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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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.