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Ayodeji Oje Aug 2020
why art thou so clean like pigs in mire
why stoop so high to take away babes
thrown away like the trash of trash
left to be cuddled by dirt
awaiting your cold verdict?

Art thou now dead?
Why canst thou ****** murderers before their murderings?
Art thou now at two a penny?
How long will you dance to the  cold blooded tunes of the wolves in southern Kaduna?
Art thou no mind of your own?
O poor man!
For once liberate thyself from the whims of the wicked
else, I shall resolve that thou art died.
Touché May 2020

Is it a crime to be black? Should i be castigated for my skin color?
Am I less of a human? Or is the fear that I am more? I’ll leave that for later.

They say black lives matter but does it really? They say their neighbours are black, that their barber down the road is black. They try to relate to everything black except what it actually means to be black.

The white eye don’t see what the black eye sees. The white life don’t don’t feel what the black life feels.
How can you play down a fear that you don’t feel? A fear that you instilled.

Tomorrow isn’t promised but that doesn’t give you the right to take away my tomorrow today.
I tell my kids they are the leaders of tomorrow but that is if that they can get through today.

The victims could have me or you. Sadly could still be. Think of the ones that have been brushed aside, with no camera or evidence to prove a thing. Think of the pain caused over the years. The worst part is? This is not a one-off, painfully It is just a matter of time before this happens again.

So do not tell me how to feel. I don’t tell you *******. But it does seem like you do pick and choose who to ****. Would you still be you if you could pick? That is for you to answer. The blood that you’ve spilled, it’s time for you to answer.
If we are picking and choosing I would pick repeatedly to be

Give them no ribbons. My dear friend who was following orders in Vietnam
was blown to bits when he tripped a wire. Give him no ribbons. Ribbons and medals will not bring him back to his wife who is now in her mid-70s, whose two sons and one daughter each have families of their own, but have no Grandpa whose knee to sit on and play games with and just have fun and laugh with. Michael Dillinger went to Iraq to fight because W told him to. Unfortunately, his amored truck hit a road mine and killed Michael instantly.
Ribbons? They gave ribbons to Michael's mother before they buried Michael in Arlington? Ribbons, for God's sake! Did those ribbons and medals really help console Michael's mother? Did Cheney ever call her to see how she was doing? No, he was in charge of creating what he called "enhanced interrogation," a gross euphemism for unspeakable torture and terror that went on at countless, secret camps in the countries of our allies, and still goes on at Guantanamo even today. Give them no ribbons. Take all the ribbons and medals you can find that were given to those soldiers who gave their very lives for lies, for all those soldiers now lying in all the VA hospitals throughout our country, their bodies permanently disfigured, their minds completely lost, and dump that pile of ribbons and medals in the front yard of wherever W lives in the suburbs of Dallas.

Copyright 2020 Tod Howard Hawks
A graduate of Andover and Columbia College, Columbia University, Tod Howard Hawks has been a poet, a novelist, and a human-rights advocate his entire adult life.
Natalia Molito Aug 2019
ang siglong magulo
wala namang multo
pero bakit maraming nawawala nalang bigla
na parang mga multo
kinuha ba sila ng mga kulto?
liko sa kaliwa
sa kanan
sa kanina

na sila
baka mapatay ka
KABAhan ka na
zee Mar 2019
Blood spilled
Tears streamed
But no matter how much you beg on your knees
That’s what war can be

The child cried as his mother’s body lied
With the building burning to ashes
Ashes to the ground, as you hear the child plea
But alas that’s what war can be

The man strangled out cries
As his dying breaths suffocated
Underneath the collapsed building, trying to flee
But alas that’s what war can be

Remember the father who starved himself so his children could eat?
Who had been stripped from his luxury?
His happiness, his love? Who wanted to be free?
Is that what war can be?

What about the brother?
Who lost his leg, saving his sister from a shooter?
What about the sister?
Who died so that her brother could survive his gun inflicted blister?

