"crossfire" poems
1995 saw the start of Generation Z,
the ‘iKids’ with a knack for this new-fangled technology,
Millennial 2.0,
caught in the limbo of the World Wide Web development and Rose Gold iPhones.
They say we’re adaptable,
but apparently we can’t make our own decisions about anything.
They say that we don’t care about anything
except for our tiny little screens,
but they forget who put them in our hands,
and they forget who they run to for help
when they forget how to troubleshoot.
They forget what kind of technology we need to keep sustaining life in the Information Age,
Caught in a crossfire because
Yeah, we’re 90s kids—but the 90s never really actually ended until 2006,
the only difference between two decades being
how much neon versus how much chrome,
and just how expensive accidentally opening the internet app on your mom’s blackberry phone was.
We’re nostalgic for all the things we can’t quite remember,
and half these high schoolers weren’t actually born until 2000 or 2001.
Most of us aren’t old enough to even remember 9/11, nothing outside of the news clips that our teachers show us in history class every single September.
I was born in the same year as the Columbine shootings.
The United States has not been at peace for a year of my life.
We are always fighting— fighting for everything.
Human equality,
posing arguments about micro aggressions and refugees, seeing the inhumanity in the past that we’re living.
None of us are older than 21,
under such hard scrutiny while Baby Boomers Wave 2 still run our country.
We inherited the Millenial’s exhaustion,
the generation before us spending our childhood fighting for all the things that we have never really believed in.
Fairytales.
Generation Z.
The ‘iKids’ who are going to one day be making leaps and bounds with technology,
the generation to nurse this dying planet back to health,
Millennials 2.0 who know how to learn from our forerunners’ mistakes,
who know how to adapt from Sidekicks to iPhone 6S Plus in less than a decade.
We’re the kids who have realized that fun is found in safe spaces rather than invading each other’s personal spaces.
They say we’re too sensitive,
but at the same time they claim that we’re desensitized.
And I thought we were the generation that couldn't make decisions.
Apr 11, 2016
Apr 11, 2016 at 9:21 PM UTC
Don't let their condecending, backstabbing, whispers
blow out your candle- lit heart.
For in the darkness even the strong willed,
will fall to their knees to **** on the worlds ****
So when life happens and you're just a good person thrown in the crossfire of a war you didn't want.
Are you going to swallow and make peace
or
are you going to spit and fight back?
Money rules the world. I rule my mind.
We're all diamonds just some of us are in the rough. Wrong place at the wrong time.
Mar 7, 2012
Mar 7, 2012 at 2:49 AM UTC
The Viet Nam era was a witches brew.Mission creep in Saigon
The evening news brought the ****** trips stumbling into
my TV dinner, kicking over my Tang.
Bouncing Betty went bang
Beans and ***** out the can.
Guys in my age bracket knew it was safe cause 18 was the magic Number.
RESPECT
Simon and Garfunkel ,The godfather of soul.
What we.
Had Here.
Was.
Failure to Communicate.
We were reaching for the stars with one hand and
squeezing of rounds with the other. Bobby was in the crossfire
Martin would retire,
I remember.
Guys slinking back home with broken minds
Baby killers all. No love ,No jobs. COMBAT FATIGUE. PTSD Came later.
Got a monster habit, Nose running of like a racetrack rabbit.
Oh yeah Asian Strain Gonorrhea.
Penicillin
Penishmillin. WTF
Hendricks.
Sep 27, 2012
Sep 27, 2012 at 3:25 AM UTC
Parents
Front seat
Complaining
They think I can't hear them
But I can
"Too expensive"
"Didn't want"
"Technology addiction"
Siblings
In the back
With the
New tech
Sometimes fighting
Grateful
But are they
Addicted?
