Indecorous

I learned this word today attending a poetry meeting. It is something I do naturally. The topic was poetry and how a lot of poetry people write dances around harder topics. When you write about grandma, do you paint her in goodness and light, or do you talk about her mean streak, and the fact that she had an abortion at age 24, or was racist?

I believe in truth and putting it all out there. But, of course, there are privacy and consent issues involved.

There was a writing prompt at the end of the meeting and we had 10 minutes. The prompt I chose was a rant or railing against something--with curse words encourage. (As if I need any fucking encouragement to say fucking--or even to write about it...). So this is what I wrote:

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You dismissed millions of people without even looking

Taking your ingrained biases and superiority and putting them above

The people places and things you condemn

I think of my stepfather who said there are black people and the word that will get my ass kicked

But ‘I’m not racist’ because there are white people and white trash

He was a waste of privilege

That he didn’t even think he had

Of course his parents were cousins

And you said today’s music is nothing but pablum

As if music and truth are only available in a Journey or Zeppelin song

I think of my friend the former CNN producer

Saying paying people play video games shows societies decline

After I posted that I had seen the most exciting sporting event of my life that day

As if 22 men on a field kicking a ball is somehow superior

I said you could not be more fucking wrong, and I thought you knew entertainment

My people, my friends, parents, and grandparents

Your children seek truth and connection

And you don’t even look and meet them with instant condemnation

And you wondered why your parents thought Elvis was the devil

You have become them

With your ossified emotions and walls that you live behind

And you say all lives matter

As you don’t even know what the fuck is really happening

True on its surface but missing the point

Afraid or too fucking lazy to take a second look

Your children’s emotions and feelings aren’t inferior to yours

Do you remember Woodstock and what you felt?

Do you look at your past self and dismiss yourself?

If you took a second or two to talk to your kids

And ask them why the love what they love

And you shared what you love with them

You might find that you will know and love each other more

And perhaps appreciate the beauty that sits one deeper look in front of you