Sorry We Shot Your Kid...Sorry We Shot Your Kid, But Here's $500Sorry We Shot Your Kid...7 years ago in Articles & Interviews More Like This
For the entire war in Iraq, the press has been kept largely in the dark concerning the number of civilians killed by our forces, and what happened in the aftermath. Now several hundred files posted online reveal some of the true horror while raising questions about lack of compensation.
Here you will find, for example, that when the U.S. drops a bomb that goes awry, lands in an orchard, and does not detonate -- until after a couple of kids go out to take a look -- our military does not feel any moral or legal reason to compensate the family of the dead child because this is, after all, broadly speaking, a "combat situation."
Also: What price (when we do pay) do we place on the life of a 9-year-old boy, shot by one of our soldiers who mistook his book bag for a bomb satchel? Would you believe $500? And when we shoot an Iraqi journalist on a bridge we shell out $2500 to his widow -- but why not the measly $5000 she had requested?
This, and m
Nor is SalvationSudden is the feeling of imminent despairNor is Salvation5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Rage fuels fires that burn in empty rooms
A sign of faltering anguish
Stumble into the fields where children slave together
Yet always alone
Grasp in the darkness for things unreachable
Slow to rise like a giant sleeping
Roused to action
React to defense, the deaf
Lead the blind everywhere
But neither notices the falls
And fuel now runs low for the fire
Warmth rescinding its hands
Where once heat blasted faces stared
Now empty and hollow
Eyes penetrating, piercing through the mist
Encroaching upon our vision
And suddenly notice the coming despair
Let rage subside and pacify itself
No more to raise desire
Nor is destruction come
Peter and the dinosaurPeter meta dinosaur coming round the roundabout,Peter and the dinosaur5 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
and he went running, loudly shouting out,
Little did he know, the reptile was a friend,
And Peter was run over, by the car from round a bend.
Zionism: A Threat to JudaismZionism: A Threat to Judaism7 years ago in Editorial More Like This
ZIONISM: THE GREATEST THREAT TO THE JEWISH PEOPLE
By: Spencer Pennington
Ever since 1914, the world as a whole has seen a dramatic change in the political, social, religious, and even economic landscapes. It began with a single gunshot from a member of the Serbian nationalist group "The Black Hand," which resulted in the death of Austro-Hungarian Archduke Franz Ferdinand, and as we all know, this single assassination reshaped Human history with the initiation of World War I.
The story has been told a million times over: War broke out across Europe as the Triple Alliance of Russia, France, and Britain rushed in to aid Serbia and Austria-Hungary was backed by Germany and the Ottoman Empire, effectively becoming the coalition known as the Central Powers. While the Germans joined out of a sense of camaraderie for their Austro-Hungarian allies, the Ottomans had joined due to the money that was to be made by supplying Germany and Austria-Hungary with oil for the war, assured of their allie
A cyclical haiku.AccidentallyA cyclical haiku.4 years ago in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
deleted a handful of
haiku about death.
In your headPaint the stars on a wooden sky. Turn them into true beauty on the walls of your mind.In your head5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Omit the canvas; close your eyes.
Inwardly compose your abstract thoughts of heavenward stairs.
(Now, look through the eyes of the boy your peers see.
Has the world flashed its ugly face?)
Perceive Earth's great allure in your own image and feast on the power of imagination,
for only you can witness false beauty turn true.
Words of a madman?"The Earth will shake;Words of a madman?5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
the heavens will scream;
the flares of doom will descend.
Stare at the chaos;
witness the red-gold end.
Sickly sweet stench will burn your nostrils,
like cascading flames will burn your homes and cities.
You will smile as realization strikes you;
your children will die, your wife will die., you will die."
Does the image of the future frighten you?
Have the words of a pre-apocalyptic madman opened your eyes?
InsanityInsane thoughts prompt insane words.Insanity5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Twisting, twirling. World of chaos and lies;
stampede the thoughts of brainwashed minds.
Think deep and realize truthful agony;
blasphemic dealings and true feelings.
Saviors and icons, pathetic!
Think true, for you have the will.
Contradictions and pointless debates;
that, I will argue!
