Apartment 411 - It's all there in Black and White

No matter how many times I fold the paper, 

it just won't seem to close.
No apologies printed.
No corrections tendered.

Not that it would make a damn bit of difference-
bigotry is headline fodder
easily enough recanted
in the smallest print imaginable
on page 6 or 7.

We don't even warrant that, apparently.

I get it.

Misanthropic missives
and hipster epistles
in the editorial column of some obscure publication
can somehow paint a saintly halo above your brow
in the eyes of the swine
herding in and out of night-clubs and coffee shops.
Addressing inconsistencies in treatment 

will merely get you buried.
So they get buried.

Sure, letting some redneck rant about
how he questions the moral integrity of a nation that lets it's
"nappy-haired nigger of a president
take away their bullets and
scrape out all their infants"
is an easy way to sell papers.

That doesn't make it right;
it damn sure doesn't make me wrong.

Infamy is not fleeting, friends,
and unfortunately
it's the precipice with the furthest fall.

It would be pitiable
if it weren't criminal.

Their only aim is deconstruction;
the only glory achieved
is through debasing any opposition.

Is anyone exalted anymore?
Is anything?

Another crease in the page
like the folds of my brain...
I still can't put the issue to bed
when there's ignorance all over it.

I need to stop people like this
from telling the world that it's okay to discriminate.
I need to shatter the lens
that insists on focusing on our differences
to create our definitions.

They used to be the moral majority.
That term has been usurped by "we."
If you don't fall under that heading,
you'll become the enemy.

Fuck them,
and then fuck you
for distributing abuse
instead of news...

It's not as though I haven't spent my entire life
under someone's scrutiny...

But, hell, who am I to criticize?

I'm just another name on the opinion page.