Our pasts aren’t perfect
Languages evolve
Science identifies patterns
Leading to conclusions
Numbers commingling
Can lead to
Infinite possibilities
Opinions aren’t facts
Nor are they all
Equally valid
Bias can stunt growth
Equity is not
Socialism nor communism
We can’t learn
If we won’t listen
Closed minds
Don’t have enough
Room to grow
Check out additional poems here: Mandating Mundane, Moniker, Test Test.
When Truth approached
My front porch
I turned down
Her friendly visit
I knew
She carried wearisome words
So I refused
To listen
I could ignore
The ringing
Dinging doorbell
By masking with singing
I could hide
In a back room
Turning out the lights
Pretending not to be home
But ringing became knocking
Pounding louder and louder
Until I the only reasonable choice
Was to open the door
Truth persisted
When music shifts
To mad disjointed riffs
With lyrics so vexed
Songs of malcontent
When chatter declines
To rants written as warning signs
Sparking profane rumble
Mumble and grumble
When drinks don’t dull
The rank drift of bull
Saliently served in heavy portions
It’s time to leave the party.
Check out these other poems with similar themes:
The Misinformation Machine
Beguiling Grove
You Did This
Breakfast at the Diner
My father’s parents
Met in high school
And dated while in college
And supported one another
As they each earned
College degrees
Mom’s mother
Moved to the city
To study
Accounting
Before earning her degree
And supporting her family
During the Great Depression
As a bank manager
And the town’s only
CPA
My mother
And all eight,
Yes eight,
Aunts attended
College and earned
Degrees.
This tradition
Continued with my
Sisters, cousins, nieces,
And their kids
Because education
Enriches life
I love
overeducated
women
Do you love overeducated women?
When
doubt whispers
you’re not
good
enough
and
When
fear informs
you’re
going
to fall
and
When
skeptics shout
you’re a
feckless
fraud
Turn
Off
the clamor
that cools
your crop
Shut
down
the slurs
that snap
your spirit
Reject
the taunts
that steer you
to self-inflicted
scars
Remember
You are
not
the product
of oppressive
imperfection
But
You are
the sum
of the growth
gained
from your
patchy progress