hate speech vs my mighty voice

Mighty Voices Rise

I don’t give two damns about “hate speech” against me, a brown woman. Not two. I have a mighty voice and know how to defend myself against words meant to cut my soul. What I care a lot about is whether someone attempts to do me physical harm, cut my skin. That is my biggest concern. Not the small words of small people with small minds. My words are too mighty to be concerned with the infantile ramblings of those who have nothing better to do with their lives than discuss people.

I wish to be left alone and allowed the right to get away from any “hate speech” I don’t want to hear.  Don’t allow anyone to follow me around for the sole purpose of speaking to me any kind of way (they can say what they want without forcing it on me) and don’t allow anyone to touch me, harass me or bully me. My physical person is more important to me than a bunch of words (venom) coming out of an idiots mouth.

Further, I want those who wish to say hateful things to express themselves freely, please, so I know exactly who to stay away from. If those who hate me are silenced, then they could do me even greater harm in the dark because I won’t know who is doing things to me. Could be denying me a job, spitting in my food, giving me wrong medicine, whatever. I need to know who to stay far away from, or who to report if they attempt to deny me access to something I have the right to access.

Nope, don’t ban a thing for me. Keep them away from me. That is all. I know how to use my mighty voice against those who bring small words pushed from the depths of their small souls.

little expectations

Writing Prompt: Write a new post in response to today’s one-word prompt. Expectation.

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I am sometimes filled to overflowing with a cauldron of expectations. Ideas mixed in with opinions and beliefs that don’t belong to me or the soup overwhelm every aspect of my life. Which expectations are real and true; which are contrived notions created by someone else’s way of seeing the world?

I place in neat little rows all my expectations on the table. I examine them and wonder about their origins and why they’ve followed me to this point in time. Why do I need them? Do they need me? What are they? Why are they?

I want to detach myself from them so I may watch them from a distance. And see what expectations do when they have no one to hold on to.

leaving chaos

Writing Prompt: Chaotic

Write a new post in response to today’s one-word prompt.

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The world seems to be spinning out of control. Chaotic systems that have us enslaved to ways of living and being that feel unnatural to me surround me daily; they back me into corners in my life and mind.

I see the beauty and potential peace in this world, but those in control of the various systems want to create and control toward chaos.

I am tired of it all. It seems to never end. I am leaving chaos behind, at least in my mind. It is what I can do, for now, to find peace.

blue elegance

Writing Prompt: Elegant

Write a new post in response to today’s one-word prompt.

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The waters are not blue. They are the mirror for the royal skies that look down at an elegant white-blue swan reflecting off the mercurial lakes of a thousand lazy yesterdays. The swan glides across the time engorged waters, filled with stories of ancestral swans, regal, majestic. White feathers tinted to match the coming dusk and darkening waters. It rises above its own elegance. We are spellbound by the quiet and peace it exudes.

word scientist

Writing Prompt: Whisper

Write a new post in response to today’s one-word prompt.

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Most of what I write is an experiment where I allow words to cascade from my fingertips and walk about in the world, naked and unashamed. I let them roam free so they may discover themselves.

You could call me a word scientist. Forever exploring the strengths and weakness of words, even the history of words, where they were born, how they lived, and how those who use them have been transformed.

I am in a writing lab, surrounded by flasks filled with potentially volatile words. It is quiet there, so that I can meditate on my next experiment. I whisper to the words, and ask them to show me what happens when I mix them together. I add drops of words into an empty flask, then pour a cup of words atop what may or may not explode. The words combine and foam into sentences, then paragraphs rise to the top of the flask and spill over onto the table. I whisper to them, ask them what it was like. Sometimes they answer, in whispers barely audible. Other times, they wait to be rediscovered in new ways.

Dozens of flasks litter the table, each now with varied mixtures of words, reacting in expected and unexpected ways. Some good, some bad. Some inert, others poison to the touch. I continue to delve into the science, to see what it unearths. Words bubble, freeze, catch fire, and sometimes turn to fog. Always, they are there, coming together to teach us that which we didn’t know yesterday.

Sometimes they come in whispers. Sometimes they come without care. But always they come.