As a kid

two brothers on either side

of my timeline

our play time was mostly


playing violent baseball

and digging up worms for fishing.

In doing this

I never understood

why I could pile worms

into a bucket

so that a hook

could be forced down

the throat of a fish.


Even weirder was

as I looked around

no one else seemed to


seems to



Our humanity was lost

somewhere between

greed and pure entertainment,

Treating the end of life

as a hobby or

a political statement.


Treating our own

like fish full of metal

in their throats

bullets tearing through.


Murder seems to be the key

to happiness.

We raise our kids

Teaching hunting as a hobby

but staging active shooter drills

in case

somebody hunts them.


American murder

is the latest trend

red lipstick and blood on our floors.

Cruelty to our own like

barnyard animals in


yet we do nothing

to stop it.


This poem is about: 
Our world


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