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white coat Aug 2014
I want to die I want to die I want to die I want to die I want to die I want to die I want to die I want to die I want to die I want to die I want to die I want to die I want to die I want to die I want to die I want to die I want to die I want to die I want to die I want to die I want to die I want to die I want to die I want to die I want to die I want to die I want to die I want to die I want to die I want to die I want to die I want to die I want to die I want to die I want to die I want to die I want to die I want to die I want to die I want to die I want to die I want to die I want to die I want to die I want to die I want to die I want to die I want to die I want to die I want to die I want to die I want to die I want to die I want to die I want to die I want to die I want to die I want to die I want to die I want to die I want to die I want to die I want to die I want to die I want to die I want to die I want to die I want to die I want to die I want to die I want to die I want to die I want to die I want to die I want to die I want to die I want to die I want to die I want to die I want to die I want to die I want to die I want to die I want to die I want to die I want to die I want to die I want to die I want to die I want to die I want to die I want to die I want to die I want to die I want to die I want to die I want to die I want to die I want to die I want to die I want to die I want to die I want to die I want to die I want to die I want to die I want to die I want to die I want to die I want to die I want to die I want to die I want to die I want to die I want to die I want to die I want to die I want to die I want to die I want to die I want to die I want to die I want to die
AJ Jan 2016
I would die to be you,
I would die to paint your soul,
I would die to put a crown on your head,
I would die to know you,
I would die to dream of you,
I would die to see in your eyes,
I would die to move with your hands and feet,
I would die to hide away with you,
I would die to feel like you,
I would die to take your medicine,
I would die to do all the wrong you’ve done,
I would die to say what you’ve said,
I would die to breathe you,
I would die to feel you bleed,
I would die to drink the sadness you’ve drunk,
I would die to sing in your holy place,
I would die to walk at night with you,
I would die to know what you know,
I would die to be frozen in time with you,
I would die to drown in your soul,
I would die to give birth to you,
I would die to drink your wine,
I would die to wake up in your mind and body,
I would die to be your kind,
I would die to mother you,
I would die to hold you close,
I would die to lay my hands on your head,
I would die to bless your spirit,
I would die to paint you,
I would die to get lost in your thoughts,
I would die to perform in a play as you,
I would die to watch you dance,
I would die to lie down in grass with you,
I would die to fly you to the moon,
I would die to carve your name in a tree,
I would die to make you happy,
I would die to serve you,
I would die to picture your smile,
I would die to have your blood in my veins,
I would die to stare into your eyes
'n lewe in konstruksie...
dis tog die mees logiese manier om dit te beskryf...
ons bou en bou en bou,
en toets dan die produk.

Maar aan die einde, as ons klaar gebou het...
wat is dan daarvan te kom.
                        'n Lee huis...
                                       'n stil pad...

en wat het ons van onself geleer?

En wat leer ons van die wereld en mense om ons
             , vasgevang in die stryd teen tyd...

niks nie.

Ons het net voor onself uitgekyk
                   na die vaal stene
                                   en die slukkerige sement.

Watter vreugde het dit vir ons gebring.

Niks nie.

Nee,
         ek weier.

Ons is tog hier geplaas met vrye wil.

En iewers langs die pad,
                                          raak almal die pad duister...
en word dan deur die samelewing verdoem.

Die mensdom besluit dan wat van hulle sal word...
In daardie oomblikke is God meer vergete
deur die skares wat saamdrom op die rand van die pad...
                                                                ­                                      die wat lag en vinger wys...
                                                                ­                                                      die wat klippe gooi,
                                                         as deur die wat die prentjie aanskou.

Soms kort ons 'n perspektief van uit die donker,
                          om die lig rerig te verstaan...

Soms moet ons eers die genadelose aanraking van die koue voel,
                           voordat ons die sagte streel van die son oor ons gesigte kan waardeur.

Daar le wysheid in die donker,
                                      want dit is in die donker waar jy aleen is,

                         met niemand om in jou oor te fluister wat reg of verkeerd is nie.

                                                                ­                                                      Net die wind om jou siel te sus,
                                                                ­                                               die stilte om jou uit te rus...

                                                 en niemand wat jou god kan wees
                                       of sy woorde
                                                          ­      en planne
                                                                ­                   vir jou kan uitmessel nie.

Die pad het die gevaar geraak.

Dis koud en korrupt.
                                     En ons is dankbaar,
         dat ons die kans gekry het om dit te sien,
terwyl ons stadig verswelg word deur die skadu's
                                                                ­                                             en wegsmelt in die donker...

want nou weet ons dat ons pyn maar net 'n gedeelte van die werklike hartseer was...

                                                               ­ ons is die gelukkiges...

en hulle loop op die pad na verdoemtenis
A Aug 2014
I want to die I want to die I want to die I want to die I want to die I want to die I want to die I want to die I want to die I want to die I want to die I want to die I want to die I want to die I want to die I want to die I want to die I want to die
I want to die I want to die I want to die I want to die I want to die I want to die I want to die I want to die I want to die I want to die I want to die I want to die I want to die I want to die I want to die I want to die I want to die I want to die
Daniel Handschuh Nov 2015
Tingly under the daisies;
   Glassy-eyed, glazed, greasy;
   Shaking, shivering, shuddering,
   Wishing, wandering, whimpering,
   Westernizing—
   Romanizing—
   Constitutionalizing—
   Institutionalizing—
   Perpetually searching
   And dying
   And living,
   Watching Death survive
   And scythe the frolickers,
   The prancers,
   The rompers,
   The merrymakers.
   A rose clamped between his
   Grinning teeth glistens brightly,
   And he dances so joyously.
   “Yes!” say the naysayers,
   Confused are the soothsayers,
   Lost are the cartographers.
   Oh, Utopia!
   The monks are extravagant;
   The meditations are a farce!
   The preachers are beggars
   And swindlers and chargers,
   And Machiavelli fulfills his wishes!
   Babies are stillborn, stabbed, and
   Ritualistically sacrificed,
   And their blood is spilled, drunk,
   Slathered over the ***** man.
   The evangelists scream and lie:
   “You are all predestined to die!”
   Oh, hail Utopia!
   Wedded are the girls to the girls;
   Wedded are the boys to the boys;
   Wedded is Death to Death,
   Life to Life,
   And Life to Death.
   Wedded are the living to the existent.
   And the milking babes are slaughtered
   Ceremoniously,
   Surreptitiously,
   Ostentatiously.
   Oh, hail great Utopia!
   We are all dead and unintelligent:
   Laugh, laugh, Einstein, at your
   Stupidity.
   Laugh, laugh, Temple Grandin at
   Your retardation.
   Laugh, laugh, laugh!
   Look at the sluggard, thou ant;
   Look at the boy, sobbing wolf;
   Aesop was drunk,
   Aristotle was delusional,
   Michelangelo was blind,
   Beethoven could hear,
   Poe was sane.
   And I can't read.
   They ramble,
   I watch.
   They sleep,
   I watch.
   They dream,
   I watch.
   They sleep-talk,
   I watch.
   They scream,
   I watch.
   They choke,
   I watch.
   They suffocate,
   I watch.
   Stone-faced, I stare;
   Raspingly, I breathe;
   Uncontrollably, I twitch;
   Inwardly, I rage.
   I hope you die, I hope you die.
   I hope you bleed, I hope you die.
   I want you begging and crying,
   I want you blubbering at my feet,
   I want you gnashing at my ankles,
   I want you writhing in pain,
   I want your arm twisted off,
   Cracking with the snapping sinews, I want your beating heart in my hands, I want your genitals uprooted and stuffed in your throat, I want your stomach so I can eat the still-digesting food, I want your shrunken head and I want to force my thumbs into your unblinking eyes and I want to tear your face in two and I want you to die, I want you to die, I want you to die, I want you to die, I want you to die, I want you to die, I want you to die, I want you to die, to die, to die, to die, to die, to die, to die, to die, to die, to die and die and die and die and die and die and die and die and die and die and die and die and die and die.
Dan Same Sep 2019
I Deserve to Die, A shout of Joy.

