Its all ok.
Till, it isn’t.
Till, my howling beast
comes to swallow me
as I drown in the hollow
corridors of humanity.

The wails of the hungry,
the horrid screams of agony,
the shelters shattered
in mind numbing madness
made by modern
technology.

Mostly, this doesn’t
even touch me.
I wipe it off,
flap that flak jacket
that is dusty
with the flakes of
the fallen and burnt.

Our history returns,
but I am tired
of playing
the soothsayer
to those who go on
behaving like raving
children slayers.

My spirit becomes
comfortably numb
as I succumb
to my own complacency,
cause to struggle
drains me
immensely,
saps what’s left
of my sanity.

But even in the cluttered corners
the poet philosopher,
lover of literature,
student of history,
cries out to me,
yelling “do not surrender
your kind-hearted wonder,
and sense of empathy.
If you do there will be
nothing left of me
and our withering
humanity.”

how do I write about the beauty of the world
when barefoot people pass before my window
in search of shelter

how do I share my pleasure of the birds' sweet song at dawn
when I see faces etched with panic
from deafening blasts of bombs

how to rejoice in love and friendship
when meeting people who could barely save their lives
after burying their loved ones

how can I write with passion of the kindness of the human heart
when I see thousands fleeing from the ruins of their homes
only to face police   walls   barbed wire

true words are hard to find
as said a poet of an older war

    when it is a lie to speak
    a lie to keep silent

not easy

Money, alcohol,
video games and football
sports entertainment,
movies, cars,
trips afar,
social networks,
****** relationships,
if these are the things
we are run by,
searching for that
purchase high,
working lives
fun put on hold,
as you hold onto
your nine to five,
if all we are
is the desire to acquire
and be distracted
till our clocks
stopped,
then what is the point?

Tears scar
my fevered
red face
as I rage
against
these
unites states.

Pillars of pain
pushed to the point
of bullets and
blood stained
t-shirts.

To young,
to run
far enough
away
that day,

Now politicians
send thoughts and
prayers
but that is
much too little
to even be late.

The media
garners
silent stares
of inaction
while anonymous
internet commenters
call grieving parents
crisis actors.

facebook posts
of dividing positions
put friends in
combative opposition.

I would like
to be fair and neutral,
but the roots
run red and deep
as this dark sea of grief
rises from its sedated state.

So,
I keep on asking
how many more children
have to die
before people do
something right.

The laws of man
are stretched and torn
worked like taffy.
They are the
sustenance and armor
of the wealthy
while the rest of us
are crushed
beneath their weight.

I think its funny
How some people don't approve of the way a person is
They say, "don't shove it down my throat!"
"Leave it in the bedroom!"
Yet they make out in-front of them
And they preach their religion
Until the other person gets sick of hearing how
"Its Adam and Eve, not Adam and Steve'
They preach hate
And say its the same one
That preaches love
The same religion, that does not like hypocrites
Oh and if anyone else
Who is religious
And sees it a different way
Who sees the good in people
And loves them for who they are
Not who they love
The hypocrites will preach that
"They are not good enough"
Now isn't that hilarious?

As humans we all start and end the same. It is only the journey we take that is different.

I render a tender defeat.
Submit to the dudes who
manage to control you
with hateful lies.

There’s blood in the sky
fits the tears I cry.
I walk the streets
each and every night.

There’s strangers here
but they don’t’ have to be.
I could fully engage
our shared humanity.

A smile to go,
in a big mac bag,
I’m working on
my mcdonald heart attack.
Its just that
the big breakfast
is the one thing
I look forward to.

Its an empty life
It’s a lonely place
but I never let them see
the ****** tears on my face.

Its three to eleven
or eleven to seven.
It’s a gym membership
that gets me fit.

It’s a caffeine addiction
with a video game problem,
But all I work for
it isn’t love
its just enough money
to get me by.

Shame on me
for having a human heart.
It is a strange weakness
to watch and see this
wave of inhumanity
and wonder why
I stand immune
from said insanity
whilst all the other people
rush and strangle each other
in a frantic state
of hate and rage
that breaks the place
where some people stash
true love away.