Tag Archive | Violence

The Savagery of the Victim

It’s easier
to be confident
in your choice
when you see
the behavior
of those who disagree.

It’s not the only thing
but it is A thing.

In the end
you may be wrong
but you weren’t
fast and furious
to take life
even if life was taken

That is something
to be proud of
no matter the situation.

You didn’t choose
the savagery
of the victim.

Maybe you are wrong
but you didn’t choose
the savagery
of the victim.

The Kind Hearted Killer

Does a kind heart matter in a savage land
or will a kind heart get you killed
and if you are killed is it the end of the road
or is there something more for which to stand.

Because a kind heart is easy when the living is easy
I’m not sure I would even call it kind
but when the living is hard and people don’t care
The beats in your chest are your test truly.

When that ole heart of yours gets to beatin’
cause the people outside are a comin’
and they’re coming for you and they’re runnin’
kindness takes a back seat to gunnin’.

And so then you find out on the deepest of levels
a souls revolution a souls revolt
that you’ve been lying to yourself all along
you’re not kind, you’re a cowardly devil.

Death is the most honest thing that we have
followed by birth, which is pure
and when your decisions are tempered by death
you find out once and for all who you are.
The rest is just wrapping paper
all different colors
and style and ribbons and bows
and pretty designs
and tape that hides lines
all covering what’s left below
and the problem really is
as you theorize and spin
that you never really wanted
to know.

So do you have a kind heart
or a killers heart

Or are you a kind hearted killer.

The Beater and the Beaten

I went off on some fucking asshole
and showed him what’s what
I didn’t hold back any punches
and wielded my words to cut.

And so I cut him, into pieces
and he was deeply defeated
and it showed in his face and down
turned head
that mutha fucka sure was dead.

And as I gazed over his defeat
and scanned the horizon above the beat
and caught my breath and righteousness
I flexed my chest and blew a kiss.

And as I walked, head high, away
every step I took kept love at bay
and with each I became more lost
my righteousness has such a cost.

And in the instance of my delusion
with each step grew my confusion
something happened
I don’t want to see
that it’s me that took a bruising.

I do not want to see it
I do not want to feel it
I do not want to understand
how I lift a violent hand.

I do not want to feel
the depth of my own pain
I do not want to see my
unpuzzled true reign.

But my, my, my…
my friends
there’s only one answer
and it has no end
it’s the journey of you
a step turned in
away from the world
to where truth lives.

And in an instant you’ll be defeated
on such a level
you’ve been so mistreated
but surprise, surprise
what you’ve deleted
Is that you’re the beater
and the beaten.

My poor child, it’s only you,
my courageous one
yes, it’s true
you’re the beater
and the beaten
and you beat first
your open heart
before you begin to start
beating another
far away, out there,
you beat yourself,
you don’t know
you don’t care.

But this last beating
is your final defeat
the one you beat
could not be hidden
and as you hacked
and pounded at them
and ripped their skin
with molten words
meant to burn and corrode
and scortch
with just a pile of smoking waste
left before you, egoic haste

Something happened
and you finally faced
that all your violence and all your rage
directed at something away
is the biggest lie ever played
and played on you
(and every one of us)
that what you strike
is what you love
and what you kill
is what you want
and what you fear
is what is dear
and every time you strike with words
(or the weapon that works best for you)
you strike your heart
you strike what’s true
you strike yourself
you kill yourself
you hate yourself
you beat yourself
you are hateful to yourself.

We are not separate
no matter how hard we try
separateness is the biggest lie
you strike me
it’s you who dies
my love, my love
please open your eyes.

It’s Hard to be Friends

I’m talking with friends about Trump
and impeachement
and we don’t agree
and it doesn’t feel like friends,
but I’m going to try harder,
because I think we are friends.

When someone says they don’t agree,
what are your options?

When you’ve laid out your arguements
laid all all you have
and it’s crystal clear to you
and they still don’t agree,
what are your options?

I think this is the question it would be good to answer,
before answering the other questions.
Because I don’t think we agree.
And I don’t think it’s because we don’t have the “facts”.

I think we don’t agree because we feel hurt
and unresolved in our hurt
and our fear of being hurt more.
Who wants to be hurt more?

What are our choices in this, however?
Will we hurt others so as not be hurt more ourselves?
What if these others have never hurt us?
Or more difficult, what if they have?

This seems fundamental to me,
this seems like a foundational principle,
this seems like MLK, Ghandi, Buddha, Jesus,
this seems like non-violence.

This seems like peace.

But we may not be ready for peace.
It seems as if we are not ready for peace
by the way we treat those we disagree with,
and that’s “ok”.

