native americans, indians, whateverA Poem by A. HoodI'm sitting in a dusty old lab room, my eyes glued to the microscope carefully analyzing each word that comes out of my mouth. I always thought that everything about politics was wrong; politicians-- just slimy little guys with slicked back hair who selfishly believe every shaken hand could be a future vote; shining their pearly whites through a misleading façade. --and yet being politically correct is a term people often toss around today
If I say the politically incorrect thing someone may hear it, who will text it to their cousin, who will email it to their sister, who will tweet it to her celebrity crush, who will then re-tweet it to each and every one of his two million followers. My verbal misstep is now front page news. We’re all just mindless mannequins anyway, who copy and paste our breakfast talk each morning
So in the future if I happen to come across a Native American, I can guarantee you, I won’t make the same mistake Columbus did. © 2016 A. Hood |
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Added on March 31, 2013 Last Updated on November 30, 2016 Author
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