This thing called man

we teach violence to our selves and to our children, why then do we expect anything different from them.

The lament for this thing called man,
with raised fist and glistening sights of rifles,
what evil thing has brought them to this?

Six o-clock evening renderings,
Stories of who was killed today.

The man for his sunglasses,
the 41 in Afghanistan,

Countless, needless,
leaves me speechless.

This cage, Man.
Wrought in hate,
drowning in despair.

Lashing out against his brother and sister.
Ball ammo celebrating its flight of flesh biting pain,
Brass cartridges cooking powder.

And little Johnny,
and sweet Suzie,
watch the news and play the video games,
and witness this history, this long history of violence.

And they are inducted into the lament of this thing called man.
This cage, where violence sees no end to growth.
They have become the seedlings, and ultimately the fodder of future wars,
and future poets lamenting this thing called man.

Reviews

[Rainbowco]

The disregard for life is distrubing, and yes we reap what we sow. Very Thoughtful write regarding violence, in war or in what is consider every day life.