I deserve to Die
My life is a lie
A flippant lie
I Deserve to Die

I Deserve to Die
In this world full of Love
I fly like an unguided dove
I Deserve to Die

I Deserve to Die
If I could tell myself the truth
I may be a better youth
But, I Deserve to Die

I Deserve to Die
Too weak for this battle
To grip for this struggle
I Deserve to Die

I Deserve to Die
The song I hear in the morning
The door opened in the evening
Ready to Die
I Deserve to Die

I Deserve to Die
The depressing things I tell myself
The worthless value of myself
I Deserve to Die

I Deserve to Die
Not a prayer
From a player
But I Deserve to Die

I deserve to Die
But who cares?
The limitless growth of the stairs
I Deserve to Die



Who will save from my grief?
Jesus?
Do I even believe?
Maybe not!
Maybe I do!
I’m not sure
I Deserve to Die

I Deserve to Die
But I don’t want to
Will I have to?
Do I need to?
I Deserve to Die

I Deserve to Die
Shall I help myself?
Maybe,
Maybe,
I shouldn’t Die

Well, I Deserve to Die
But He went ahead and Die
Now I can’t Die
A new beginning,
A new life,
Lord I Deserve,
Will you let me Die?
Hear my cry
Save thee
I Deserve to Die
Don’t allow me to Die.  

I Deserve to Die
But I need to escape
Open the gate of life
Hear my cry
I just need a way
To run away
I Don’t want to Die
I cry…


                                                          ­                                   Esperanto
Nikki Wolmarans May 2014
Dit is die trane wat niemand sien nie
Die seer wat niemand voel nie
Dit is die koue gevoel in jou hart
wanneer jy van buite af inkyk *** almal lag
Dit is die eensaamheid op naweke
Die stilte wanneer jy skree
Dit is die afwesigheid van n warm hand
Die oorblyfsels van n gebroke sielsband
Dit is die spasies tussen jou vingers
Elkeen n herinnering van n tekortkoming
Dit is die koue winters alleen
Die somers spandeer onder skaduwee
Dit is die hinkering na "ek is lief vir jou" briefies
Die drome oor die "ek is trots op jou" soentjies
Dit is al die gebroke beloftes
Die "liefde met voorwaardes"
Dit is die idee van *** alles moet wees
Wat keer dat jy gelukkig is
Dit is die wonde wat brand wanneer jy dalk mag glimlag
Om jou te herinner van jou seer se mag
Dit is die donker aande sonder sterre
Jou dood stille foon op die moeilikste tye
Dit is die konstante bevraagteken van jou waarde
Die "gaan nie eers probeer" nie's
Omdat jy voel niemand sien jou raak
En skielik is gelukkig wees, n verbode taak
Maar dit is die leemte in my hart
Die swaarte krag van al die vrae
Die "Opsoek na die vermiste stuk van my legkaart"
Wat die hartste praat
Dit is die gewoonte om te voel jy misluk
Dit is die "minderwaardige" plakker in die plek van jou gesoekte legkaartstuk...
Language: Afrikaans
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katewinslet Nov 2015
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Ek kyk na die wiskunde geletterdheid vraestel
wat uittartend voor my le en skreeulag.
Elke vraag is nog 'n klap in my gesig
nog 'n uur wat ek in 'n warm stort moet gaan sit
om myself weer moed in te praat.

Ek het lankal reeds al die stetoskope
van my kinderdrome ashoop to gestuur.
Die laaste bietjie hoop uit my onskuld gekerf
toe hulle se dat ek die masjiene moet afskakel
en vir my spieel gaan se, dat ek dit nie gemaak het nie.
"Gee eerder op" lui die pedagoog se kreet.

"Jy hou ons terug seun" , vertel jy my
"as jy nou nog nie verstaan nie, sa jy
ook nooit nie. Gee maar op."
Ek was eers die boogseun.
*** verder jy my terug getrek het,
*** vinniger het my pyl op die teiken
af gestraal...
Nou is ek die rekseun... ek hou jou terug
en as jy trek, breek ek.

Jou ekstraklasse was te duur gewees,
ek kon nie my wiskunde angelegdheid bekostig nie.
Ek moes maar terugsit en kyk ***
ander skole met onderskeiding by jou deur uitstap.
Ek kon ongelukkig nie bekostig om slim te wees nie.

Onthou jy toe jy op daardie koue wintersdag
verby my gejaag het en my verskree het
oor die missie en serpie wat my net
aan die lewe gehou het?
Ek is jammer dit was nie jou kleur nie,
maar probeer verstaan...
ek is nie 'n onderwyser nie.
Wanneer jy huistoe kon gaan
moes ek my studentlike pligte uitvoer
en tot laatmiddag by die skoolbly.

Ek is jammer dat my ma werk.
Dit is tog so ongeskik van haar.
So selfsugtig om kos op die tafel te probeer sit
en so my verhoed het om aan sport deel te neem.
Ek weet tog *** belangrik sport vir jou is.
Jammer ek kon nie 'n meningvolle bydra
tot jou donnerse sportregime maak nie.
Jammer ek was 'n nuttelose suurstofdief
, soos wat jy my genoem het.

Eks jammer ek kon nie my punte
bekostig nie. My handgeskrewe take
en spoeg-en-plak plakate was 'n
vernedering tot die vlekvrye mamma-pappa-take.
Linte was in die mode.
Linte en ander oulike beursie plukkers.
Jammer dat ons beursies
leeg was, maak nie saak *** ons
daaraan prober pluk het nie.

Jammer dat ek nie man genoeg was
om myself te beskerm teen nege honderd seuns nie.
Dit is skandelik. *** kon ek so swak wees
dat ek nie eers nege jaar se "ou grappies"
kon aflag nie. Jammer dat ek dit nie snaaks vind
as daar op jou geurineer en gespoeg word nie.
*** kon ek nie lag vir die hilariteit van
asblik skroot , soos kougom en gemifde brood
in my tas en pennesakkie nie.
Ek wens ek was nie so swak nie, dan kon
ek ook dalk myself teen die 14 seuns beskerm het.
Jammer dat hulle my so maklik kon oorweldig.
Jammer dat hulle my kon teister
en rondgooi soos 'n vloerlap.

Ek vra nederig om verskoning,
dat ek daaroor kom kla het.
Meneer is reg, ek is 'n sussie.
Net 'n moffie soos ek sou
kom kla het. Jammer om meneer
se tyd so te mors, dit was verspot van my
om te **** meneer sou iets daaran doen.

Nou is ek ietwat geskend. Menere
en manne het al gesweeptong en asyn
op my kaal rug.

Nou sit ek Sentraal in die kakstorm
en jy wonder hoekom ek nie meer
onder die top 20 is nie.

Nou sit ek hier onder tussen die wiskunde "Jee"
vraestelle en huil.
My enigste vertroosting is dat ek nie
heel onder is nie, en dat jy die hell is
waaruit ek nog sal opruis.

Ek breek vry van agter die tralies.

Geagte skool
Gerespekteerde meneer
Vok jou
en moenie laat jou mislukkings jou
op die gat skop as jy by die deur uitloop nie.
Want hierdie "mislukking" ... skop kak hard.
M Feb 2015
I never really wanted to die-

I dabbled in suicidal thoughts, though not the perse usual rummaging through the brain of, "If I died, what would happen?"

I thought that too. For nearly 5 years.

Suicide is a common thought. Planning, excessive thinking, executing is statistically common too, though not as pedestrian as contemplating,
"If I died, what would happen?"

Yes, I contemplated. I planned. I excessively thought. I thought I wanted to die and I really didn't. I never really wanted to die, hence why I am still here.

I did not attempt. I made half assed attempts, if even. I literally and metaphorically scraped the surface, specifically the insides of wrists. Bandages and "the dog scratched me" sufficed as cover up.

Do not mistake these "attempts" as false sense of despair and hurt though. I hurt like hell. Cutting myself hurt less, and I think that's why we do it. The despair tore holes in my vision that somehow blurred the light into darkness and convinced me I might have been blind.

I was blind as a bat and at the time, that is why I thought I wanted to die at my own hands, on my own terms. 5 years of contemplating and planning and cutting and bandaging and wondering how many **** times the dog can scratch in the same place. 5 years of bouncing back and forth between seeing the light and having it blurred every time I felt myself wanting to die.

I promise I never really wanted to die though. I would have done it if I had.

I didn't want to die; I wanted a reason to live. Cliché? Maybe. But for 5 years that was my reality and my immature brain couldn't make sense of it. My little brain had no way of knowing that my reasons to live were immense and vast, like the horizon and sea meeting at that thin line across the way when you watch a sunset.

I wanted a reason to live. Living through my personal hell of trying to drag myself out without too many scars from my own hands and the world around me gave me a reason. I fought. I didn't even know what I was fighting but I fought. I threw punches and elbows until I found a way out of the pit where I fell and lost sight of the lights that gleamed like stars and took my breath away.

Fighting was a reason, and that was the start. Fighting to stay at a better place was a reason. Progress. The next day hopefully being better, another reason to put down the little jagged edge of a broken statue I used to cut myself when I felt I needed physical pain to bear truth to the waves I was drowning in within my rib cage.

I never really wanted to die and I wanted a reason to live. Every day I made it, I found that a reason would not suffice because rather there are so many reasons.

First, others empathize. They have seen their own hells. Hell looks different to us all, but feels just the same; like it is going to burn us to the ground if we don't start running the other direction. And it will. It could burn you like liquor down the throat, like overdosing or cheating or killing yourself or a multitude of other things that would signify hell burning you to the ground.

Second, others sometimes ponder dying too. We all do. Look at that, another commonality. Third, we are all human and if you give people a chance, you find they are similar to you in ways you cannot imagine, in ways you could not comprehend until you find out that your coworker also struggled with depression and your neighbor also has parents with a shaky marriage and your grandmother just wants someone to want her the same way you want someone to want you.

Fourth, others will look into your hell and if they run scared, they haven't seen many hells. If they stay and watch the glow, they will stay and hopefully help guide you out. So long you're willing to keep stepping forward, they may be on the opposite side waiting with a pitcher of water and a pat on the back for doing your best.

Fifth, people care. They do. They care and I promise the most random people will care if you died. Death is the only thing promised to us, as the pessimists say. I beg to differ; the notion that people will care is also confirmed in my mental book of, "Things I Know To Be True." Will it be 1 or 100 or millions, I cannot say. I can tell you someone will care though, and that someone is me.

I never wanted to die and that's a reason enough not to do it, right? To write about it and tell others? To tell strangers that I care if they die or not? That there is a reason to life even if I can't tell you exactly what?

Entirely. Strangers read my words every day and the most beautiful thing is the commonalities I have with these strangers, with people I can't put names or faces to because we may never meet.

I never wanted to die because I knew in my fickle, unsure yet unwavering heart that someday I may write about it all, and it may save a life. I read a lot in the 5 years I thought I wanted to die and the most remarkable was this-

A man jumped 9 stories and survived. He recalled not wanting to die as soon as he jumped. I didn't want to be that man in that he had to jump to know he wanted to live, but rather brave enough to speak about it so people like me could read and rethink the notion of wanting to die.

I did rethink it. It took me time and effort and sweat and tears and sadly some dripping blood but eventually I realized I never really wanted to die. I wanted a reason to live, and a stranger who wrote an article on another stranger gave me a reason to just that. Live.

Living has scared me shitless, unlike the way possibly dying at my will has. Dying is the period; definitive, dark, completion. Living are the semicolons and commas, the dashes and run on sentences. I want to keep running, I want to keep writing and loving and hurting and waking up knowing I can do it all again one more day, if I am so lucky to be afforded one more day.

I spent 5 years contemplating what would happen if I died, and who would care, and what would happen 5 years after my death. I never really wanted to die though, so I hung those thoughts up to dry. They recur sometimes and I do what I can to keep them out. I spent 5 years "living" on the brink of a death that wasn't even coming unless I said it was, and you know what? The anxiety of it all was worse than possibly dying itself. The anxiety of not knowing if killing myself was worth it killed me the most, left me petrified like a deer in headlights wondering the same **** thing I had for 5 years-

Am I going to die?

Yes. Someday. I am going to die someday.

Not at my own hands though. My hands have held others and felt the ocean at midnight. My hands have placed vinyl into a record player and my hands have made killer banana bread. My hands have petted more dogs than I can count and have gotten me sick because I touched the railings at school during flu season. My hands have held so much more and they hold my life; I do not intend to grip my life so hard and worriedly that I strangle the last breath out if it.

For the last ******* time I DID NOT REALLY WANT TO DIE and I bet none of you do either, even the ones that succeeded in the saddest succession known to man- beating nature at it's own game and taking life that wasn't meant to be taken. I did not really want to die, and you do not either. So where is the light at the end of the tunnel? The notion to hold on one more time?

It is the words I have written, the sun streaming through your windows each day, the hands you have held and the hands that hope to hold yours. It is in the tip you give to the man playing the guitar on the corner of your street, it is the lemonade stand that reminds you of sweet childhood.

Yes, death is promised to is all. Life is not. I can solely promise that your life is worth it though, and that fighting for it leaves you with a story to tell 5 years later when you realized that you never really wanted to die.
January 15th, 2015
Opgedra aan ‘n kind  wat gebliksem moet word.
Deur: Desperaatheid en vrees

Jy klim in en uit die ***** van bestaan,
beide die rede vir liefde en
die kind wat sy baar.

Jy is ‘n drievoud van godelike hervertellings
, want wie kan regtig liefde
in ‘n enkel sin verhaal?

Geminag , die seun van liefde en haat
- jou einste bestaan ,van die vroegste
paradoksale meesterstukke.

Verewig , verewig tot ‘n kind
tussen die Groottes wat
blindlings onder jou boogpunt swik.

Vir elke nasie ‘n ander droom
Vir elke geloof ‘n ander naam en
Vir elke mens ‘n ander god.

Amor , oh Amor!
Die sinnebeeld van liefde
wat die mendsom verbly

, maar Eros jou ramkat
jou hupse hygelbek!
Jou erotiese aanraak!
(die begeer ek)

En ek?
Met my koker van lig en van goud,
wat hulde blyk en bou en bring
maar bestorwe le voor my Laurel
oor ‘n lood-stomp pylpunt vir haar ‘n treuerlied sing!

Amor, Amor word wakker!
My son le liefdeloos in my bros hart
, wat instaan teen logika
– sterk op die oorlogspad!

Jy wat na my heuning reik
-met honger hande vieslik gryp
en ek wat jou met angel steek
in desperaatheid jou nat vel breek…

“Oh moeder”, roep die wetter na bo
vir die planete om aan te ****:
“Oh moeder, Oh liefde “ ,spat die sot se treur,
“ *** kan so bietjie , so klein – so seer!”

En die heumel druis soos die moeder lag
haar humor eg , maar haar woorde sag:
“ My naakseun, my hinksperd
My fallus met vlerke!
Jy ,nog ‘n roosknop.
gaan ook so te werke!
Aanvaar die poëtiese justitie
Stil nou liefstetjie
Lamtietie Damtietie …”

Amor, Amor!
Weerstaan tog skoonheid se wieggelied
en wees my genadig!

Begunstig my ten einde laaste
, selfs vader tyd is verveeld
met die son se enkelpad!

*** lank nog wil jy sluimer?

Amor, Amor!
Tel weer op jou leisels
en bring liefde op die wind
my wereld lê in afwagting
vir die dolfyn en sy kind!

Wees my genadig, Amor!
Deurboor my leemte met goud,
,want die bringer van lig is slapeloos
en my hart is droewig en koud.

Oh Amor, Amor!

Ek weet jys nog jonk,
maar *** speel jy dollos met lewe se vonk…

Amor, Amor!

Word wakker!

Amor…
Vir die liefhebbers van die Griekse- , Romeinse mitologie en aanhangers van Eros...
DIe pleidooi van almal wat valentynsdag haat... geniet die epiese klagbrief aan Amor!
Blompen ; dompen

My pen lè los in my hand ,
Bibberend soos 'n straatkind in die kou;
Net so blinkoog - net so hol,
Vol drome wat in die agterkop brou

Maar die ink loop hortend oor die blou
Treinspore, mompelend soos 'n man
Wat die vreemde dialek van opgee praat
En sy laaste vloek op die hemel inspan

*** sku sluip die musa in die skemerson
Waar net echoes van haar in die droewige letters lê
En die gebeendere van hol woorde waai met die wind
Tot waar sal net die uitgedroogde môre kan sê?

My pen is nietigvaal teen die goudskrif teen die muur
En hunker uit desperaatheid na 'n siggaret
, want die ander het vere en woorde wat vlieg...
*** skep ek 'n wereld met die dors pen wat ek het?

My môre lyk puntloos en onvoltooid.
My gemoed knak en splinter oor die papier.
Die ink loop meer kunstig onder fisika
As die hand van die skrywer, Die verlepte Angelier
MissNeona Jun 2020
When I was fourteen,
my daddy told me
something worse
than when he would scold me

Oh, it was late at night
after a distinctive fright
something that shook me
and stayed with me through every fight

that I could not die,
no, I cannot die,
no, you cannot die,
Oh, could you not die?

I heard terrible news,
her throat; awfully bruised
but at least
her life we did not lose

But, poor Ari,
why didn't he see?
How much his life and others
are tied explicitly?

Oh, but she could not die,
oh why did he try?
No, I cannot die.
Oh how could you try?

But she did not die
why did he die?
No, I cannot die,
no I can not die.

This pain, I know, it's surging through. your veins, and bones, it's burning, too. This hate, the urges you're feeling everso-  please redirect it anyway you know.  Redirect towards something worth yearning. Fierocity and passion is fuel for learning.

Her father told my dad
he was oh so sad
but with those feels
he vibed more like mad

After the fateful call
I just ******' bawled
my dad so distraught
toppled on the stairs- he did fall.

Oh you cannot die
if I cannot die
oh, you cannot die, and neither can I

My dad he said to me
Kayla- Katie
when you were born
I held you against me

Gave up ***** n drugs
all over baby hugs
and with the next line
my heart strings he tugged

Oh you cannot die
if I cannot die
oh baby of mine
just keep on trying.

Before I went to bed
I remember he said
Please don't make me
hold you in my arms when you are dead

To give you a good life
I sacrificed part of mine
and now your life means
just as much as mine

Oh you cannot die,
no don't you try
no you cannot die
and neither can I

I cannot die
no I cannot die
I cannot die
I can't even try...
Knuppeldik gaan slaap die stad
na 'n feesmaal van smaak en kleur
vloei die reuke deur die strate
in 'n Brown se beweging van geur.

Alle trommels , trommeldik maar maak 'n lee geraas
en in die donker , agterstrate begin die ander nou te aas

Kom die honger hande uit die sakke
en krap met rook-geel vingernael
soek die skummel in die swartsak
vir 'n laaste dissipelsmaal.

Maar jy is skille , jy is doppe
jy is alles wat laat gril
nie genoeg vir koningstafels maar vir my
net genoeg om die  knaagdiere te stil.

Onerfare soos ek is , vat my hongerbrein ook mis
watter mens kan so dan lewe? watter mens kan so dan eet?
van die lykswa en die straatveers
het hierdie boemelaar vergeet.
Ek is mens en nie 'n vark nie,
(al moet 'n mens ook eet).

En stil vergaan die boemelaar
wat kieskeur ook wou wees,
nog 'n straatkind se ou lykie
nog 'n honger kinder gees...

ek wat was het mos gesien
*** kos op tafels lyk,
en het sodanig hart verloor
op kosse kleur en ruik.

Met 'n bord vol knubbels le die lykie
voor hom , onaangeraak.
Al was kos ook wat kos was daar
het hy te lief vir die droom geraak.

Eerder kwyn en dood verslaan
as om die droom te ruineer.
Eerder dood van honger,
as om hierdie kos , as sulks te eer.
Daar was g'n tyd vir bybelversies nie
, want die brood van lewe was te duur
En wie wil nou regtig wag om ring
As die manne vir jou hoogliedere sing.

Aan die begin was daar niks nie
Maar hyt gepraat met sy hande
En toe was daar lig en oh die gode
Dit was goed! Dit was goed!

Maar hy was aleen in n wereld met als
En almal was sonder naam
, toe hy sy laaste een gee en ek
Deur bloed en been vir hom geskep is.

Dit was goed, dit was goed
En ek huil snot en trane van seer
Maar die appel proe soet
Of jy hom in die hemel of die hel hap...

Jy is die fontein van lewe,
Ek drink van jou en raak dors
Vir meer as net een aand van sterrevolg.

Mag ek dronk raak op jou wyn?
Of is jy my een reeds voor!?

En ek kan.nie kerk toe hol nie
En die Bybel vloek my skel
Want jou lyf voel soos die Hemel
Maar Hy se jy is die Hel.

Mag ek langs jou bed op kniee neersak
En jou hand in myne neem??
Kom ons raak besope...
Genoeg om liefdesliede
vir mekaar te kreun.

More bid ons om vergifnis
En vergeet wat sonde is
Tot die vlees te veel begeer
En die lewenslig so bietjie blus.

Dit is *** die liefde werk,
Dis my lewe dié
Die struikelblok wat my versmoor
Van n vel religie.
Beaux May 2018
If I die in a school shooting
I'll never go home again.
My room will sit unused,
A capsule frozen in time,
A snapshot of how I was.

If I die in a school shooting
I'll never see my dog again.
She will sit at the front door
Waiting for me and wondering,
Why I never came home.

If I die in a school shooting
I'll never graduate from high school.
My yearbooks will sit stacked
Stopped short of their goal,
Missing years that should have been.

If I die in a school shooting
I'll never see my mom again.
She will sit distraught,
Planning a funeral
For a child taken from her.

If I die in a school shooting
I'll never see my friends again.
They'll sit together, missing me.
One empty seat among them,
A constant reminder of their loss.

If I die in a school shooting
I'll never see my little sister again.
She will sit through high school
Knowing I can't guide her through,
That she has to figure it out alone.

If I die in a school shooting
My school will be stained.
Pools of students lives will sit,
Blood tattoos on the brick structures,
Marks of death ground into it.

If I die in a school shooting
Everyone will wear black.
They'll send their thoughts and prayers
To a town marred by death,
Forever to be the home of a shooting.

If I die in a school shooting
Will the world change?
Or will I become one of hundreds  
Of kids who have to die?
What will it take?

If things continue this way
Children will have to live in fear.
They'll look over their shoulders
Always worried and wondering,
If they'll die in a school shooting.
The state of Florida is now home to the two most deadly mass shootings in American history. Pulse Nightclub was attacked in my city, I have friends who attend Marjory Stoneman Douglas in Parkland. My little sister often fears going to school. I'm afraid to graduate and leave her. I want to be able to protect her if something happens. I hate that we have a reason to be afraid... That it's reasonable to have these fears. I hate it so f*cking much.
En wanneer hou ons piekniek op die maan
- daar waar die son nie meer skyn nie,
kan ek jou donker toevlug wees
as die dag se hitte steek?
en sal jy 'n skadu gooi
oor my en my lieflike hart
ons kan saam met strome swem
as die branders oor ons breek.

