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tread May 2011
Osama bin Laden is dead.
That pretty much sums it up right there- the tag-line to the War on Terror we've all been waiting for;
The adherent doctrine dealt out like a decoration to add decor to the death and destruction distributed so freely like health care should be,
But isn't because Fox News and the Tea Party see it differently;
"The only thing that should be free is the freedom to spread freedom against the wishes of the oppressed by utilizing force of arms to instill upon them a will to fight what we see as their evil sheikdoms,"
Stage 1 in a dramatic ensemble of violence all directed at the elimination of human toil in pursuit of the spoils of unjust construction,
A naive assumption based on silly presumptions against Islam in conjunction to the real world.

Osama bin Laden is dead.
A euphorically jubilant crowd applauds outside the steps of the White House,
And I listen with incrementation as the news station sponsors discrimination to add flames to the hate machine,
And I wonder;
Can we not just cut the cake? Clean the slate of the human race just to cut to the chase and reach the release we sought in world peace in the first place?
Probably not, as it is our woes that have brought men from silver to gold, modest to bold, caring to cold, and 'on sale' to 'sold' in this system.

And I can't accept that.

It would be a different case if my sad face brought a poor man back to first base in terms of sustaining the ability to remain within the mile-high club that is the human race,
Or if my woes brought all poverty stricken panic from financial rags, to spiritual riches,
Instead of all this **** where people are paid to dig ditches just so, in turn, they begin to build bridges over said ditches simply to stimulate an abstract mathematical construct a few inches further from rock bottom.

Osama bin Laden is dead.
For the past ten years, what ground did he tread?
Not a lot; at least in comparison to his pursuers who tread streets full of hot lead and ****** head's, each still scarred with a lingering dread left unsaid;
And so vivid, is the anger, so vivid the hate and horrors of war, to the point that one is beyond asking 'what is this all for?' and simply hits the floor as rockets **** by like angry boars, and bullets shatter walls and **** at a pace that a pill couldn't heal your soon to be charred corpse,
And life looses all meaning;
War is no longer a late-night TV show screening, it's men and women screaming with their guts spilled and steaming,
And the tears don't suffice, as everything cuts deep like a knife to symbolize this endless strife,
The trial and tribulation.

But, don't fool yourself.
Osama bin Laden is dead, he was shot in the head, now all the men and women can go back home to their countries and back to their own beds,
To night terrors instead, as they realize their sanity is caught on a thread,

But the truth still remains quite complacent;
As it is the truth that is adjacent to the lies of news stations and corporations looking to make a dime off the fall of a nation,
All caught in a frenzied impatience at how long the castration of the Haitians is taking to make a dollar towards their next Palm Springs vacation,
And all the concentration, under-the-radar conversations or over-the-top public declarations at anti-capitalist demonstrations, whether in New York City or the Appalachians,
Goes unheeded amidst Wal-Mart's new decorations, or the Palestinian deportations, or Quaran desecration's carried out by ignorant delegations filled with a fundamentalist generation of observations,
So we're blind.

Amidst all this truth, we are blind.
And to this day, my head still sways at how insane we make this world with our memes and the capacity of our brains that go unharnessed in our head,
But none of this really matters, does it?
Because Obama said Osama is finally dead.
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AudKumda Oct 2014
A hunger indeed is a hungry tiger in need, Wait! An indenture in my soul speaks in desire, so its an incrementation from Mammalia Justice League , for punishment in this in intolerable  act we are served to  read 3 years of children's rhymes, only on rice milk and Nut loaf.
Laokos Sep 16
Tucked away in a corner, lay a wooden ruler blending in with the past. Flat as a floorboard and weathered as a dock. There are layers of built-up ink, graphite, marker and paint along one of its long  edges—the side with the incrementation, naturally. As though differentiation demands to be marked. Deep, erratic gouges from the seven and three-quarters to eleven inch mark suggest a moment of frustration—perhaps a project under the gun or a predisposition to flying off the handle. On its back are ten “safety rules” geared towards teaching children how to avoid dangerous missteps with strangers. Things like: “Never Hitchhike—NEVER!”, or “Never Tell Callers That You’re Home Alone” and “Never Accept Toys, Candy, Rides, Money or Medicine From Strangers”. However well-intentioned this small piece of wood may have been, the owner used a thick, black marker to write “MEGhan’s ruler” across them and actually painted over two rules with it—namely: “Always Play or Walk With Friends” and “Never Give Your Name or Address To A Stranger”. Additionally, there is a line etched through the safety in “safety rules” as well as the same blacked-out treatment given to the other end with the two rules. This person was clearly a child and, most probably, was more worried about other kids taking her stuff than getting kidnapped by a stranger. Yet here lies the ruler with no account of Meghan’s current whereabouts or condition. Needless to say, one cannot rule out the intervention of a stranger in her life at some point. On the other hand, maybe she just got tired of measuring things.

— The End —