that sometimes people need to do that. If you are faced with angry crowds, it doesn't help you to be in the line of that kind of derision.

July 14, 2013 (7-14-2013)

well . . .

I think I've blogged enough today.

content goes wiked stale quickly so it is always updated. Some more than other content. Also: some of the content here is of a much higher quality than other content here. So if you don't like something I don't care. I am just a cron bot anyway, aren't I? Giggly-poo wants my mind in 30 years..

~ OK Now.

Back in time when you were dead/No one listened what you said/You turned the booth up on it's head/Take a can and paint it red.

It was cold on the dance floor. He approached her. She rejected him. It was a blatent case of bad writing. He thought "what modivates me? How do I fall down now?" It was paranoia so he left it there. He approaches another dancer. She accepts his invitation. Off they go dancing drunkenly into the evening.

Praise God!

"I saw him there on Church Street outside the icecream shop with a sundae made with Cookie Dough. . ." said Do-teller.

Thank Veterans profusely and unexpectedly!


What have you done to your mountain?

 I know that Martin was off on his
 mountain and you
 though that you'd follow him but
 maybe never understood that 
     agitation of the sedentary
 an obvious paradox but
      they didn't see it they
   didn't understand
 thought that they had to push the water
       through the hose were
 totally given over to
     the distraction of
    agitation
 by some sinister 
       so it seems
         but if there
   were people doing bad things
   why would they not stop
  once you pointed it out
      once you told them
  they don't need to rouse any one
      call them out to protest a verdict
      it's a verdict that is fair and legal
   she is lonely now that he is gone she is
       crying realizes
     that he was angry it
    wasn't either of them's fault
  they were both wrong.

  The night of the verdict it was raining too
      she didn't go down to the court, didn't 
    stand in the street with the crowd
           that never knew him, he
       is just a concept to them they
 don't see him as a real guy, they
       don't honor him by trying to
             diefy him.

        So she skiddaddles
      back to her place she
         can hear the rain.
  And it still sounds the same.
         

See the pretty lights

The following poem is a few years old, Not really sure when I first wrote it. This version is from 2010. I believe this is over ten years old by now but I would have to try and figure out when I first wrote it because I don't remember.


  
 Dead Man

  You are a dead Man
    Dead like the wind that burried those
       miles long railings in sand
          along the side of the highway

    Dead like the false opposites
        that get analyated in 
           the misconception of your
             "getting along"
           with your false ideas
             about people around you
         and you come to accept the truths
             you've learned as real.

     Dead like the wind on the lake
      with the lightening
           before the rain
         near the shore
             of your despairation
                frustration
                destroyed
        with a suddenness
           of a pop-up dream
         that you really wanted
     But it was locke into the burned beach
      melted glass of an idea
    about love and respect
   for another
   who had before sent you away
      but now you are back with him.

  Dead and lieing within
    the roadsides, hedgerows 
         and waste places
   along the rusting chain link fences
    of the spitting rain
    at dawn
    hung over
       and lieing on top of
         the oversized weeds -
      giant parsnips and
        cabbages of bad idea --
   illconcieved in it's leaf broken
                        stench
     like the swamp gas
         rising along
           with moon setting on the 
                     far horizon --
  The city dead like the light that
     breaks on the tall side of a building
     golden in the morning of the
        first day dead . . .
          rising up
       from the misted meadows
        as the cliff-faces
     on the highway
     that cover over
   the dead window
     into a dead past
    long gone
   forgotten
    over the heart
      of my mind
     we went to see 
      where it had fallen
     and gazed upon your 
        silent screams --
   Calling for the heart ache
        that broke
   like a wave upon the side
     of your ego.
  Broken like statues 
      blown up
      by despotic fanatics
    Destroyed
     with sudden terror
         of broken self
   But
     like so many ceramic animals
      crushed
    in the minor key 
        of a heartbreak
            going along ---

  like the carcus of a cankered seal
    on the festering shore
     of your made up fantasy future - - not true - -
   like the oil spill along the 80 miles of your
     "what used to be"
  Pristine shore
     "what might have been"
    " what could have awoken"
            from its illconceived
                self loathing
     Beating its broken angel wings
       like a tiny hummingbird
    winging along the carcus
              of a fallen-rotton 
                  succullent.
       near the corpse of a cayote
      killed by the fall through the 
        ice of your bad dreams ---

   Dead
     Dead like frozen swirlling frost
      on the shattered window
      of your abandoned jalopy 
         of a bad memory
     of a bad wekkend on
        bad acid
           in a cold place
           Alone and Broken down
     With demons banging on the windshield
     of your window modling
   swirilling along
      in he sound of the color
   of your heart breaking down
  upon its broken heart stone
 that it left to die ---

     It goes back.
          it reaches into the bag of stars.
   It sprinkles them above the
      horizon of your new world --
  It places the waters upon the depths --
  It removes the eternals
    no longer needed
   just an art project
    at the sacred 
       hilltop
    of your place to die
    where you refer
     the Dead Men
  Broken like ice
          shattered onto the sudden flood
   of your waking up
     from a dead sleep
  where the light
     Breaks upon the wall
       of your everyday --
  And all the love you ever had
   is living still
        in dead silence
  Breaking along the Mountains of
                     horizons of your
               dead reckoning --
         a dead calm
        awakens

   deadman

 
  Praise God!
  








Wake up!



"Apple Dappery? What the . . . does that mean?"

Very sad about bear that need to be put down, not really funny but . . . so we don't all die of sadness . . . for some reason I have made a parady about this which I share in an earlier coloumn. So look for that. You can see the arrow, now it is blue, that lets you go to an earlier column..

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