please never tell me like father like son
every male role model i had
has killed someone once,
before or after i was born.
i didn't know. growing up
i had inherited a disposition for knife fights
i didn't have long arms, i had bulging veins
and frustrations.
but i loved to see my blood spurt,
my red mist is going to stain your teeth
breathe it all in while i writhe in pain.
dear daddy save me. show me compassion.
show me we're capable. or call me weak.
i dream of empathy through the light
of a lead pipe. use it to bruise me and
cave in my head.

learning my father has killed people was difficult, but he is quite lovely really.

to give back to the enemy and fleeing from the battlefield at the time of fighting(Sahih Bukhari: Volume 4, Book 51: Wills and Testaments (Wasaayaa), Number 28:)
Sahih Bukhari: Volume 4, Book 52: Fighting for the Cause of ALLAH [S.W.T], Number 65:

Narrated Abu Musa (R.A):

If a religion celebrates war
What then is religion for?
To instigate battle, to encourage murder
to perpetuate belief, or aims yet absurder?
Instigating empire from the corrusive sands
innocents slain as religion expands,
tolerance and nurture dispelled-
difference culled.

Religion will corrupt the mind
turning even the best of us morally blind,
actions scripted by dubious text
lives pretenaturally wrecked-
civilisations devastated
ideologically impregnated,
hoary beards  and hoary words
twittering with dim-witted birds.

Books provide touchstones
for antique bones,
inflammable phrases
for religious actors caught in symbolic mazes,
inspiring hatred
in undeveloped souls, hate unabated.

Fighting to expand a creed
is planting the very seed
of pain and injustice,
of terror in music festivals
knives that rise and fall
in a rythmic toll

Young girls displaying flesh
hacked to death.
In such imaginings ethics fails
like the frightened child in ferocious gales.
Can we celebrate war
through religion's constant gore,
acolytes acquired
through spear and sword?

Expanding the umma through contemporary states
the unenquiring priest convinced of heroic fates,
of suicides enrolled in heaven
amongst similarly conscripted brethren,
for a god complicit in murder-
what, oh what, is absurder?

A man came to the Prophet [S.A.W.S] and asked, “A man fights for war booty; another fights for fame and a third fights for showing off; which of them fights in ALLAH [S.W.T]’s Cause?” The Prophet [S.A.W.S] said, “He who fights that ALLAH [S.W.T]’s Word (i.e. Islam) should be Superior, fights in ALLAH [S.W.T]’s Cause.”
Sahih Muslim: Chapter 34, Book 20: On Government (Kitab Al-Imara), Number 4655:

It has been narrated on the authority of Abu Huraira (R.A):

That the Messenger of ALLAH [S.W.T] [S.A.W.S] said: Of the men he lives the best life who holds the reins of his horse (ever ready to march) in the way of ALLAH [S.W.T], flies on its back whenever he hears a fearful shriek, or a call for help, flies to it seeking death at places where it can be expected. (Next to him) is a man who lives with his sheep at a hill-top or in a valley, says his prayers regularly, gives Zakat and Worships his LORD until death comes to him.
Kem-Ann Aug 31

Continue Living!
A philosophy you keep on telling

was too young to care
on what you really want to share

halfway miles to growing
life' still is uncertain

breakdowns turn to routine
and genuine happiness- hard to redeem

in your case, traveling places
is your ace

you deserve my envy
after seeing your exploration stories

despite the stress
smiles, seen on your face

the creativity and positivity in you
is what i look up to

know that for years
you've taught me to live and write with no fear

beyond doubts and struggle
beyond noise in my ears

you've influenced me
in ways, you might not see

with you and your philosophy
i'm where i thought i could never be

this you should know
always here for your highs and low

also to remind how you're a blessing
worthy of having

and how an art with a colorful heart
not worthy to break in parts

babe, please continue living
with you, life's worth fighting

Yesterday, i found out that one of my closest friend is now suffering from a stage 1 cardiac tumor.. as much as i want him to see this but he's not allowed to feel any sadness. Just want the world to know how significant he is to me.

To my favorite writer, Hi i love you <3

Let's all go
To the Street Brawl!
The Nazis and the Antifa
Will clash by the Civil War Memorial
In the middle  of the Town Square.
Someone's gonna' get his ass kicked!
Someone's gonna' get his head smashed in.
Like a Cock Fight among Human Beings,
It's the Ultimate American Spectacle!
It's  much cheaper to watch
Than a Baseball Game,
But the action is much more intense!
After all,
What could be more exciting
Than Violence right there
On the Streets?!

