Plato's Play-Doh

Dear Plato,

This desolate stone sculpture fumbling around with Play-Doh

Molding the world, keeping us afloat

Bearded Athenian, the framer's scapegoat.


Gorgias dining, walking a tightrope

Wet downhill logic, a slippery slope

Where fun goes to die, just another way to cope

My heart beats to the rhythm, my metronome is my stethoscope.


Because we've got Eminem spitting pejoratives

Like a Pez dispenser.

How ironic is this world where

Death is the original debt collector.


Hannibal Lector

Shouting at the top of his lungs.

Billy and Mandy's lovely Spectre

Daniel Craig climbing to the top rung.


But DirecTV was sold indirectly,

Toys R Us is going underwater because kids can no longer play independently.

Face in a cell phone,

Hands always in our pockets.

Challenger launching false rockets

Fingers constantly stroking that silver locket.


Because my great great grandpa fought in the civil war

Confederate army, Kentucky lore.

"Just a sign of the times"

But that's no excuse

Tell that to the slaves

Forgive them if they're a bit obtuse.


But I can't forgive him.

He fought for the south.

He had the option to go north

But racial epithets spewed from his mouth.


So thank you ancestry dot com

For giving me the truth.

You once said, "Courage is knowing what not to fear"

But I'm afraid of the racism that is oh so near

to my roots.


Only a few generations removed

I guess that makes me bad too

Well I mean that's what Buzzfeed said,

Just get these voices out of my head.


Is there any way this can be misconstrued?

Is my guilt enough reason to be booed?

Are reparations something to be ensued?

Please just let me allude

To the fact that I am slightly skewed

Because I'm straight and white

Trying with all my might

To understand my past and figure out the difference between wrong and right.


But the truth is that I don't know...

And I'm scared...

And there is absolutely no confluence of ideas in my head.

Because racism is real

And Nietzsche says God is dead.

And maybe he's right.

But my Play-Doh is cold, cracked and red.

A reminder of my childhood,

A simple haze of pure bliss

All wrapped up in a neat little bow with the label telling me nostalgia's ghost was feeling generous.


So I'll continue to hold onto my children's "toy"

And run through these thoughts in my mind.

Remembering a time where all I had to worry about was the tears I'd not shed and where I lay in bed.


I wish I could freeze time

Superman the world back into this perfect life of mine.

But 8 came and went without a warning sign

So I stay here, not throwing away my shot, waiting for my chance to shine.

And like your recollection and illumination,

I will be divine.




This poem is about: 
My family
My community
My country
Our world


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