Here in America,
we improvise morgues
as needed.
in the cafeterias
or by the lockers,
near the ticket booths,
and at the altars.
We divvy up the dead.
Tally them
and report the number
like an answer.
13, 20, 49, 58, 6
Every death count
a timely national shock.
Almost as if  
our well-televised  
monthly tragedy
was ever anything less
than a game of roulette.
anything less than a matter of time
and time and time again.
Covering them each
with our bed sheets,
we try and stifle it.
Do our best to
staunch the the sights,
the noises,
(“just like chairs falling”)
the names
that keep bleeding out
onto our thoughts  
and tongues,
Far too much and
too often
not to choke on.

Here in America,
we’ve learned that  
horror is level-headed.
It is debatable.  
It is pangless.
It seeps, deep to the core,
perverting with a silent smile.
the steady, feverish dread
weaving itself into the mundane.
the “god help us”  
annulled by the
“respectfully disagreed”
the nightmare that lies  
always just underneath,
and just out of mind,
Until it insinuates itself
Again and again...

Here, in America
We line the bodies,
death slumped, and  
bled out on the pavement.
We arrange them-
Side by side.
Most are missing things-
a hat, a piece of face.
one shoe, a dulled pencil
(fill in C)
phones
buzzing on the ground
lit up with unread messages
(“Please call me”)
They are missing-
an upcoming  
7th birthday party,
(Star Wars themed)
They are missing-
their vacations.
their first dates.
their college applications.
job interviews.
kids.
fiancées.
Lined up lifeless,  
they are missing
far too many things  
to gather.

I'm a ship without a captain
I sail wherever the wind takes me
I have seen troubled waters, but
I always feel powerless to turn

I'm a navigator without a compass
I don't know where my heading is
I cannot find the North Star, but
I don't need to in these doldrums


I'd rather remain here
Hear my wish!
O shooting star -
Bless me with an eternal tonight
So I can forever gaze at the stellar sky

A swathe of green awash,
With mourning dew;
Soaks the toes of my shoes,
Bearing witness to my passing,
As I bear witness to the passing of others.

I hope shooting stars fall on all your empty acres.
The places where the seeds I planted never grew.

Places that won't even grow poppies.
Yes, I'm praying the Sars fall on no man's land.
More commonly known as your heart.

Wednesday, 14th of February 2018, 7.00pm,
" breaking news, a mass-shooting happened today in Florida, American authorities are calling this the worst school shooting in U.S.A's history "
6 minutes and 20 seconds,
That's all it took,
17 confirmed dead,
15 injured,
Countless more lives ruined,
All in under 10 minutes,
No parent should ever have to hug their child,
So tight,
Just because it might be the last time they'll ever say goodbye,
No kid should ever have to be afraid of their school hallway,
Or be afraid of who's standing in the classroom doorway,
No kid should ever wonder if this day will be their last,
And no parent should ever have to bury their kid,
Six feet out of their reach,
So this is for Scott,
And for Alyssa,
For Martin,
And for Nicholas,
Not forgetting Aaron,
This goes to Chris,
And Luke,
For Cara,
And for Gina,
Joaquin and Alaina,
Meadow, Helena, and Alex,
Carmen and Peter,
You are all in our hearts,
Let's face it,
The Floridian community of Douglas,
Will never go back to " normal "
So, Washington? Trump?
Riddle us this?
When is this going to be added to your list of " proud American traditions "?
There are too many heavy hearts,
Too many dark days,
Too much chaos and confusion,
For this to be swept under the carpet again,
Just like the last time,
We aren't even a quarter of the way into 2018,
Yet there has been over 30 mass-shootings since the beginning of January,
So here's to the people who aren't accepting the truth,
Who are too " confused " to realize what's going on,
For the people who haven't woken up to the fact,
That there were unidentified bodies,
Sitting cold in that school for over 24-hours,
And do not tell me I am too young to know what I'm talking to you about,
I stand alongside Emma Gonzalez, and the hundreds of young people across the globe,
This isn't just for our lives,
This is for everyone's lives,
Since when did " don't shoot nice people " become such a controversial statement?
Since when did school safety become a debatable, two-sided matter?
So I will join my fellow marchers,
And yell loudly and unapologetically,
Until they hear our voices,
In the words of Emma Gonzalez,
Adults like it when we have strong test scores,
But not when we have strong opinions,
We are Marching For Our Lives,
And this is our legacy.

It's been forty three years since that night
when i went out to do what's right
Something that I've kept inside since then

People searched but never found
They followed my prints on the ground
Never looking for anyone else, but men

I'm the one who shot him dead
Two bullets shot, and then I fled
Now it's time to tell my tale 'bout then

It was the night the lights went out in Georgia
It was the night that they hung an innocent man
Don't trust your soul to no back woods southern lawyer
Cause the judge in the town's got blood stains on his hands

They looked high, and they looked low
followed my prints in the snow
Never caring if he did the crime

They hung my brother from a tree
The one who should have died was me
I've never left, I've been here all the time

I guess what goes around comes around
The judge is now dust in the ground
The sheriff, he is also long time dead

It was the night the lights went out in Georgia
It was the night that they hung an innocent man
Don't trust your soul to no back woods southern lawyer
Cause the judge in the town's got blood stains on his hands

It's been a long, long time since Andy died
Rivers of tears that I have cried
But in the end I can' change what was done

Cause Andy's cheating wife never left town
And her body has never been found
Cause this little sister don't miss when she aims her gun

It was the night the lights went out in Georgia
It was the night that they hung an innocent man
Don't trust your soul to no back woods southern lawyer
Cause the judge in the town's got blood stains on his hands

what a wonderful day to stroll down the corridor.
seeing all of these people again makes Me wonder why they're so different
today.
why do they look at Me like that?

why did they start running?

why am I wearing the mask that only I don in My dreams?

when did I get here?

why are the police here?

why am I covered in blood like in those dreams?

why do I smell like gunpowder and why do I have the gun I tried to hide from Myself?

have I finally done
It?

have My dreams finally come true?

they're dead.

all
of
them.

the rivers run down to my feet where my boots are coated. baby moses come floating through down to the holy land I have created.

I ended their pathetic existences and the thanks they give Me is staining My nice jacket with their putrid blood.
to look at me with their empty white and red eyes.

no open casket funerals.
I
made sure of it
mangled, mutilated maggot corpses
due to get incinerated and returned to the dust from whence they came.

how fitting that
I am the one who ended it
I the one who wanted to end it peacefully
has now ended it peacefully.

the crying girls and women bother My ears with their pleas to live.
I am the second coming.
I am the reckoning.
I am the judge.
how dare they invade My healthy mind and inner thoughts with their attempts
to guilt Me?
surely you'd know by now that I have no sympathy for the Devil.

so hand Me over now that they are here.
give Me My crown of thorns and pin Me to
My
cross.
because in the end,
because in the now,
I am the king.
I am the reckoning.