Society

Cropped out among the ashes
We who are pure yet plenty
Unnoticed at our brilliance
Physically and Mentally
They do not notice us among us
We are popular and proud
Ignorant and not blissful
We are racist and crude
Unyielding to authority
Rebellious and rude
We are quiet at the table
Polite in every which way
Trying to impress the many
Just enough to be understood
We slander and joke
Yet not to the public

For we must be weary
Of they who perceive us
For we were not he men who were imprisoned
Nor did we follow our ancestors
Who lashed at our friends
We are all and one the same
Langston Hughes was a man
One of the finest roses in the orchard

He was night and we are day
Yet they throw slander in both our ways

So who are they?
They who perceive us as night and as day?

They stumble on politics
They are now before and after
They are filled with tears and with laughter
They are beautiful and ugly
They are everything and everywhere
They are grass in the field
They are grapes in the vineyard
They are cars on the freeway
They are plenty and too many
They are imprisoned and free
They are Society