Voor vrees jy weer oortrek
en my noodloos in die noodlot agter laat
in 'n eensame straat, van drome
en ander herrennerings wat by my *****
van liefde en so ook my verlede
wat jy veronderstel was om te tem.

En in die gaap van stilte tyding
waar die wysers ons vermy, sing
ek my eensaam lied en vra vir jou...

**** jy die golwe huil vir die koeelronde maan?
Sien jy die spore op die strand?
Waar vat die pad van verdwaaltenis my,
anders as na Jonker se hand.

Vanaand is ek verslae.
Die maan se kind trek pêrels en rol hulle oor die hartseer berge. Vanaand le ek en dryf, terwyl ek kyk na die maan, en die sterre...

sal jy my wolkombers wees
, my glimlag pille vir kersfees,
want ek is dalk te arm
, maar ryklik met jou geseen.

Sal jy my korrel sand , my rooikruis , my boei
want my hart is reeds verweer
, keur my voor ek ook
in die see uitbloei.
jake aller Aug 2019
I don't get it
I don’t Get It 
Mr. Speaker
I admit I don’t get it

How does prayer
Stop gun violence?
Prayer did not work in Texas.

26 people were murdered
 while praying.

God if he exists
Obviously does not care
About the poor people
Who died in his church
Because a mad man

Got a gun
And no they were not praying
To be delivered from death
No one deserves to die like this

So my prayer to you
Is simply this

Get off your rear end
Rally the country
And do something

About gun violence

That’s a prayer
I hope works

Dear Speaker Ryan
I want to tell you something

The dead don’t want your prayers
The dead don’t care that you pray for them
They are dead after all

And you and your so-called Christians
Are to blame
You refuse to do anything
Anything at all

to stop the carnage
In our streets

The U.S. is flooded with guns
And more are sold every day
Millions of people don’t have health coverage
Millions are barely surviving

And your answer
Our dear great compassionate Speaker
Your answer 
Is Prayer works
Government action does not
You act as if the gun violence
Plaguing our country

Was like the weather
Beyond our control
So here’s my prayer for you

And your colleagues
When you die
I pray that God
Will send you

And your friends
Straight to hell
Where Satan and his demons
Will use you for target practice

That’s my prayer to you
And as you know
Prayer works
 
Mr. President
You are wrong once again

You said that the tragic events 
in Texas
And Las Vegas were not “gun situations”

But rather were mental health problems
And that in Texas
if there had been no gun controls
Perhaps fewer people would have died

Mr. President

I know you a smart man

The smartest man in the world


According to you
So please contemplate this fact

According to the latest findings

It is a gun situation

In fact, the reason the U.S.

Has so many gun deaths 

Is because we have so many guns

45% of the worlds guns in fact
And 33 percent of the world’s shooters

Are Americans killing other Americans
And most of them 

the majority of them

Are White men killing other people
Not Islamic terrorists


Most are in fact

Self-proclaimed Christians
So Mr. President

When will you come to your senses
And do what 90 percent of the public wants


Enact nation wide effective gun controls?
And tell the NRA
 
they can take their blood money elsewhere

When Mr. President

When will you act

When will you take charge
And become a President of the people
Instead of the President of the NRA?
 Like (0)  0   


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Virginia Beach Massacre Never Again
Virgina Beach 

In a night of horrific scumbagery violence

Rarely seen in this jaded age of ours

Gone in one hour
In a spasm of horrific scumbagery violence
I
In just a few short minutes


Nothing more than that
 
In just a few moments

All 12 victims were murdered
By a disgruntled employee


Every one he knew was shot

And killed for no reason
Caused by the demons

His soul was so infected

Murderous demonic voices

All in his head

Screaming **** them all 
**** them all


Screaming none stop violence in his head

All the time
Causing him to start shooting 
everyone he saw


Regardless of who they were 
or where they were

Everyone must die 
screamed the demonic voices in his head
No one can be left alive


Everyone must die

Virtually all must die 
in his internal video game

Everyone must die


Regardless of who they were 
or where they were
Again just another day

Gone horribly wrong


All across America
In
every town

No where is safe anymore
Virgina Beach massacre

Virgina Beach massacre

Just another
Average night in America

An Active Shooter
scumbagery violence

Rarely seen

in this jaded wild world
Gone in one hour
In a spasm of horrific
scumbagery
In just a less than 30 short minutes

Nothing more than
In just a few short 30 moments

All the victims
were murdered while at their daily 
work
wrong place wrong time

act of a demotic deranged madman
voices screaming ****
The voices scream
death to all humans


All must be killed
The voices scream over and over
All must die now

Just another night in America
Land of the Brave
Home of the free
More Guns for Everyone in the World

The NRA has decided

That the best solution to global problem

Of rampant violence and crime everywhere
Is for the rest of the world


To become like the U.S.

Where anyone can buy a gun

As an armed society is a polite society’

And so the President i
s about to announce

A global campaign against gun control restrictions


As these restrictions
are an undue burden

On the rights of the US arms manufactures
To sell their guns 
everywhere in the world


As everyone wants what we have to sell

The best weapons in the world
Instead of trying to limit the damage


That unrestricted gun sales

Have done to the U.S.
Our President, our great leader

Wants to sell more guns

Everywhere in the world

And there are eager buyers

Lining up around the world

Eager to buy the best guns

The world has ever seen

We want to export

The gun madness

That has infected our society


Leaving behind so many dead bodies
The dead were not consulted

For they remain dead


They do not vote
They have no voice
For the guns silenced them

For good
 just as the guns intended

Just doing their gun thing after all

Humanity has evolved
From stones to arrows
To guns
T o nuclear, biological weapons

And the U.S.
 While proclaiming itself
A champion of Human Rights

Remains nothing 
but a country 
Of gun runners
 Merchants of death
And destruction
NRA Please Stop Talking

Another day
Another mass shooting

Another incident
of domestic terrorism


another gun man
killing people
because just because
 he can
and he wants to **** people

The NRA 
And their stooges

Come out

Flood the airways
With their noxious
Poisonous weasel words


The NRA says
Mass shootings

Are like the weather

You can’t control them
You can’t predict them

And you can’t prevent them

Just have to accept

It is all god’s will

Guns don’t **** people
IF guns were outlawed

Only outlaws
 would have guns

Only solution 
Is more guns

For everyone

An armed society
they say 
Is a polite society


Support for gun control
I is
socialist/communist/fascist/anti-Am  erican/anti-Christian nonsense
The beginning of tyranny


