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The Friday Poem – ‘Hate’, by Hera Lindsay Bird

HATE

 

Some people are meant to be forgiven

and others are meant to be hated forever…..

……………………………………………………….

……………………………………………………….

I don’t think it’s right to hate people

It’s just that I don’t care

To wake each day in a snakeskin negligee

and light myself on fire with such ethical behaviours

 

Once………………I tried to give hate up

But I was born to feel a great pettiness

To lie face-down in my catholic schoolgirl outfit

and pound the cobblestones of the Royal Albert hall

 

Hate is an old fashioned spirituality

To know that pain will take care of itself

It’s a lean justice that doesn’t serve anyone

Only itself, like a long retired butler

 

Well I don’t like life without a modicum of hate

This was once a righteous indignation

But now…………………………….it is a self pleasuring exercise

A literary revenge is the most humiliating of all punishments

To be stretched on the racks of the poetry industrial complex

 

Hate only hurts the hater, says conventional wisdom

But conventional wisdom’s dead, and I am still alive

If this hurts, it hurts like self inflicted ass slaps

O tell me I’m a bad girl, with a…………….stunted empathy complex

 

Some people are meant to hate forever

and other people are meant to have appropriate reactions

 

Some people believe in forgiveness

and other people believe in………..dwelling on things

 

Hate is a rare emotion, because nobody dares feel it

Nobody! ………………………………………….at least not by name

Everyone thinks their hate is just wrong behaviour objections

But there are wrong behaviour objections and then there are

…………wrong behaviour objections

 

Hate is a white crepe box, with voluminous spite ruffles

It’s a friendly push off a Tuscan cliff

Hate is a private joke, with only one punchline

or a statue in the courtyard with a bad attitude

 

To hate is to glory in bygone hurts

Like an antique canon you never have to load

My hate is a genial hate, with ‘a modern vintage aesthetic’

like clocking someone with a non-stick frying pan

 

As a child, my dance instructor once told me to stop rolling my eyes

I was very petulant, and accustomed to lavish praise

I’m not rolling my eyes, I said, I’m looking at the ceiling

And I was ……………………………………..with modern jazz contempt

 

Hate is an emotional aristocracy fallen on hard times

It’s like eating nothing off a gold leaf plate

To hate is a cruel vintage festivity

Like a hand-made pinata filled with bees

 

Hate is a luxurious futility, like a velvet birdbath

Someone wise once said that, and that person was me

And if you don’t like it………………………………………..well

buy me a drink and you can finish the poem

 

Once I tried to understand my enemy

But some people it is less eyerolling not to understand

To hate is a bad behaviour

But I have to feel it anyway

The more they want me less to hate them

The more I smile like a sickle coming down

& they’re the bad bad grass

 

I tell my hate to my girlfriend and she laughs

she laughs and laughs and laughs

she laughs until she cries, at the ungenerous things I say

and then looks kind of worried………………………………

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