As they are sitting quietly
Reading and relaxing in a friendly
coffee shop
A man with an automatic weapon opens fire by the register
killing a
young couple heading out the door
Strolling through a produce market
On a pleasant
Sunday morning
A truck bomb explodes just up the block
You note the
blood that mixes in the gutter
with the ashy residue & water from the fire trucks
Enjoying the comfort of your cozy beach hotel room
An explosion
rips the air
Screams mix with the sounds of collapsing stairs
A man walks
by in a daze
So much blood streaming from his head
Children crowd around for candy from the friendly soldiers
Suddenly a
trucks pulls up and explodes right into their faces
Though it makes no sense to us, these martyr bombers are
those that go to heaven
Killing
children who dare take sweets from the hated enemy
In the dark of night jets howl in and rockets streak the air
Innocents
within their paths are simply collateral destruction
Young men left alive but deafened do not share the scripted
vision
And rush to
join the righteous folly of the deadly orgy
Smiling in a nightclub on a balmy night
dancing without a care while on a
dream vacation
unexpectedly a tremendous explosion all around
and uncounted
screams pierce the smoke-filled air
snarled once again in the endless traffic
between
burned out vehicles and military checkpoints
the insurgent in a truck that stops unexpectedly up ahead
becomes a
blessed martyr as her body parts rain down
eating with your company, safe within your post
the bomber’s
body does not shield you
from its thick wrapping of nails and ball bearings
propelled by
the explosives strapped snugly to his tummy
teacher starts a lesson and the children pay attention
freedom
fighters enter, punctuating praise of god with explosions
teacher takes a bullet and screaming parents gather in the
street
troops storm
the school and little children jump from windows
cleaning up the bloody carnage there comes an overwhelming
shame
gathered together in an ancient shrine on a holy day
fifty die and
hundreds bleed when an infidel blows himself apart
wailing survivors scratch through the debris in search of
their fallen
and vow
revenge for the loved ones lost in their defiled sanctuary
low-level micro-manager returns to the break room for more
coffee
dissatisfied
ex-worker somehow gains entrance to the
building
shots ring out in carefully planned locations bringing on a
pandemonium
manager and
former worker share bullets over their spilled coffee
loyal members of the gang must avenge the latest killing
there is no
room in the ride for the brother in the wheelchair
driving by, their shots ring out and citizens scatter
a dirty
homeless vet and a little schoolgirl lack the proper moves
mourning another loss at the too-familiar cemetery
the howl of
rockets descend both on the dead and the grieving
the black mourning clothes of a young woman soak up her
blood so well
old and young
alike commence a gruesome, helpless wailing
she sits chatting in the auditorium, her assignment has been
done
sound of
popping gunfire from somewhere close behind
she stands and looks around and takes a bullet in the head
he was a quiet former student they
said, but he’d gone off his meds
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