Me
In the middle
Is it good
Is it bad
How far to go
Who to side with
Sitting in the crossfire
Between X and Z
Borderline Millennial
Without an army
Dec 26, 2018
Dec 26, 2018 at 8:46 PM UTC
I am awake
alive. aware. tired... but, so awake
ready. content? drained... but, ready.
ready for what's next.
soak.
soak while enveloped in His cloak of soundness, of serenity inconspicuously emerging from the crossfire
come to an understanding
a consensus with Yourself
stay.
stay here... in this fractured moment of freedom, of belonging, of peace
A breakthrough.
Gasp for Air before descending back into perplexity.
know
know the Answer
Believe in the Answer to all those unanswered, unanswerable questions
Love the Answer
Thank the Answer
Breathe
आप पूरी तरह से ठीक हैं
आप ठीक हो जाएंगे
आप ठीक होना पड़ेगा
अच्छा?
हाँ.
Jan 27, 2019
Jan 27, 2019 at 3:36 PM UTC
We all know the story of Romeo and Juliet
But this is the untold story of another fair, beautiful Capulet
Rosaline as you may come to know
Met her demise at the hands of a Montague
She was the first object of dear Romeo's affection
But for dainty Rosaline, Romeo was not her selection.
He desperately tried to win her gaze.
She would only give hints to her hearts twisting maze.
Faithful to her vows of chastity
Another Montague held her key.
Benvolio stole her heart and won her affection
From first glance she was swept away, a true connection
Like the gentle lullaby of a nightingale
Her soul composed a symphony on his instrument could play
Kissed like the petals of a rose by the morning dew
A simple touch of his hand created a overwhelming sensation only they knew
Secretly inseparable, hidden romance
Their houses would not understand, so they took a very risky chance.
Until the day of that faithful fray between Capulet and Montague
Rosaline was caught in the crossfire of the two
Trying to keep the peace she lunged ahead
And at the hand of her true love she was dead.
He had not even a heartbeat to react.
Blinded by hate, a moment he could never take back.
Plagued by loss and despair
As if his lungs had been drained of air.
As the life left her eyes
He died inside.
Tragedy washed over their houses.
And in the end,
Hate won the war,
Love was left mangled and destroyed.
Jul 31, 2013
Jul 31, 2013 at 8:50 AM UTC
*In this country I fear for my life
Violence today is far from your everyday fight
This just doesn't feel right
To sit here and not write
What has happened to my little Bahama land ?
Today people rob and **** for fun
Toddlers aren't afraid to wave a gun
Im sick to my stomach as I look in disbelief
Could being killed be my new destiny
What has happened to my little Bahama land ?
Innocent people caught in crossfire
All from stupid incidents that had been transpired
130 murders! Rings in my ears
Young children around me shedding tears
What has happened to my little Bahama land ?
Sun , sand and sea?
Means nothing
if innocently killed mothers cant enjoy it with me
I am the youth and I will be the change
I'll do it hand by hand
I beg plead and ask
What has happened to my little ol Bahama land ?
~ Rae Lauren*
Feb 8, 2016
Feb 8, 2016 at 4:06 PM UTC
web of lies to cover your web of desires
kept me in the dark away from the hearth of the fire
I gave you my heart and you threw it into the fire
blew our chances like a match, kept me as an option
So I let it rain hellfire and watched your towers fall
my pride made me destructive
I found solace in the destruction
you played me like a record but I am onto the next track
you sound like a broken record, need to sit with the lack
caught in the crossfire, I did everything right
but you manipulate me out of spite
want to have all the options, both pieces of cake
I cannot wait for you to meet the same fate.
Dec 31, 2021
Dec 31, 2021 at 1:48 PM UTC
So we soldiered on
Because the lives we led were held on battlefields.
We trudged onward
But it felt like we were stuck there forever
Amidst the crossfire.
Dodging make believe bullets
That whistled sweet melodies to our ears.
We were camouflage.
Trekking undetected
Through the world.
But the war is over.
A few casualties still unaccounted for
On the bloodied floors.
Whatever happened to no man left behind?
