justice
  
noun*  jus·tice \ˈjə-stəs\

the quality of being just; righteousness, equitableness, or moral rightness.*


I woke up at midnight to the sound of a gunshot. I was beyond scared to look at my window and see what’s happening outside. But I gathered all my courage and got out of my house to see policemen and their vehicles, to see many people emerging to take a look at what’s happening. And then I saw a dead body, a man with a cardboard sign saying he was a drug pusher. It felt like my world dropped at that moment, I couldn’t sleep that night because all I could hear was the sound “BANG!”. The next morning when I went outside I was confused that the people not bothered, that they acting like nothing happened, that they did not care. I asked one guy if he knew what happened last night, and he said yes. I asked him if he was even terrified, if these killings are normal, if the sound that I will be hearing every night is a gunshot, and he said, “Don’t you worry. A gunshot means justice.”


A gunshot means justice. It means if you hear it in the middle of night, it doesn’t matter if that someone is a person you know, it doesn’t matter if you know that person is innocent, because that gunshot means the thing we’ve all been seeking for. It means you don’t have to be scared that people are getting killed everyday without any due process because it’s for the better. It means watching your fellow people die but you have to be happy because they’re bad people, they deserve to be killed and it’s for the country. It’s justice, we’re killing criminals who deserve it. And we promise, innocent people will not be a part of this. But does justice mean a teenager getting shot by the police, and it turns out he wasn’t the one they were supposed to ****? Does justice mean a 12 year old girl getting shot by a stray bullet when she was about to go to church? Does it mean innocent people dying, shattering a teenager’s dreams, taking away the lives of children? A gunshot doesn’t mean justice, especially to the victims. When we live in a Catholic country where people say we’re supposed to follow the bible but when it comes to this they all suddenly forget about God, when people shame you for loving someone because it’s a sin but we’re failing to remember one of the commandments of God, “thou shall not ****”. When we always say we need to forgive people, but drug users and pushers don’t deserve second chances, they deserve death. When they’re asking for help but instead of giving it they pointed a gun to their heads. They said this will keep our nation safe, but does safe mean being frightened to walk at night because you can get killed without even doing something, when the possibility that someone you know will die is too high, when you know that every night another person dies? But all they say is that what we have to do this, to be able to achieve justice.  


But how can justice prevail when the thief who stole money from us got out of jail and is now living happily? When the dictator who stole and killed our people was considered a hero? When the top criminals of our country are now free? When the rich can be given a second chance but the poor gets shot instantly? How can justice prevail when our human rights are being destroyed and forgotten?


justice
noun  jus·tice \ˈjə-stəs\
rightfulness or lawfulness, as of a claim or title; justness of ground or reason

There are millions of dictionaries in the world. And all of them have the word justice. Maybe they have the same, or different meanings. But the word justice suddenly becomes missing when we talk about the victims of the killings.

(k.b)

Two sparkle at xciting find.
Joy, relief, wishes flood our mind.
Reality numbed by ecstasy of find
Hardship, struggle, desires for now behind

Rightfulness of find, reality’s duality
Realization of self, fighting morality
The opportunity loss creates uncertainty.
The opportunity gain, creates possibility

How to capitalize on this potential
Designed improvements appear preferential
Decided, we proceed unconventional
We proceed like natural

Blades of diamonds remove the rough
Painstakingly disregarding, unwanted stuff
Transformation, tough
Mindful, not to lose a bough

Rough turn sparkle, every time
Faceted gem’s birth, sublime  
Artistry creates, perfect rhyme
This treasure set in time

Most beautiful combination
This magnificent creation
Testament of devotion
Evokes amazing emotion  

Bestowed, this incredible treasure
Brings about untold pleasure
Value, without measure
Diamond forever, ours to treasure

To be Right or wrong?
is it not perspective or not?
Peers say I am brave,
through they do not
seem to be so!

I dare to be different,
and it is welcome,
though no-one is himself
different from what is,
expected from him.

Such is the way,
that man must reign
all expect change but
all remain constant!

Alas I must change,
to what I must be....

A  night time blue
Playing tricks on my tongue
With the raspy echo
of breath,
Turning with my cheek and into
It's nose again.


A shallow hymn of loneliness
Satisfies my heavy head.


Heavy with a day's desire
Giving triumph to the night
For in the night,
I die again.

I close my eyes
My heavy eyes
Right to the end of time. But
As any time
It's time again
For might to open wide.

As each lash upon each lid
Had swollen arms
Outreached for decay,
A brightened abyss
Of rightfulness
Leaks forward to the day.

Some are silent with the longing desire to be perfect, whole with out sin. Others are loudly proclaiming and defaming the lord their creator, where have they been? To each their own journey is spent looking high and low for that which is under their nose deep within.

Searching, lurching forward to a new day, a new way to travel to the path beneath their feet while holding close to the chest all their fears covered by rightfulness and truth.

Still longing in silence the heart is flesh and the mind untrained , a train wreck for humans. I say tame the heart , bridle the mind, hold the tongue, knock and the door will be opened. In slumbers utopia remember to relax, breathe in the elixir of the silent desires intoxicated with in the lure for the lasting cure so pure ponder it you must.

The buttons
Popped
As she pressed
Her lavender lips

Against those velvet
Diamond dogs,

Her swearing that
They were mine and
Mine only

Midnight - Once it
Passes through the cold -
Shows a color that
Only true men and
Women know

Ones wishing
To see
Their best

And their worst

Rightfulness
Royalty
Righteousness

These are
The things

The mighty forget
And the low
Crave

We billion new
**** on the dew
Of singing nightingales
Dressed all in blue

Each note of truth
Held
In Her song

Where all along
We thought we
Actually belonged

Son's being
Son's and father's
Holding the secret,

"There never
Was one," he moans.

Tears sink in
Sand scorched lands
By no hand
But man

All these
Unnumbered graveyards

Sphinxes whose
Riddles break
Your favorite cookie jar

Seeing
That all this is,

Is a thing - in our end - You
Grip with fear unlimited

The old
Say that
The Majesties hold

The ear of
One billion writhing

The writhing, as well,
Hold the minds
Of the Majesties

One and the same
None with no name

Some forgotten

All remembered

Where all and
One

Are the
Same

Miserable

Same.

When my father’s hands touch me
I could feel the spirits of the past
When my father’s hands embrace me
It feels like the whole world is hugging me back

My father’s hands are not soft
There you could find every drop of sweat
Because he earned his bread
By working and not lying

My father’s hands  are not sinful
They hide the rightfulness
of everything he has done until now

My father’s hands have taught me
to love the freedom
My father’s hands have shown me
how to find the northern star
and that every way I took
could bring me back home

My father’s hands have taught me
To respect people by their efforts not their wealth
My father’s hands have taught me
To be honest and sincere

My father’s hands have taught me
To love the mornings
Because the day doesn’t start at noon
My father’s hands have taught me
To love the evening
Because every warrior needs his rest

My father’s hands gave me
My first allowance
My father’s hands gave me
My first lesson of life

My father’s hands were there
When I have made the first step
My father’s hands were
There when I first fall down
and every other time after that

And when I feel scared
I always look for my father’s hands
Because in my father’s hands
It’s the safest place to be

You're the Apple of my eye, the laces of my shoes, the breath of calm after an anxiety attack or heavy cry. You're the hand on my leg telling me I'm safe, the magnet which magnetised the needle in my homemade compass. You're the net of a dreamcatcher, the final **** after a long and exhausting hunt. You're the sensation of being warm and naked after a cold and wet day out in the snow, you're the report card with straight A's. You're there toe beans of a cute cat and the contagious laughter of a newborn too naive to realize that everyone in the room is only laughing because they keep laughing harder, the positive feedback loop exhausted by cheeks too tired to smile and a diaphragm too used to move.

The sensation of being tucked in, but not too tight. The phenomenon of waking up in your bed because you passed out on the couch and your dad carried you in.

You're the dream where you fall in love and everything is perfect and great, but when you wake up you carry over that charm into your day to day life and everything starts to go your way. You're the fortune cookie with a fortune of the numbers 3,4,8,17,20,26,38,48,70 and the phrase saying "your long held-onto grievances will vanish soon, you will find your peace."

You are the learning, growing pupil of the Master of the Way. You are the concept of fairness and rightfulness, of non-ownership and laissez-faire government and home. You are the beacon, cooking a warm meal at the stove, so tuned into her world. You are the day dream, where the ordinary melts and the extraordinary takes over our surroundings and enchants our creativity while boosting and fanning that little flame in our hearts that keeps us going.

You are the first kiss of morning, with morning breath so stagnant from an unexpected ****** release at 4 am and an explosion of positive neurotransmitters, the development of trust in each other's arms. You are the attempt to synchronize heartbeats in a very tight spooning position. You paint the image of our energies moving in complex shapes before entering the other, circling inside and maturing, then entering back into the other. The ouroboros of emotion and trust and love.

You're what I see when I close my eyes, and you're what I want to see when I open them. You're the concept of someone I can truly let be. The independent, growing college girl with her whole life adventure ahead of her.

