by Npoet9
Year: 
2016

You fear me?  
You fear me not ...  
I am not the driving force
in your silly, arrogant false choices:  
For shooting me unarmed  
For dancing across juxtaposed walkways  
For spitting, farting, jeering  and otherwise animalistic behaviors  
Wetting in your pants fear.  

You are not afraid of me  
and therefore hating me,
avoiding me,  
daring only a moment to love me  
and then running away,
keeping me out of your schools,  
barring me from little social clubs
and campfire circles.    

You even keep me out of your awkward
and incessant  search for peace,
though I may know an answer.  

It's not me that makes you toss and turn
in your bed at night,  
makes you pull down your blinds,  
makes you hit the power locks on your car doors,  and crouch behind your surveillance camera feed,
lights turned down like there ain't nobody home,
gun in your bedside drawer waiting for you toddler son to come fondle it.    

Your fear creeps up upon you,  
like an imaginary friend  
betrays you like a convenient lover,
mocks you like a circus safety net,  
With you wearing stilts like an alibi that you know is a lie.  

Your fear faces you in the mirror,  
lip-sticking your piggish piousness,  
it stands up on Sunday morning
like a stiff white collar,  
it primes you like your ABCs,
it forces you into bed,
circling you with terror,
like the ring around your finger,
it smothers you like your favorite pillow.  

Your fear owns you like it spells your name.
It speaks in words of love,
but beats you with willow branches
until you can only bark birch.

Look not to me, the noble savage,
the exotic stranger for fear.
Look into your domicile -
at the pictures over your hearth,  
the ancestral incestral manufacturer of your dreams.  Nothing comes from the deep dark soul more forcefully  than good old-fashioned homegrown dread.  

Deplorable; you cannot show your heart  
for me or for your love for your secret muse  
as she makes you squirm in passion.  
I am much too dark and she is much too much like you -  powerless in the hands of the old white men raping you in your heads.  

You cannot claim your destiny of clarity.  
You only stand there.  
Listening to audacious rants.  
Nodding your head and smiling.

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