When do we
how
Can we maneuver
a set of stairs
splattered wood
we used to play with the creaks
the middle of the night
Self-made horror stories.
We used to play with pain
One day it became anger
©️Thom Amundsen 8/2020
Tag: anger
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!
When Once We Stood Together
Today I remember then,
only when
I cannot quite comprehend.
I know it was with intrigue
I wondered about time,
was this perhaps the proper sign.
I would look to wonder
each new design
a telling of a simple future.
Seems we all have a memory
whereby we might all recall
sweet passion was most kind.
We walked together as one,
hoping for the same,
a recognition of love.
Seemed rather simple at the time,
we all wanted it,
we all shouted the words.
Freedom seemed attractive,
easily attainable,
put a smile on all of our –
insecurities stepped in the way,
began to sway
the intelligent soul
toward shutting their door
no one allowed inside
any more, none anymore
we cannot help put pity
upon those we left behind.
Words are different now,
they speak quickly,
loud,
their tone misunderstood
or simply not concerned.
Sharply stated.
Rude consequences,
never really apply.
Today
instead of a polite retort,
we rather quickly
use a firearm …
the natural way they say
if a conceal and carry
is the way to go.
When once we stood together,
now we elude society
steady in the drum,
the lasting hypocrisy.
Whose Fight Is This?
When did the word respect become
a distant memory.
Whenever the wind blows a certain way,
do we have to only comply.
While a thought crosses the mind of a quiet soul,
we might think of another’s low.
~
The other afternoon,
I noticed them gathered together,
realized their fortune to be each other
only for that moment,
nothing more,
once the time passed, their world
belonged to whomever decided to accept
or perhaps continue to circumvent.
~
Do we know each other,
do you understand my peril,
have you any idea what we feel,
on any given day, even Saturday.
For how long will you wreak
havoc upon your state of mind.
When might the time arrive,
when suddenly you compromise,
how might a heartache benefit
from a moment of compassion,
nothing agenda driven of course,
yet only certainly an element of love.
~
I would give you my world if only
your smile would be real
if only,
if when you realize there is beauty
in understanding pure humility.
I do get it though, ‘check your ego at the door’
is such an exhausting reality to live by.
Much adventure ahead while you release
your venom within a community of peace!
Losing Faith
When unwrapping the sheer plastic skin
surface shield
a film we all seem to carry around
we only release it when the time is right,
we feel safe,
compelled to take the next step toward independence
from that which confines our resilient
human condition
~
How quickly can we rush to the water’s edge,
that place that lays before our security,
runs amok,
takes our heart away to be battered
upon the rocks, crags, undertow of an angry world.
How often do we allow a misstep
to further define the natural wall exists between
beauty and failure.
~
In the church I chose to attend this morning,
I looked at the men and women about me,
coiffed and preened in their ‘Sunday best’
and wondered about what their lives are like,
once the wardrobe is returned to the cleaners.
I thought perhaps the industry
survived upon hypocrisy alone, for without the defeat
of natural thinking, our lives might actually matter,
beyond the orthodoxy bent upon suggesting,
we feel this way
because society says so, not because we believe it to be true.
~
So, today, I’m not losing faith,
I still believe in genuine truth,
I won’t hide behind a facade of protective shield,
that though seemingly transparent will not allow our hands and fingers
to dirty themselves,
to touch the core of that which our humanity has designed itself
to recognize.
I cannot be ever recognized beyond the mask of deceit.
I choose to feel the direct energy of the sunlight.
~
I do truly cherish the radiant charisma of love.
Rage
An internal fire
Sometimes when released
Makes the morning paper
Elsewhere it just may not exist.
Or at least
We try to keep it hidden,
Although for some it is a ritual
Sadly, the evil is forced upon their soul
Such evidence,
So often directed
Their bodies become immune
Anticipating the next blow,
Sustaining all the hurt
That’s why they walk this earth,
To take this asshole’s constant rage,
Though they should not,
Ever.
No rage is deserving of another’s reception,
Only the bearer of a negative response
To the ills that smolder inside their
Illness.
For some, the rage has become so rampant,
There can be little excuse remaining,
In fact none at all, the receptor of another’s
Inability to control their own indignity,
Ought walk away unscathed,
Yet, in our society, it is often the bearer
Remains rewarded long before the sufferer
Heals.
Levels of rage can be a relative
Assortment like candies in a jar.
Picking the wrong one with only one opportunity
To slide your hand inside and choose,
Can create the happiness you seek
Or leave you in a fit of …
Rage.
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