another bullet…

Another bullet passed through shattered dreams
that even stuffed lions couldn't stop
the football will never be kicked around
again. The birthday party favors will
never cover the floor again.
Yet another dream of better futures broken,
tossed, crippled, and charred, no respect 
for life or livelihood   the mere breath on cold windows 
of winter not allowed
sing-song chants of play race cars, kitchen, 
poolside getaways, awe-struck grins in the face
facing elder children, almost adults, 
look we've done it. We came through it, you will too, 
before summer calls
 no longer 
    exist. 

Another bullet, where did it come from? 
You know, you knew. 
It didn't have to be like this, but you don't care
except
for
that lust, blood soaked tinged with sweat 
of 
no regret.
All your dreams are of bullets.

All I can think, as I read 
report 
after Tweet
after cries of anguished anger, angered anguish,
is,
this could have been my town. 
And if it was,
ICE would probably be all over it too....

the horrible twists, turn, churn of lived
unlived consciousness, bowels of truthful
"Why? Why another?"
If something flourishes and they kill it, what’s next? August 2019, New Jersey, NYC on the horizon. ©le_chah_errant

This week, we’ve thought about the recent news with tired anger, the sort which bubbles to the surface even as it vowed to never again. The problem is that laws are not considered sacred for citizens. They are considered sacred for personal interests and here lies the problem. This is not a situation. This is a problematic society. And at this point, there’s nothing to do but smash it to smithereens. 

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