Scrapers will no longer scrape.
Fighters soon to lose the short fight.
Pilots are forced to surrender control.
Snakes on a plane will bank into a roll,
a scene that really no longer is scenic.
Leaders still read while getting a scare.
Huge landmarks that I swear were once there,
bridges in shortage are counting the tolls.
Dust that eventually will never be settled,
liquid support that used to be metal,
big bad crude that never was good—
things impossible suddenly could.
Answers quickly try to be drummed.
Future conflicts guaranteed to be won,
particles blocking our UV death sun,
days become decades and turkey is done.
Brave individuals are no longer bold.
Families’ histories are quite often told,
a baby’s bottle empty with no one to hold.
Government figures tilted but somehow sold
parades in protest with a circus in town.
A tiger got out, but why can’t he growl?
Seems that the cat’s got somebody’s tongue.
Another channel covers son after son,
numbers mounting, but not the right ones.
Cabbies still nose their thumb after thumb,
training centers destroyed one after one.
We should’ve just played “Drop the **** bomb!”
Fear is good, and of course good is feared;
it’s the only thing that drives us way over here.
Just like the Bible, it’s mostly made up.
The supersonic jet has just hit a rut.
The dirtiest of bombs versus our Smith and Wesson.
“Come on gang, why would you even question?”
Like death and taxes—there’s none that’s more sure,
but then there’s the free upcoming history lesson.
“Ain’t gonna do it” acting just like his pop.
This rancher really means it when tossing the slop.
“Still can’t find him—he’s with boys in Brazil.”
What’ve they done lately to lighten the till?
It’s time for the Allies to storm up this hill.

I used to fancy myself worthy of bulletproof skin
I wanted to be a super hero
Impress my friends.

Although not completely devoid of good intention
My ultimate need was next to zero
Just for pretend.

I thought it unfair at the moment
Not to be powered
By such a skill.

Until I read on the internet
About some cowards’
Attempt to ****

I was thankful my power
Had not been devoured
For whim of comic book trends

For in the vale were Swat runs
The ultimate bully was stunned
By a heroine with bulletproof skin.

The future of warfare
Technology is different but the mentality is the same
Human beings will continue to be slain
But people will do anything to claim
That we need them
Because profit is the benefit of fear
We’re told to fear those “terrorists”
When truthfully that word doesn’t mean ****
They’re different from us, sure
But that doesn’t give us the ******* right to
Claim that every single one of them is a murderer
Aiming these weapons at them just makes us what we’re trying to claim
They are
Politicians will tell you it’s just protecting our “security”
When all it does in reality is make us less safe
They see us the way we see them
This is a big problem and this is why war exists
Assumptions, stereotypes, and *******
Made to sound pretty and patriotic by militaristic dipshits
Isn’t it time we learn that the line between enemy and fellow citizen
Is one that doesn’t really exist
The only difference between them and US
Is location and the names on a map
Their culture or religion doesn’t make a difference
None of it gives us a right to point a drone at them and go “zap”
Let’s start a conversation
Before we have another useless war
They’re just as human as we are

The tightrope expires
And the skyscraper hollows out.
This hate is vicious and repeated,
Repeated; repeated on the news reel,
And in a Hollywood romance.

We’re skipping generations
Through faded vinyl sound
Of dust mite and crack;
I’m folding digits over chords,
Extinguishing lovers
By turning them to songs.

Oh, reality convenes, convenes
On the mind, and on the consciousness
Of fact. Don’t steal my job,
Don’t **** my land,
And never fall asleep
Under the sun.

There is poetry to mathematics,
Scaling the harmonics of the sound,
Some universal language;
Some bottled message to our brothers
Who are looking back at us
From the distance of the stars.

And, terror is called from every side,
Until we’re terrified to eat or breathe,
In the tremor of a terror
That can never come to be.

The tightrope fell down with the buildings,
But its idea, it still lives on.
We could be on the precipice of better times,
Or under the shadow of a nuclear bomb.

Sometimes I spread my hands to the sky certain that they can grasp the stars but they can't, yet I keep reaching anyways.

And there's something beautiful about spinning on a field when the only thing visible is the night sky, and the only thing insignificant is you.

