The following is my version of a diary entry. It isn't edited much. I'll edit over time.
Suggestions are welcome, but I may or may not exit my solipsism.
Thanks for reading.
A Desperate Note
i sit in the poorest corner
of a crumbling Empire,
fifty miles from the nearest traffic light,
but in front of me on a glowing screen
is a massacre by a rogue solider, 16 more
innocent people dead,
which reminds me of the 12 dead
at Columbine High School, the first mass murder
of students by students,
which soon became more,
and continues to become more.
here in the violence-worshipping Empire
there are natural born killers,
and serial killers stalk through TV land
outside my window, somewhere
in the wilds of remote woods,
a quick burst of gunfire:
pop, pop, pop.
how prevalent and contagious guns are
in our land of the free, which is owned by
who make profit off wars
in which millions of foreigners die,
but these human beings don’t count,
not like money counts.
Emperor Nixon dropped tens of thousands
of bombs on a country we were not even at war with
because he thought it might save just one American life.
Emperor George W. Bush got us into two long wars,
which are now sinking us
finally and pathetically.
our soldiers go insane and massacre civilians;
or they piss on the corpses of the "enemy,"
or burn the Muslim sacred book, the Koran.
our country is so full of hate,
and there are guns everywhere
and we are so very very sick.