Sit Bruno.
Sit media.
People are searching.
The official account sucks,
and all the fringe theories comply.
There you are with question tape.
Are you a fringe theorist too,
no different than all the rest?
You’re media worthy.
No one can deny that.
You’re not a division conspiracy.
You promote unity.
You give answers to burning questions
in the literature of true mysticism.
There is no fake in your account.
You weigh on things,
go deep into matters,
expose the core.
That’s not valueless.
If you’re gonna trust someone,
tell me why that wouldn’t be you?
You know how to speak the truth.
You just protect yourself.
You will land a lot of votes one day.
Big deal you say.
You’re in the thick of it now,
feeling like a fool.
I don’t want any of those kitchen parts.
I elevate mass shooting to lie.
We hear from the conspiracy keepers.
I think the mainstream media has a fact sheet,
and they got it all wrong.
It’s not individuals with guns;
it’s the whole damn society,
and we listen to man.
We listen to man explains.
Honey a higher power called.
It’s on alert.
That poet explains.
He was a link sunk because he was honorable to my heart.
Trapped in this animal explains.
This is not a localized crime.
A thief in the night has come.
He’s carried away your children
in body bags.
Now let’s control this demon.
You think it’s a hack job,
some guy alone in his underwear
just does everybody in.
We can’t lift our feet from this.
It is so in our face.
What do we do about it?
Study the phenomenon in aftermath.
We look at individual responsibility and gun ownership.
No one sees the ticket.
It’s a hate crime.
Hate is all over the place.
It’s gotten in our underwear.
We pick it up and shoot people with it.
Hate kills.
Hate is ever present among us.
It’s difficult to follow.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
That has come from an inner leaping.
We share consciousness in shares.
Ideas and memes flow between us
and the feelings we all share.
Pick up that gun and shoot it,
this is inner wear.
A thought has come
from the crowd.
It’s packaged hate.
Everybody’s doing it.
The inside thought process,
people hate each other.
Now this is the remote.
The lone gunman’s a brand.
He has all the right equipment
to pick up our hate and kill the crowd.
He was raised that way.
This happens everyday
it’s so big.
A suicide vest determines it
in other countries,
or a car murder weapon,
a knife or an axe.
It’s the same phenomenon.
We all do it.
Why?
We’ve picked up the virus:
we’re hating each other in our thoughts,
and we imagine violence,
play that in our mind.
Don’t call it a mass shooting.
We handle our brains,
punching people,
tellin’ them off.
Imagining more calamities
an exercise.
Well just do your neighbor in
if he offends you.
We box his ears;
we just send her packing,
all in a mind’s eye.
And there it goes,
straight to that rifle,
and a lone gunman
branded, look:
he carries everybody’s hate.
How do we profit from this?
Let’s go back to rooster crowing at dawn.
You just put down that gun,
that rifle,
give good imaginings to people
in your feeling thoughts.
I know what you’re saying.
I can’t get it in.
There’s a whistleblower.
It’s this specific hate you feel in a crowd.
Somebody’s hurt you
or your family,
or you see them on the world stage doing that.
They’ve done wrong and need to be punished,
even if it’s just offended you
by calling you names
or putting you down,
undermining your position.
You want them to pay for what they have done.
Can we see this is epidemic now?
Oh yeah,
cancel everything
to do with gun control.
It’s a family weapon.
We need it to shoot intruders,
protect ourselves from the vice.
We won’t let you in.
We imagine horrible things
in any commotion you make.
We use guns in our minds
to straighten people out.
Are you a gun owner?
Ever done that:
they just need to be shot?
Is that a meme?
It’s comin’ tomorrow
we control our guns
much better than we do now.
A daily gun,
systemic hate,
we take this around and show it to people,
all over the place.
We unfold as humans,
learn more about our stuff,
the inner side of relations,
and become more kind to everyone,
where it really counts,
in our minds.
I’m yesterday.
Nobody knows it’s there,
but I have to tell you about it anyway
and be not listened to.
Ladies and gentlemen,
it’s got our progress,
the poetry I share online.
You’re dismissed.
You hear the voices, don’t you?
Noah Pozner, 6, photo taken on Nov. 13, 2012 and provided by the family via The Washington Post
It’s a helicopter.
