Special Discrimination

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My son no longer finds safety,

In your heavily sanctioned,

Familiarity,

He longs to break free of your rulings,

Designed as they are,

For small-minded children,

And not for young adults,

With thoughts and desires of their own,

Disabilities or no,

My son is a young man of clarity,

With hopes and goals,

And dreams of his own,

Why must you seek to contain him?

Isn’t it your job to help him to grow?

I give you his days in the trust,

That you will honor your obligations,

How is ignoring his voice when he speaks it,

Upholding your charter to promote,

Understanding, support and humanity?

When you stop becoming part of the solution,

You inevitably become part of the problem,

My son deserves better than being trapped,

In just another endless version,

Of educational  bureaucracy,

If he’s smart enough to know,

That the way you are treating him isn’t right,

Then he’s smart enough to grow,

And walk well beyond your light.

So please be advised that we will not be beholden,

To yours or anyone elses,

‘Well meaning’ forms,

Of  ‘special’ discrimination.

 

I (Eye) Contact

Art work by Carne Griffit

Art work by Carne Griffit

It’s not so much that I avoid ‘I’ contact,

It’s more that I avoid your contact.

On my own I am fine,

It’s only when you insist on designing,

My time,

That I am perceived to be broken,

But these cracks are not my own,

They are entirely of your making.

So why is it that you insist so,

On fixing the parts of me,

That are not broken?

You see,

On my own I am fine,

I can make of myself,

My own safe island.

It is you who invade my shores,

Replacing my thoughts with your own,

Meaningless tokens.

Please do not insist so,

On breaking me open,

I do not wish to engage with your ideals of I contact,

Can’t you see I have my own?

Intelligent Lies

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Who first equated the ability to deceive,

With that ability to perceive?

Who was it that said,

Lying is a form of intelligence?

It seems to me that whoever did this,

Created the worst in our world.

Providing psychology,

With its first rational,

For preferring duplicity,

As the mark of intelligence,

Heightening the promotion,

And desirability for deviousness,

Without ever first questioning,

Who gained the most,

From telling such lies.

 

Winter’s Swings

There is something so beautifully

Tragic

About a playground’s swings in winter.

I think it’s the emptiness

The potential joy

So un-used

In the darker

Months.

 

I wonder why,

No one wants to ride

In the sky

On a wet plank of wood,

Surrounded by chains

Potential’s conductors

I do.

I wonder why that is?

 

The ride is still a ride

Warm or cold,

The rush of air

Swimming up

Remains the same.

If anything,

Perhaps it is more precious

To fly in the sky

With the rain

 

To know the joy

Of riding

On the wings

Of

Winter’s swings