May 24, 2013
May 24, 2013 at 8:54 PM UTC
A scene too obscene to be believed
when it's seen
Like an acid trip intersecting with a wet dream
Where reality becomes a second thought
And you and I were caught
or maybe lost
in the crossfire of hungry hearts
I breathe you in whenever you're around
there's a code to my heart that unlocks with the sound
of your voice in a humorous shout
through the crowd
But what once was so loud
it shook me to the ground
burned so bright it may have burned out
the Chaos is Dead - All is Quiet now
And where there once was great noise
as joy did abound
is stricken with silence
like A Forest of Frozen Clowns
Oct 9, 2014
Oct 9, 2014 at 3:17 AM UTC
My child,
As you watch your worlds get torn apart
With a malevolence you can’t comprehend,
Please do not throw yourself into the crossfire,
This is a war you cannot mend.
Their anger is too deep-rooted,
Their hurt is much too strong,
They will insist on going down fighting,
And refuse to see where they are wrong.
Find shelter from this constant storm,
Please close your eyes and ears.
They won’t listen to your pleading,
They choose not to see your tears.
Your screams won’t penetrate their spiteful resolve,
Your little voice will go unheard,
You have no choice but to be strong now;
A responsibility so undeserved.
My child, you cannot help them
As they stand firm on this battle site.
You must know this will be one of many,
There is too much wrong to put right.
If they could see how their bellowing makes you recoil,
See you cowering on your knees,
They might take heed of the damage they’re wreaking,
Reconsider this incessant, vindictive reprise.
But this road is far from ending,
So don’t exhaust your resilience here,
You must protect yourself from the barrage,
For they have not the strength to shield your fears.
It will be another long and tiresome night
As you are again dragged through this mess,
Processing all of their vicious accusations
For all that they refuse to confess.
So as you watch the two people you revere the most
Spit venom at volumes you can’t stand,
I beg you not to let it make you hateful -
This is not what they had planned.
I know how you long to fix it,
Desperate to appease their pain,
But my child, too much has already been broken,
Just please know you are not to blame.
I wish I could offer an escape route,
Tell you everything will be OK,
But there is no choice except to ride out this bitterness,
Await the dawn of a new day.
And on that day you’ll find a way to forgive them,
For destroying everything you knew as home,
For their selfishness stealing all innocence
And turning safe places into war-zones.
Sep 30, 2015
Sep 30, 2015 at 4:55 PM UTC
if you want to leave me behind
i understand.
your mind had blinders that
leave you stubborn
you refuse to believe anything good
could come of this
as if it were up to you alone to hold
the weight of the world
a goal so admirable
yet so misguided
you light yourself ablaze
& complain that it's too warm
as if you didn't pour yourself in gasoline
& light the match
all this pain you burn yourself in
is purely self-inflicted
& i got caught in the crossfire
you lock me in the coldest recesses of your heart
as i watch you burn down
the most important thing in my life
where are the words to stop you
what strings of vowels could my mouth make
to push you into the safety of the water?
if you would only let me free
i would be there to pull you out
i promise you i would never let you drown
if only you let me be there
to be your lifeguard
Aug 6, 2022
Aug 6, 2022 at 6:00 PM UTC
The underlings stare
In submissive awestruck
Subjugation in landmine-filled
Landfills, are stuck
In the trenches, the feces
The carcass-strewn muck
Where the vermin-spawn ****
As they're taught how to work
And to fend for themselves
Like the Fall of Dunkirk
As the imminent doomsday device overhead
Incapacitates them
As mere prey to a web
Of a global dominion
Ambition connection
Subconscious hive-mind
Buzzing out the objection
And phobia-spreading
Pandemic misanthropy
Greed in disguise
Subsidizing atrocity
Not for me,
I am
The justified treason
The reason the man-hunters
Close open season
The cease-fire peacekeeper
Proliferation
The water war's rising
Desertification
An MIA runaway
AWOL defector
Still haunting the tombs of detente
Like a spectre
With what I assure
Mutually in the end
When I send go-aheads
On the ICBMs
And avenge the dependent expended
Caught in
This crossfire for-profit
Arms race it has been
Oct 27, 2018
Oct 27, 2018 at 3:33 AM UTC
Do you ever want to peel back your own skin?
