Done with Humanity

I'm churlish. You're aware of that.
I'm itchy in this human skin, unhappy
With the plodding of my species.
Sometimes goaded forward, they,
More often, wander back toward
The atavistic ways which always
Fail, but comfort them. The places
Where they worship fall to lightning,
Earthquakes, killing throngs, and they
Kneel down to praise their gods.
Their fellow workers, known for
Years, but wrongly colored, wrongly
Dressed or fluent in another language,
Are attacked at the behest of those,
Who, rightly colored, dressed or
Speaking, rob and laugh at them.
They freely vote for those they hate,
And panic at the thought of deviations
From a status quo which doesn't do
Much good for them. They're stupid.
I am out of patience, flitting through
Computer pages, looking for a better
Species which might let me in.



Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 48 times
Written on 2021-06-28 at 15:45

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