Bells sing at death's dance
Cloak of galaxies vapors
A scythe of petals
what's it like to have a gun to your head?
the feeling of the cold barrel pushed up against your hair,
knowing that inside that barrel is a future that rides the line you didn't always think you'd walk.
the wideness of that barrel, you can feel it's exact measurements on your skull.
the gaping hole in the center of the tube, that weightless piece against you,
but only physically weightless.
the heaviness of the weapon becomes
as heavy as your heart.
is it the part of the power in the trigger against your hand?
or is it the knowledge of the chemistry inside that gun,
that's pushing against your hand,
like your palm and finger with that gun have a newfound power?
is it a horrifying power?
is it peaceful?
is it aggressive?
is it as quick as your instincts?
the flip of the coin,
as quick as your mind changes?
is it as exhilarating as you wanted?
or as deadly as you thought?
is the weight of the bullets as much as the potential you have,
that you so easily dispose of?
so easily reject?
which is it, Isa?
it's not worth it.
Once my teacher told me words were a weapon
I understand now
Because they don't bother bruising your skin
They go straight for the heart
And do more damage
Than anything material possibly can cause
Phantom blades stuck in your mind
Out in the penetrating haze
Of the natural world
Weapons are used, not made.
No battle is a war
Out in natural light.
And weapons are used, not made.
Indifferent as she is,
Nature picks no side,
And so weapons are used, not made.
When something is born,
In natural light
It is born creature, helpless
So no weapon is born to be made.
Yet under lightbulb, in man's metal warehouse
In sanitary stink and entombed disembodiment,
Some weapons are bred to be played.
has once again been displayed
to what end foretold?
To find a vaccine
is man's first priority
for the days ahead
of this world epidemic
to justice be brought
Of this pandemic
called the corona virus
deployed was by whom?
warfare it seems to be like
no one will admit
We may never know
if it was a weapon used
in a secret way
May God help us all
is now an ardent prayer
Some thoughts which have crossed my mind over the last week or so due to the global pandemic sweeping the world currently.
ARMAS MO'Y PANALANGIN.
Bago natin hangarin ang pansarili hiling,
Hingin na bawat isa'y makabangon at gumaling;
Sa gabay Nya, walang maiiwang nakabitin
Pagkat ang DIYOS ay mas higit pa sa bituin.
Mataimtim na dasal ang mainam na gawin.
Isuko sa kanya ang lahat ng masamang gawain;
Talikuran at wag na nating ulit-ulitin
Ang Kanyang utos ay di dapat balewalain
Normal lang matakot, pananalig mo'y wag hawiin
Boung pusong pananampalataya - Sya'y purihin;
Huminahon at sa kanya tayo'y manalangin
Handa syang makinig, naghihintay lamang sa'atin.
Simpleng pagsubok lamang ito kung tutuusin
Kung sa kanya ang tiwala mo'y hindi bitin;
May dumating mang hadlang at ika'y sirain
Itanim sa isipan - armas mo'y panalangin.
Careful with that gun
Careful with that spear
It will come back to take you
Then you will live in fear
Do unto others
As you want done to you
Obliterate and take their money?
Is that really what you want to do?
No empathy for the trigger happy
No rest for the corrupted
The thief takes his place
On the cross or behind iron gates
Indeed you will see heaven
As it’s whispered to you
A Great Lake of fire
A destiny of rebuke
He will rule this nation with A rod of Iron
Ensuring everyone is saved
Strict love and obedience
Now the narrow road is paved
You are on a wreckless suicidal path
Chasing after all flesh
It rots your mind and heart
When you covet cash
Drugs, women, fame to get higher
Are all a fools desire
Do what is right to each other
And fear the flames and fire 🔥
I despise weapons
Breathe deeply kiddies and get some virus
Cyrus the Virus is here to **** you
Novichok flavour just for you
VX nerve gas special come get some
You'll feel fine better than the Black Death
Roll up and and get some bugs
Only the best for you lazy Millennials
Made in Russia mothertruckers
Neo Soviet influence touching you
Reaching out for you wherever you are
Even on the Moon or Planet ******* Mars
Not even Santa and Old Nick are safe
Novichok gonna get you virus kaput time
This wound is different..
This wound isn't the same as the past..
Wounds that are invisible but feel real..
I don't like this pain to be repeated..
A knife that stabbed in the back..
I'm tired with of all this drama..
Different wounds but have the same pain..
Different weapons but injuring the same place..
With all of the kindness, madness, happiness, sadness, rudeness, and every feeling of taste..
The weapons hurt without feeling..
Day by day the pain is still exist..
I don't know what kind of medicine can handle this...
The medicine is you
My mind holds the key to
But it's also a weapon.