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    Headstall
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The content presented here is for informational or educational purposes only. These are just the authors' personal opinions and knowledge.
Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are based on the authors' lives and experiences and may be changed to protect personal information. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 

Headstall's Reflections - 87. The Scourge: Can You Hear It?

This is the first poem, or anything else, I've posted in a long time.

The Scourge—Can You Hear It?

 

 

I close my eyes to escape the vilest of scenes

Squeezing them tight against the scald of tears

I cover my ears to soften the imagined barrage

And the incessant noise of our inhumanity

I bite my tongue so naught slips past my lips

Like raging thoughts not wanting to be stayed

Alas, nothing muffles the insane madness

As barriers inevitably drop against the horror

Of victims bleeding out in cheery classrooms

Amid construction paper and scattered crayons

While I morbidly watch and listen and scream

At the mass stupidity of empty-headed puppets

There is no turning to faith or religion for respite

For their flaws are being exposed like never before

Weaponized by power seekers in unholy alliance

Leaving all those marginalized as disdained fodder

In a world bent on its own gleeful destruction

Willing to risk freedom as long as hate has its outlet

While determined to control bodies not their own

In god we trust? Whose god? The ones corrupted by men?

Fashioned to suit purposes beyond comprehension?

Pray tell... for I see no answers on this glorious day

Where sunshine doesn't warm, nor windsong soothe

As each day becomes the next… and the next

And through it all, I hear the deathly silence of the children

Can you hear it? The giggles that should be? The joy unfulfilled?

The squeak of sneakers running down a hallway?

Remembering them… it’s all there is... all that's left

As each tragedy becomes the next

Sorry for the subject matter. I'm working through some stuff. Cheers.
Copyright © 2017 Headstall; All Rights Reserved.
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The content presented here is for informational or educational purposes only. These are just the authors' personal opinions and knowledge.
Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are based on the authors' lives and experiences and may be changed to protect personal information. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 

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Gary, I wish you'd send this into a newspaper or something as it deserves far greater renown as it captures so much of our genuine sentiment rather than the lip service rendered by those in positions of power.

Once more despite lofty words, we get only the same thing as in previous situations: finger-pointing, dodging the real issues to repeat the same tired slogans from both sides...at least now we have yet another bill that will cost money that will wind up steered to other things or politicians pockets rather than solving the issues of restoring public civility and enforcing existing laws we've had for years.

Sorry, but being old only heightens the sense of loss for those who remember the days when kids' only worry at school was what horrors would come out of the cafeteria, or if we'd miss the bus and have to walk home.  My 4th Grade had two teachers, two classrooms separated by two smaller rooms--one had games and crafts, the other had books we could read if we were done with homework.  I had the friendlier teacher who fave us limited decision making opportunities.  I still remember standing before a map of the U.S. that showed state outlines and we had to memorize each one's name and capital.  I imagine they don't bother with things like that now, just indoctrination classes... Of course in the mid to late 60s we began the day with the Pledge of Allegiance and learned to respect my teachers and fellow students as a matter of course thanks to some bookish friends like Dick, Jane, Peter and Spot.  :)

I wonder if Peter was the beginning for my attraction to blonds?        

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4 hours ago, ColumbusGuy said:

Gary, I wish you'd send this into a newspaper or something as it deserves far greater renown as it captures so much of our genuine sentiment rather than the lip service rendered by those in positions of power.

Once more despite lofty words, we get only the same thing as in previous situations: finger-pointing, dodging the real issues to repeat the same tired slogans from both sides...at least now we have yet another bill that will cost money that will wind up steered to other things or politicians pockets rather than solving the issues of restoring public civility and enforcing existing laws we've had for years.

Sorry, but being old only heightens the sense of loss for those who remember the days when kids' only worry at school was what horrors would come out of the cafeteria, or if we'd miss the bus and have to walk home.  My 4th Grade had two teachers, two classrooms separated by two smaller rooms--one had games and crafts, the other had books we could read if we were done with homework.  I had the friendlier teacher who fave us limited decision making opportunities.  I still remember standing before a map of the U.S. that showed state outlines and we had to memorize each one's name and capital.  I imagine they don't bother with things like that now, just indoctrination classes... Of course in the mid to late 60s we began the day with the Pledge of Allegiance and learned to respect my teachers and fellow students as a matter of course thanks to some bookish friends like Dick, Jane, Peter and Spot.  :)

I wonder if Peter was the beginning for my attraction to blonds?        

Thanks, buddy. My schooling started out in a one room schoolhouse that we had to walk a couple of miles to. The only things we had to worry about were bears and freezing to death before someone got the fire started in the wood stove. :)  Now children have drills of what to do in an active shooter situation. 

There is so much wrong going on in the world... and I don't understand why people want to get into other peoples' business. Have your beliefs, but don't impose them on others. Live and let live seems right to me. I've been warning for years that LGBTQ+ rights weren't settled, and now we can see the intent to go back to the dark ages. All because we have become sheep, following bullies and fueled by hate and an obvious need to do battle. And there is a heinous war! One that serves no sane purpose whatsoever... only that a sick monster had a temper tantrum and wanted to gain more toys.  

Poetry is personal for me... I have many poems that I've never posted anywhere... but this one was screaming inside my head, wanting to get out. Thanks for understanding, my friend. :hug:  

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