Meta Mag 2: Diversity

There’s Disney Diversity, which is like

a joke

[a mulatto, an Asian dude, and a white-ass cheerleader walk into

a commercial,

and the world applauds with force smiles,

none the wiser that their repressed insincerity

is the punchline].

And then there’s the not-so-pleasant, frowned-upon,

whisper-but-don’t-stare-too-long,

[real] diversity, which is like:

watch me pop a Klonopin or 5, and

get down with the preps and the prostitutes,

all smokin’ too much of this or that…

with the 50-year-old [white, male] Harvard scholar,

who’s too damned brilliant and lonely and sleazy

for his own good,

with the marine-to-be citadel cadet who is

conflicted about his orientation… sexually,

and nationally [“I know America is a corporate, materialistic,

tyrannical force, persecuting the weak;
but if you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em,

…right?”]  

with the starving artists and soccer moms all their sipping coffee,

with the train-hopper, the tranny,

and the trying-too-hard-teens,

the redneck ex-con with tats on his face.

Diversity ain’t a pretty thing, prescribed, premeditated,

and pre-packaged in a rainbow little bow.

It’s full of grey-area, paradoxes, and confusion.

But conviction to one man, is close-mindedness to another;

And open-mindedness to one, hypocrisy to another.

The Houses of the world hold their own diversities

Each occupy within them different memories

Some with walls full of open spaces

others covered in paintings and faces

All bearing their disparate smells

The aroma of love or the putridity of personal hells

Patiently sitting pretty in their little rows

Or up on a hill all alone

The houses of the world

Each home to unique tales

Some abandon because of their ales

Everybody just wants a roof over their head

Nothing compares to having your own bed

Taken for granted by the rich

Desired more than anything by the less fortunate

All artwork by Rebecca Jane Hooper