They love the metal
More than the laughter
Blue fades from the sky
Red lifelines run high
Holding on to white bars
Gun spirits won't die
Bloodstains on a field of stars
Tears roll from my eyes
They love the powder
The smell of smokes curl
Mom's love their children
Reading that last text from their
Baby girl "don't cry"
They love the
'Click
The status and valor
Dad loved his son to death
And buried him next to grandma
They love the power
Full action
Machine God-given Sputter
Reporters console the grieving families
One after another
They love the Second Amendment
Closer than marriage
On a scroll that they worship
Rebrand and misinterpret
Some sad excuse nationalists
They think they are a patriots
Blue red and white
Sister lost her closest friend
To America's discharge
Guns for the fight
Against the innocent
We have lost the will
We have hit rock bottom
Brother dear brother
Stars fall from the half flags
How many dead?
Seems Gun spirits won't die!
Cause they love their
Hot Metal...
As much as cold bodies.
Those that feel the pull and feel the responsibility to their fellow human beings aside from our country will rise to the occasion. Laugh in the face of ignorance. No more tiptoeing and pandering to apologists. Everyone has an idea of how others should live. We need to draw the line at pain.
Oftentimes,
People don't really want to hear the Truth
They don't want you to
Be authentic with them.
Then, we wonder,
Where the Violence comes from?
Why is there
A "Heroin epidemic"
"Hey, man,"
"Why did that guy kill himself?"
It's because
We prefer
To bury our heads
In the sand.
Just because it's suggested doesn't make it right.
In the hands of teachers, other staff.
What other purpose could this directly serve.
To defend our institutions.
To further endanger those around.
The knowledge instilled from book to teacher a different practice.
Now holstered, hidden in the drawer of a desk.

What goes through the mind of the victim that's been bullied.

What training can be set in place to stop the next bulletin.

Shooting across the screen.

The kid in 10th grade that carries the weight of the world.

Sitting all day staring out the window.

Mother in hospice.

A fragile thought swallowed by deafening silence.

It no longer becomes a listening session of encouragement.

The after school sessions of comfort sped up.

Another bulletin of hysteria fired across the screen.

Teacher student affair.

15 year old student found with 42 year old man.

When in reality she was seeking help due to a troubled home.

Afraid to sleep knowing the door would creep open.

Leaving her terrified to close her eyes. The relationship between step daughter and father without boundary.


Where's the specialty training for those who care.

The proper resources that extend beyond that of a pamphlet.

The dark skin kids that's made fun of because they look different.

Stereotyped as aggressive.
The dope boys, the baby mamas.

The light skin girl that's made to feel inferior because she turns red with every hit.

Her hair is longer than theirs so she wants to cut it.

Aggressively forgetting all the beauty she possesses.

The active shooter managing to make it pass the metal detectors.

Rallying the attention he didn't get at home.

The debate carries on across every wall except the right ones
Brother Jimmy Mar 20
The head, bowed
The sucking silence
Those fingers clenched
To stave off violence
 
The face obscured
By cloak and hood
The hunger pangs
The lack of food
 
The knowing gaze
That pierces through
To very soul
The target true
 
The sound erupts
With sudden horror
The echoes bounce
Off walls and floor
 
And as you cross
To yonder shore
Wending your way
With scythe as oar

The mist grows thick
The view is strange
Your focus narrows
Your thoughts derange

And now you know,
With ransom pawned,
Your debts erased,
What lies beyond.
Prisons are heartless, they lack feeling and soul
Bare stone walls and steel bars so cold
Anger and hate runs coarse through its veins
Violence and hurt are familar pains

Tensions are high as I walk through this place
The stress and the strain are clear on my face
20 long years I have suffered to date
Feeling bitter and lost, I despair of my fate

Time stands still in this house of stone
Hundreds of people, yet we all feel alone
They stare at me coldly through eyes so black
I stare straight ahead, I dare turn my back

I'm no killer, no bad man, nor even a yob
This place that cages us is merely my job
For they are many and we are few
They dont call me by name, they call me a screw
Classy J Jun 2016
Jingling and hammering, lights out, better learn them manners boy before you get hung up like a banner. What you looking at, do we have a problem? Do you think yourself a lovely prince, but really you’re just a vicious ugly goblin. Stalking me, boy you must keep your distance from me, curtain has been called as you can probably see. You say you love me, but all we were in the end was a bunch of actors, and the way you be looking at me is like a hungry raptor. Just a piece of meat, nothing more than a dessert like treat, the tension is growing and I just can't stand your lusting heat. Lights out and I’m so terrified that you are near to me, it's like I’m having a nightmare in Elm Street because you’re really starting to scare me. This was only a play, but you keep on playing, foam is coming out your mouth like a rapid dog, and i just keep on praying. Oh lord help me, I’m too young to get run down by this sick freak, feeling like bunny to a lion, just too damn weak. Lights out, crying out, needing help, running without out destination, just longing to get away, because it's not a good idea to stay stationed.

Lights out, get out the boxing gloves because this is going to be one hell of a fight. Are you all right, because here comes Freddy, get ready, running in a maze no time to run back for your teddy. Demented, clown’s is this IT? Friday the 13th; aint no escaping this shit. Oh the horror, oh the terror, coming at me through many different layers. Its not just men, it can also be women, twisted sickness of those that didn't grow up healthy in their dens. Life sentences of dark malicious sins, never ever will I give in, if I die I just hope I make it into heaven. Very conspicuous of these villains and villainesses on trial, we need to be putting down these rapid dogs that are so vile. Turning point, second chances, they made their choice, no need to let them out, these freaks don't deserve any more chances. Sorry if that coincides with your stance, I am sorry that I don't prance along this debate because to me this argument isn't worth a dance.