You're the angel on my shoulder which speaks to me words of reason and progress and helps me ignore this rotten goblin on the other shoulder. You're the voice I hear say "I really like them, honestly," when I see tracers in my vision.

You're a lighthouse in my mind. One safe thought, one place I can escape to for safety. But that's not really you, it's just my concept of you and my memories. But sometimes just that thought is enough to fuel it, because I'll be thinking of you more than I actually see you and I need to find the best way to deal with both.

I don't want to put you on some unreasonable pedestal and I don't think I have. I only truly mean like a third of what I said about the poetic "you are"s, because it would be unreasonably romantic to truly believe most of that. But I believe it in spirit and that's what matters.

You're the voice whispering me to sleep, and the reason I don't always have to wear ear plugs any more. You're the person I imagine running their fingers up my arms and into my hair when I watch ASMR vidoes. You trigger my ASMR and almost no one before you has been so successful in doing so. My body responds to you naturally in burst and quivers of euphoria and satisfaction, the curiousity of how you can pleasure and tingle me and how I can please you.

Rubbing your back and shoulders, popping your back ever so slightly, exploring the surface of your skin in every area. I want to learn and map your topography and dimensions and watch those change gradually over time as you mature into this yogi goddess with such a brain it's astounding.

You inspire me. You're such a hard worker and you're so much further than your circumstances could have put you. You're so strong Zo. Even if you feel like you're breaking sometimes, you're handling the pressure better than I ever could.

I'm grateful for my time with you, but I'm even more grateful for the peace you've helped bring to my tumultuous mind.

I hope you're getting just the most wonderful sleep. Dreaming of forgotten kindoms, songs never heard, places and euphorias never felt or synchronized with. You're a good person.

Andrew, my beloved Lion

Bring to me the Full Sorrow of Compassion
For  the mantle of my heart

Walk  as  Royalty of Reverence for this coronation of  bright End

Brave the dying candle of an old flame
With the Gift of Privacy for the Rightfulness of
Single Breath

Turn the mirror of witnessing  from those I love  most,
that the marks of unbearable are held back from the place of shame.

And the burn...........
Peace Star

Well? It's a deep subject.

i find myself climbing a ladder of sorts
up and up and up
unending
            steps
constantly moving
but going
   nowhere

why am i put on this ladder
is it the ladder of life?
   death?
or is it just an imagined thing
i have chosen to prove
   i am poetic?
because poetry always consists of a struggle
a struggle of life
   of wanting
     of being
       of belonging

which i am none of the above

i've given up wanting
my being is already established
   belonging?
i don't need to belong
actually
i loathe to belong
to anything
or anyone

so... why do i picture a ladder?
symbolic of an upward climb?
when all i want is to be grounded?
which i figure i AM
but maybe i am
                 NOT
o' befuddled mind of mine
what are you trying to tell me?
why must i climb this ladder
which undoubtedly offers a future to me
of vast openness and unending happiness?
when what i want
is assumedly right here with me now?

which leads me to question
should i question my vision
or accept it
as a vision of rightfulness
which stands to be unquestionably
true?

WHEN THOUGHTS ABOUT IT FLOW IN YOUR MIND PINGPONG,

AND YOU GET CONCERNED ABOUT GETTING IT WRONG,

ITS RIGHTFULNESS IS NOTHING BUT WAITING FOR YOU TO COME TOWARDS IT HEADLONG!

Come, explore my open ports & feast on my yeast-free catch-of-the-day. I promise you 10 bad experiences for each really bad experience. Turn offs: hard popcorn, leaky ships, ******* on acid. Likes: old men, lesbian heart-ache, working toilets, chinks who love too much. New film stock will destroy current video-tape-free recording. Nitrate film on spools is the wave of the future. By A.D. 2109, millions of water-retaining fat women with big bones, slow metabolic rates & hyperthyroidismic activity will waddle into lines for food that's thrilling! Are you tired of having your **** *** slammed by ermine, supremacistically **** gay lesbian ******* who don't know how to differentiate between rightfulness & wrongfulness? Well? Well is a deep-well subject that opens the gates to our loving life on the cusp of cuts cruelly intended to cause death by blood deficit. Don't paint me into corners or back me off cliffs. I'm ultra-serious when I'm skinning snakes & milking mink. To ****** celebrate an Ishtari Easter with bold Easterners, I bloodily eat ****** blooded eggs bloodied.

Are you tired of having your **** *** slammed by white supremacist **** gay lesbian ******* who don't know how to differentiate between rightfulness & wrongfulness? Well? It's a deep subject.