What about the children?
Who think the parents went to the store?
Only to have the parents in a Ranger’s view
Lying on the ground, blood seeping through

What about the men and women?
Lined up, not knowing their final words
Tears prickling, not being able to see
Is that what you want your people to see?

But that’s all fine
Get the victims in a line
For it’s all for honor
For it’s all for power

What do you think
Goes through the people’s heads?
Oh how great is our country,
For being torn to shreds?

Or oh it’s fine your son died,
Even if you had cried
All this bloodshed is just insignificant clatter
to such an elite matter

What about the bloodshed?
The dead families?
The orphans?
The starvation?
The pain, the agony?
The tears?
The lost homes?
The children living in fear?
The bonds broken?
Is it all worth ego?
While you bet the lives like a gambling casino?

Imagine suffocating slowly and painfully, still having so much to do
Imagine watching your mother die, right after she attended the stew
Imagine holding your child, trying hard to erase all doubt
Imagine living a life, where nothing goes right and about
Imagine seeing your school friends cry
While blood trickles from your thigh

So go on with your slaughter
But remember the mother
Every eye you made shed salty water

The sister
The brother
The father
The farmer
The doctor
The peasant
The teacher
The student

So hold your ****** weapons up high
But remember
That once blood is on the hands
it never fades or becomes dry
My palms are growing wet
Sweat has covered my trigger
Night and day in enemies nest
Operating like battalions of mere singers.

I fight 21st century with 20th century bullet
Blood on my face, wounds yielding deeper
In shattered body my brethren in uniform rest
Unjust funding makes our defence wall weaker.

Father, I am in a wilderness fighting a shapeless war
No back ups, no one is watching out for our fall
Like we are dying for those who don't care about us
Our enemies are in golden armor while we ride on horse.

Mother, did the demise of my gun brothers makes the headlines?
I heard the 'next level' was lunched on that day
And my superiors disown us to dine at the front line
Well, don't cry yet, I'm still alive at least for today.  

Oh, my palms are wet and my hopes like a thread
My eyes shed more tears than the blood my gun sheds
We are too weak to keep pulling these triggers
Aso Rock, upgrade us now or take us home to our fathers.
Dedicated to the over 70 soldiers killed in northern Nigeria by Bokoharam Terrorists in November, 2018.
after every massacre
by some fanaticized pathological idiot
politicians call upon their citizens
to come together
and pray for the murdered and their families

this is absolutely appropriate
also absolutely inefficient

but it seems
that ever since 9/11
the nation only comes together
AFTER more of its members have been killed

I wish very much
that the nation
   AND politicians
would come together
BEFORE  the next massacre
and take appropriate action
to prevent such disasters
in the first place
The scene was horrid,
It is during the midday or late night
I hope my memory serves right
Prisoners are on their cell, innocents everywhere
Just one guard at bay as I tend to the babies
I heard them, I heard them right
In the swine of criminals, only one deserves death
They say.. they'll **** her
I have no evidence but believe my address
Listen before it's too late
For these people are full of hate
But who am  I? Just a child attending to your babies
That is when they ransack the place
So I cover the nearest child I see, as we all drop from the highest ground
Such a horrible night
For the same night lives were taken by million
And my blood dripping at the back of my head.

**** I wet my bed.
Just a nightmare to share.
It feels so real.
SelinaSharday Feb 2018
Ø It ain't safe Ø
Rejoice for every missed soul a bullet fails to slaughter..
Anguish and sorrow for every soul  bullets used to masecure.
Bullets..weapons of war.. used for hunting of innocent humans.
Others giving resistence saying rights to carry over rights to live.
No Rights to be protected..from demented minds and unholy mentions.
A Country that fails to nurture and keep safe its citizens is perplexive.
Can't  relate to being (safe).. Homes Ø safe.. schools Ø safe.. work place Ø safe!
It ain't safe!.. America we aint Ø safe!
WithOut God in your Space!
By selinasharday
ma-secures, slaying shooting innocent victims, killings school shooting, work place killings assault weapons laws,
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