In the Summer Sun

The anger has subsided, at last,
think nothing of horrendous past,
betrayals and laughing lies
festering in the summer sun.

the brightness is a blindness, too,
retracting everything we knew,
facts flying forth and bias blooms,
unfolding in the summer sun.

A balance is struck within the fight
and everyone decides to their own right
and holds their own, for if they don't,
they will fade into the summer sun.

There is no right,
there is no wrong,
no difference between
the screams and songs,
as I sit here, in the summer sun,
waiting for a sign, unhung,
that everything,
the way it is,
is how it is supposed to be.

The premise for the poem "Mankind's creation"

I'm condemning everybody, by the way.

Reading the poem before reading the explanation is encouraged, but not mandatory.

Yes; the poem "Mankind's Creation" is a social commentary.

It references the shooting at the Holocaust Memorial Museum, the giant statues of Buddha's in Afghanistan, suicide bombers, rocket launchers, grenade lob-ers, throwers of rocks, the Middle East, South East Asia, and so many other places. People who abandon their responsibilities, rapists, liars, confidence artists, the people who stand by the sidelines and witness all of this, sadists and masochists, users, addicts, self defacers, those who corrupt innocence and plant seeds of violence and hatred.

It has taken me seventeen years to realize that I have been a witness to a war zone my entire life. I was a less than a decade old when the Towers were felled, the first time in my life that I could feel the fear, so palatable. I don't remember the years much, anymore. The bus and subway bombings in London, shootings at Community Centers and schools (colleges, primary, secondary,) gang symbols, drug trafficking, human trafficking, abuse- emotional, verbal, physical, sexual. Hate, in so many different forms, insidious, sneaking into our minds, poisoning our thoughts. Darfur, where genocide rears its nasty head, countries that rule by god, others whose rules deny god and forbid god. Ideas, ideals, conflicting wants and desires, the need to be right, to have status- This is what drives the human race. This is what destroys us. I hope it is not to late.

Mankind's creation

My god,
How beautiful.
To think that everything
may once have had
a fighting chance.

How terribly devastating-
that someone will come to a memorial
to kill, to kill and be killed.
That history is blown to shards,
and people of one earth bomb each other-
at weddings,
at funerals,
at school,
in the night.
Parents who leave children,
without rhyme, reason, or a word.
They who take the body of another
for their own selfish means,
those who smile as someone else is torn apart,
those who stand by,
in the blood of their nation,
in the blood of their friend.
The ones who do nothing,
the ones who lie,
the ones who introduce strange chemicals to their flesh,
to escape reality,
while their fantasy destroys them.
The ones who burn their own bodies,
draw their own blood,
take their own lives.
Who teach their children,
their progeny,
to hate others:
for god,
for land,
for race,
for color-
and give rise to the saying:
"There will be peace here,-
when they love their children
more than they hate us."

God damn those who glorify in death;
destruction.
There is nothing beautiful there,
a desolate wasteland
of mankind's creation,
a vacuum,
like a hole in the heart,
without a second chance.