Dear Enemy

Dear enemy,

Please tell me this is a means to an end.

<>

Morality,

This line that we draw in the sand,

As if to say:

Dear enemy,

This is where I believe you should stand

While I blow you away.

The audacity,

Refusing to meet my demand.

When you disobey

My morality

I feel you are forcing my hand

To do you away...

<>

Our life spirals out of control,

Ripping and tearing the (w)hole,

Forever creating the soul.

<>

Ideology

Consuming the empty space

Where a heart used to be.

No dignity

It's more about saving face

So no one can see

The monster inside

That must hide its crippled disgrace

But why should it be

Breaking the bond

That advances the human race

Eventually...

<>

Our life spirals out of control,

Ripping and tearing the soul,

Forever creating the (w)hole.

<>

Morality bleeding me.

I am beyond weary.

Ideology,

Spreading the disease.

<>

Dear enemy,

Please tell me this is a means to an end.

<>

Your f(r)iend,

C. Rommial Butler

***** * *****

Commentary:

This poem, which contain lyrics for an as-yet-unrecorded Burning Giant song of the same name, is not an exhortation to division, but a critique of the seemingly never-ending need to stoke it. When we defend our group ideologies as extensions of ourselves, we lose touch with the self that defends the individual, whence only new ideas, growth, and progress must come.

An "enemy" reveals us to ourselves far more than friends ever will. Friends withhold information to spare our feelings. Enemies withhold information only when they think it can give them a tactical advantage. Read between the lines...

If we see something in others that we dislike so vehemently that we are willing to set ourselves on fire to burn down the world, we might want to look inside ourselves before we rush on to the revolution.

The world will survive us and our enemies. We will both go back to the world one way or the other. Will we survive the revolution? Who will we sacrifice to do it?

Is there a way to continue living together to our natural end? If distance is the only way to assure non-violence, is there enough room in the world to accommodate the need?

There is, in my opinion, a rash rush to judgment regarding the "toxicity" of personality. Conspicuously, we seek to define those personalities as absolutely and universally "toxic", not based on whether they do any real physical harm, but based on whether their ideas discomfit us emotionally.

Toxicity is a matter of relation. Peanuts are not intrinsically toxic, except to those who are allergic to peanuts. Likewise, I have discovered this to be true with personalities. One's trash is another's treasure, one's Heaven another's Hell, one's love another's hate, one's joy another's sorrow.

Most conspicuous of all, that which is described as toxic today is acceptable tomorrow, as the tide of popular opinion changes.

The definition of normal changes from generation to generation, but the definition of dysfunction remains: that which is not considered normal.

Will we ever learn?

I suppose we always do...

***** * *****

More music and poetry from C. Rommial Butler: