She rose from her desk,
Notes written,
Took off her jewelry,
Opened her Plaza window,
And stepped out to her death.

She was a veteran nurse
Who saw action in World War II and Korea,
She was tired of battling arthritis,
The pain too much for her body,
But it was the gangs of New York
That pushed her over the edge.

She left a note
Explaining it all,
Telling of the hardship of aching joints,
The shame of children killed in gangs,
Local or those pushed around by men in uniforms.
She wanted the government
To teach these boys how to work
Instead of covering up problems
With cruel social work prescriptions,

So she jumped
Leaving behind a cache of jewelry
With an estimated value of five hundred dollars.

He looked across the way
As the Vandals entered his turf.
He and his Barbarian crew
Knew they must beat them down.
This was how gangs made sure
Everyone knew where the boundaries were.
He ran at them sure his baseball bat was enough
When a Vandal pulled out a gun
And shot him in the chest.

The bullet missed the vital stuff
But put this Barbarian in his place
Blood trickled into the street,
Both gangs ran,
The police finally came.

Somehow, a little of the medical bill got paid.
Someone, told the former Barbarian
That a nurse gave her life to pay his medical bills,
But that never made a difference to the kid
His life changed when he brought a bat
To a gun fight.
He would never do that again.

The causes wither away
For they never amount to much.
The fights fade into nothing
For they are rarely worth it.

Didn’t Dalton say, “Nobody wins a fight.”

Anymore I’m learning to not care.
The upheaval of wanting things
Is too much to bear,
Not just for me, but for Our sustainability.

Wasn’t it Ragnar who said something about being a patient man?

Of course Dalton and Ragnar are just characters
Who both survived in the hypocrisy of their quests,
As do I, although,
I’m learning.

I woke this morning with a great idea,

A machine gun rant

About the different wars and their ridiculousness.

As I played the words in my head,

They seemed too familiar,

I think maybe they were from an old Franti song,

So I decided to battle the urge to press what was happening upstairs

And think about the futility of war and

The manipulation of people when spinsters 

Attach ideas like carnage and nobility

To their cause of the day: drugs, cancer, poverty, test scores, basketball…

Don’t get me wrong,

Each cause is important, but wars are horrible.

Somehow the marketing of goodness seems misaligned

When applied

To the realities of combat and battle.

How about we rethink our methods of preventing drug abuse?

A war is not necessary.

How about we rethink our approaches to cancer research?

A war is not necessary.

Jobs are needed for the poor.

Not war.

People are learning with or without test scores.

Do schools need to be battle grounds with such dire consequences?

Teams are not armies. Games are games.

Equating them to soldiers and war is a joke.

So on this morning when I rose with a rant in mind,

I hope you find peace and happiness

Before someone starts waging a war on that too.

Penning words with passion
With causes deeply entrenched
He set out
To rewrite it
All
Inspired by Swift, Twain, and Tosh
The fires of justice
Scorched any thought
He decided
Deserved a brand

Then it all changed
When She got in

His anger left
He realized all this
Purpose
Started the infernos where
The only one burning was
Him
So he reconciled with
Jonathan, Mark, and Peter
While still holding their conviction
To what is just
Just without that Sherman flint
Too often struck
Now saved for fires
Worth lighting