Isn't it time?  Isn't it time to stop pretending everything is OK?  That the agenda of the rich is more important than the suffering of the poor.  That the starving die from hungry while the fat cat of greed binges and pukes more than he needs and then goes back for seconds and thirds.  That we willingly let ourselves waste away with ****** knuckles and bruised knees and broken backs just to keep corruption in the blood of those we've let strip us of our voices and our power.  That we are nothing more than puppets and slaves of big business hiding behind the mask of goverment.  That might makes right.  That war is OK.  That as long as you're in the right uniform mass ****** is legal and just.  That our children are killing their children and their children are killing our children and thats just the way it goes.  Isn't it time?  Isn't it time to stop the charade?  To stop pretending?  To final stand up and use our voice, our words and our power... and scream **** NO!  IT IS NOT OK!  Starvation is not OK!  Bombs and bullets and the never ending cycle of war and hate is NOT OK!  Stop sacrificing our children to the march of war and the the business of men profiting from their tombstones.  Stop pretending we don't see the problem.  Stop pretending we cannot find a better solution.  That we cannot raise our children better, teach them better, LOVE them better.  Treat their lives better.  Put the old dog of war to sleep and spare their lives.  Let the gears of hate rust and crumble and teach them empathy and kindness and generosity and compassion and love.  

I dream that I have died... and in those dreams I cry, I cry my heart and soul out.  Not because I am dead but because I have promised my son that I would always be there for him.  And in these dreams I sob and sob... repeating... "I promised, I promised him I would always be there..."  Sobing and repeating,  feeling that I let him down and that I lied to him.  I cry long and hard in these dreams until I wake up crying and sobing a deep snot filled cry.  Deep painful sobs and cold tears cutting through my face and burning down into my soul.  Repeating in the dark,  "...but i promised... i promised him..."

And I know it wasn't a straight out lie and I know that death will make liars of us all... we all make impossible promises to keep...  If I live long enough to see him stand up on his own in this ****** up ugly world I will have kept my promise to the best I could...

That is, unless I fail to teach and raise him better... to show him empathy and kindness and generosity and compassion and love are the only real solutions to making things OK.  That bombs and bullets and uniforms of mass ****** are not OK solutions... EVER.  If I fail to do this, I may as well have died in my bed the night I dreamed I was dead.