When A Mass Shooter Commits Suicide

I feel lost and helpless, out of control,

I cannot fathom the pain that is now endured

by the family, the friend, the community,

the loss of life so random and unexpected,

… and this has nothing to do with the shooter.

 

I’m left in a fury of angst and simple confusion,

I know the emotional drain of being human,

living out our purpose and striving to be,

and like Hollywood, just when we realize …

… and this has nothing to do with the shooter.

 

I think we all think about how a person’s day begins,

the same as yesterday, perhaps a sweet happiness,

or even probably the angst of having to be the machine,

another day of social squabbles and night’s end purpose.

… and this has nothing to do with the shooter.

 

All of these moments we’ve all felt together,

we know the sense of sunshine in the morning,

we understand the beauty of a co-worker,

the laughter of a memo, the reality of our family.

… and this has nothing to do with the shooter.

 

There isn’t a day when we are awoken

by the silly notion of our mortality, when thriving

seems to be our goal. There is no reaction

to the possibility our life will be taken with random …

…. AND THIS HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH THE SHOOTER!

 

THIS PART has everything to do with the shooter,

because those lives, those people that were so important

to everyone far beyond the trigger of your cowardice,

deserve an opportunity to COME TO LIFE AND WATCH,

WATCH YOU SUFFER INDIGNITY, YOUR FLAWED PURPOSE ON DISPLAY!

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An Easter Sunday Prayer

I would wish we might all love,

if only for the hours of this day,

turn to one another,

the fear we even imagine in doing so,

be put aside,

for we are all wanting to show effort

toward recognizing our own

sense of balance

in knowing

there is a special bond,

a reality,

a certain wanton risk perhaps

answered when

in unison

together,

looking in each other’s eyes,

we might know love.

For I haven’t the foggiest notion

who wrote the book,

beyond the letters, the words,

the sayings, the famous and infamous remarks,

I haven’t any knowledge beyond

my own response,

my reaction,

my longing to understand

when humanity

might let themselves

touch

upon the beauty of each other

without the urgency of reward,

oh then,

there might be grace in the certainty

of celebration,

for we are

one love,

we are

one.

 

Happy Easter everyone! Please, peace!

If They Are Just Kids

emma

photo – Face The Nation

If everyone knew the correct answer,

then why would the children be so annoying.

If the adults might only listen for a reason,

then perhaps they might never again tease.

 

There seems to be a worthy cause on our horizon,

kids are speaking up, and there’s a faction of

human beings,

still want to only talk about guns.

 

They’re saying the kids don’t know enought

about weaponry,

the stuff that killed their best friend,

point blank in the head while studying pre-Calc.

 

Let’s teach them CPR states a diplomatic

asshole,

one that frankly might even know the color

of their own child’s eyes – ask the nany perhaps.

 

A great deal of anger seems to be the agenda

on both sides, tehre are issues and debates,

what’s different this time, says the speaker,

trying to find an inward path toward freedom.

 

Seems there might be a quiet revolution,

it involves the kids and their number are great,

if we decide they’re not worthwhile,

thank perhaps we must ask the question.

 

Why did we choose to raise children to be

the next generation of free thinkers in our society..

There’s a Song About It Too

IMG_1082

I think it’s the Counting Crows,

well now I know it is,

just being stylish,

setting the tone,

the moment when everything matters,

inside the look of a photo.

 

I woke to this image in the morning,

it represents something,

a journey I suppose,

where all eyes come together

to find some peace,

waking only to see ‘Omaha.’

 

I went to sleep with that last night,

having visited our future,

a couple of kind young souls

that inspire my chances

to watch them grow,

seems silly now, they’re both young adults.

 

I woke up this morning,

looked at the sign out my hotel window,

remembered how blind I’d been

the night before to purpose and reason,

and suddenly came to terms with a world

far beyond just my own sense of matter.

 

To them, the two students I cherished,

one being certainly the breath of my oxygen

with an energy driven toward happiness,

a positive soul,

a wonderful heart.

 

And he,

a magical young man,

with talents beyond the norm,

pick up a guitar,

stand in for a character,

draw a line and give it purpose,

 

They walk the sands together,

shaping the mold of steps

left behind for others

to notice, to understand, to wonder,

their’s is a special opportunity,

the human condition in genuine smile.

 

I drove miles to observe and then wake to Omaha,

and tonight I’m at peace, a sweet simplicity in awe

Lest We Forget, Again

cards_warisnothealthy_detail

For we do that,

oh so often, we do

decide upon a beautiful sunset,

perhaps the rising moon,

a sweet snowfall,

even the rain of a heated summer day,

lets our mind return to the numbing

nature of a human condition

built upon,

the product of denial.

 

But we cannot,

simply look alive people,

please don’t shut your eyes,

there’s a movement,

and this time,

it is your children,

let their voices be heard.

 

Imagine telling a child

you may not skip class to protest

the death of your peer

by senseless gunfire,

imagine telling your children,

I don’t love you enough

to give a crap

about your well being.

Imagine telling a child

when you leave

I’m not going to imagine

a terrible outcome.

 

If we demand our children

stick to the implementation

of a day of lessons

designed in minutia

and instead

forget the very reason,

we brought our child

into this world,

then we have suggested

the concept of love is a fallacy.

 

We are at war,

and the eyes of a child,

certainly contain the heroic passions

of our every tomorrow.

While We Wait We Witness

handguns

A firestorm of controversy,

life turned upside down,

dangling in the clouds

are the idealists, the true

companions of our forgiveness.

 

On earth here in damp soil

trodden upon by the masses

there are children screaming

parents crying

siblings a wonder

of just where it all belongs.

 

In the news today there’s noise

the sort that settles the easily

drawn by naive persecutions.

Instead of wondering what

goal is felt by all of them,

it is the personal will to struggle.

 

While we wait for our prosecution,

The execution of rhetoric we witness.

Photo – Pinterest

Three Kids Talking

They were saying things like,

too much information,

to interfere would set me apart,

there would be pushback,

everyone of us knows it exists,

what difference would it make,

could it possibly be interpreted,

wait that last one had to be a teacher,

students don’t think about

all those matters that matter,

wait

don’t be such a dolt old man, old woman,

administrator

city surveyor,

let’s wait a second, and take a break,

let’s

just

listen.