Dehuminization of one’s enemies bleeds us all

When one thinks of an enemy, one should not think of them as less than human. Calling them slurs or railing against them, calling them trash helps to dehumanize them. It makes it easier to harm them. I get it. But it is a mistake.

When we dehumanize our enemies we erode our sense of their capabilities. We convince ourselves by rote comparison that because they are trash, they couldn’t or wouldn’t take a action or make a plan or think a thought. It narrows our view of what is possible and doing so narrows our options to combat them.

An enemy who is thought of as human can be seen as having all of the same complexity as we do. When making plans, one must take into account that there will be counter moves and unanticipated actions. Seeing them as equal to yourself allows for these actions to be at least counted if not accounted for.

Tactically, it is the right course.
But, it is also the correct course for our mental well-being. When we dehumanize, the consequences of our actions ‘in the moment’ become easier. However, when we have time to think later, those mental gymnastics have real world consequences. Either by cutting yourself off from your emotions or by making empathy for your fellow humans much harder.

The best course is to think of everyone as a feeling, thinking, equal person, First. And anything else that they may be second. It’s a hierarchical way of thinking that may be difficult but it helps. Because there is also the flip side. When we contemplate moving against them, we no longer see them in the position or place they are in, rather we see them as human. And humans are fragile.

In the end, thinking of your enemies as human also forces you to think of everyone as human. This helps. In many everyday ways. It also helps to realize that the things we tell ourselves about ourselves and each other have real emotional and rational impact on how we view the world and ourselves. Discounting this leads to underestimation. And the downfall of self.

Hard to build a future on the too live sea

I can’t let go; It’s a problem
Or it’s not; I don’t know
There are those won’t ever leave
Even if we’re never together
They are mine
Even if I’m not theirs

Does that mean that I’m too tethered to the past to move forward
I don’t think so
I hope not
Even though I ache with the thought of somehow moving out beyond their ability to call me back

These aren’t beautiful words or artful phrases
Just a baring of heart and soul
It’d be simpler if I could hide behind the lilt of wordplay
I just don’t have the energy to do so

When I love, I love complete, complex
And with gleeful discovery
And when I’m without
Never without love
Without partner
I don’t know
Sometimes I become stronger and more able to take the world on
And sometimes I’m just a small boat on a infinite ocean
Seaworthy but at any given moment, taking on water

I suppose I’m just a shifting sands dancer
And lately I’ve lost the song

Disjointed connections in a lonely mind

You could be outside my door, dropping all kinds of hints but I’ll never grasp them
We could be flirting
Back and forth
Right on the verge of explicit
And still
I’ll doubt your interest

I think the reason I throw myself so hard into love is because I know that life doesn’t last
And it makes people who date me rethink being with me
In some cases, it makes them go back to the safety of what they know.
In others, it makes them realize that intense love isn’t what they want
And in others…I don’t know
They just leave without explanation

So I don’t see because I doubt
And they don’t stay because of my hearts certainty

I’ll admit to fear
And not knowing
And I wish I was more comfortable with new

I may be clumsy at the beginning
But stay
Stay
I promise
My love is not a cage

Not all branches that blossom bear fruit

I was thinking that the thing I miss most about K was that when I was with her, I slept. Every night, I slept as soon as my head hit the pillow to the time I had to wake. And wake I did. Before the time of my alarm. Which I stopped setting. Because waking up meant seeing her. She factored hugely into whether I’d call in sick or take a vacation day. Hint: I mostly did neither unless I was on death’s door.
And yes, the sleep thing is the largest piece. The one with the most impact on my day to day well being.

But…
It’s not what I miss most. Not really. Not sleeping is a lifestyle I am well acquainted with. No. What I miss is the casual flirting we engaged in that was anything but casual. The smiles and knowing looks. Her laugh.
Her, basically, all of her.

And it can’t be the same. After. I wish it could be. It might be. I don’t know. I just know that casual flirting is never really casual with me, so the road back to that…I don’t know how to chart that course.

