the Bellow From the Cage

This poem is in response to the high school shooting in Chardon, Ohio. I have several friends there and know many people who we very good friends with the boys who died and those left debilitated. We have all been affected by this tragedy. If you comment on this poem with any negativity, I promptly tell you to fuck off. I am usually pretty tolerant, but not of anyone who knows only hatred and anger.

Indecent thrones of ancient men
To trace the ink is to fabricate the pen
Sworn in, our posterity, it means little now, meant little then
Scorch the dictator with our frozen zen
Hold your triggers to his fingers
Spiritual pain is an illusion that lingers
Sift through the sand, a choir of anger
Sings of a bullet, no perceived danger
A bullet recorded in refracting lenses
Does nothing but pass through a wall of skin, deadening senses
The bleeding doesn't stop, and it never will
You will feel my pain, even if you don't see it
Reverberating through the halls, a blast into the maw
Scathing fear breeds a hatred for those who saw

The rage of the trigger holder

Just because it is fucked up, doesn't mean it couldn't have been bolder,
Flip the switch and it all goes back
To the beginning of perceived time, a slowly sparked match
Feed us your fucking anger, we won't think anything
But of how our machine is so fucked and crumbling
Down, down, back into the gap
Feed me, FEEEED ME NOTHING BUT FEAR
And we will HATE everything we hold dear
JUST think of how he felt, not the connotation of what was dealt.
We already know it was wrong and pained, now he is
But just think of how he must have felt.
Think of how he felt and why.