to walk along razors edge bone and muscles scraping bare
where sin and flesh dance in a defining din of noise.
blood soaking the parched river bed
And i am the crossfire
sheltering,screaming, pain so sweet
but the skin never left
so silence the screams
and smile for the crowd
Oct 15, 2013
Oct 15, 2013 at 12:00 PM UTC
i know I could've been the one
who caught
the bullet
instead of you.
I could've been in the crossfire
of hate.
Trayvon
will you forgive
me
for walking up to the ABC store
in a hoodie and jeans.
I hate that the world
has become a place of suspicion.
I wish that love
could
conquer
stereotypes.
I wish my love
could
conquer
racism
and
misplaced
suspicion.
i could've been the man
shot down.
That's why it's so important
to don
a hoodie
in 80 degrees
because the degree of separation
isn't that much
of
a
degree.
Mar 27, 2012
Mar 27, 2012 at 9:52 PM UTC
I love you, but I am scared of you
I am scared of what you know
Of how you think and how you feel
Of how you are
I am scared of how you see the world
I am scared of how much you know of me
that I don't know of myself
I am scared of your ability
to hurt
to maim
perhaps
to ****
I am scared of how dangerous you can be
Of how dangerous you are
Of your dark tendencies
And your twisted mind
I am scared of what is in your head
You are evil
You threaten me
Blackmail me
Use your power over me
You say 'You don't know what I am capable of'
And I don't
And that is what scares me most
The unknown
Your mind is uncharted waters
I am scared to venture into deep
For fear of being hurt in the crossfire
Because when I am close to you
I fear that you will hurt me
Sometimes, when you are angry
I fear you
I fear for myself
I fear that I am only a pawn in your wicked games
You say you can do things to me
Though I know you never would
It scares me
That you could
You know too much
And see too much
Everywhere you go your eyes flit around
You breathe in everything
You take in every detail
I am scared
of what you take in
about me
Don't you see?
How you terrify me?
You barbarian
So violent, ruthless, unpredictable
Sometimes
It is as if I don't know you
You are a demon
A devil
The spawn of Satan himself
But I love you
I love you
But I am scared of you
Aug 22, 2016
Aug 22, 2016 at 5:54 PM UTC
Her mother pushed religious ******** down her throat
But she refused to listen
Her mother pulled her hair and took away her hope
But she had accepted long ago her mothers love had conditions
Her mother always let her get caught in the crossfire of her anger
But she just locked herself in her room to forget
Her mother constantly called her a failure
But she didn't need her mother to remind her of her regrets
Her mother was fed up with her passive aggressive behavior
But she knew she deserved better than this neglect
Her mother always yelled at her for never talking
And she let hollow silence be her reply
It wasn't until her mother said "You should **** yourself."
That she happily complied
Jan 27, 2014
Jan 27, 2014 at 8:08 PM UTC
Today is another day in the crusade,
another scar adds to my many from the previous day,
the soldiers beg I don't take the lead,
though I will not listen to them,
I say my usual line put your helmets on,
I'm there general they will not see me die.
standing tall we march through the rain.
Meeting the so called enemies to the capital,
I stand tall not fighting for a cause,
my reason is because I was told to and that is all,
I charge into battle a sword in my left, a mace in my right,
no shield for me, because my body is my defense,
though there she runs next to me eager to return the favor from yesterday.
my mace meets the skull of one, my sword through another,
death is now just a sick game I play how many can I **** 1...2...3
for every 1 I count 20 men have fallen by my hand,
the enemy surrounds a small group of three,
not going to watch my men die I run into the crossfire.
