Squaretable Seminars

I cannot stand
you street-corner, main-door,
elevator, quad-center,
sidewalk-junction,
come-hear-my-function
preachers. I applaud
your drive to enliven
a crowd with your messages,
your guts to light fire under
butts and say what’s what.
But your words are falling
on deaf ears because
what you’re touting
sounds like bullshit spouting
from a broken fountain
of better-luck-next-time
prime rib ad-lib
that ain’t going nowhere fast.
I have places to go,
people to meet,
and a whole lot of my own
speeches incomplete
because I decided that
undivided attention
goes nowhere if you don’t
have a plan of action.

Please…
Stop complaining…

I have better things to do
than listen to you whine
about your god and his glory
in some grandiose
adventure story
that’s really about intolerance
and inequality,
and an allegiance
to cover your ass
when you decide to kill
en masse and bloody
the grass of history.
I am not too keen
on the scene of
give-me-some-money-and-
we’ll-pray-for-you-honey
miracles or the shade betrayal
of friends because
they don’t call their god
by your god’s name,
god forbid
your religion
be the one to blame.

Please…
Stop complaining…

I have better things to do
than listen to you whine
about two people
loving and giving
and sharing and living
and supporting each other,
being all wrong and against
the order of life
because they’re homo
and not hetero
in the scheme you deem
the be-all end-all
of humanity.
I’d claim insanity
if I were you
because the vanity
of your vision proves
you’re sitting
too close to the mirror
to see the love
that deigns to shove
against your melting block
of ice age idea.

Please…
Stop complaining…

I have better things to do
than listen to you whine
about a woman deciding
what’s best for her
without stopping to confer
with your delusional thoughts
of grandeur.
I refuse to let you choose
to imprison her
in three-fourths a year
of non-volunteer incubation,
no kind of foundation
to base the creation
of a life-supporting society,
until the day
you curb the perturbance
of sperm-donating oops!-ters
who with agility
shrug the responsibility
of this fertility,
and find a route
for men to bear the doubt
of carrying this thing out.

Please…
Stop complaining...

So you’ve established your
place in the world,
but your world is not
our world and I want to
-knock, knock, knock-
welcome you
to the real world.
Excuse me
for not standing up in ovation
because your statements
don’t hold up in the line-up
of listenable material
worthy of admiration.
I am not sorry
for my lack of interest
in listening to you
try to explain that 2 plus 2
does not equal five,
because it actually does
when you synergize,
so excuse you and your talk
and your self-righteous walk,
but I have things to do.


© Hannah Walleser