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SøułSurvivør Dec 2015
in the San Bernardino hills
so many dead or dying
terrorism kills.

but, folks, I have to wonder
so many "evil" guns
will our rights also be taken?
to protect daughters and sons?

I'm listening to mom's TV
with a heavy heart
so many lives just ravaged
so many torn apart!

is our city next?
it causes a tear
but I won't succumb to hate
I won't give in to FEAR!

whatever awaits in this short life
I won't be afraid
I will praise You in this storm
my heart steadfast and staid

this is what I pray about
I know I am not wrong
that this tension doesn't escalate
and we finally use

THE BOMB!


SoulSurvivor
(C) 12/3/2015
It's time to get my spiritual house in order.
I don't like guns. But i know how to use one
and would if I needed to. This whole thing
makes me wonder if conspiracy theorists aren't correct. Is this all a plot to take away guns from the honest public? News at 11.

:(
Sean Hunt Dec 2015
What a War!
Invisible weapons
Sudden surprises
Brash and bold
Suicidal  sorties
Nasty and naughty
Into our status quo

Graphic gaudy gifts
Given any time of any day
To anyone in any place
Random acts of unkindness

They make us imagine
The worst that could happen!
We're standing
On the edge of a cliff,
Wondering if the ground beneath
Will suddenly disappear
And lift our stomach to our ears

Exotic hot tourist spots?
I think not!
Now flying in a plane
Is only for the brave
Or the criminally insane

Here come our bold bedouin consequences
Of our modern day econo-crusades
Our karmic boomerang

We tunneled in their soil
And planted puppet royals
Now they tunnel in our soil
What a price we pay for oil

Sean Hunt, Windermere 2015
To see video visit:
https://vimeo.com/145866462
Yasha Harkness Nov 2015
Is this what we are
Kings of Despair, each one
Cowering in the dark like a beaten puppy
Feeding on the ragged scraps of each others' hate
Hearts heavier than gravity's weight can make
Us lonely planets, in empty galaxies,
Revolving around our own atrocities
Damage equal care unequal
This peculiar punishment given to us humans of the planet earth.
Watching ourselves self-destruct,
And asking the vast universes for sympathy
Why, it will not bleed away our apathy
Perhaps its instinctual
Species memory: the blood of the Other sprayed over our own flesh
Rejoicing in the promise of an untainted heaven
Regardless of our own sins.
#prayforhumanity In wake of the recent terror attacks all over the world. (Not just in Paris)
There's a feeling in the air.
A smell.
The smell of death of
Innocent people and children.
Of killers.
The blood on your hands.
I can't get it off.
this is to the paris attacks and the resent shooting in cali
Francie Lynch Nov 2015
A cancer's eating
Through our core,
With tendrils gnawing
Every shore;
A virus leaping firewalls,
A dis-ease too apalling;
Advancing by some sick allure.

No use in praying for a cure,
The saviour is the saboteur;
No vaccine can **** its spore.
Its mucous is racist;
Its nucleus is sexist;
Its atoms are prejudiced;
Its carriers are bigots;
It's hungering for more;
And it's at my front door.
cable news video brilliantly captures
the blood washing Parisian gutters
glittering in City of Lights sparkle

images of carnage coagulate in my mind
clotting my heart with searing resent

in desperate need for release
from the abject scorn
that boils within my veins

I flip the channel to
watch a Predator marathon
but light entertainment
fails to satiate my restive soul

I turn down the volume
and click back to News

My iPod is audio ready
to soothe the savage beast
with some righteous death metal
I blast my earbuds,
Culture of Death's new CD
prepares me for real action
  
ever at the ready
digital recreation
has me *******
my controller
mustering up my
Call of Duty
comrades

I am a recognized
high score battlefield hero
taking out godless apostates
in the global war on terrorism

I'm usually eager to
baptize Iraqi jihadis in a
Holy Ghosting
bloodbath
but tonight
Black Ops kills
fails to thrill
my controller and I
stand down

opening the gun case
I cradle my Bushmaster
the smooth barrel and rugged stock
feels so right in my hand

it pleasures me to know
I am one of the good guys with a gun
I relish the fear and respect
I garner during open carry
troops to McDonalds
the hairs on the back of my neck
sometimes titillatingly rise

one day I hope to
take out an active shooter
at a movie or the supermarket
that would be way cool

I place my Bushmaster
back into the cabinet
and carefully rearrange
one of my Glocks

yet even with this
considerable armory
I still feel insecure
it may be time
for a trip to Walmart
to secure another Glock
*** more ammo

my heart recovers a bit when
I think about tomorrows recon trip
to my tree stand in the Jersey Highlands

Bear season starts soon
for the past few weeks
I've baited the area with
Dunkin Donuts and bacon grease
I've detected lots of bear ****
can't wait to drop one of those suckers
I visualize one in my gun sights
should be easy pickens

my CD ends with
some real raucous ****
removing my earbuds
I turn up the volume
on the News

footage from last summer's
Black Lives Matter demonstration
runs in continuous loop
members of the
New Black Panther Party
are yelling into the camera
a woman in a black burka
her eyes squinting angrily at me
from underneath her cover
sends shivers up my spine

when we take our country back
they will be served some
Second Amendment justice

News flashes Ted Cruz
condemning Muslim
refugee resettlement,
in a Christian Nation
only Christians should be
allowed in...

