Monday, May 27, 2013

Poetry: Streets On Fire by Henry Ansah

20 kids shot and killed in a elementary school
More than a dozen dead after movie theatre massacre
Two kids shot dead on a Chicago street corner
Son murders and mutilates his mother's body
Drunk driver kills passengers and other motorists
Two commercial jets crash into the World Trade Center
Death is one thing. We are mortals; our internal clocks will stop eventually. But what I take in as horrifying and grotesque is the manner and the fashion in which people parish. No one deserves to die at the hands of another man. Let us live. It seems goons, psychos, and villains continue to expand and grow their demographic. I don't feel safe in my habitat; or your habitat; or his habitat. I imagine the life of a slave. Born into unremitting torture which was training and a way to prep death almost as a passage of liberation. Read the rest after the jump




It shakes me in understanding people began and ended in such a dark pit. No chance; no say so; no nothin. Present day: pick a city, pick a neighborhood, pick a community. Somebody is seconds from death without even knowing. Could be a random jacking and the guy has a gun, could be a drunk driver who let his ego and lack of judgement triumph. Or maybe you are victim number 4 in a slew of brutal murders where a serial killer is getting his jollies off of inflicting a person with unimaginable pain and subsequently those that will mourn in the aftermath. It's just not fair; let us live...without fear.
Evil lurkes in many as does good in many others.  But I just freeze and shiver when I hear of a gruesome murder(s). That could be me or someone close to me that I couldn't stand the thought of something sick happening to them. When I think about it, maybe dying by my own hand is minimally a strategy to eliminate myself from this game I wish not to partake in. Suicide is no answer but can you blame one for not even wanting to play it out. But maybe that's the beauty in this...playing it out.

***
I wrote this piece a while back. I didn't think it was one of my best writings; just merely a stream of consciousness excerpt on a murders in the world. I recently harked back to it and realized that the content was rampant. It's nothing too philosophical or complex but something I think about a lot. With that being said, it's the first of many postings from me.
Henry Ansah

No comments:

Post a Comment