If only the Jews had guns

The holocaust would not have happened

Jesus would want us all
 
to be armed 
with machine guns
To protect us against the evil doers

It is the Christian thing to do


To blow away evil doers
With heavy arms


In America
Land of the free

Home of the brave
We can’t do anything


At all
About the mass carnage

Unleashed by madmen with guns

Who walk among us

Searching for their next victims
Any restriction of the right


To bear arms

Is tyranny at its worst
The nanny state run amuck

Talking about gun control

After a tragic event
Is

just not the appropriate time

We only need prayers

and meaningless thoughts

Universal background checks

Too onerous
Registering guns

Too burdensome

Researching gun violence

waste of tax payer money
banning military style assault weapons
r

Restricts my right 
to blow 
away

Bambi the deer
with a M16

the NRA will keep talking

talking and talking

preventing anything

from being done

and we will have another

Mass shooting event

Before the day is out

So my plead

This day
To the NRA
A
and their stoogies

Talk is cheap

Your comments
Are not helping

If you can’t

Be a part of the solution
Just stop talking

Please stop talking


And let the rest
Of us  figure out

How to stop

The madness in the streets
And stop the carnage


So NRA

Please
 just
 stop
 talking
 Now

military assault weapons 
are locked up

yet in America

the land of the free

home of the brave
 
everyone and his cousin

must have their gun

guns for everyone

cries the NRA

that’s the solution

The president
a 
and his supporters

deny the obvious
guns **** people
That’s all they do


it is a gun thing

you would not understand
Guns just do
what guns gonna do
**** people

Mr. President

You can take your words

your empty platitudes
Your empty promises
Your prayers 

straight to hell

and back

where with any luck

Satan will use you

as target practice
Chief of Staff You are Absurd

the President’s chief of staff
said the other day

it was absurd

to suggest that the president’s words

had anything to do

with recent mass shootings

yet is it absurd

to see the lengths

to which the President’s supporters
will twist and turn

spinning awa
y
the inconvenient truth
President Trump 
is a racist bigot con man

who some how
 conned his way

to become President
he call immigrants criminals, vermin, animals

invaders infesting the country
the El Paseo shooter 

said that he went to the border

to shoot the invaders

and said
 that he was a big Trump fan
it is not absurd
 to connect these two huge dots
The President’s words
 
have real world consequences

Yes Mr. Trump is a racist pig
a
and his supporters
 are being absurd

to suggest otherwise

 
36
 Jake Aller


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Jake Aller
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https://theworldaccordingtocosmos.com

John (Jake) Cosmos Aller

Novelist, Poet, Foreign Service Officer 

Tel: 703-436-1402
Email: authorjakecosmosaller@gmail.com

John (“Jake” ) Cosmos Aller is a novelist, poet and former Foreign Service officer having served 27 years with the U.S. State Department in ten countries - Antigua, Barbados, Dominica, Grenada,  Korea, India, St Kitts, St Lucia,  St Vincent, Spain and Thailand. and traveled to 45 countries during his career.  Jake has been an aspiring novelist for several years and has completed two novels, (Giant **** Spiders, and the Great Divorce) and is pursuing publication.  He has been writing poetry all his life and has published his poetry in electronic poetry forums, including All Poetry, Moon Café and Duane’s Poetree. (under the name Jake Lee).  He is looking forward to transitioning to his third career – full-time novelist and poet after completing his second career as a Foreign Service officer, and his first career as an educator overseas for six years upon completion of his Peace Corps service in South Korea. 



He served in a wide variety of positions running from Consular management, Fraud investigation and managing the consular overseas computer support desk, to economic and political reporting positions, international labor diplomacy, commercial diplomacy - promoting American business overseas- international organization diplomacy serving as the deputy permanent representative to the Economic and Social Commission for Asia and the Pacific, to management positions including program management, evaluation and contracting management, and environmental and science diplomacy including promoting renewable energy solutions.  He taught courses at the Foreign Service Institute and overseas in Bangladesh, India, Nepal and Kathmandu on consular fraud and consular Systems issues.

Senior program evaluator overseeing the implementation of the Department's evaluation program enabling the Department to develop a robust program evaluation system.
Coordinated training program training over 200 people in three years
Launched community of practice (CoP) web page (word press) with over 300 participants, greatly expanding the ability of State program evaluators to conduct program evaluations.  
Conducted meta-evaluation of completed foreign assistance evaluations insuring that the Department’s evaluations provided critical program improvement data.

Deputy Political Economic chief, - Bridgetown, Barbados 

Served as the deputy political economic chief covering political, economic, labor , environment and science and commercial diplomacy efforts in the Eastern Caribbean. 
Received labor officer of the year award for work in setting up regional training programs in occupational safety issues, and meeting with labor leaders in all seven countries greatly expanding our labor diplomacy outreach; 
Initiated two American Chambers of Commerce organizations, 
Conducted fund raising in support of  Embassy’s July fourth celebrations, the first time held in multiple countries, raising $100,000 over a three year period; 
Conducted training programs in all seven countries demonstrating to hundreds of locals on how to access U.S. Government  export financing programs . 

CA/FPP Deputy Training Team Coordinator – Washington, DC,
Taught consular fraud prevention courses at the Foreign Service Institute, and in Bangladesh, India, Nepal, Pakistan, greatly increasing knowledge and skills in fraud detection. 
Launched Lexus Nexus public record database access for consular officers worldwide, therefore dramatically improving consular fraud prevention efforts, 
Initiated first interagency Fraud Working Group coordinating fraud efforts among Departments of Homeland Security, State, and Labor.  
Received Cash Award.
Deputy Consular Chief, - Mumbai, India
Oversaw American citizen services, immigration visas in fifth largest operation in the world and fraud prevention programs greatly improving management of each.  
Supervised and mentored 15 junior officers and 50 local staff resulting in each unit receiving group cash awards. 
Received two cash Meritorious Honor awards for my work helping American citizens facing crises including helping American citizens whose family members died in India, or were arrested. 
Organized task force that dealt with aftermath of worst earthquake in 50 years.  

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My Poems (224)AutorankLinks
I don't get it
I don’t Get It
 

Mr. Speaker

I admit I don’t get it

How does praye

Stop gun violence?

Prayer did not work in Texas.

26 people were murdered
 while praying.
God if he exists

Obviously does not care

About the poor people

Who died in his church

Because a mad man

Got a gun
And no they were not praying

To be delivered from death

No one deserves to die like this

So my prayer to you

Is simply this
Get off your rear end

Rally the country
And do something


About gun violence
That’s a prayer
I hope works
© 2 hours ago, john Cosmos Aller      
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Dear Speaker Ryan

Dear Speaker Ryan
I want to tell you something

The dead don’t want your prayers

The dead don’t care that you pray for them

They are dead after all


And you and your so-called Christians

Are to blame

You refuse to do anything

Anything at all
to stop the carnage
In our streets

The U.S. is flooded with guns

And more are sold every day
Millions of people don’t have health coverage

Millions are barely surviving
And your answer


Our dear great compassionate Speaker
Your answer
 
Is Prayer works

Government action does not

You act as if the gun violence

Plaguing our country

Was like the weather

Beyond our control

So here’s my prayer for you

And your colleagues
When you die

I pray that God

Will send you
And your friends

Straight to hell
Where Satan and his demons

Will use you for target practice

That’s my prayer to you

And as you know
Prayer works
 
another gun poem © 2 hours ago, john Cosmos Aller      
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It’s a Gun Situation, Mr. President

Mr. President
You are wrong once again

You said that the tragic events 
in Texas
And Las Vegas were not “gun situations”

But rather were mental health problems
And that in Texas
if there had been no gun controls
Perhaps fewer people would have died

Mr. President

I know you a smart man

The smartest man in the world


According to you
So please contemplate this fact

According to the latest findings

It is a gun situation

In fact, the reason the U.S.