I take each blow meant for them,
a show of will my men surely take to heart, for they **** the 15 that surround them,
me there commander and there sheild.
a strike to my back she catches with her sword she take the mans life her eyes shine with embers.
for today has ended without a single lose,
I see it as a true victory,
I am the general of 200 men and in the end only one lose I expect.
one of a man that has nothing to lose,
I share my body to be there shield.
4 stand before me with thanks on their lips, and I have to remember Soldiers don't cry...
Sep 27, 2014
Sep 27, 2014 at 12:10 PM UTC
Dax-
God's Eyes
~My Verse~
I've never seen God's eyes, but I've seen the devil's
He walks with men on earth at different levels
He knows the king we serve, so he hates and meddles
And prays that we all burn and turn to rebels
He tried to get my soul, but I'll never settle
I'll walk this lonely road from the 'burbs to ghettos
I'll take the gift bestowed and return a vessel
I am the one they chose, yeah-yeah-yeah
-----------------------------------------
(first yeah of the verse layered over the last yeah of the chorus, slowed and stretched out)
...-yyeeeaaahhh
I've never met god, no, I've never met the devil
Though I've seen 'em in the eyes of broken people
Both shrouded in lies, watch the line glitch between what's good and what's evil
They seem pretty equal, it's the playing field that's not level
An unholy holy war, creation V creator
You swear he hears prayer so it's a choice to never answer
The holy-ish trinity with it's narcissist center, the first broken family ever
Please do me a favor, before you expire, acknowledge the innocent lost to crossfire
-----------------------------------------
("They'll never see god's eyes, but they've seen the devil's" layered over "I've never seen God's eyes, but I've seen the devil's")
"They'll never see god's eyes, but they've seen the devil's"
He walks with men on earth at different levels
He knows the king we serve, so he hates and meddles
And prays that we all burn and turn to rebels
He tried to get my soul, but I'll never settle
I'll walk this lonely road from the 'burbs to ghettos
I'll take the gift bestowed and return a vessel
I am the one they chose, yeah-yeah-yeah
©2023
Oct 12, 2023
Oct 12, 2023 at 5:01 PM UTC
When she spoke of birds and bees,
She wasn't speaking about ***
Enumerating about leaf and trees,
Twinkle over a topic quite perplex.
When she spoke of rain checks,
She wasn't speaking about shopping,
Instead fretting over the birds in the nests,
Trees that perish by wood chopping.
When she spoke of a branch,
She wasn't speaking of business,
She spoke of destructive avalanche,
That pressure trees to diminish.
When she spoke of wood,
She wasn't speaking of phallus,
Or a portrayal of manhood,
She expounded on nature's palace.
When she spoke of nature,
Her passion burned hotter than a bushfire,
For she witnessed creatures endangered,
And the animals that suffered in our crossfire....
....Our crossfire between money and satisfaction...
Feb 12, 2016
Feb 12, 2016 at 2:52 AM UTC
Sometimes all it takes
Is a simple act of kindness
To really make someone's day
Extending yourself to someone
To someone in need
Being that person
Who steps up for those
Who no one else will step up for
Being that person
Who wants to help because they see
That there are people who need help
And they know in their hearts
That they have the ability to help
Or a burning desire to make change
Where change doesn't seem to come very easily
Being that special someone
In someone's life
Extending yourself to others
In loving and kind ways
Opening up your heart
For the people
Who everyone else has shut out
Putting yourself in the crossfire
So that others can live a better life
Even if it means you have to give
Everything and all of yourself
In the process
Being willing to be there for others
To cry for them
To fight for them
To live in someone else's shoes
Sometimes all it takes
Is that first act of kindness
To really change people's hearts
To let them see the possibilities
When we all act a little kinder to each other
And protect the people in this world
Who need protecting the most
Apr 8, 2012
Apr 8, 2012 at 5:12 AM UTC
Frightful abilities were pressured into
responses as the computer children
failed at hitherto reliable performance.
This was a description of the synchronous
effect brought into the shudder with a
catch in the breath of the mother,
and written by frenetic action that
destroyed the logical sequence of requests
presented by the mouse and the typing keys.