It wasn’t an acrimonious ending, so it’s not like I’m trying for something she doesn’t want. Casually flirty is ok. I checked how she wanted to proceed. Because of course I did(a good friend of mine would say it’s the Dominant in me. That I have to explain, check, then explain again. My friends right, in that it’s my nature.(double explain, lol))

My heads not in a poetry place right now. And that’s ok. Lots of thinking to do. And wondering about what was and what might be? Well, I’d say they are right in my wheelhouse.

The solubility of tears

I bear an unfortunate truth. Namely that I cannot forget people or places. Things I’ve read or watched but not physically experienced are harder to retain.
But people and place and and what I was feeling at those intersections, they are always with me. For good or for ill. I envy people who can walk away. Who can put people in the rear view and mostly not look back. Or let go.

I can only work through the situation. Examining all the angles, understanding my place in events and relationships. And still left to wonder, because the picture is never complete. I can never see their side.

So while I can keep going forward. Because there is no other real choice. I can never forget. And those I’ve declared mine. Those I’ve said are my person. I can never forget. Nor leave behind, if it is in my power and is not against their interest to do so.

But still, the memories pile up, some I shoulder alone and others I have help carrying. But all are there, indelible and immutable.

Memories…the burden no one thinks is one

Fun fact?

Fun fact about me: I was going to another room to read my book and I went to plug my phone in for charging. I wasn’t going to use it, I was going to read. But then I thought, “But what if I get a idea, how will I write it down?” So, here I am writing down a little story about needing to be able to write things down instead of reading my book. #writerslife

We poets are weird people

I hate the way that beautiful has come to mean pretty. Beautiful should be more than physical. It should refer to the totality of the person. Not merely physical but their mind, heart and soul.

I hate that when I say to someone, “You are beautiful.” It is interpreted as me saying pretty. If I had meant pretty, I would have said pretty.

This is probably me just being weird poet about word choices. It’s just that I choose words for specific reasons and to have those reasons subverted to lesser meanings is infuriating.

An I could not endure heaven, I thrived in hell

Hells offer us safety that heavens do not
Life is a ongoing study in the loss of innocence and joy as one peace or another is cut away or slowly ripped out of us. In a hell we know the parameters. There will be horror, there will be pain, there will be fear. And very occasionally, there will be rest. And we will find the steel to endure in those seconds and minutes of peace.

In a heaven, having experienced both loss and being self aware, there is always the wait for the moment when it is ripped away. For the loss of love, joy, and safety.

It becomes that we choose to endure the hell. Because the thought of one more lost heaven destroys us more thoroughly than this endurance of durance vile.

What twists, what turns, what burns, what knows

I want you filled with me, consumed by my will, by your shame and pleasure. Knowing that I will take care of you in all the ways you dream about in your dark heart. Knowing that at times I will break you with kindness and love even as I bruise you and blood you as your deep desires twist and beg for. You are mine. Wake every day knowing that you are owned. That you are desired. That there is someone who is willing to burn and be burned in the pyre of you. Do not despair of my kindness. Of my deep well of love. Think not of only the soft and light that I speak of. That of my actions to care for you. Remember, that until you give explicit consent, the beast of me is shackled. But know, it waits, it sees you and we hunger.

The state of things

I don’t do well in the vacuum of knowledge. Not knowing why’s and reasons and thoughts eats away at me. “I’ll tell you later,” in all its variations is a cancer eating away at me in the narrow dark before the first rays of light. Or the variations of actions taken with no explanation as to why. Both cause their problems.

I know that I don’t express it. I know that I accept what information is given and keep going. But what else can I do? Demand more information than they are willing to give? Life isn’t so easy.

And I find myself in a predicament where my skills and experience is not easily seen. And I’m not the best when confronted with questions I haven’t thought about. Unless it’s asked by someone I trust, then it’s honesty and Intuition. So how do I sell my skills which are not evident by degrees or certification when I need a few minutes alone to formulate a response.

I don’t know what to do. I keep going forward with the gnawing feeling of impending failure and the thought that success might be just as bad. Looking for a way sideways or out but not finding it.

And still, those thoughts that more information would make me feel safe permeate and batter defenses which isolate me even more.