News breaks back to footage
from the concert venue
highlighting the
blood stained mosh pit

News flashes ISIS Jihadis
riding in Humvee's
routing the fleeing
Iraqi army once again

News highlights a smiling Putin
firing off Caspian Sea cruise missiles
into the bleeding Levant
examples of decisive leadership,
if only Obama could grow a pair

News flashes to a Rose Garden Obama
bragging about killing Jihad Johnny

the drone strikes and
active bombing campaigns in:
Syria
Iraq
Libya
Somalia
Nigeria
Mali
Yemen
Sinai
Afghanistan
Kenya
Congo
and other unspecified locations
are working says the Muslim Prez

By the looks of Paris
any real American Patriot
would think not

we need to send a message
a quick strike fix
some major shock and awe
to placate a nations troubled soul

if that offends any Christian
turn the other cheek
wimp, so be it

I say go
Old Timey Testament on their ***
let our vengeance is mine God
**** them all
**** them all
**** them all

Culture of Death:
Cystic Dysentery

Barry McGuire:
Eve of Destruction

The Doors:
The End


jbm
11/17/15
Newark
lots of hate going round since the murderous tragedy in Paris....
let cooler heads prevail.....
be still and know that I am God....
Loz Nov 2015
I cannot not hear you,

Your voice,

and your paper bags rustling,

full of gifts.

For the season that’s in it.



You will bring them home,

wrap them.

Offer them up with Love.



With Love.



We are all capable of Love.

Even you.

Despite your mouth, your words, your hate.

Muslims.

All of them.

You say it loud enough for ‘BurkaBurka’ to hear.
(Your words not mine).



She who stares out the window,

proud face,

sweaty palms holding the bar with a

white knuckle grip.



It’s a hijab, by the way.

Soft H.



I figure to myself,

if I too, were to indulge in ignorance,

and if I too,

were to go down the broad generalisation route;

lethargic sigh

I bow my head in shame and,

my heart leaks inside,

as I think of your ancestors.

Your Caucasian, European, Christian ancestors.

Your bloodline.

MY Bloodline.

Your line-of-blood.



Our long thick crusty trail of blood.



I stand between you and she.

I smile but I know she cannot see.

It’s us against them.

Just get me off, off, off this tram.

She thinks, I imagine.



And my heart cries for the blood on my hands,

that you reminded me of.

And it cries for the backs of the world’s indigenous peoples

and slaves that my ancestors paved a New World over.



And their children’s children’s children thinking

that their hands are clean

just because

their victims

are

forgotten.
Thomas Newlove Nov 2015
When you are a young white boy
You learn that "God" loves everyone
And you should too because
Everybody matters.

Then, you find out by yourself that,
What they actually meant,
Was that "God" treats everyone equally -
Nobody matters.

We are all equally irrelevant.
Just vessels awaiting our white sheets.

Sometime later you learn that,
While nobody matters, it is the loudest
Voices that have the least to say -
Idiots clatter their saucepans during evening discussions.

So as the blue, white, and red shine brightly across the world
While the Eiffel Tower remains silenced by tragedy,
It is the deafening strains of the bandwagon we hear
Struggling to cope with its passengers,

While the repeated explosions of idiots
Continue to clatter their saucepans all over the world
And the Facebook ramblings and Twitter chirps
Of disillusioned folks who didn't ever
Learn that their toys don't matter.
That their race or gender or religion doesn't matter.

Nobody, myself included, seems to grasp
The concept that we are all irrelevant,

Nobody, except those awaiting
Identification and burial,
Those who are comforted
By candles, flowers, and white sheets,
Who are whispering in the wind
The same question that eludes us all:

"Why is the world full of hate and evil men?"

And maybe it is in the acceptance
Of a spiteful "God", the acceptance
Of a mean, angry, vengeful pig of a "God",
A "God" who hates... Or maybe
It is in the asking of that very question:

That whisper in the icy November wind
That burns your hands at football matches
Or sitting outside in restaurants,
That makes them matter a great deal.
A bit of an instant reaction to 13th November 2015 but delayed uploading for obvious reasons. Pray for Paris or anywhere else if it comforts you but actions speak louder than words and the burning questions need to be addressed. Not by hate but with humanity and unity.
When bodies lay still
But hearts beat heavy with rage
Loved ones fallen pale and cold
Vengeance beats
In those whose blood is still warm

Mothers wail in anguish
Old men bellow for vengeance
Heroes hear their cries
And answer the call

Drawn over a short life
Sheets stained crimson
Cloak the world
As they’re raised
For banners of war

Evil is a fire
Left unchecked it consumes all
It takes heroes to rise against it
To see what it has caused and stand
Day Nov 2015
my pen is deadly* \ but it cannot stop
the force of a bullet
and
my words are sharp / but they cannot stop
the blow of a bomb
and
my thoughts are strong \ but they cannot stop
the anger of men
because
if i could a sow peace around the world
with just a pencil
i would
but like i've said
my weapons are strong / but no match for  
     a
         war
                 started
                               long
                                        long
                                                 ago

i mean really,
what can a word-hungry poet do
amongst
blood-thirsty warriors?
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