Dreading Sunday --
    and the blurry Monday after
hit for hit
      and blow by blow
one, two punch
     of a broken, shattered world
I dread Sunday
    and though I be not superstitious
I can't help feeling
    the notion of things in threes
murders
      fires
           fill in the blank
what will Sunday bring
           I dare not think

Thieves in the night
Playing with copyright
Poisoned pens
Vultures in the den
In the Palace of hypocrites
Tea served at ten
If only the winds of the sea
And the rains of the sky
In a massive hurricane
Could sweep the Palace on by

recently
after every massacre
by some fanaticized pathological idiots
politicians call upon their citizens
to come together
and pray for the murdered and their families

this is absolutely appropriate

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

Only the dead tell the truth
But their mouths are silenced
We accuse our brothers of sin
Are Christ’s words spoken here?

But I don’t believe that
I was born again last night
You made me see the light
I know he will forgive me

I don’t walk around as much
But I still make eye contact
I want to know who you are
I want it to be love and not fear

But it’s so hard to believe
I saw faces on the pavement
Too late for earthly sacrament
Yet from blindness they now see

I want you near my grave when I go
I thought about being scattered about
Maybe memories are better as stars
I’ll let the sun draw your shadow near

But is it late for you to believe?
I’m dedicating my soul to you
Carved stone words are true
My ashes won’t be lost at sea

this world is
falling apart
terror is
everywhere

natural disasters
striking every other
day it seems like

kids bringing guns
to school where they
are supposed to learn

old men shooting up
music festivals leaving
50 dead and 500 wounded

police killing innocent
black lives who are
doing nothing but
living their lives

im so sick of it
this is not my world
trump is not my president

this is not the world
im going to raise my
unborn children in

i refuse to live in
a world where
terror is everywhere

i just want to feel
safe without having
to worry about if
im going to
survive another day

I remember that maroon shirt
A size too large so it hung like a sack
Over my twiggy, seven year old limbs
It was rough and scratchy against my belly
I absolutely hated the color
I was one for turquoise and scarlet and sparkles
This was a cloth of rusty mud, it was purple gone terribly wrong

Of course I protested
Whining at my mother like a cub at her lioness
Why should I have to wear this ugly thing
That you brought yesterday for no reason at all

And then you said there was a reason
In that quiet, somber way you get when you homilize to me
That tone that makes me scared enough to flatten my unruly hair

It was the first time I heard the words
Mass Shooting
But it was far from the last

I went to school that day
I tried to tell the others
Some had heard a snippet or two from mom and dad
Before being sent out of the room
But most just looked at me like I had a third eyeball in my head
They shrugged it off and went back to foursquare
They never gave a **** about the news if it wasn't Charlie Brown
And they never really talked to me more than they needed to

The grownups hurried us all along
Avoiding all mention
Of Virginia Tech
And they would nod and turn away when I told them
How was I to know that they didn't have any answers either

I sat on the swingset
The cyan dome that seemed so familiar in its vast vacancy
Was now so empty and abandoning
The bark chips were suddenly silent
In juxtaposition to my mind

I mouthed out the words
A feeling in my mouth like a jawbreaker too large to fit it but crammed in anyways
I didn't have the words for it then

How could someone do that?
How could someone just walk up
With a special stick and some bullets
And end twenty six lives
Like they were swatting at flies
And how could everyone
Be so calm and carefree
When so much harm had come
When so much blood ran
Turning to a rust color in my mind
Like that god-awful shirt

The day was done
I threw the shirt in a bottom drawer
I never wore a maroon thing again until I was thirteen
I felt glad to be rid of that jawbreaker
And the strange feelings in my gut and neck

But it was not over
None of us were rid of it

Aurora
Sandy Hook
Breaking News: Mass Shooting
San Bernardino
Pulse
Breaking News: Mass Shooting

Guys, one of our competitor's teamates was killed
It was a ******-suicide by his father on him and his mother
So please be considerate

Good God, how many has it been
When did it begin
What should we do
And how did I get so numb
To my semiannual jawbreaker moments

But all I hear is
Who do we blame?

The foreign ones?
Let's blockade them
Because it's not like we were ever that way

Maybe the ones with ****** up minds?
Yeah, they're the violent ones
It cuts me deeper than any work of my own blades

But god and the NRA forbid
That we have shootings
Because we have the means to
That we have a radicals in the U.S.
And they only came from us
But when has policy ever made sense?

All I know is
That we can't keep going numb
To the jawbreakers in our mouths