LGBT, Gay, Writing, Poetry, Journal, Snark

The Lost Way


The veneer of civilization is cast aside
Revealing our base nature in an instant
The crowds roar at the death of a man
Losing all memory of what it truly means.

Mob pleasure in a violent death
belittles the lives lost before
at the hands of this one person’s hatred
All the innocents crushed in bloody violence.

This man longed for a martyr’s end
and we rushed to give it, without pause;
using the methods of a wicked man,
we prove no better in the end.

Cries of an eye for an eye
and death for each horrid death
keeps a cycle going onward
without an ending for another generation.

I want more for my grandchild
than the speculation of further horror
Rather a steady, moral path that matters
more than rabid satisfaction.

I will not teach rejoicing and victory
in the death of any man
only that we must rise still higher above
and prove that violence can at last end.

To smile with fresh blood upon the lips
is not a thing to relish nor keep;
Rather, mourn for those that died all this time
innocent in the crossfire of religion and politics.

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