False Sense Of Censorship

So a kid brings a gun to school
Saying it in 99 was somehow condoning
Look how far we’ve come

If someone doesn’t like your face you lose an ear
Now if they don’t like your faith find yourself decapitated
That was then
This is now
Look how far we’ve come

Swearing is caring when you learn what it’s like
This is bigger than a curse
Though that’s exactly what this is about
That was then
This is now
Look how far we’ve come

Hiding is acceptable
Covering is complacent
Obligatory responsibility
Descriptive parent parent

Adjust the pattern
End the pretending
Love is condemning

The Transitive Property

If

     LOVΞ = WØRK

And

     WØRK = [Getting One’s Hands Dirty]

Then

     LOVΞ = [Getting One’s Hands Dirty]

It’s A Little More Easy

It’s a little more easy

To sit and listen

Than to compose a creative thought

In care and intention

In love and ambition

 

It’s a little more easy

To sit in silence

Than to take a stand

In composed plan

With the stranger man

Fight to fruition

Press into violence

 

It’s a little more easy

To chatter on nonsense

To drown ones conscience

Not down monuments

 

It’s a little more easy

To keep |consideration| and |action|

In separate factions

 

It’s a little more easy

Stranger Man

Stranger Man.

I don’t know this man. I don’t know him from Adam. His skin tone was probably closer to my farthest forefathers than my own.

And somehow I am privileged. Because the pilgrims bought low on a land unknown. And with their weapons and science forced the spiritual land-livers here into silence.

And here I am.

And here he is. This stranger man. Who’s great-grandpa was forced here.

Forced. Here. Two words whose celebrity couple nickname is fear.

Now he’s fought to find freedom from that chain. And it’s been cast back on me. How we were raised.

And here I am.

A little bit of love and a little bit of sin. Watching my cousins shout because they want out. They think he who yells loudest is furthest from hell.

Mental cell.

Passing the prison back and forth.

“I am the victim, you’re the oppressor! I said it louder!”

And here I am.

And there he goes. Stranger man gone. Where we all go. He that I never got to know.

Who won? None. Who will?

Stillness.

Shhh.

Nation. Be patient.

Listen to win.

You. Me. Them.

And the stranger man.

Another Day, Another Bullet

Dear Congressman,

You probably won’t read this, as I know you have assistants.

Cancer is the opposition. Tornadoes. “Acts of God” that we cannot avoid, but can treat and provide for after the event, these are where #prayFor(insertCityHere) should be trending.

I don’t mind praying for Orlando. Or today, Oakland. But dammit if these murders and massacres don’t seem a little more preventable. I’m not a conspiracy theorist by any means but the fact that there is no action by our government taking place, what is happening? What are you all doing? Are we really okay with letting tragedy after tragedy surmount so that eventually everyone is “carrying?” Oh, good. Now I, nay, my daughter gets to live in fear. “Okay honey, whatever you do, be sure not to cross ANYONE because you’ll probably get shot. Have a good day.”

Freedom isn’t “no rules.” Freedom is “no fear, within the rules.”

Sir. I am asking you to move. I am one man with no platform. You, Sir, have the platform. Our children and grandchildren will not know freedom because they will spend everyday in fear.

You bring the rules.
Washington makes the rules.
I live the rules.
Our future lives the rules.
Or the future doesn’t live.

There was a 19-year-old shot in Orlando. And today a 16-year-old in Oakland. Sorry, maybe shot isn’t strong enough of a word. Teenagers. Slain.

What good does it do to have our advances in science cure every known disease when we are a disease to ourselves?

And just to be clear, I’m not asking for a full on ban of everything down to a slingshot. I’m asking for movement. Gun control. Immigration to prevent terrorism. More funds for mental institutions. Maybe it’s one front. Maybe it’s all fronts. If this is a “war” like I keep hearing then there needs to be a plan of attack.

Or the future doesn’t live.

A doctor can’t remove the tumor without first puncturing the skin. As your subordinate I’m handing you the scalpel. Now if you need to pass it to someone else, please do so.

And people will be offended. No matter what you do. I may even be offended. I challenge you to offend me!

Or the future doesn’t live.

Sincerely,
Me
Citizen