It’s time to disarm
Violence rocks this world
Tragically, in so many ways
In so many places
Wars of oppression and wars of suppression
Singular violence
Assassinations
Mass murders
It’s time to disarm
Torture
Gangbang rapes
Shootings in movie theatres
It’s time to disarm
Police brutality
Gang violence
Genocide
It’s time to disarm
Stonings
Beheadings
Acid thrown on faces
It’s time to disarm
Armies running amok
Barbaric as ever
Sanctioned hit squads
It’s time to disarm
Hot lead flying through bedroom walls
Blowing the brains out of sleeping babies
Apartment blocks full of families
Blown up to kill a lone soldier
Assault weapons sold to insane haters
Who riddle the innocent with bullets
Road rage driven angerbombs
Pulling out protection to settle arguments
It’s time to disarm
Violence contains a lot of energy
Negative energy, for sure, but vast
So there’s that law we’ve forgotten
Newton’s third
For every action there is an equal and opposite reaction
Which means that the cycle of violence
Is a perpetual motion machine of bullets flying back and forth
Unless we can poke a stick in that wheel
Break free of the tyranny of the gun
It’s time to disarm
Start controlling access to mass murder weapons
End the sale of assault weapons, period.
Impose national and international gun control regulations
Limit access to the psychologically fit
It’s time to disarm
State sponsored terrorism must stop
All nations must reverse their insane military buildups
Dismantle the bombs
It’s time to disarm
Empty the prisons by investing in schools, hospitals and people
It’s time to disarm
David Trudel © 2012
Chores
Today is a day for small chores
Bringing water like some forgotten sky god
For my green prisoners
Next, I vacuum
Stirring the dust and detritus
Harvesting peanut shells and dust bunnies
For memories and lost thoughts
My routines are commonplace
Comforting in their normalcy
Giving me the illusion of some fragile permanence
That might stand against the intransigence of power
Forgetting that state control is as prevalent here
As it ever was in war zones and dictatorships
Where terror slams like bullets into unarmed crowds
And poetry is bloodwritten on pockmarked concrete
By the dying
Who no longer water houseplants
But bleed out their innocence on city streets
David Trudel © 2013
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Tagged as blank verse, civil war, creative writing, creativity, free verse, metaphor, peace, poetry, social activism, social commentary, universal peace, violence, war