In his address to Congress,
The Donald brazenly
revealed plans to spread fear through
a brand new agency.

It will report and list all crimes
by each new immigrant,
to heighten paranoia's spread
amongst the ignorant.

By fanning fiery flames of fear,
the bigots shall rejoice,
and they shall love the agency
that Trump is naming "VOICE".

Victims
Of
Immigration
Crime
Engage­ment

Now, I propose an agency
to give another choice,
that balances the propaganda
to be spread by VOICE...

An agency that recognizes
Donald's vile role
as chief hatemonger of the world.
It shall be named, "A$$HOLE".

American
Sociopathic
S*******
Harming­
Others
Less
Entitled

A sinister plot unfoils
As the masses cheer with glee
Alt-right legion growing , don't want us to be free
A revolution rumbling, justice for the spoils

A sickness is spreading, stomach toils
A warning of words, to open up eyes and see
As hatred feeds on silence, of people who let it be
A witness to the victims, the blood soaked soils

Stars of tragedy.
Stories of their untimely demise
Told soberly in newsprint.

Stretching from Africa to Mexico,
Victims of natural disasters, crime,
And of being in the wrong place at the wrong time.

What was here is lost.
What was warm is forever gone.
These envelopes that remain can be stamped with anyone’s address.

In the end, it’s all the same
Dust
That settles in the melting ***:

Empty shells littering beaches,
Dried-out husks,
Vacant houses.

This is a message
A message to all the bullies and tormentors
These are the words that your victims wish to say,
but cannot because they are too scared to see what you will do to them in return
I have the ability to say these things
These things that need to be said
This is for you
The bullies

Why do you think it's okay to build yourself up by breaking others down?
The monsters people wished weren't under their beds
turned out to be you instead

How can you not notice that you are killing people?
This isn't just some joke

Other people's lives aren't your toys
that you can discard when you get bored of them
This isn't some game to the people you hurt

You treat people like dirt,
when you can't see their real worth

You don't understand what horror lives within your words
You don't understand how your words leave scars on their hearts
You don't understand it's not only our feelings getting bruised
You just don't understand

Because not all of us are the same
Not everyone deals with things alike
Sometimes,
the thing that is the lightest of light to you
is the darkest of dark to another

Your words are and forever will be
lies
You treat others as if they are just gum on your shoes
something you just want to get rid of.
Because once the gum is gone,
your shoes will look better
Right?

No
you are wrong
How dare you think that what you say
should be said
The people you hurt
they are the gems of this earth.

Just by the way you treat them
you are the gum on their shoes

The knives coming from your mouth
stab others
They leave scars forever
These scars can't be healed by a simple
"I'm sorry"
They don't heal
ever

What you don't realize is..
The girl that you just called ugly
She has been given a plague by the names of
Depression
So, she can't help but take your "joke" to heart
It may look like she doesn't care
But she is walking away holding back the tears you gave

Then after school,
when you post about the victory you got from her pain on social media,
She is at her home,
in the bathroom
sitting on the floor
inflicting pain on herself because
what you said
she believes is true.

The next day,
she isn't at school
nor will she be the day after that
she isn't coming back

Yet you say,
"She got what she deserved"
How can you think this is just?
How can you be so cruel to the same person
you just killed?

She died by your words
She died thinking she was a burden
She died thinking she is a mistake
She died not ever knowing her true beauty
All of this because of your brutal words.

And you
don't care

How can you do this to an innocent person?
They did nothing wrong

Stop.
Because this
This is ******
And it's not okay.

You bring fear upon those with kindness in their hearts
whereas you
have none

However,
if you have just begun
Just started giving out fear like candies
Know that with each word you say
another part of your heart withers away

So, do me a favor and
Remember
Your words
aren't words at all
They are weapons
Don't use them without thinking first

You have the power within you to be good
You can change
You are able to be the difference
You have the choice
A choice of words

Because the things that come out of your mouth can
****
or
save
someone

Choose Wisely

We are the missing, the dead, the lost
Never found, and in the world
No monument exists for us
No flag has been unfurled

We lie in riverbeds and wood
Beneath stream beds and in fields
Were tears of woe ever wept for us?
Did a heart break, did it yield?

We wandered off in cases, some
In others, lured, abductions
Our bodies never found, but though
We caused a family some reduction

In others, we were found too late
Dead, mistreated in a hole
The one who did this thing to us
Until caught, ******* their soul

We lie here waiting for the day
For our remains to be found
We lie in woodlots, basements cold
Buried crudely in the ground

Some of us were lost before
We ever lost our lives
Roaming streets, with no real home
Dancing on a hundred knives

Some of us are living
Still at odds with where we are
We're prisoners inside our mind
And have gone and wandered far

But, those of us, the dead, the cold
Lie waiting for the day
When our bones will be discovered
And then at rest we'll lay

Are there people out there looking?
Many years for us have passed
Are we still an open case?
Or has the time for that just passed?

Do we still have family waiting?
Time goes slowly when you're lost
We lost our lives to violence
And I question at what cost?

Are we still considered missing?
With us the searching will not cease
We lie here, the dead, the missing
Until our souls can be at peace

when daily news
over weeks and months
reports events that  far exceed
most people’s homespun nightmares

can we react as poets
and not be seen as cashing in on the sensation
like all the media have come to do without regret?

It may be wise not to give in
to the temptation to create ******* of violence
but try to just suggest the essence of catastrophe

a lonely high-heeled sandal on the roadside
one flip-flop much too small to fit adults
a tough man crying without shame

there are events for which we don’t have proper words

this does not mean we should keep silent