KATHARINE
SCOTT
ON RACISM
Fear breeds hate.
And with fear and
hate come acts of revenge,
A desire to avenge
…
Assaults on our
stability,
Reminders of our
fallibility …
We choose an ‘us
and them’ mentality
To try to cope
with the mindless brutality,
Our own sense of
vulnerability,
And an incapacity
for the ego to
accept a threat,
a blow,
a knock,
a disrespect.
We match hate with
hate,
In childlike self
righteousness,
with fear innate.
We create an
‘other’
as a cover.
And thus we
exclude …
we collude and
conclude
that ‘they’ are
alien and estranged …
and must be
subdued,
subject to war …
feud …
More violence,
hate and fear ………
The violence of
blame.
We can’t face the
shame.
That given the
right circumstances,
The right
conditioning …
We all have the
capacity,
for deeds which
shock and horrify …
We are voracious
in our denunciation … condemnation …
In our fearful
frustration,
we search for
simplicity.
To avoid our own
duplicity,
we choose blame.
We ignore the
social, economic, political, historical and resource-scarce circumstances …
And with childlike
simplicity,
we choose religion
as the scapegoat.
With childlike
self-righteousness,
we ignore its role
as a guide to compassionate living … a moral compass.
For our moral
compass is the violence of blame,
and with naïve
fury …
we only seek a
label … a name …
we are judge and
jury …
And we condemn and
convict religion with childlike simplicity.
Because anything
more complex,
Will confuse and
perplex …
Challenge our
tribal security.
SOLDIERS AND
TERRORISTS.
Everyone’s writing
about love …
But I want to
write about rage and hate ….
The ugly stuff …
The hard truth of
angry youth …
Love is innate.
But rage and hate
are learnt.
Love is as natural
as mother and baby bliss.
But with rage and
hate clearly something has gone amiss.
The logic of love
has been missed …
Perhaps the
rageful and hateful were not loved enough …
Perhaps they were
forced to be tough …
Cults of terror,
are generally
perpetuated by angry young men,
in foolish error,
guided by a tribal
‘us and them’ …
with men often
older and more coldly capably devious,
pulling the
strings …
Manipulating
serious delirious fervent puppets …
who have
relinquished the capacity to think for themselves.
What use to rage
against and hate these soldiers …?
Whose burning need
to strive smoulders unfulfilled …
Their unbroadened
shoulders droop and hunch with a fundamental dissatisfaction …
Smoulders of
striving demand action … a reaction … an interaction …
that will address
the ugly lack of satisfaction.
How to fulfil our
fundamental needs ?
How to forestall
the greedy grasping power hungry cravings for more …
For war …
For bombs …
For pogroms …
For destruction …
devastation …
and reduction of
the tribal ‘other’
BOXES
Rollercoastering
through the taut tight cavities of human existence.
A concord
rollercoaster dynamiting through the rocks,with pointed weighted head,
dense, fearless
dynamite lead.
Smashing open
those boxes … to which we humans chose to be wed.
In sickness and in
health … for richer … for poorer,
we hold tight to
our boxes … those labels, prejudices and judgements.
We crave the
familiar … we are particular,
to those things
similar.
To what we know …
to what we don’t even know that we know …
So subliminal and
profound … is the rooting of this ‘familiar’.
Buried deep
underground …
Beneath the
threshold of consciousness.
We treasure these
boxes.
We resist detoxes,
of our labels,
prejudices and judgements …
Because we are
subliminally attached
to the
conditioning that hatched
our defenses,
negativity and noxious poxes
which are
carefully stored in those treasured boxes …
Babies are born
innocent and free
of defenses,
negativity and noxious poxes …
As they grow,
their
vulnerability
renders them
helpless to the acquisition of boxes.
Boxes for labels,
prejudices and judgements.
We destroy their
purity,
through our own
peculiarities,
our conditioned
particularities,
to those noxious
familiarities.
What we’re taught,
those labels,
prejudices and judgements,
we caught,
and trapped,
and then became
subliminally attached to.
They are not who
we are,
But who we become.
We become numb,
unconsciously
dumb,
to the innocence
and purity,
the beauty and
vulnerability,
of our baby boxless
selves.
Whatever is
negative, is learnt.
Your treasured
box,
is no more than a
pox …
and the concord
rollercoaster is mine ….
I created it to
smash my own noxious pox ridden boxes.
I’m busy smashing
away…
Stripping off my
defenses.
I’m relentless
with my purge,
to help that
butterfly to emerge.
A beautiful,
boxless, baby butterfly …
with wings and
things …
Free and easy …
Not dying in a
tornado
easy in its purity
and vulnerability.
Concord
rollercoasters
Cannot be lent,
and they are not
heaven sent …
You’ve got your
own.
It’s the will of
the soul.
It will take you
home,
and help you be
whole
Home to beautiful,
baby boxless purity and freedom.
Katharine Scott
Surrey UK. Britain.
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