I wonder if John Steinbeck knew that when he was writing Of Mice and Men that he was changing the world.
Each pen stroke was a stroke of a clock.
Times are changing but discrimination never seems to alter itself;
Yet we let it alter our history. Textbooks glance over it like a blanket and call it human nature because it's the only
Thing that we seem to perfectly pick up at eight o’clock on prom night with a dozen roses.
Since the beginning of time we admire the sky from flat fields and three am sneak out adventures,
Maybe we'll never remember this.
And when sky is described in dull colors,
I'll look towards my companion admire him or her And will not describe them in dull skin tones
But as bright compassion.
I wonder if John Steinbeck
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Friendships lay their heads to sleep off during the storm seas
Curley’s wife the most
And people may wonder why
And I'll say that and I'll tell them it's because I understand what it feels like to be ignored because you aren't
One of the guys.
To show what they search for in skin
And still not be what they May, but the loneliness of a Man’s world
Is a shameless search for someone to look at you more than a man’s possession.
As if your body was not yours
As if you were not birth from a Phoenix
Rise and fall from ash with every breath from painted lips your fiery wellness, had to be cooled down in the cool barn. Because it was too hot.
You are as pretty as a doll, a showpiece whether dead on display or alive, as if Curley was to say
“See, I have ownership over you. When everybody else make me feel inferior
Or less of a man, because I take up less space.
You are my space.”
Space may be infinite and yet he lives his life
Within the boundaries of his fists.
I wonder if John Steinbeck knew that when he was writing Of Mice and Men that he was
Exposing eyes to their actions.
And from this, tolerance was born deformed and that we’ll spend
Time to teach our kids to treat tolerance as nothing