Has so many gun deaths 

Is because we have so many guns

45% of the worlds guns in fact
And 33 percent of the world’s shooters

Are Americans killing other Americans
And most of them 

the majority of them

Are White men killing other people
Not Islamic terrorists


Most are in fact

Self-proclaimed Christians
So Mr. President

When will you come to your senses
And do what 90 percent of the public wants


Enact nation wide effective gun controls?
And tell the NRA
 
they can take their blood money elsewhere

When Mr. President

When will you act

When will you take charge
And become a President of the people
Instead of the President of the NRA?
another gun poem © 2 hours ago, john Cosmos Aller      
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← Previous1 2 345…75Next →
Virginia Beach Massacre Never Again
Virgina Beach 

In a night of horrific scumbagery violence

Rarely seen in this jaded age of ours

Gone in one hour
In a spasm of horrific scumbagery violence
I
In just a few short minutes


Nothing more than that
 
In just a few moments

All 12 victims were murdered
By a disgruntled employee


Every one he knew was shot

And killed for no reason
Caused by the demons

His soul was so infected

Murderous demonic voices

All in his head

Screaming **** them all 
**** them all


Screaming none stop violence in his head

All the time
Causing him to start shooting 
everyone he saw


Regardless of who they were 
or where they were

Everyone must die 
screamed the demonic voices in his head
No one can be left alive


Everyone must die

Virtually all must die 
in his internal video game

Everyone must die


Regardless of who they were 
or where they were
Again just another day

Gone horribly wrong


All across America
In
every town

No where is safe anymore
Virgina Beach massacre

Virgina Beach massacre

Just another
Average night in America

An Active Shooter
scumbagery violence

Rarely seen

in this jaded wild world
Gone in one hour
In a spasm of horrific
scumbagery
In just a less than 30 short minutes

Nothing more than
In just a few short 30 moments

All the victims

were murdered while at their daily 
work
wrong place wrong time
act of a demotic deranged madman

voices screaming ****
The voices scream
death to all humans


All must be killed
The voices scream over and over

All must die now

Just another night in America
Land of the Free

Home of the free
another gun poem © 2 hours ago, john Cosmos Aller      
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More Guns for Everyone

More Guns for Everyone in the World

The NRA has decided

That the best solution to global problem

Of rampant violence and crime everywhere
Is for the rest of the world


To become like the U.S.

Where anyone can buy a gun

As an armed society is a polite society’

And so the President i
s about to announce

A global campaign against gun control restrictions


As these restrictions
are an undue burden

On the rights of the US arms manufactures
To sell their guns 
everywhere in the world


As everyone wants what we have to sell

The best weapons in the world
Instead of trying to limit the damage


That unrestricted gun sales

Have done to the U.S.
Our President, our great leader

Wants to sell more guns

Everywhere in the world

And there are eager buyers

Lining up around the world

Eager to buy the best guns

The world has ever seen

We want to export

The gun madness

That has infected our society


Leaving behind so many dead bodies
The dead were not consulted

For they remain dead


They do not vote
T
hey have no voice
For the guns silenced 
them
For good
 just as the guns intended


Just doing their gun thing after all
Humanity has evolved

From stones to arrows

To guns
T o nuclear, biological weapons

And the U.S.
 While proclaiming itself

A champion of Human Rights
Remains nothing 

but a country
 
Of gun runners
 Merchants of death

And destruction
another gun poem © 2 hours ago, john Cosmos Aller      
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NRA Quit Talking

NRA Please Stop Talking

Another day
Another mass shooting

Another incident
of domestic terrorism


another gun man
killing people
because just because
 he can
and he wants to **** people

The NRA 
And their stooges

Come out

Flood the airways
With their noxious
Poisonous weasel words


The NRA says
Mass shootings

Are like the weather

You can’t control them
You can’t predict them

And you can’t prevent them

Just have to accept

It is all god’s will

Guns don’t **** people
IF guns were outlawed

Only outlaws
 would have guns

Only solution 
Is more guns

For everyone

An armed society
they say 
Is a polite society


Support for gun control
I is
socialist/communist/fascist/anti-Am  erican/anti-Christian nonsense
The beginning of tyranny


If only the Jews had guns

The holocaust would not have happened

Jesus would want us all
 
to be armed 
with machine guns
To protect us against the evil doers

It is the Christian thing to do


To blow away evil doers
With heavy arms


In America
Land of the free

Home of the brave
We can’t do anything


At all
About the mass carnage

Unleashed by madmen with guns

Who walk among us

Searching for their next victims
Any restriction of the right


To bear arms

Is tyranny at its worst
The nanny state run amuck

Talking about gun control

After a tragic event
Is

just not the appropriate time

We only need prayers

and meaningless thoughts

Universal background checks

Too onerous
Registering guns

Too burdensome

Researching gun violence

waste of tax payer money
banning military style assault weapons
r

Restricts my right 
to blow 
away

Bambi the deer
with a M16

the NRA will keep talking

talking and talking

preventing anything

from being done

and we will have another

Mass shooting event

Before the day is out

So my plead

This day
To the NRA
A
and their stoogies

Talk is cheap

Your comments
Are not helping

If you can’t

Be a part of the solution
Just stop talking

Please stop talking


And let the rest
Of us  figure out

How to stop

The madness in the streets
And stop the carnage


So NRA

Please
 just
 stop
 talking
 Now
another gun stop © 2 hours ago, john Cosmos Aller      
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← Previous12 3 456…75Next →
guns **** People
Guns **** people
g
Guns do **** people
it is not mental illness

it is not video games
it is not a million other things

it is simply this
a gun is a weapon

a weapon designed to **** people

That is what guns do
guns don’t care

they do as they are told
If you pull the trigger
t
They will **** the victim

that is what guns do

that is why 
in a civilized society

military assault weapons 
are locked up

yet in America

the land of the free

home of the brave
 
everyone and his cousin

must have their gun

guns for everyone

cries the NRA

that’s the solution

The president
a 
and his supporters

deny the obvious
guns **** people
That’s all they do


it is a gun thing

you would not understand
Guns just do
what guns gonna do
**** people

Mr. President

You can take your words

your empty platitudes
Your empty promises
Your prayers 

straight to hell

and back

where with any luck

Satan will use you

as target practice
another gun poem © 2 hours ago, john Cosmos Aller      
 Like (0)  0   

Chief of Staff You are Absurd

the President’s chief of staff
said the other day

it was absurd

to suggest that the president’s words

had anything to do

with recent mass shootings

yet is it absurd

to see the lengths

to which the President’s supporters
will twist and turn

spinning awa
y
the inconvenient truth
President Trump 
is a racist bigot con man

who some how
 conned his way

to become President
he call immigrants criminals, vermin, animals

invaders infesting the country
the El Paseo shooter 

said that he went to the border

to shoot the invaders

and said
 that he was a big Trump fan
it is not absurd
 to connect these two huge dots
The President’s words
 
have real world consequences

Yes Mr. Trump is a racist pig
a
and his supporters
 are being absurd

to suggest otherwise
another gun poem © 2 hours ago, john Cosmos Aller      
 Like (1)  1   

Mr. President Words Matter

Mr. President Words Matter

Mr President

Words matter

your words matter

your words of hate

your words of division
your words 
calling fellow human beings 
****, vermin,

invaders, animals 
matter

they matter a lot

and is it little wonder

that people listen 

to the hate you sprew forth

and some deranged people

take action 
on your call 
for action
against the invaders 

on the border


they march to the border

to **** the invaders
your words matter

Mr. President


and your false words
of regret
fool no one

the damage has been done

the hate has been spread

just as you intended

and you 
have the gall 

to call yourself
A Christian
you are the anti-Christ

you are not a Christian

so please quite pretending

to be what you are not

please man up

accept your responsibility

set things right

apologize

the dead though

don’t need your prayers

they need action

they need leadership

and you are the president

so please start acting

like you give a ****

and if you do so

perhaps 
you will find

people will follow you
but please
 quite the words 
of hate


the words that hurt
and quit calling immigrants
 invaders 
and vermin
 

they are human beings

they are deserving of respect
this I ask of you 
In Jesus’s name
even though I am not a Christian
another day, another shooting

Another Day Another Shooting
another day in paradise
just another day in Americal
Land of the free
Home of the brave

and gunshots,
lots of gunshots
more guns for all
cries the NRA

yes another day
another gun battle
another white man
who just wants to ****

the President sends his condolences
Thanks the law enforcement 
for an incredible job well done
It was horrible

Hate has no place
in our country
and we will take of it 

and do what ever we can do
condolences 
nothing but false words
empty words 

lots of things to do
it is mental illness problem

but he fails to mention
the words gun at al
not at all
and tomorrow and tomorrow

but he at least finally 
said 
hate has no role in country
nothing but prime BS
in my humble opinion

he did not mention 
white supremacy
his rhetoric had nothing
nothing to do 
about this at all

and so tomorrow
I will turn on the TV
and we see
nothing at all

and the dead
will remain dead
the guns will fire again

nothing will be done
welcome to America
land of the free
home of the brave
poems about gun violence
Madness Jul 2014
Alles, was bleibt, ist ein Riss, genau in der Mitte des Seins.

