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Boom boom boom boom three more times

another black man shot down

another black woman shot down

another black child shot down

Boom boom boom boom three more times

**** that could've been my father

**** that could've been my mother

**** that could've been my sister or brother

****...that could've been my child

Boom boom boom boom three more times

A broken home

A stolen soul

A lost mind

Because of the boom boom boom boom

A gun sounds

Boom boom boom boom three more times

Could my mother be next

Could my sister be next

Could my brothers be next


Could it


Be me?

A black man shot down. Hurts my heart because I'm a black woman.
I can’t walk into Walmart and not scan for shell casings,
see the bruises on the fruit and think of those who fell,
those now populating its aisles and borders
and calculate if it’s a number worth the killing
when the man in a heavy jacket with a bulge,
ramrod eyes and spine level as a concrete wall
decides to subtract brown and black from white.

I cant walk a crowded mall parking lot without scanning
for gapped car windows with no panting dogs inside,
searching for bump  stock impressions in the cloth and foam
venting the velocity of aggression in the unfolding humidity,
the rust in the panels mating with the rust in the soul,
the numbers adding to his perfect algorithm of annihilation
unaware that color is an impossible illogical subtraction.

The Aurora of the Dark Knight Rises stains every movie I see
adjusting my seating calculations towards the nearest exit,
making the ten dollar hustle two seats away a quaint fear
compared to the ****** page manifesto of nearby hands
restless for assault when the cool dark light hits every eye.
I’m safe, cuddled in the low numbers of  the matinee.
For now, I’m not worth the killing.
Mass shootings,
Seanathon Sep 5
The stars know no cold
Like the lonely walking minds
Who know, what it means
To be more than just burning
Atmospheric dust yearning
Shooting Stars, A Tanka
Invisible Sep 2
Different universe
Same galaxy

Different galaxy
Same star

Different star
Same planet

Different planet
Same meteor

Different meteor
But you still wish upon it
Ok..... :)
AsianTapWater Aug 21
I don’t know what to do anymore.
I don’t know what to think anymore.

Was this really the right choice?
Was he really the right choice?

Once a year was more than enough.
Twice a year was almost too much to handle.

Now we’re at one almost every day.
Now we can barely recover before the pain starts once more.

It was never like this.
It should never have been like this.

But it feels like ever since he became president,
Things have changed for the worse.

Caroline has started avoiding me.
She says she wants to be left alone.

Olivier has started cancelling our therapy sessions
More often than he organises them.

And the strange girl from the West...


Wind blows my long hair into my face
As I watch a dust devil sweep across the lifeless, sandy plains.

It feels like it just happened,
Even though five days have passed.

The screams of terror as gunshots rang through the air.
The realisation that this would be the last day for many of them.

The fear of a young mother
As she spends her last few seconds
Protecting her child.

The way my body ached as I trudged to the border,
Hoping you would help me.
Hoping you would save my people.

The pain in my heart
As you pushed me away,
Called me a murderer.

As I wished, not for the first time,
That you would finally see me,
And realise that my people do not define me.
That you would notice me for who I am.

But you never did notice me.
Not until blood was shed.
Not until innocents have died.
Not until I’ve done something wrong.
Not until those words left your mouth, again.

Heartless killer.

Now our flag has been lowered.
Now there’s no going back.
A poem about the El Paso shooting, in the perspectives of some of my country personification OCs. The first part is North USA, the second is West USA. No South USA because she deals with stuff by pretending to forget about it and going on with her day.
The people North mentions, Caroline and Olivier, are South USA and Canada.  Canada is basically the States' therapist. Sometimes he questions why he does it, but he doesn't mind. Also, North doesn't know much or really care about West, so that's why she's just "strange girl from the West".
The part where West talks about how North and South don't notice her until her people do something wrong is a reference to how they don't see her as a real States. This isn't based on anything, I'm sure you guys all see each other as Americans, even the Hawaiians and Alaskans, North and South just dislike West for no reason.
Nigdaw Aug 12
A kid makes a finger gun
With hammer thumb
To fire at passing traffic,
From the cover of his bunker bus stop;
In America he’d be an active shooter
****, they have names for it over there,
Here he’s just a ******* nuisance;
His shelter advertises a deodorant
Shaped just like and called bullet
Perhaps some subliminal message
Has entered his head
The power of advertising, the power of death.

For a deodorant that advocates love and attraction
It’s a strange message.
Carl D'Souza Aug 8
In an ideal
would people
not use guns
to **** each other?
Would malevolent people
not be allowed to have guns?
Would mentally-ill people
not be allowed to have guns?
Would children
not be allowed to have guns?
Would law-enforcement
use guns as a last-resort?

you’re at the 8 hour job
they give no overtime,
no Christmas bonus,
no raise, no promotion
and yet you continue
to bend over backwards
for them only to receive
nothing but grief, guff
and paycheck so weak
you can’t even afford a
studio apartment for
yourself in return

without praise,
without thanks
or that you did
a good job

and after listening to the
the same repetitive music
and mind-numbing stories
from your co-workers
for hours and hours
days and days
weeks and weeks
months and months
years and years
decades and decades
eventually someone
is going to snap

and this is how shooters
are born,
this is how bomb threats
are made,
this is what encourages people
to commit random acts
of violence

these people are not monstrous
these people are broken
and they have been
driven into doing
monstrous things

but upper management’s
only concern is filling the
owner’s pockets with money,
not your mental stress—
they want you to deal
with that on your own
time, not theirs,
although they may be
the cause

and in the end when the blur
of mass murdering happens
from the rampage of the
disgruntled employee
they act shocked
and terrified with
cries of outrage
that such inhumane
things can be
right now.

we’re all responsible
for our own actions
but it takes a sadistic
type of someone to
propel another person
into going berserk,
to start seeing red in
transcending limitations

some reasonable men
are pushed into doing
unreasonable things

as the shadows have stopped
in the circle of dead children.
This is a love letter to myself that I’ve never received.
For all the times you almost forgot about your worth crying ,and sleeping anxiously. Merely realized how your heart is honey mashed into gold, and your sweet laugh is the taste of
tiramisu. Your eyes sparkle like a shooting star.
You are everything you’ve ever wanted.
Sweetheart so continue to be  you.
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