: LAST NIGHT—

I watched a ***** internet video;
a man getting halved by an Elevator.
It was a slow process.

     — LISTEN:
I am not really sure if I want
to think about it at the moment— and
I certainly don't want to write it out. That would require me
a stretch of contemplation                                —AND
a reach to be descriptive on my part, or at least
not to be redundant.

No,
In order to tell you about it,
I would really need to Stress the details that
got me: That really human kind of ****, you know?           LIKE:
the expressions on his face, and how closely his step brought him to near freedom—just outside that metal box. Just before it came down hard, and took 50% of the poor ******* with it.

It was the manner in which he got stuck that pushed me There, and
not traditionally.
Think long-ways.
The exact scenario from my nightmare so far back— with a single deviation. Setting.
Of course, inside my twisted anti-fantasy: it was the antagonist was suffering,  also this character I had come to know by name and action.

   ...Anyway that segment shocked me.
And I don't get shocked that often.
It was a sort of fate that I never actually thought I would observe in person. There is always the stopping point when watching gore online and that was mine.

Poetry was never intended to express your banal and stupid feeeeeelings, do not reduce it to lowest level of hatred, poetry is not your vehicle to be clever or breif. I Have no interest to read about your pathetic love life. I'd rather read about the life of a fly than your meager attempts at being recognized, have the courage to be Anonymous.... you can't can you? Too many poets, too little poetry.

Sure, the Huns may be stronger, faster,
But I’ll tell you first, it’s not disaster.
They may be fearless, vice-less,
And the stakes this day are priceless.

That must weigh heavy on your mind,
And it might away at your spirits grind.
It makes your heart burn, your blood race,
But on this day, they will be erased.

They come, by day, by night,
To conquer us and flex their might.
Tonight, we’ll break their endless siege,
Perhaps we’ll **** their liege!

Let the sun blot with countless arrow,
They fly like the chattering sparrow.
Perhaps most will simply miss,
And you shall brave the wooden blitz.

That one, slash his head from his shoulder!
Watch it fall off like a fleshed-out boulder;
That’s it, keep riding, they’re already breaking!
Your wives will, on your return, be waiting.

Go back to hell from whence you came!
Of the besiegers, we’ve killed and maimed!
Haha, look at them run, back to their mothers;
Keep them running for a hundred summers!