Lights out, crying out, needing help, running without destination, just longing to get away because it's not a good idea to stay stationed. Lights out, get out the boxing gloves because this is going to be one hell of a fight. After everything is said and done I will be the one who will win, play all your games like Saw and keep your mischievous grin but at the end of the day you won't win. Lights out, but my light won't die out, this is reality, all you got is one shot to get out. Leave while there is still time, whatever the situation you face whether it be stalking, domestic violence or whatever, be smart and leave before it can become a more dangerous endeavor. Find someone you trust to talk to about it when your ready, set up boundaries for yourself, so that things don't become messy and tangled up like spaghetti. Never stop fighting, never give in to these wretched humans, better educate yourself and others, so that in the future we can be healthy society of vibrant women and men. Just be careful, it can be a very cruel world sometimes, but I believe in do time if we stand together and help each other out, and then there will hopefully be a reduction in crime.

You don't have to stay trapped, you are not alone, their are so many programs out there that can help, you just have to phone. No judgment, no condemnation, just love and acceptance, you need to keep it together because you can't keep living your life unbalanced. Lights out, crying out, needing help, running without destination, just longing to get away because it's not a good idea to stay stationed. Lights out, get out the boxing gloves, because this is going to be one hell of a fight.
LB 4d
Can I tell you how seriously I take this poem!
_
Could the sun be
    just
    a hole up there—
    that if I could leap
    would enter that breach of light

Someone!
   Throw me a line!
   Give me a reason
   There’s never enough
   in this life of breathing!

Someone!
   Explain why dreams roll a soul
   toward the cliffs of day
   Wakes to ache
   then stuffs its mouth
   with necessary same
  
Inhale—
   button shirt—brush hair
Exhale—
   necessary glance in the mirror
   (yes, still there)    

A lifetime!
   in a shallow instant’s stiff clear water
   (Yeah— still there)  
   in endless caverns of tired eyes
   above mouth still trying
   to say SOMETHING!  
   from ever smaller eternities
   in the glass-flat empty....

Please! Someone explain!
   this draw of breath
   one forcing itself upon another's
   life
   of beating —
   Violence in my chest!

Why hearts don’t sleep—

and I wind up watching
again and again—till
I am the voyeur...

...Morning lies
   in the mists of a humid whore
   who moans and sweats
   and boils her hips—
   and I wind up watching!?

“Will someone please…!"

   ...and I wind up watching
   bedspread, bed sore, death bed
   till you’re breathing easy
   when she sits and picks
   her collapsed bouffant
   damning the makeup
   that got crushed in the sheets

…Morning
Lies--

   with no expectancy
   both tired of knowing...

   ...The Devil lost his balance
   in my presence one night


...tired of knowing—

THE WILL!  
THAT WILL!

  ...walk away
   or continue to play

   I could open this screen!
   watch the world STEP BACK!
                                 SLAP FLAT!
   as trees and dwellings flush like quail
   to prop their tottering panic
   against the blue—

You—assume composure...
   compose assumptions
   Await my next—

Move like a spy


1990


Take careful note:  

Why I don’t play chess or any other game
for that matter.
    
    
“...and when you're really out there
the windows all have opened onto nothing...
Death having long since-- left the scene.
When you get really out there
it's all--
and nothing…”
Rain fell on the modest one-story house.
Sounding like an overture composed entirely of woodwind instruments.
Flutes and piccolos expanded into the evening- the light, yet piercing sound echoed into the bowels of space.
Cars lingered by, headlights illuminating the drops of water on the window and filling the room with invading light.

There sat the lone writer, filling his page with the stories of his youth.
Quietly recounting the ghosts of war and burnt cigarettes to a piece of paper; his words tinged with penitence.
An audible crackle of thunder had interrupted his brooding, unable to return to his work; a drink was in order.
Standing with the glass in one hand, the other propping himself up on his kitchen counter, he pondered to himself.
"Should I regale them with stories of heroism?"
"Should I lie and beautify reality?"
"Should I tell the truth?"

The truth is: All conflict is the caricature of other conflicts.
Something conceived from the inner reflection of a thousand contemporaries.
A reflection which manifests itself through the brutality of man.
Everything the man was before is clear in utmost violence.
The sounding of rifles and the crackle of consuming napalm; all just an expression of self.
There is no heroism: no sin or righteousness; no morality or error.
It simply is.

He returns to his exposition, still working it over.
"Should I tell them of who I was?"
After a pause that felt like eons, he mutters, "No."
"That wouldn't be honest."
T R S 6d
Can anyone guess what happened last night in Action Town?
If no one has words, then let's drown in the silence
of booze and lust-filled violence.

Lust just isn't for love,
Lust can start a word
For lust for power can only ensure
Insurance in the breaking of bones and family bonds

Let's instead to forget
We all have blood for dinner
Because I would have to admit that I'm sinful

I don't think that shopping for dinner is sinful
But a binfull of tooth chipped bones is my burden
And I'm certain I'm headed for Hell
the     two things                                human beings
are hardwired for are sex      &
violence,        but     chickenshit
humanity,    too                               afraid of its own
     true nature [the nervous system],
invented greed          [for food or money]|
                       as a way to
  avoid facing   |        what every era learns for itself:
  mankind kills  & rapes;
             however it needs
  to get that              done      [at any particular time]
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