There is never a “reason” to kill, only
sin and breaking the sixth commandment,
(if you’re into those) and if you’re not…
Welcome to Hell.
Raskolnikov knew it well, the Dostoevsky
character damned the moment he raised
And the police officer does not need to be
ruled a murderer by a court to be that,
folks, the crime goes punished, I now
It is wrong to kill—the ultimate judgment
of another human being as less than you
and not worthy to be here.
You are no one to make such a judgment,
police have no justification for murder,
not one, not ever.
The old argument was that if he had a gun,
I get to kill him.
I smashed that in another poem called
“The Old Argument,” look to non-lethal
weapons and real self-defense, yes the
kind without reckless preemptive Offense,
yes, the sanity and good actions that take
you to heaven.
Restraint, moderation, holding back and
humility. Restraining from judgment, from
rash irrevocable payback, you were scared,
pulled out a gun, shot, and said it was fine
because of your badge.
The “president” (not mine) talks of
“cowardly attacks,” the “losers” we created
abroad and at home that kill, created by
our judgments, our tweets, our covert
bombing in the night, extrajudicial murder
of suspects, and satellite targets in the street.
“Take him out” lauded and applauded in a movie
house as the Department of Offense kills
Nevermind the murder. Nevermind the family,
friends of the dead—never mind the rise of
worse terrorist acts in the place of your man,
We need to think deeper, speak less, listen
more and pull the United Nations out of a
peace-hating United States.
That or hold God in our hearts, fire Samuel
and the message the Jewish people gave him
to have a king to be like other nations.
Make God our king (he or she’s already mine),
Bill Maher and other atheists neglected to
the dictionary read, where “God” is there in
black and white, no fight,
It’s a Good Concept, this G.O.D. if nothing
else, Good Orderly Direction and help for those
who feel a need to connect to a Higher Power
Believe what you want, think what you think,
reap what you sow and sow what you reap.
You cannot escape the punishment of killing
humanity, you can’t, you try when you tweet,
CIA bragging they can go where others can’t,
accomplished what others can’t—
like murdering our own president.
In 1963, we went from bad to worse, from
human elections to murder’s erection, the
sad transfer of power to the devil at the top—
LBJ a Vietnam puppet, a racist killer who signed
Civil Rights up to shut them up, who had to
put something on the board to hide his gory
sword, greed and gore, setting up a bombing
spell Nixon cherished, racism gathering steam,
gosh can we kill Jack Anderson, that kike reporter,
we’ve done everything else murderous and evil to
kill the American Dream!!
Hunt, Gordon Liddy and the boys from CIA, the
FBI under Hoover no peach, killing MLK and
Freedom of Speech, John Lennon in our
sights, Reagan must have a clear path to
murder all the kikes.
You can’t change the world, Lao Tu was right,
but you can try.
End all the violence in your own heart and
mind, that’s the real fight. Gandhi, MLK, from
Jesus and turn the other cheek.
Warriors without guns have the real balls on
Cowards you say. Cowards. Like relying on your
gun instead of your brain.
Losers. Losers you say. God bless you to
stop judging others, and I promise you won’t
Until then, Trump, and all the bastards who
skipped the book in school:
Shhh! Stop talking. Talking without knowing
is for fools.
Take your gun and violent way of life, flush
it down the toilet, be a hero in Longfellow’s
strife, a poet in the night, be as the Arabs
who pack their tents at the end of a great day,
steal no more, Away!!
God bless us to books and what they contain,
Mrs. Chick’s effort, John Wooden’s peace of
mine, even his 2-2-1 fullcourt press if it helps
you with yours, mine is mine.
I love you in your sin, don’t get me wrong,
Cowboy, I was just like you.
I used to be a strong coward for the right,
in favor of dropping bombs on enemies
like they were not people, but flies.
I’m sorry to God for this, the LORD a great
forgiver if you give a chance, pray earnestly
from your knees, CIA, admit the sin, and see
and feel the pain no more,
Raskolnikov to Siberia but truthful, Sonya
loyal to his truth and sinning heart until
You ask why but you know—she sinned too.
We are nothing until we admit the truth.