In conference rooms where daylight dies
behind venetian blinds,
the words flow smooth off tongue
as tepid honey sweet:
diversity, inclusion, care (all good),
and many more,
while well-sculptured algorithms force these rhombus
thoughts in pre-approved designs square,
each thought a data-point calibrated, ah! that’s fair.

But fair to what? The metrics show we’re thriving,
see the charts ascend, not fall, it’s all good;
yet something hidden is writhing slow underneath,
something that won’t bend—it’s there in me.

They package ‘revolution’ precise in safety protocols,
with bold warning labels listing all the ways we might offend:
the sharp edges now filed,
the dangerous ideas blunt,
bland, not fracturing, it’s all okay,
while focus groups determine an acceptable end.
Stories?
These are the narratives of those who’ve learned to smile.

11/7/2025