World Pulse


Do Not, Offend Me


The rant

Do not offend me

I am them; I am they,

I am she; I am he

I am myself; I am not myself

I am known; I am mystery

I do not know who I am

Do not offend me,

I am ageing; I am youthful

I am ageless; I am growing

I’m vibrant; I am weary

I am wounded; I am healing

I am poorly; I am trying

I do not know what I am doing

Do not offend me,

I am beauty; I’m unfolding

I am confidence in the shadows

I am trickling potential, longing to water fall

Proving to myself that I've proved it to the world

The why

If you offend me

I'll take you and our memories

Which I’ll begin to trash

I'll put you in a box

Wrap it in black tape

And send it to THE box

The ‘nothing’ box, of my recollections

If you offend me

You’ll be nothing! Nothing,

But that which gives offence

And nothing you’ll remain, until I may delight

In your contrite assuagement

The how

To not offend me

Know everything I know, and everything I might

Know how I’ve responded; how I might respond

Know what pierces me; what pieces me together

To not offend me

Be beautiful; be strong

Be knowledgeable; be perfect

Be compassionate; empathetic

Be healed, oh be healed 

Wholly, healed.

You must not bring wounds of your own

To not offend me, o perfect one,

Anticipate my journey,

All the sparkles; all the blisters

Especially, the blisters!

And don’t, poke at them

And don’t, point at them

And don’t, acknowledge them

But to commend my valiance

A world without offence you see

Is mine to every degree

And it all depends on you

So; long, feel, enjoy, respond, think, create. Be!

But only be, that which offends me not.

The summary

Now that you know how, o generous one

Predict who I am

Anticipate my idiosyncrasies

Uphold my point of view

Celebrate my person-hood

Until you, do not offend me

The resolution

Do not offend me o friendly one

Or we are not friends

Unless I; yes, I

Relinquish my entitlements

And acquiesce to my flaws

So I grow into me enough

And into your world a little

To seek above offence:

The cubic mile of our parallels

The tapering gradient to our convergence

The momentary point of our intersection

Here, at last

For mutual connection I’ll trade my right

To be offended




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