I once heard a warning from a sailor:
"Don't look at the ocean at night—the darkness offers an escape."
I wonder if it is the same for a soldier staring down a gun barrel.
As they run through dark trenches, fleeing death,does that cold metal cylinder promise a release?
An end to fear.The death of anger.
Or a quiet peace brought to a desolate land.
Many wonder, staring straight into that deep ocean of unforgiving quiet.
But peace demands a price in an empty country.
It means
a mother you will never see,
a wife you will never love,
a child you will never guide—
only eyes wandering a horizon that never ends.
But the sailor never taught me what remains unseen:
the sea always stares back.
It cannot feel your agonizing rage.
It does not share your lonely sadness.
It has no thought of family or friends.
Instead, it only waits for you to jump, and find your peace.
I’m slowly rotting.
My body is decaying.
I’m supposed to be. . .
I want to be.
Dead
I can't take the pain anymore.
I hear subtle voices
They talk to me
I find some kind of comfort in them?
People call me
crazy
Broken
Wrong
Pathetic
And the worst one
Monster. . .
Every time I hear it
The voices get louder
I black out
When I wake up
there's blood on my hands.
Again. . .
I stare at the blood.
Then the gun
Back to the blood.
Back to the gun.
Blood.
Gun.
I grab the gun
I hold it under my chin
My hand tremble
Tears fall
The voices yell
“Bang”
Everything is gone
The voices go quit
The pain is gone
My body is now is finally
“Decomposing”
Or as the people will whisper
“The monster is now rotting away”
on tv shows everyone has a gun
cops, robbers, detectives, shopkeepers
show girls, drag queens, car dealers
wives, girlfriends, mothers, husbands, lovers
In real life I only know two people with guns.
Neither one of them carries them around like TV show people
No one knew that ’91 would come
that it was our turn
to taste the bitter pot
passed from our near neighbours.
Five years before
Dad had found Mom
young, laughing, full of tomorrow
their dreams wrapped in silence.
A year later, I arrived
just four years before the fire
the one that swallowed a nation
and first rose blazing in the east.
You see, I was born
between the silence of ’87
when Sierra Leone knew no gun
and the fire of ’91.
There was a young Texan wife from Klein,
Whose husband was on a deep decline.
He drank too much whiskey,
He seldom was frisky -
Now he’s planted where the sun don’t shine.
Tom Cruise
got high on booze
then made a run
and became top gun
GIVE PRAISE TO THE GUN
EIGHT KIDS THEIR LIVES ARE NOW DONE
GUN IS NUMBER ONE
Henry McCarty (1859 – 1881)
a.k.a, Kid Antrim – ca. 1876
a.k.a., William H. Bonney – ca. 1877
Of Irish ancestry
New York-born
orphaned at 15
from his family shorn
repeatedly asking '¿Quién es?'
around midnight 14th July 1881
entering Maxwell's bedroom
their mutual friend but Billy without a gun
in Fort Sumner where by Pat Garrett
(1850 - 1908)
take my word I kid you not
age 21 sadly Henry the outlaw
in the chest was badly shot
for reputedly killing nine men
but for the posted bounty of $500
it took the Sheriff 369 days to collect
the reward promised by Governor Wallace
(1827 – 1905)
The night I spent at the homeless shelter
Was due to fear of being helter skelter
By my aunts husband a retired marine
Who pointed a shotgun as he screamed
I was a guest in their habitat house
It took much less for me to get out
He won’t do it my aunt would say
But I didn’t trust and had a babe
In my arms my curly brown infant
His smile charms except the demented
So I left went by taking a bus
No place to go no one to trust
Eventually I called my father
Despite his addiction he did bother
A friend he knew for us to crash
Live at his home sleep in his pad
Hurricane Hugo hit Charlotte hard
I was blessed despite it by God
During the storm I breastfed
Kept baby warm in quilt red
Sometimes storms are to guide
Despite my circumstances I would fly
Graduate college not once but twice
Lost my desire to sing but instead write
Looking back I know God is a way maker
That me and my son were blessed by Savior
Once there was a colorful bird
A parrot repeating what’s heard
Really was all fun
Till it heard a gun
Mimicking sounds so disturbed
looking inside becomes a weighty endeavor
peeping outside is in no way better
hypomania, baby what a blast that phase is
going 100 miles an hour with no seat belt or helmet
giving in to the whims of the moment the universe is
beyond colorful. how do u explain the crash of the century..breaking bones inside the minds finding clarity; in nothing particular but flying by to find the mind is gone haywire.
What a wonderful world,
a great time to be alive.
Time to spin and twirl,
and celebrate life.
I haven't felt like this,
in such a long time.
Lately I've been lonely,
Just passing the time.
I sit in my room and hide,
swimming through,
the thoughts in my mind.
I've hidden away for 22 years.
I guess I never could control my fears.
Afraid of everything that moves,
Especially my peers.
Afraid to be judged,
afraid to make love.
Afraid to spill my secrets,
So i just pack up and run.
But right now I feel like,
I could fly like a dove.
Keep my eyes straight ahead,
Don't expect,
the smoking gun.
Gunplay
The confused inner-city kid
had a gun.
Another boy didn`t show him respect,
So he shot him dead.
The gun boy fled into a park,
under a bush hid.
He is seen as a hero to younger boys, yet the weight of his actions and the cycle of violence threaten to define his future.
Sirens and voices, they have got him now,
One bullet left,
wished he was back home with his mum.
Thought of his option
to be a hero for all time?
They shoved Lady Justice to the ground.
He tried to help her up.
He warned them not to touch her.
And in his last breath,
he asked her if she was okay.
How should we remember Alex Jeffrey Pretti?
They said he brandished a gun,
but everyone could see it was a phone.
They said he was a violent terrorist.
officers attempted to disarm him.
Why won’t they release that video?
How should we remember Alex Jeffrey Pretti?
His extrajudicial execution?
The way they pinned him to the ground?
The way they pumped ten bullets
into his mortal form even after he lay lifeless?
How should we remember Alex Jeffrey Pretti?
An American intensive care nurse,
working for the Dept of Veterans Affairs,
living a life devoted to the care of others.
or a friendly neighbor always helping
those in need?
How should we remember him?
I will remember how he gave his life to help
Lady Justice to her feet.
Gun control would be so mean
it’s much nicer this way, said cousin Gene
but some are challenged, should they own a gun?
Of course he told me. It’s part of the fun.
The fun of murdering people at a mall?
What is joyful about that, asked Cousin Paul.
You’re a liberal, said Gene, don’t speak to me.
as he watched gun violence on his TV.
People who should know better, do not, I said.
No one needs an assault rifle, making people dead.
You don’t know what you’re saying, said cousin Gene.
We need guns for protection, I have seventeen.
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