Live in this rodeo;
for insanity is the true form of purity.
n'orleansclap hands, wooden fingersn'orleans5 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
and Moroccan drums
you gotta lay your devils down
you better wear that thorny crown
throaty whisperings, a singer's voice
a soul for the pages of history
specks of time blown away with a sigh
as if the concept did not exist or utilize
looking for the diction to distance
the place from the...
holes in the hands of the saints
stigma what is and what ain't
cast a line and catch a fish
hey little bird
sitting there on that windowsill
treble clef, signature bass
plucking the metal frets of men
sliiiide, sell your soul for delta blues
signified a change in the
such, is this the undiluted vein?
and they all went to
nowhere, in a little row boat
drifting listlessly in the sky
sanguine dreams, blood and wine
synonyms of symptomatic restlessness
few worthy to be malcontent
convinced that here can never
be as good as there [and where
the compass needle quivers]
is the origin and nothing more
deemed by some pragmatic,
well-intentioned white lie
Happy Groundhog DayHappy Groundhog Day5 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
Just so you know, I dont give a good god damn.
Right now, Ive got this shovel in my hand, and what Im doing with the shovel is digging myself out of Hell. I bet you didnt know you could do that, did you? You can. Just so you know, that big blue blob doesnt let just anybody into Heaven. Hes got a big old' Christmas list full of people that hes hand-picked or circled in a catalog, or whatever. And if youre not on that Christmas list, those angels wont take you up to Heaven. Is that okay with you? It wasnt okay with me. If you die, and that big blue blob in a throne tells you to walk down a black hallway into this big fire pit because you werent pretty enough in the toy store window, do what I do, and dont give a good god damn. Get a goddamn shovel and free yourself.
I havent been here a long time. A lot of people have, though. Accidentally staying a long time in Hell is an easy thing to do. That big blue blob d
Something is Happening, Some..Something is Happening, Some..5 years ago in Philosophy & Perspectives More Like This
I want you to take a good look at me. I was a young man once, if you can believe it. That kite flew away a long time ago, though. Death could sneak in and whisk me away any minute. I have a plan, though: I haven't bathed in weeks. Not even Death would want to touch a finger to this dirty old man.
Right now, I'm putting on my coat, getting ready to walk to the drug store. I've got to get medicine for the wife and I. Ol' Death could very well be hiding in the sleeve of my coat like a spider. I slip on my shoes and hope he's not hiding in there.
I open the door and throw a scarf around my neck. What's an old man like me doing out in the cold? I've never minded the cold, to tell you the truth. Cruel people like me can always stand the cold. Can I tell you a story? I don't want to think about the present right now, let's head over to the past. Here's a story I think to myself whenever I'm sad to make me feel better; it never works:
In the year nineteen and sixty-four I was a sol
A CitySoy Boston. Soy la Chupacabra.A City6 years ago in Other More Like This
I suck the blood from goats. Or perhaps
I am a blood-sucking goat. Either way
I suck blood.
Mosquito-like, existence is tenuous, dragged
Between one day and the next like mayflies,
Like May flies into being free for three months
From people telling you who you are.
But Ive got this fear lately
That my stupid little fly wings wont lift me lately,
Even if I give up a carnivorous nature
To become a biped cow for three weeks,
Chewing cud and sugar-free gum.
I am a city. Large and fast.
Large and slow. Large and in charge,
Too large to mess with, clumsy
But violent. My crime rate goes up in the summer
Because my air conditioners are always broke,
And when the smell of the river rises
I go crazy.
Just one dropJust one drop of an acidJust one drop6 years ago in Surrealism More Like This
larger than the Ocean...
opens the doors of perception..
i see the boat on the blot
unleashing the imagination
Lake Sea Drowning..
Drowning deep under the ocean
with no life left in me..
i float on the clouds of destruction
yet i feel so serene
no life left in me
still i feel i'm living...and not just surviving..
Coffee Cups and Insincerity"But sir," said he, pushing aside coffee cups and insincerity to make way for the truth. "You have no legs."Coffee Cups and Insincerity6 years ago in Philosophy & Perspectives More Like This
He hovered for a while, on the cusp of apologising for his sudden outburst. Gravely, I regarded him, and grey eyes met brown. The grey eyes turned away and looked to the others for support - but they were met with stony silence. At long last, I replied that I was indeed aware of the pre-mentioned fact. In fact, had I not been aware that I have no legs since they were forcibly removed from my body following an unfortunate incident with a Toyota, I might have guessed after realising that I was in a wheelchair and, without it, was three feet tall. My wry sense of humour regarding the accident failed to amuse the panel of pale-faced interviewers, and they stared back at me like four ivory lollipops.
"But you're applying for the post of PE teacher," he blustered.
I checked my CV, examined my name-tag, glanced at the job-specification sheet and pronounced this to be true. T
Meditation on Break TimeGreen tea, yellowy.Meditation on Break Time6 years ago in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
I can't brew it properly
...kinda looks like pee.
