what will you do?
what will you think?
when
the
time
comes.

what will you do?
what will you think?
when
then
time
comes
to do anything.

you've never really done a ******* thing
and you've never really thought about it,
you've never really ever made a single choice
that every really meant a thing,
or had a
consequence.

keep on coasting
keep on treading
and the weight of all
those woulds coulds and shoulds
will pull you down
drag you under,
make you drown
make you drown.

this is the time
this is the thunder

you are the strike
you are the violence

a stab in the dark
to cut through the blindness

the storm is upon you
if you're not a part of it
it'll tear you asunder

let the rain wash you down
let yourself feel electric

cause you are the strike
you are the violence

the pulse of the fight
the howl in the night
you are the current
that's bringing this
world back to life.

So why do we rush in so fast?
Man has come and gone,
Seen countless wars pass,
Bloodshed, violence, bombs and more,
If there was a way to make this
World a better place, we "need" war.
If we could have chosen differently,
Fear "forces our hand" every time to
Go out and use destruction on the enemy.
I sit here, dumbfounded and confused.
No one will ever find these three things popular:
Pacifism, love, patience. Yet without these we really lose.

Bruises for my troubles
And troubles give me bruises
Classification is big at High School
And they've stuck me with the losers

Sniggering and sly talk
Like I learnt to read lips a while ago
So don't clap at the top of that mountain
And try to blind me with all that snow

They believe I'm a chained bull
They can **** me into anger
But this ****
                     Is
                        Going
                                   Down
And you think you know me, but I'm a stranger

Weren't you told as a kid
To not talk with whom you know not?
I'm allowed to fight back now
So
    Run
            Before
                       I
                         Watch
                                   Your
                                           Corpse
                                                       Rot

Honestly
My father said if words don't work
Just knock 'em one
But stop short of going bezerk

He doesn't wanna pay what they'll need if I stick them
In
   A
      Wheelchair...

His eyes were a blazing yellow
choking and coughing up blood
his flesh developed sores
and the screams echoed throughout the night

We put him out of his misery
a bullet to the brain
and a star shaped hole in his head

We ripped and teared into our flesh
we couldn't breath, the mucus became thick
and the colors were yellow and red
signs of pus and blood

The masks were suffocating us
and we couldn't see...

a yellow fog hung over our heads
no smell, no taste, just air....

My friends got together
Over coffee and secrets
Intertwining fingers
And unfortunately, tongues.
I sat and watched
As my hope dwindled
From my mossy eyes
Love turning me sour.
And I smiled
As my dry eyes
Bore daggers through her
And his stitched her wounds.

We went to a play last week

Actors strutted around

Among a set of tall buildings

Made of actual stone of grey

And billowing smoke

And noises

And crowds.


Upon the great stage they talked

About their ancient ideas

Like wars

And politics

And freedom.

In one scene an actor yelled

and swung a mighty hand

and struck the other man!


And though we knew

It was really just acting

The idea that one

Could hit another

Shocked all of us in the audience
So powerfully

And a few people even left

The theatre

In tears.

But there were funny bits too

In the play that night.

A character said he had a car.

His Own. 
Personal. 
Car!

And together they were to drive

Both of them

Off to an aeroport.

Like with all the steering,

And foot pedals,

And everything.

And in a very sad part

Someone treated someone else badly

And called her names

Because of the colour

Of her skin

And because she had come

From somewhere else.

And all our eyes were wet for a while.

One man used a device

Which was an ancient komputer.

Two flat parts with a hinge

And it opened upon his lap

And one side glowed brightly

To illuminate his face

And he presses a bunch of button-keys

To spell words and things

Because that’s how they told the

Komputer

What to do.

And we all laughed.

when it was over a bunch of us asked the man that was hit if he was okay was he really okay it looked terrible and did they really have to do that awful thing in the play and was the other actor a bad man and he said no, it was alright and the other actor was a nice man and that it didn’t hurt at all and he said he was sorry that it scared us but it was the violence of the time and the people of that time and we said we kind of understood.

And we all felt better


But one lady

Still needed to hug him.

And his eyes

Were a little wet too.

I've always found it bizzare
How people describe brutality
As animalistic

Did animals create
The nuclear missile
Showers of zyklon B
The middle passage
The inquisition
The gladiator games?

No, these horrors
Are purely man-made

This brutality
Is not animalistic
It is human.