Most times…I write.
I write what I feel and I pour my own heart
into words on a page
that someone may read
on the other side of a screen
where perceptions and life experiences
will slowly change
the words my heart meant to say into words you understand
your way…
But this time…
My heart refuses to be heard in any way other than how much it hurts
as people die and other lie bleeding and other hearts
quicken their beating
while bloody hands press down on their chests
and pray to any god that the bodies of lovers, strangers and friends
will muffle the sounds of those hearts…
those hearts…
that cry out to a god who answers with gunshots and convictions that men die for…
but I don’t want to die
for a god who hates
a god who calls to arms the deranged
and lets his goddamn name be said in vain
in vain his goddamn name is found
in every blood-soaked temple of the innocent
clotting lives of those who dared to live
against the wishes of some goddamn god
my heart refuses to let it
my heart…
writes.
Colloquially Speaking 