A Real JobThis sterile trap,A Real Job4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
This corporate limbo,
Each day the same,
Data entry, data transfer,
Clicking and ticking of keys
In such great volume it sounds
Like heavy rain on the cold, cracked concrete.
This thin gray carpeted cubicle wall
Surrounds my exhibit room as I wait for lunch,
While white collars and other passers by
Look in at my simulated habitat.
Two frames, one with my wife,
The other with both of us, and the two kids
Adorn the otherwise light gray, fluorescent lit
Ten by ten square that is my territory.
I don't want to wait thirty years to retire
When I could have a job instead.
Life, A JourneySummer walks through the grassLife, A Journey4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Thinking things I thought were past
My mind drifts along ocean waves
This conscience lost among the maze
A fiery blaze
The Waking WillowWillow trees that dream at duskThe Waking Willow4 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Perched beside the rivers brink
May hang their heavy branches down
Resting where the shadows slink.
Weary from the wearing world
But born to bare it, though they sink
Into the mire round their roots
And still, with thirst they deeply drink
From waters formed pon mountains high
And droplets formed from weeping skies
That watch below the whole earth die
Swallowed softly in its lies.
Just like the mire round the roots,
From which a willow tree must rise,
Mans world spreads forth its hungry hive
To eat all it can hypnotize.
And so the weeping willow cries
And bends in sorrow to the brink
Limbs shaking with the silent sighs
Grief growing from the soils stink
And sees reflected in the stream
Its rippling form held in the light
That seems to whisper of a dream
We waking walk through till the night.
When bleary sun will rest its eye
And darkness fall upon us all
Then we can look up to the sky
And hear the silver clarion call
Devil's BrewBlack and foul,Devil's Brew4 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
With steaming taint,
The liquid in my mug
Offends me much.
It's taste is such
It brings to mind a slug
Whose slimy trail
Does now entail
To gather at my lips.
It makes me ill,
This swirling swill
I drink with grueling sips,
This fetid funk
This juice of skunk
That doth insult my tongue.
A troll's pit sweat
Or closer yet
The essence of dog dung
Or toxic waste
Would better taste
Than this revolting brew,
And yet, alas,
I'm such an ass.
To go without won't do.
Earths Final Resting PlaceThe weight of this worldEarths Final Resting Place4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Rests heavily upon my shoulders
As streams of tears
Flow to eternal oceans
These legs grow weak
Earth pressing on the back of my neck
Pushing me toward
The celestial dirt I walk
The weight of this world
Resting heavily upon my back
As my last breath
Is crushed from my immortal soul
Death of a GoldfishTo watery grave I must departDeath of a Goldfish4 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
But lose not heart
Nor give a moan
As I go down the porcelain throne.
TristramYou came into my city's walls,Tristram4 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
And shone despite your wounded state,
And soon you echoed through my halls,
And offered me the hand of fate.
You told me of your foreign lands,
And tugged me gently toward their shore.
Pulled me past the burning sands
Into the thirsty ocean's roar.
And so we sailed towards glooming night,
Star-eyed and dreaming, hearts entwined
Each drunken in the others sight,
Each full of hopes and danger blind.
And now the dark has finally come
But left us with the quiet stars.
No more the heat of glowing sun,
But silvered beauty now is ours.
Which softly sings of coming dawn,
And greater things than light soaked noon
And whispers why all hearts are drawn
To dance beneath the fickle moon
So once again I raise the flask
And knowing, drink the lover's brew
And toast to what my love would ask
And give my will to cleave to you.
Read the Label Before UseChewing on a concept, lurking like a night owl. Pain springs from my eyes and I touch but don't grasp. Faking a pillow, I hope that this quiet will last. The past couple nights these eyes haven't closed. Maybe it's something more but nobody knows. Consciousness and hurt are pervasive and bitterly cold. I was hoping eventually these feelings would become old. Like fresh wounds they sting and take long to heal. Raking my brain for a numbness that is so sweet. I turn to a darkness recluse in blank sleep. Downing the pills to make it possible, condemn myself to dreams probable to permeate my waking and make it like ice. A numbness that takes away thought and throws it to vice. In drugged stupor my dreams take a fervor that only rebels the psycho elite yet still in this sleep, I find peace. From the waking. From my madness in all it's making. My pillows are the only ones who are witness to my tears. And my blankets, the only ones to my deepest fears. In the light of day my face is solid, noRead the Label Before Use4 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This