It’s been known that
“Those who cannot remember the past
are condemned to repeat it.”

Yet society seems to want to forget this very quote
Are we willingly ignorant, or have we forgotten
That a land composed of bloodshed
Will end in ruin?

Do we not know that the Sandy Hook Elementary School children
Would’ve been able to vote this year?
Do we not know that giving guns more freedom than humans
Will only result in more tiny graves?

Are we aware that the law people are using
To excuse sending away human who only want to
Live
Is the same law that allowed internment camps to be legal?

Do we not know that these arguments
wouldn't be able to make exist
If not for Mother Earth?
But we still want to sink our drills into her
Like wicked parasites.

We shame women who are too terrified
To tell the horrors they have lived through
Yet turn a blind eye when they say that
An abuser becomes the leader.

German soldiers in World War II
Thought they were saving their economy and
Protecting their nation
But history only remembers them as the villains
Why do we refuse to see that we already know how this plays out?

“A country that runs on the blood of its own children is
doomed to crumble from the inside out,” we scream.

We scream and we scream and we scream,
begging for people to hear our cries.

Hear us when we cry out that nothing will come of this
except enough bloodshed to bathe an army and
more corpses than there are living.

Hear us when we say society is evolving backwards so we already know the end.

Hear us when we cry our warnings, mourning what will become of our nation.

Hear us when we can say nothing more, buried six feet under, hear us as we plead from ever-growing caskets as you stomp on our graves.

Hear us when we say, “Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it.”

Is the makeshift room,
Dangerously dangerous for the wanna-be gods?
Fearing the whispers of sedition and rebellion
that'll topple their paper and makeshift crowns.
Atop heads full of ego and pride
Eager to churn out
petty and childish ulterior moves
to undermine the bugs
perceived in their twisted minds
clouded by serpents hissing half-told truths
threatening where they sat
on their barely-there thrones?

Did you seriously think, sonofabitch,
that if you dressed in a luxurious enough suit,
the blood on your hands would fade?,
the fear you once awoke go pale?
Do you seriously think that silk
makes children come back to life?
Brothers, sisters, fathers, mothers.
All dead.
By your own hands.
And once again, I found you on the goverment,
because when you put enough silk
(enough money)
around your shady words,
people can suddenly turn a blind eye
on the bombs you once made explode.

She went shopping one day
to never come back.
They couldn’t even have her body at her funeral—
Oops! All we found was a tiny ****** arm.
Sorry about your mom, about your newborn.
You’ll never see either again.

Do you seriously think
that money will make them come back to life?
Not even as zombies they could rise,
because to do so their bodies would need to be more
than tiny little ******* scraps.

P)erspective is a kind, optimistic one
O)ne that is playful and fun
S)eeks answers in a adventures way
I)n the mind the light outshines the grey
T)ruth seekers in this lying, destructive world
I)ndirectly impacting and affecting another’s world
V)ictims to hate and utter destruction
E)ven moving with a head held high though the corruption

When a noble heart is betrayed,
He runs not home, but feeds the flame.

Toward the low, he throws his grace,
A furious fall from a higher place.

As if to curse what once was pure,
To make his past no longer endure.

Not for pleasure, not for thrill
But to punish the light it once stood still.

A night at the Museum,
and we're dressed to ****.
The mood is gleeful–
and the people, chill.
All court the kings and queens of shill.

Our ****** deeds are whitewashed clean.
Our grievous crimes are left unseen–
sanitized versions on the tv screen.

But our steps were tracked with care
by one who could no longer bear
the growing horror, the scenes from there.
The cry of anguish, the dead-eyed stare.

Now the blood drips on our shoes.
Our deaths headline the evening news.
Yet still, the truth has only views
on internet sites with volunteer crews.

When there is no other way
Desperation will have its day

...gentle breezes
rung the wind chimes
of two hearts
pulsing
for freedom
chorused ecstacy
tickled
the goosepimples
of breathy lovers
caressing
their love-slick bodies
oil
of romance
dripped
sizzling
'pon the ground
of their windswept haven
their sighs
matched the melody
the hollow sighs
of our earth's lungs
for they
were the energy
sustaining
love
and giving atmosphere
to worlds
untold...