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It Sounded Like Popcorn

It Sounded Like Popcorn

By JFarrell

 

It sounded like popcorn

Was my first thought

A lot of popcorn

At one in the morning

 

Opening the bedroom door

And turning on the light

To find myself blind

As a wall of thick, black smoke engulfed me

 

Going to my balcony

And looking over the edge

To see bright, angry orange flames

Licking at the walls below me

 

Grabbed coat, 2 bottles of water

And a towel

Knocked door to door

Warning the neighbours

 

Went back to do the other side

But opening the door to that area

The smoke was too thick

And I retreated

 

Ours was not a serious fire, thankfully

And was quickly ended

I cannot even begin to comprehend the events and loss

In the West London fire

 

My deepest sympathies and prayers are with you

As I’m sure are the prayers of many others

And, again, I’d like to thank the emergency services

And all those who helped

 

Love does matter and can heal us all

 

Author's Notes/Comments: 

my deepest sympathies

"The Lord is Your Shepherd, You Shall Not Want. Stop, Enjoy"

by Jeph Johnson (inspired by an anonymous meme and a line from an even less important book)


You are not yet hungry. You need not want.

 

Stop, enjoy.

 

But when we were hungry, you fed us lies and stole away our food benefits.

 

When we were thirsty, you gave us overflowing founts of poisoned water.

 

When we were sick, you canceled our health insurance and sequestered the focus of our doctors to vanity.

 

When we were in prison, you kept us enslaved without hope of rehabilitation, to for-profit corporate greed.

 

When we were strangers with a different color of skin you laughed at our expense, deported us or simply shot us when we protested your intolerance.

 

When we were lonely you took away our social programs, furthering your agenda of isolation.

 

Not all of us want to live in a tower locked away from the rest of the world.

 

But you...

Stop, enjoy.

 

From our elders you took away meals, medicine and social security.

 

From our workers, you took away legal protections, bargaining rights and refused to offer living wages.

 

When we went forth and multiplied, you took away funding for educating our future.

 

Stop, enjoy.

 

When we were bored you entertained us with strategically manipulative propaganda disguised as reality.

 

We asked for diversity, you promoted intolerance.

 

We hoped for caring, you encouraged isolationism.

 

We begged for equity, you squandered our resources on corporate and military excess.

 

We just wanted to breath, so you removed the filters from the smokestacks and coughed out more smog.

 

Those of us with physical and developmental challenges you mocked and ridiculed as fat and retarded.

 

While those of us with mental illness wander the streets cursing the world, building makeshift beds with cardboard boxes, wrapping our fragile bodies in shrouds of bubble wrap in downtown doorways.

 

Those who trample are responsible for the downtrodden.

Your health and wealth is at our ill expense.

 

Stop, enjoy.

 

When we were naked, you raped us, then blamed us because we were provocatively undressed.

 

Victimized, rather than offering refuge, we became your refuse; no shelter or hope for protection.

 

"Go back to him,"
you promised,
"He'll change."

 

After you systematically destroy us individually using each of these calculated methods, no beauty will be left in the world.

 

Stop, enjoy.

 

When gluttons engorge on an entire generation without hope of regeneration, those who you consume perish and only excrement remains.

 

Are you hungry yet?

Stop, enjoy.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

2017 

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Yo Bitches, I Am Trayvon

Yo bitches, I am Trayvon--
Ranting and raving
Like Jackson and Sharpton
From dawn until night.

Yo bitches, I am Trayvon--
A brand and a label, a cause
To uphold at some rich folks’ table
Like Joseph Kony and the black
Genocide.

I’m a trademark of a
Grief-stricken mother,
I’m your son, your sister,
Your brother--
I’m your saint, your thug
And a lie.

I’m a whore of a sly politician,
I’m a martyr of a self-serving mission--
I’m the story that keeps you alive.

Yes, I am Trayvon--
Your vote, your profit
I’m your muse, your product, your coffin--
I’m whatever you want me to be.

And when you’re done,
You’ll find another
To make a monster
Or an innocent brother--
Because in each case
It is all black and white.

March 27, 2012
--Alexander Shaumyan

http://www.shaumyan.com

Revolution

Folder: 
Assorted Stuff

Blood running in the gutters

This story is as old as time

Once again the bloodied up

Victims have committed no crime

The “elected” officials in power

Aren’t keeping their word

And the people on the streets

They just want to be heard

Peaceful protests are broken up

With what seems like violence

While the people want freedom

The government wants silence

They strike hard and fast disabling

Various lines of communication

They shut down the Internet and Al Jazeera

In attempt to settle the frustrated nation

This infringement upon freedom

Only added more fuel to the fire

It hasn’t stopped the protests

Or cooled their desire

The uprisings continue

The citizens stand and unite

They know what they want

So they continue to fight

Mubarak doesn’t get it

He tries to offer a solution

But the people already have an answer

It’s called a REVOLUTION

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