“Ok” in the sense that it’s better to accept it
than to pretend we want peace and justice
so much that we will use force and violence
to achieve it.

Using force and violence and hate and anger
to achieve Peace and Justice is a way worse world
than might is right.

Give me straight up, honest bruttishness
over wolves in sheeps clothing any day.

So I guess, maybe it’s hard to be friends,
maybe that’s the point,
what is it worth to be friends?

Do you believe you can achieve Peace and Justice
through hatred, anger, violence and force?

It’s going to hard to be friends if that’s the case.

No te olvides del niño del árbol

The boy runs,
head back, glancing
arching back – like his chest is leading

and maybe it is, the heart.

Shouts and laughter
laughter and shouts
speedy directions
not fast enough to catch up
with the action
of the boy.

It’s as if he belongs in that tree,
and other kids,
like fruit
pop up and hang and swing

laughter and shouts

Little fingers, little toes
climbing on the world
loving, living, loving, living

shouts in laughter

More children come
little fingers and bark
branches and legs
skin and leaves

el árbol niño
the tree child

El chico de los árboles se fue
The tree child is gone

It can’t be
But it is.
Laughter and shouts
Skin and bark
little limbs on little limbs

oh such terribleness for what
we’ve forgotten.

We’ve forgotten the child of the tree,
Nos hemos olvidado del niño del árbol.

Do not forget the child of the tree.

…But I Love James Bond

“The true man wants two things: danger and play. For that reason he wants woman, as the most dangerous plaything.”
― Friedrich Nietzsche

When I saw this quote, my loins immediately tightened up, you know…in the best way. I felt that deep, sexual call to “arms” that has become such a part of my relationship with myself and with women. I love that feeling. I love the thoughts I create around that feeling. I’ve loved the actions I’ve taken (when they’ve been successful) as a result of those thoughts that come from that feeling. I love James Bond!

And I think that might be part of the problem. Part of my problem. Maybe part of the bigger “problem” of this man/woman thing. I love James Bond and I think I might not be alone.

I can feel it in the deepest parts of my sexual being that objectification is what I want. It’s what my sex wants and because I’ve felt this way for so long, it’s become what I want. I’ve made it good and I think that’s a problem and I’m not sure exactly how to address it, so I’m bringing it up.

James Bond, the ultimate male. Dominating and taking what he wants and killing what’s in opposition to him and looking great doing it. Just those two choices, dominate or kill.


But here’s the thing guys…I think we’re ok. If you look at what we know of human history in relation to the very personal effect that we and the ones we love are alive today, it’s possible to see how domination and killing is not just a part of our psyche but how 1,000 years ago (or whenever) it came to be and was necessary. And for the female minded reading this, please, don’t condemn the man who recognizes and accepts history. I can just hear someone thinking “oh my god, it’s been 5,000 years of male domination and killing, Times Up!”.

What’s important to me is to flesh out this contradiction in myself, so deeply rooted and deeply supported by both sexes, that it’s remained partially and intentionally buried. I’ve just been pin-balling around in this crazy culture of ours, whirling my head, neon flashing, beautiful breasts, pizza and beer, success, achievement, righteousness, love, killing…oh my god, so much to choose from. So distracted and so in love with my distraction.

So the point of this post, as always, is that it’s a point. It’s a point for me that I have this vision of the “True Man” inside me and that it’s based, partly, mostly, on Nietzsche’s quote and Jame’s Bond’s persona. And that this vision, this driver inside me doesn’t serve who I want to be. It doesn’t serve the father in me, it doesn’t serve the partner or the friend, and most of all it doesn’t serve the warrior in me.

Someone said something so interesting and pertinent the other day, I will never forget it. They said “what…what do you think? We should be good at this? We should be good at communicating, good at working together, good at being friends with each other?”. He said this in the context of describing and talking about male and female relationships and was referencing that for all intents and purposes we are infants on the spectrum of human development and communication when you look at how long humans have inhabited the planet VS how long we’ve actually had language VS how long we’ve decided to intermingle VS how long we’ve begun to discuss human rights. It’s kind of funny that we think we know how people should behave or think we have the answer or that there even is an answer to be had.

For me it’s a process, and mostly a process of elimination and discovery, of taking things away, of sweeping away the dust, of excavating the artifacts that lie beneath my feet to study them and discover what is garbage and what is gold. There is nothing for me in the noise of today’s cultural neon product, other than a strong example of what I don’t want the world to be like.

James Bond can be buried, let the sands of time cover him and allow him to be built upon, to something greater, more powerful, caring and compassionate. Let’s allow James Bond to be the foundation for the 21st century man because he is. No shame. And no desire to return from whence we came.

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