Spike Harper Aug 28

Define the emotion OK interprets.
And when exactly people understood the comings and goings of feelings in general.
How can one understand others.
When an emotional war is being fought on two fronts.
Each bleeding ammo and supplies.
Wasting away.
Just slow enough to have the coroner turn it away.
Nearly dead isn't applicable.
And somehow managed to feel guilty for wasting your death warrant signatures time.
As if the words would change the angle on how others viewed your life.
Only pretending others care enough to pay any mind.
Stiffles the rest of any opposition.
To make sure the dark flames imbued regret correctly..
A magician of sorts.
Only falling on swords for too long leaves little room eventually.
A reverse porcupine that crys blood when forced into moving.
But makes not a sound.
Even this can feel like nothing.
It only takes a little imagination and a dash of humanity.
And when playing god loses its hype.
Will the mob desperse.
Retreat into that in which the torches were burning just moments ago.
Only they don't extinguish.
Just remain awhile for the next hand to lift the taunting relic.
So that repetition can further solidify the obvious.
Shoudnt be long now.
As the oddly familar jester sits to watch.
Death is always a spectacle.
Whispered so softly it was hard to decide if it happened at all.
But it matters little.
For silence is all that follows.
Indifference is a disease.
Stricken with such paralyzing apathy.
That A.D.D. becomes a standard.
Take two before human interaction.
Call in the morning if the guilt remains.
Only remembering to forget can get so.... Confusing.

Tony Ortiz Aug 26

Welcome to the escape store,
Where there's more in the back than there is on the floor.
We've got many options for you to get away,
Of course to do anything, you gotta get pay.
But feel free to browse; There's many options.
You can get a pet; I'd recommend adoption,
But be careful in the aisles, they're easy to get lost in.
Maybe try to smoke a joint,
Blunts and bongs make a strong point.
If you're not a smoker, we've got liquid choices,
That'll dampen your emotions and clear the voices,
But these potions can make it all worse,
And not only that, but can give an unending thirst.
T.v., of course, is always on the table,
Or maybe woodworking? Carve up some maple?
Why not invest your time and your cash,
Into a car that'll make you get a good dash?
Or I know. Maybe you're a clothes buyer,
That spends all their money so they won't be a cryer,
Or a fire-starter. A productive pyromaniac,
With propelling urges to give the world a heart attack.
Maybe you're a fighter,
Or a fan of one-nighters.
Either way, you do your dance to make you feel lighter,
Maybe your goal is to start some shit,
Or maybe it's to go out every night and get lit.
Maybe your salvation lies with some pills,
That make your eyes roll back and climb hills,
Or maybe it lies in the hands of the church,
Or maybe it lies in etching into trees of birch.
Maybe you're a gym fanatic,
And when you're not there all you hear is static.
We've seen every case imaginable and most don't budge,
And because of that, we all know better than to judge.
Come in, come in, and take a seat.
Are you a klepto? We sell faster feet,
For the gun nuts we can sell you your heat,
And if you're a griller, we've got tons of meat.
This place is one where goes to run,
As a result we can offer you all types of fun.

Whatever you need, we've got your hero with a cape,
After all, everybody needs a  
Little Bit of Escape.

A poem dedicated to everybody's little escape.
Victoria Laws Aug 15

as a dusty rose color is painted onto my face
dancing across my cheekbones

as my complete vocabulary
escapes my thoughts with each airy breath

as my heart beat quickens
to catch up with the speed in which my emotions flow

as I realize the damage my body will endure
when I lose you

pale is my flush
crying, there is no hush
heart no longer in a rush
now, your love leaves me
clinging on to a hopeless crush

Mary Zollars Aug 13

Embers burn in a flash of light
Flying through the night
Flamboyant flames dancing
Dancing, it's the demon
The demon who follows me
Stares at me with its intense eyes
Flailing it's arms, taunting me
Taunting me in a provoking manner
Provoking me
Shoving me reaching
Holding me up by my shirt
My chest, infecting my lungs
Gripping me so tightly in its arms
Escape, I must escape I must
I must fight it
Quietly, without a word nor cry
Glaring intensely, infuriating
Fighting a battle that will go unsaid
Untold, unheard of, a tale with no writing
Battling and scarring each other
Determined to win, to defeat
To kill
We are determined to kill
One must die for the other to live
To live and grow, for our beauty to show
We must fight.
We must fight without sound
Without word of mouth nor page
Fight till one is gone
Kill so one can leave

I started with it being about asthma, but it took a darker turn to it.
Deranged doll Aug 12

Love is a two way street
Full of desire and wonderful treats.
You work hard, to keep that love going.
Fights, makeups, everything worth showing.

We fight.
We always fight.
And it always ends in me leaving,
Me yelling,
me slamming the door,
me crying.
And I hate that I'm so hard to deal with,
and I'm sorry...

I yell.
I always yell.
And it always ends up in you pleading,
you crying,
you apologising,
you shouting.
And I hate it when you cry,
and I'm sorry...

You try.
You always try.
And it always ends with us crying,
us hugging,
us forgiving
us talking.
And I hate that it takes so long for me to say;
'I'm sorry.'

dedicated to my sister grace, who has to deal with my explosive temper, my tears and my breakdowns. She is always there when I need her, and I rarely show her how much I care. So grace, if you're reading;
I'm sorry.  xxx
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