December 14th

A crazed man with a knife

stabbed 22 children half-a-world away…

Only survivors carry scars and grief.

Nancy loved guns and

her son was a loner,

they say.

All I hear is the ringing out…

those sharp echoes

off painted cinderblock and brick

and tile

hallways stretching what the intercom

blared
chaos

violence and terror

pointless

incomprehensible

tragedy

and just as sudden,

over and silent.

And even before the smoke and bodies were cleared

from this family drama made

public,

these lost lives were made policy pawns:

Guns don’t kill,

people do.

But handguns and assault rifles

make it a hell of a lot easier.

And only survivors carry scars and grief.

Excuse

Excuses are like assholes—

    we all got ‘em;

  they all stink.

Maybe, I’m just an excuse (asshole)

I hate my desk job;

   it’s why I now sag

         and chafe

               and

           jiggle…

I’ll start working out to

        work on that

           tomorrow

   or next week when

               this rain breaks—

   or in the Fall when

                    this heat breaks—

or when i have more time

  and I’ll get to your email when

              I’m not so tired

    But I’m tired

       tired of being a sloth.

We are a planet on cutting edge science—

     yet our education system (in the states)

                  gets dumber every year?

Bill Johnson just got 44 million—

    but there’s kids starving in

                North Carolina?

Sometimes, I look around

     and it’s all too much

            too big

              too fucked—

and that’s just another excuse.

So,

  what’s the solution?

            Strike Anywhere

I sent this from my Blackberry, excuse any typos. Excuse.