Lass mich nicht die sein, die an allen Standpunkten
teilhaben muss, nicht die, die mit Stift und Worten
Angst zu bekämpfen vermag, nicht die, die sich im-
mer brav rechts auf den Weg hält, die, deren Blick
immer Fremdens Füße begutachten, nicht die, die
sich ohne eine Tasse Koffein wachhalten versucht,
die, die überhaupt nur zu den traurigen Songs tanzt,
die, deren Herz sich nur schwer erwärmen lässt,
die, mit den melancholischen Augen den Raum er-
misst

Someone taught me to be me -
Es sind die Kämpfe mit meinem Selbst,
die sich in meine Haut gebrannt haben,
die Angst vor höheren Mächten, die
meine Augenringe abzeichnen,
es ist das große Vielleicht von dir,
dass mich zittern lässt.
Victoria Feb 2019
Jy hou van die manier waarop sy jou naam troosvol uitgespreek het na 'n swaar dag wat jy gehad het.
Jy is lief vir *** sy jou bekommernis verlig met elke woord wat sy sê dat jy nie presies kan vind *** sy daarin slaag om dinge wat jy nie kan uitdruk nie, uit te druk.
Jy hou van *** haar teenwoordigheid jou op jou reënerige dae troos en warmte gee.
Jy hou van haar klappergeur wat in jou kar hang nadat sy saam jou iewers heen gery het.
Jy hou daarvan om die geluid van haar lag te **** wat die leegheid van jou wêreld vul, soos simfonie jou uit die leemte haal.
Jy is lief vir *** sy gedigte geskryf het wat jy altyd weggevoer het, *** hulle gewys het hoeveel sy jou liefgehad het.
Jy hou van die manier *** haar klein vingers met joune verbind is, *** dit jou laat voel het dat jy die is wêreld waarna sy draai.
Jy is lief vir *** hierdie woorde die helderheid van die sterre diffundeer en *** hulle in die konstellasies hierbo vervang.
Jy hou van die manier waarop sy haar lippe saggies die besonderhede van jou gesig spoor soos 'n veer wat sy tydelik in die golwe van die wind laat dryf.
Jy hou van die geluid van elke strook van die potlood wat sy gemaak het toe sy die kruiswoorde wat jy op jou tafel gelos het, opgelos het, en besef dat dit nooit reg was nie, maar om na haar te kyk, was 'n antwoord self.
Jy is lief vir *** sy alles vir jou gemaak het, so erg dat dit jou laat verdrink het.

Jy is lief vir die idee van liefde wat hierin gevorm word.
This is in Afrikaans***
Awkward Dec 2013
Die die die
The voices whisper

But I ignore them
& keep going on my way

Die die die
They say louder

But I just begin to walk faster
They won't win

Die die die
They're screaming now

I begin to run
I don't want to die just yet

Die die die
They scream every second of the day

But once I start running
I won't stop

17 years old
& I refuse to let these voices win

I'll keep running until they give up
Even if it's forever

Die die die
They scream

No I don't want to
I scream back

I've beaten the voices
They won't win

I've finally won this race
& my life is my trophy
Antipodean Apr 2015
I write poems in hope that they will live on forever
Because someday I will die

I try to tell my daughter I love her every day, I call my dad once a week and try to stay in contact with my friends
Because someday I will die

I go to work and collect that check making sure a part of it goes to life insurance
Because someday I will die

I wonder the streets at night, climb mountains during the day and try to take it all in
Because someday I will die

I try to get to know you all better
Because someday I will die

I want to understand your point of view
Because someday I will die

I read poetry
Because someday I will die

I drink Crown, smoke a tobacco pipe and eat the occasional steak
Because someday I will die

I meditate and contemplate the meaning of life
Because someday I will die

I love and hope and care and pray
Because someday I will die

I rant, shake my fist and express my discontent
Because someday I will die

I clean my house, take out the trash, do the dishes and wear clean underwear
Because someday I will die

You are reading this poem
Because some day I will die

We fight to stay alive
Because we do not want today to be the day we die
Emma May 2023
Ich bin die, die du auf der Straße triffst, begeistert grüßt und nicht vergisst, was wir gestern schrieben.
Lachend liegen wir uns in den Armen. Es gibt so viel zu erzählen, Worte überschlagen sich. Du sagst: „Wo ist nur die Zeit geblieben? Ich muss los, ich seh dich morgen.“ Drehst dich nochmal um und winkst mir zu.

Es ist schon spät, du seufzt leise. „Mach dir bitte keine Sorgen, wenn ich mich nicht melde. Ist grad viel los. Zu viel Stress, zu wenig Zeit. Du kennst das ja, bist live dabei. Nur kann ich grad nicht mehr.“
Und ich bin die, die du auf der Straße triffst, besorgt begrüßt und nicht vergisst, zu fragen, wie diese Sache eigentlich ausging.
Deine Worte sind Balsam für meine vernarbte Seele.
Es tut gut, wieder mit dir zu reden. Wir schmunzeln über alte Zeiten, vergangene Tage und gehn‘ weiter unsere Wege.

Es dauert lange, bis die nächste Nachricht kommt.
Es dauert länger, bis die Antwort folgt.
Doch ich bin die, die du auf der Straße triffst, zögernd noch grüßt und schon vergisst, was ich dir erzähle, während die Worte noch zwischen uns hängen.
Unsre Leben ziehen aneinander vorbei, wir sind nicht mehr im Takt. Die Sätze kommen abgehackt und mühsam.
Du bist gehetzt, denn das Leben wartet nicht. Prioritäten sind gesetzt – und ich bin nicht dabei.

Trotzdem ein: „Lass mal wieder bald was machen und so reden wie früher.“ Wir vereinbaren ein Treffen, von dem wir beide wissen, dass es nie stattfinden wird.
Du siehst mir nicht in die Augen und ich kenne die Wahrheit, nicke traurig zu einer Lüge, die nur noch du aufrechterhältst.
Denn ich bin die, die du auf der Straße triffst, schon nicht mehr grüßt und eigentlich schon lange vergessen hast.
Westley Barnes Oct 2014
When you die
People you will have never met
will give your family condolences

When you die
Spurned former lovers will
send delicate flowers

When you die
People will be summoned to
make you look beautiful

The way that you felt on nights
you enjoyed being yourself the most

When you die
Cautious children will cry
without ever learning
of your conflicting views on children

When you die
They might hang the church wall
with pictures of weddings
and graduations

When you die
You may not be alone

When you die
You might be the first and
the others will all follow

Having made no preparations of their own.

When you die
They might play your favorite song
or they might play a more "appropriate" song
as they lead you away
and some people will be scolding themselves
about forgetting where they parked

When you die
They may have forgotten that you didn't
believe in the afterlife
Quotations from Leviticus notwithstanding

When you die
You could be the the one who made
the most important impact on your daughter or son's life
You might have their life worth living

When you die
It may be to no applause

When you die
It may inspire your mother's gynecologist
to visit a church for the first time in almost half a decade
and feel genuine empathy for the rituals of human dignity
regardless of the tribe

When you die
none of your siblings may attend
the rain might pore on your last parade
and people might go home early

When you die
Everybody may just have a great time
heads beaming, shoulders high

When you die
It might be the longest day of Summer
with waterfights in the park near you were born.

When you die
You will have lived to see
all your ambitions come alive
Even if that penpusher "Reality"
explicitly states otherwise.
Persephone in Greek mythology is the daughter of Zeus and Demeter, and is queen of Hades, the underworld.
Legend has it that her mother went to Hades to try and persuade her to return to Mount Olympus, with no success.

— The End —