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In this world,
there are numerous denominations,
split by human hand,
divided by persecution,
as blood spills to the sand.

Genocide,
no,
xenocide,
and by these actions everyday,
we commit patricide.
We feud for who knows what,
killing in the name of our God,
be it Elohim,
Allah,
or the dollar.
Civilization?
Progress?
Humans are far worse than animals,
people are cruel,
we **** with hidden agenda,
we cannibalize our beliefs,
there is no such thing as civility.
I have a dream?
What did that man see,
but the barrel of a gun?

Humans are created equal,
this is espoused by many,
and practiced by none,
even I allow the stitches of the American fabric to show.

I am no poet,
I am the greatest of hypocrites,
and in my futility,
I scream.
A.P. Beckstead (2013)
I asked my mom where Papa was
She said he got a new job
And it's better than the old one

He's wanted it for 3 years
Because his old one didn't give him money
And his new one passed it out like candy

He had two jobs for a while
With his first he got a promotion
But it was too much work

So he was always late to his first
Because his second was more fun
And eventually he got a promotion

He quit his first job without warning
He left his office supplies too
His old boss burned them because he quit

I miss Papa I tell my mom
I miss him too my mom tells me
But the good in him died

Is he an evil man
He is not an evil man
But the good in him died

When will he come home
He will not come home
Because the good in him died
We're so much sleepier than we used to be.
So drained, so strained,
                 so uncreative.
It's been a blast while it's lasted,
but at last, perhaps it is time to quit.
Quit running in circles looking for miracles.
New things and new beams of light
will ignite (the tender) and give us
our sight.
(Or at least I hope.)
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