As directed through an esoteric process of
recovery, the minds of the device reoriented,
again attaining the ability to perform simple
and repetitive tasks as obliged by designated
prompts. There was no certainty this was not
related to the telephone connection which
picked thinking out of the air like a television
receiving a network broadcast. In the same
way, the exhaust pipe rambled as the engine
of the truck idled too rapidly and, then,
stalled. Everything was restarted. The vehicle
operated right away. The computer bumbled
along flashing through scenes and blank screens,
the curser pulsing like a heart beat in the upper
corner. This had to be worn like a sign of
concentration, meaning that the (citizen, computer)
was being observed, and the sensitive response
would be, literally, automatic, but sometimes
the potentiometer brought, to sight, a gesture
of communication. It was cute that such clever
trinkets were hiding down in there until the
spirit tapped the muscles of the shoulder blade.
It became apparent this relation depended upon
keys found in ancient aliens such as arcades and
magic books. A tiny soul was stored in a pocket,
in the telephone; it reached out with its vibration
and launched into the world to grab news with
its operating, search engines. It had eyes and
could see in the dark. So, the age was over in
which it could be expected that photographs were
the result of special manners and the courageous
offer of friendly snapshots. As torches confused
ferocious animals, the excuse depended upon dark
difficulties in the chemical room. In the garden,
the televised betrayal generated a crossfire of live
video, and, thus, fools were unlucky. Energy and
conflict had been misguided. New, public devotion
protected the evolution of tableware or discrete
implements that chimed to be taken into other rooms.
Discourse was enabled and following discursion,
long, private moments carried visitors away.
Oct 28, 2013
Oct 28, 2013 at 6:54 PM UTC
Many will prove themselves worthy if you give them a chance. Trust them and let them rise to your feelings. It can be hard not to immediately write people off. I used to trust everyone, until I realized that you can't. It took me a long time to realize you have to guard yourself. People are so fascinating - they have histories,
stories,
traumas,
pain,
traits,
vices,
virtues,
love affairs,
sleepless nights,
values,
hobbies,
habits,
failures,
flaws,
and memories.
It is difficult for me not to want to get to know almost everyone I come across. This certain seeking quality about myself gets me into an awful lot of problematic scenarios. I often end up in the crossfire of many situations that never really involved me in the first place. I've met an awful lot of individuals, but only a handful who looked at me and saw what I don't see. This phenomena is a great source of inspiration to me. Sometimes I feel like "what you see is what you get" and there's nothing more to me than what I portray to others in order to convey the qualities I'd like them to believe. Being mysterious is a haven to me. I figure if nobody ever really knows who I am, I am safe and they can't hurt me. Yet this has proven itself untrue. Do I even know myself? Often times, the answer is no - and that's why it blows my mind when people seem to have that certain knowing look and they see all the things I bury deep, things I'm afraid to show like weaknesses and failures. These people remind me that I have potential and I'm not as bad as I think I am.
People who see you - really see you for who you are - are very rare, but worth waiting for. They see past the masks, fronts, and facades you've learned to put on and they understand the things you've always wanted people to understand without you having to explain.
They get it.
Hold onto those people.
They are the way to success and happiness and true friendship.
Post-conventional thinking will always outweigh earthly expectations.
**** everything that isn't fulfilling.
Life is something rules shouldn't be imposed on where they don't need to be.
Open your eyes.
Nov 19, 2013
Nov 19, 2013 at 2:41 AM UTC
I let Cupid carelessly aim an arrow at an apple on my head.
I never thought about how all of the targets he hit may have been accidents.
About what it would be like to pull the arrow out of my chest.
I couldn't stop the bleeding
and he didn't know how to patch it.
I realized then the dangers of putting your heart in the center of a crossfire
hoping,
hoping
the child with the arrow would spare it.
Jun 16, 2016
Jun 16, 2016 at 12:19 AM UTC