Letter to a friend

Dear boss

Hey you in the coach’s corner

I’m writing in order

For someone to explain

To my daughter the distinction

Between these mandatory group rites of submission

And the rallies at Malabar


Specifically the function

The ritual serves in conjunction

With what everybody knows

Is in the end a fool’s game

I guess I’m just appealing to your sense of fair play


When I say she’s puzzled by

This incessant pressure for her to not defy

Collective will (and) yellow-ribboned papers

As the minions inexplicably rappel

Down from the stage, stair and rafters

If it not so insane,

They’ll be grounds for screaming laughter


Dear Parameshti

I wouldn’t bother with these questions

If I didn’t sense some spiritual connection

We may not be the same

But it’s not like we’re from different planets

We both love this game so much we can hardly fucking stand it


I guess it comes down to

What kind of world you want to live in

If diversity is disagreement

Disagreement is treason


Well don’t be surprised if we find ourselves reaping

A strange and bitter fruit

That sad old man that stood beside you

Keeps feeding to young minds as virtue


It takes a village to raise a child

A tradition to raze the children

Till they’re nothing more than ballasts for fulfilling

A madman’s dream of a paradise


Complexity reduced to black and white


How do I

Protect her from

This cult of submission?

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