The issues are hands.
Listen to these.
It’s in the papers now:
how do we gather our children
and they’re all around us dead?
I see the faces now,
captured on camera
of a parent’s woe.
A little first grader,
I gave him a bath in the sink.
He was so little.
My God he was adorable.
I washed him clean.
The towel had so much laughter on it,
and I held my little boy dry to sleep.
What a memory gun,
someone took it and cut me up with it.
Alex Jones bled conspiracy.
Oh they love their guns.
Gets children murdered,
and slaps us with their memory.
Is this right?
Oh I love you momma.
Close the door you silly thing,
and go to school.
I love you too falls on my lips
every time I turn around.
Did I tell you that my sweet little boy?
Good God it hurts.
The world was smashed in my mirror.
I don’t trust it now.
It’s got sinister eyes.
I pound my head against the wall.
I don’t know how to fight this.
I don’t know what to do.
The tears still come so easily.
Can you see me son?
Will you be with me again?
This is terrible live action.
We call it Sandy Hook.
It will never end.
That hook rends my heart,
but it’s made of sand and I cannot grasp it out.
Oh the meaning in names.
Have you ever looked at that?
Yes, yes there’s a conspiracy,
in the very ground of reality itself.
I don’t know what’s going on.
This is just too much for me.
They love their guns more than murdered children.
I don’t understand this game.
Can we get at reality,
and put it in front of our faces,
so we see what’s going on?
Does this all have to be about your rights?
Look, Sandy Hook happened.
I was there—
and this is humanity please;
my heart was shot that day.
Can you tell a parent in a room their child didn’t die,
and that room is their child’s,
and all the dead child’s things stare back at them,
and they feel like killing themselves?
Would you feel that?
I would like to show you something.
It’s a horror show.
The worst reality in the world
opened fire on our children,
a little bit of hell in the room.
Can you feel their fear,
their fright?
Can hear their cries,
their oh my God their screams?
Can you hold their hand?
That’s what we’re here for.
Can you?
I want you to be there
in your mind’s eye,
in your heart’s chamber,
when you salute our flag.
Oh I’m not asking this every time,
just enough to matter,
just enough for a better America,
where we’ll be safe again
from a defeated imagination
that sees a conspiracy behind every bush
that get us all to hate.
Oh special interests groups I’m sorry,
you’re just special interest groups.
Love America, you know?
And that’s not a flag,
a founding father,
this political party or that.
It’s not even a revolution.
It’s us you and me,
Americans.
You heard the Sandy Hook massacre.
Whatever.
At the flywheel
of another one's comin',
and everybody knows that for sure.
What can we do?
I can stick out hate
and identify the root of the problem,
the hate that's out there mixin' with everybody,
and who would believe me?
Who would even see its massive spread among us
in every room in humanity?
This is my business,
takin' your hatred and showin' it to yah.
You hate me more than serial killers.
In America no one is hated more.
Jesus Christ, the pedophile.
Now on earth hello.
(this poem was written as comment on the blog Helena, The Nationalist Voice for the post “Mass School Shooting, a Mental Health Common Denomenator”. Click here to see the entire conversation)
The seated with identified and hate
confuse multiple speakers.
We think we got a land problem.
They just don’t know the story from inside.
We let it in
all these ill wills not ours,
a big bad packaged hate.
It has moved us from afar.
I know what to do.
Let’s kill all these people.
And we do.
There it is the ugly truth of the matter
fired upon the scene.
You think it’s American.
How little countries move among you,
as if our consciousness is organized by political boundaries.
That’s the joke:
you are a nationalistic speaker.
You are so much more than that.
Humanity is everyone.
Now I think that’s got a ride,
the joy of being human.
Our consciousness is all over the place.
You see it in your smile.
We are so much more than hate.
We are bigger than the stars.
You ever seen this in your living room?
We’ve got every welfare at heart.
We genuinely do care about one another.
That’s that process of soul.
It’s what we’re here to study.
That’s what brings us to God,
but don’t forget
it’s a cruise ship,
and every human being’s on board,
and that’s just the human side.
We care about animals.
Oh the soul they watch too
you see.
Harm's End 