This one isn't mine but Kenneth Rexroth--

whose poems I truly like. They ring the bell. Starbursts. Mouth your own cliched metaphor for liking someone else's poetry and see how it feels in your mouth. A little like you ought to rinse and spit, am I right? I steals the copy from this link, because you must know I am too lazy to type all that my ownself.

Discrimination

I don’t mind the human race.
I’ve got pretty used to them
In these past twenty-five years.
I don’t mind if they sit next
To me on streetcars, or eat
In the same restaurants, if
It’s not at the same table.
However, I don’t approve
Of a woman I respect
Dancing with one of them. I’ve
Tried asking them to my home
Without success. I shouldn’t
Care to see my own sister
Marry one. Even if she
Loved him, think of the children.
Their art is interesting,
But certainly barbarous.
I’m sure, if given a chance,
They’d kill us all in our beds.
And you must admit, they smell.

Which is awful because it's true and I think if he lived now he'd have a blog, don't you? I once thought I learned two incredibly important things from literature--the first was that all people are equally useless from the jump. The second is that we are all equally dignified. What matters is how we employ our dignity. But part of the biggest stupidity humans fall prey to is dividing people up into race-this and gender-that. Here he just lumps the whole of humanity into the "to be hated" pile, employing all the cliches of bigotry. And suddenly, if you're included--don't you want to defend yourself? And any others under the broad umbrella of the human race?

It's crafty. I like it.