Label Baiters

Finger pointers.
Deniers of truth.
And dignity exterminators.
Endorsing doubt to toss about.
Have risen in positions,
Like a plague of leeching locusts.
To believe they can dictate...
Laws and rules they refuse to follow.
Or obey.
Yet can eliminate to replace them,
For the purpose to ensure...
Whatever they label,
That dis-stabilizes a quality of life...
Is a right and entitlement they have,
To remove common sense and sanity...
From sight to enable them to bait,
Bigotry, division, racism and diversity...
With an initiating of hatred to sell it.
Sold by self anointed auctioneers.
As a means to diminish the appearance,
Of an image representing...
The face of diversified greatness.
Enforced upon the minds of those,
Already too awakened and conscious...
And aware to know as seen to show,
Who throws tantrums and creates havoc...
When their childish demands,
To delude and fiction them...
Are told that's what they are!
Delusions to fiction.
And...
Lies to keep their fantasies fed.
To crave upon this twisted existence,
That markets a nonstopping conformity.
Most, if not all, of their lives to adapt,
And adjust...
Has corrupted their minds.
Messing up...
Their thick as bricks dipped in cement,
Wall hitting sickened heads!
Vacant of thoughts inside,
A shallow hollowness to find...
Returning the sound of a bouncing echo!
(...hello...hello...hello...)

Although...
Proven they have done to have the power,
To defend, protect and accept...
A self destruction like none other,
Performed with such devotion observed...
Detached and lacking,
Of minds to have had to use them... Without noticeable significant waste!
Acknowledging...
This to debate,
Would take too much time.
No one can afford to lose more of it.
If a mind is not there,
Proving it is attempting to function.
Awaiting for that attempt,
Should be seen not to either flicker...
Spark or glow from a dimming ember.
Intentionally smothering,
A brightness of light to masquerade...
Long gone yet remains to charade,
An awareness of those yesterdays...
Decayed.
Putting an end,
To this attraction they have in creating...
Heartache, dismay, malaise and disaster!
As if nomads seeking an oasis,
In the hopes to quench their thirst...
While portraying themselves as heros!
Survivors of a past they miss with wishes,
To restore and have it forever to revisit.

'Maybe...
Just maybe,
There is a reason and purpose...
As to why they have a need,
To display such a craze.
Every reason doesn't have to rhyme.'

'Maybe...
Just maybe,
They have lost any reason to pretend...
Bolts have loosened from their nuts.
Because those nuts,
Have been defective to have cracked.
And rusted to dust over time.'

'Or...
Perhaps,
Just perhaps...
It had been the bolts defective.
Holding the nuts once together firmly,
Causing those nuts to run loose.'

'What difference does it make?
These nuts have found a way,
To have everyone believe...
They represent stability.'

'How are they doing that?
What are they comparing stability to?
It can not be normalcy.
That dysfunction no longer exists.'

'So...
What is this...this,
Life we are living?'

'We have been living to label bait,
Impressions to make them.
Then pretentiously create,
Our own delusions to fiction into reality!'

'No way.
That's impossible.'

'That's what Don Quixote thought too!
But he had been,
One of those independent thinkers.
Neither on the right nor left.
Or one of those fence sitters.
Awaiting to see which dream,
Is more feasible to dream than others!'

'Don who?'

'It doesn't matter.
Just another dreamer.
From La Mancha.'

'A Mexican who's also French?'

'He is not real.
He was created by a writer.
Some dude name Cervantes.
Back in the 1600's.
And Spanish.
You know...
Spaniards.'

'And...
He is still holding onto,
That impossible dream?
Even he had identity issues.
Shouldn't he be moving on by now?
To accept what isn't for what is to be?'

'There are times,
When I wish I could just snap my fingers.
And I could make nonsense around me,
Just disappear.
Dorothy had it easy.
All she had to do,
Was to click her heels three times.
And she and Toto were back in Kansas.'

'Well...
When you wish upon a star.
Makes no difference who you are!
But no stars are found,
Moping around staring at the ground.
Hoping to fulfill a wish to eat,
A hamburger served...
Between warm and freshly baked,
Sour dough buns.'

'God?
Do I have to say anything?
Nothing today makes sense anymore.'

'I could have told you that.
The moment you started talking about,
Baiting with labels.
And exterminating dignities.
Then...
From nowhere,
A dreaming French-Mexican appears.
Dreaming impossible dreams!
You need not ask of God,
For you to find sense to make it.'

'Okay.
I agree.
I'll make my conversations with you,
Less intimidating and more basic.
So you will understand.'

'No.
Just stay at one destination,
When you arrive.
Then...
Give me a clue or hint,
Where you may be going next!'

'Then what fun will that be?
We will both understand each other.
And come to see eye to eye and agree.
Remember?
We already had that kind of relationship.'

'Oh, yeah.
I miss how boring you use to be.
And told me how exciting,
I made our conversations we once had!'

'You must have forgotten,
My asking you to forgive me...
For lieing to you about that.'