This Poem was Submitted By: R. Lee Buckley On Date: 2001-07-26 23:00:44 . . . Click Here To Mail this Poem to a Friend!

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We're in love with boxes, any size, all self-contained, Into which we place people who, we feel, should be "restrained" And labeled to "protect" ourselves, lest they "contaminate". In reality they're those to whom we don't relate. They represent our fears and doubts or insecurities And, on them, we can heap "the cause" of all "impurities" Which plague us with emotions too uncomfortable to claim - As coming from inside ourselves - too horrible to name. Governments use boxes as their tools to separate, Divide, and conquer people, whom they ignorantly hate. Or to control the masses, collating "us" from "them". They bring to bear great pressures so resistance they can stem. Boxes are so "neat", but they hide truths so we won't THINK. The theory goes, "You box a 'skunk', with lid tight, he won't stink!" But people are NOT "items" to be simply "filed away". The longer you ignore them then the longer they will stay! And vices, left alone - unchecked - begin to multiply Until they overcome us and our souls begin to die. "Un-box" your fears and face them.  Look at them in broad daylight And you may just discover there was nothing there to fight! Beliefs sustained by others shouldn't label them "suspect". Tear down your walls of ignorance, lest someday you regret An action made in anger, when someone your theory knocks. The only things in boxes should be photographs...or socks!

Copyright © July 2001 R. Lee Buckley

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