When I was young the thought of the world revolving around the sun intrigued me, and those moments somehow made me feel at one with the world.

Spin, spin, spinning, but then I would stop and my feet could no longer keep up with pace of my head, so I’d go flying in all directions just like disillusioned men when they go stumbling down streets unfamiliar to them.

Sometimes I wonder if the world is the way it is because it is in chaos and no one even knows.

Like somehow everyone is at a disadvantage,

Like no mind is sober because of a natural disposition pinned against us by gravity.

What if that is why men do the things they do, because I always wonder under what spirit do they operate, what demons have they encountered, that cause them to be possessed with this hate that makes *** slaves of the unfortunate, orphans of the unprepared, single mothers of the lovers, victims of our children, and on and on and on and on again.

Life just keeps moving and we just keep making the same mistakes. generations pass, people die but no one understands that we are just animals, caught in a war against ourselves.

Against our greed, our pride, our lust, our security, our beliefs.

We are so full of ourselves that we don't notice what is happening around us, we don't know that the world is spinning at 1000 mph; we have lost touch with the things that matter, lost all connections with the truth in the sky that enlightens anyone who dares to approach it.

always forgetting that it is the beauty of the moon, and the millions of stars that remind us that We Are Insignificant

But instead we are grounded and we have stopped so our feet cannot keep up with the pace of our heads so we have lost our balance.

You know I'm afraid, I'm afraid for my life.

On morbid days I envision myself in my coffin, I see my lifeless body and the pastor walking up to the podium, he says,
"Jal, he was an average man, maybe a bit eccentric, tragedy struck and this young man was taken away from us way too early by the devastating actions of an unidentified person.”

I watch the whole funeral and in curiosity I wonder which belief was it that killed me, or was it something outside my control like the color of my skin.

You see most people pray to be put down while they are sleeping by the famous killer, old age, but I don't know if I'll make it that long.
I've always said I want to be fully aware of the moment I die.

That's why when I was young on family road trips, when the only thing I could see was the 350 ft. ahead of the car illuminated by the headlights, and the determined face of my father, I would fight to stay awake because I couldn't let death take me by surprise.

But now I'm eighteen I occasionally have nightmares of my loved ones dying, but then again I don't really sleep anymore because death threatens to come at any moment.

A terrorist attack could shatter the windows of this house I consider impenetrable, or even a hungry thief thinking irrationally about his rationality.

This is the world we live in.

The world is spinning off its axis and things that used to seem so far have slid closer and closer, until I’m looking right into the eyes of death.

From 9-11, to Westgate, to genocide, things are closing in on me, and the “what ifs” are no longer so improbable and I am afraid.

I'm afraid that the world will never change, that people will stay the same, that I will go insane.

I’m going insane.

Could people just understand, could we just stop for a moment, grab each other’s hands and walk to open fields together at twilight after all traces of the sun have gone, could we whirl around with our heads to the skies, our nature abandoned, and our bodies in sync with the world,

Could we just spin and spin and spin until we once again become what we were made to be.

Could we just be more than animals?

Osama Bin Laden is alive and well
Oh yes, get that through your head
I had a drink with him last week

Yup

Him and his ***** beard and pouting lips
His turban ***** with sand and infidel's blood
He is alive
He will never die
He is the face of
Indestructible terror

He lives in our propagandized paranoia
In our over protective uncertainty
In The White house
In The House of Representatives
Kicking back on Capital Hill
And on television

Telling us to be scared, to watch our backs
And take our knuckle dragging redneck ***** out of here
And we're afraid
Afraid of another attack
Of the economy failing
Of unemployment
Of new ideas

We must progress
**** it up, bury our losses
Go forward and actually care to carry on
Or face an eternity of being frightened by our own shadows

Osama Bin Laden is alive and well

Legs, arms, feet
Not quite in one piece
No on can believe what they see
Flying legs, and arms, and feet.

Who dun' it? Who dun' it?
Why'd they do it to them?
Someone confess it, admit it!
And we'll get revenge!

BOOM BOOM
They'll hear it in their dreams
The booming of explosions
Tearing them apart at the seams.

Legs, arms, feet
Not quite in one piece
No on can believe what they see
Flying legs, and arms, and feet.