Childhood is the best part of everyone’s life! You might think so, but there are people who’ve never experienced the beauty of this utopia. Sometimes parents often unknowingly destroy or neglect the childhood of their kids, without them even realizing it. This may have terrible consequences later in the life of these kids.
A poem on a terrorist's lost childhood..
As a kid, he cried for a pack of crayons.
But all he got was, some fat books on Maths, Science and Freons.
He grew up amidst the stench of his suffocating passion.
Tinting his mind in a rational and scientific fashion.
He went on, emphatically learning new things.
Just like the bird, flying without his own wings.
He strived and thrived to be the best.
Strangling his dreams, he laid them to rest.
Over the years, his soul was infiltrated with hatred and anger.
Piercing his heart, like an acute dagger.
And, today he creates weapons of mass destruction.
Using all his knowledge, wrecking innocent lives has become his addiction.
Who knows? It might not be his fault.
As he’s a man with his wounds on salt.
Brainwashed, seeking revenge of his mercilessly destroyed childhood.
His rational cognizance failed to discern between the bad and the good.
I do not know?
Fear is what they clothe them in.
Fear of losing their life because of one mistake.
Fear of losing their life because an officer is having
a bad day.
Some say it's not racism;
"It's police brutality."
Whatever you call it, I can't
help but ask "where is humanity?"
Mothers weeping because they're losing their sons.
Teaching them to fight back with silence
but that is no weapon compared to a gun.
Six feet under, leaving families to fight for justice
over their lives.
Societies getting tired of it all-
starting riots and constructing strikes.
How many more time will history repeat itself?
Or are we still writing [his]tory , using coverups
All lives matter despite of their race.
All lives matter despite their mistakes.
In times such as these justice will demand to be served.
No matter how chaotic, crazy, or obscured.
Life is a gift, one that we should all treasure.
Because all lives matter and we need to protect them;
no matter the measure.
The coming times can unfold,
far accross to all lands,
the casting shadow has fallen,
with it's far reaching hands,
accross our four cornered world,,
Humanity progressed to progressive sufferage,
that comes with many names,
the ideology won without a shot,
convinced populations into guilted shame,
lost are voices of courage,,
The warring world will arise,
between makers and takers,
parasitic ideology's green eyed mind,
re-writing regulations by progressive thinkers,
big brother's utopian great enterprise,,
Dependent we all become, parasitically,
even forced fed into submission,
by governmental state so enlarged,
numbered you are by institution,
nothing owned, only redistributed cynically,,
Paupers suffer under progressive fortitude,
soulless programs of living propaganda,
your worth, what you produce,
socialized into this living agenda,
living taxed products of servitude,
, and then...
The rise will come independent,
carrying courage and freedom proudly,
with wisdoms weapon in hand,
knowledge in the other soundly,
honor reclaimed by the sentient,,
Independent declarations germinating from seed,
feared by any progressive regime,
warriors in freedom stand tall,
threatened is the progressive dream,
renewing freedoms that will breed,,
The liberty that spawned revolution,
alive from all moral conceptions,
viewed as evil that's progressive,
feared are soulless seeking redemption,
the light of liberty's salvation,,
Beating freedoms of sentient heart,
the salvation of fighting worth,
a force greater than any darkness,
warriors of liberty step forth,
champions of honor that impart,,
, next, the final chapter of...
Ideological war of the worlds,
eye to eye never seen,
the hatred between clearly drawn,
problems with peace to intervene,
the conflict as it unfolds,,
Coming as thieves of night,
armys on both sides comes,
fortifying and building societial walls,
truth and lies propaganda welcomes,
armored suited masses to fight,,
Emerges the lights of honor,
the independent class called defenders,
private elites of character gold,
the shadows behind all pretenders,
opperatives that's far more superior,,
Defenders are warriors of light,
core beliefs that's solely independent,
religiously organized they never follow,
thorns in a crowned tyrant,
independent wills of great might,,
They are why freedom thrives,
true leaders leading into tomorrow,
that govern by liberty's will
that invites everyone to follow,
founding fathers of our lives..
To whit to be caught between two brothers
and become the sport of many others
She kept her heart from loving true
but not from the damage passing through
Oh twice spent the beauties coin
did deliberate vengence to purloin
thought knowingly did enter door
in spite she cast them to the floor
Though twas for couple it's own collusion
the device and trap it's own illusion
the crimes waylaid doth carry to the grave
to curse ones soul as fearful and not brave
Twas the story carried in her mind
her face to others she wished were blind
and with ones sight to look upon her heart
to know in violence was her start
She thought those sins would ever last
or to shake the paths of her past
in her fears her heart down cast
she did not know to forgiveness ask
Unable to differentiate between love and need
or if womans desire was only greed
If man looks upon her with his smile
is he looking for love or just another trial
She asks those questions to this day
must there be violence to graveyard pay
for many men have forced their way
in their behavior did have no say
COPYRIGHT © 2009 C Michael Miller
via Duboff Law Group LLC
Then I heard her footstep getting closer.
READER BEWARE DESCRIPTIVE VIOLENCE FOLLOWS
This time she picked me up by my throat and pined me up the wall,
screaming at me, finger in my face while smashing my head on the wall.
Bashing my head in the air screaming "PUT YOUR BLOODY HANDS DOWN!",
again I was air borne, but this time I went flying into the lounge.
Curled up in a ball with my hands covering my head, I was crying hysterically,
she screamed again "GET UP RIGHT NOW, I'M NOT FINISHED WITH YOU YET!!!"
she pulled one of my arms and grabbed me by my ear, and up again I was.
screaming at me, PUT YOUR HAND DOWN, AND LOOK ME IN THE EYES!!!.
As I lowered my hands she started whacking my head screaming, "STOP CRYING"
over and over again.
Trying to summon the strength to hold it all in,
almost impossible, like trying to swallow soccer balls in my throat.
I managed to control it to like that hiccup kind,
Shaking and trebling hoping that I wouldn’t cry,
bearing in mind that I was still a child,
my emotions I still, couldn't keep under control.
So much pain, My butt stung, my hair felt like it had been ripped out,
all dizzy and daze, my head throbbed, and there was a burn in my eyes.
but I finally did lowered my hands and I look her straight in the eyes,
WHACK I few again.
This time my face was on fire my ear rung so bad,
a high pitch screech inside my head, I rolled over and over in pain.
This time when she said get out of my face,
I moved so fast I slide in the carpet and hit my face on the door frame.
Up stairs I ran, dived on top of my bed,
covered my face with my pillow, so my whimpers couldn't be heard.
trying not to cry, begging in my mind for it stop,
then I heard that sound….(Pacing) ….. my body shook.
I knew it wouldn't be long, before she worked herself up,
Pacing back and forth talking to herself,
justifying the reason’s I need more.
I just wait for the stomping to get closer to my door.
True to form it happened.
The poem I have just told is a true story, cause it did happen to me,
this was only one time, I'd had hundreds more before I hit my teens.
Back in my day family violence was never talked about,
It was happening everywhere, just about every house.
Family violence is wrong and it needs to be stopped,
but this will never happen, if you voice doesn’t shout out.
Don't be like me, riddled with fear and shame,
someone out there cares, just tell them about your pain.
M.Mahauariki © 2012