On Weapons of Mass Destruction

Posted on Posted in Poetry

Welcome to being human. Evolution’s most recent creation. You have been designed to exert maximum devastation. Your thoughts, emotions, words and actions are the most advanced delivery systems that have ever been seen in cosmic production. But they have been installed with a single significant safety precaution. Your every shot fired travels equally in the opposite direction.

That’s right, you are a carpet bomb that cannot escape your own napalm, America and the VietCong, Hiroshima and the Atom Bomb. Black, white, rich, poor, Christianity, Judaism, Atheism and Islam. Now look at the violence in the world and tell me if you see haters, hatred or simply a pain within your self. Look closer. What is it. Be honest.

You are a weapon of mass destruction. Your will is all that stands between you and a hair trigger. How often do you pull back the hammer and think that when it cracks you will not be its benefactor? Every day your lovers, friends, family members, and fellow travelers have shots fired at them at random. How many hit their mark? How much damage is collateral?

Yet when the time comes to disarm ourselves the pattern is always the same. Who puts their arms down first? It’s always the oldest souls of course. Because they’re the ones who’ve been hurt the most. But we’ve learned from that mistake because you young one’s aren’t yet ready to cease fire and declare a truce. You have yet to have your heart branded with the experience of tearing a man’s throat out with your teeth, or watching your mother have her unborn child ripped from her stomach, or your sister raped, or your father shot in the the head so that blood spills onto your face and you suddenly know what it is that violence creates.

You don’t yet know what it is to wake up night after night in a cold sweat unable to rest, regretting every bad thing that you’ve ever done because you’ve finally understood that every shot you’ve ever fired has gone equally in the opposite direction. So like a tired old broken down beast of burden you can finally join the slow learners club with the rest of us walking around doing everything we can to treat the world with the most delicate of touches so as to avoid creating even the most infinitesimally small source of suffering all over again for any of us.

Young soul put down your gun. You just landed. Take off your shoes and coat and sit down. Kick back. You just got off the last cosmic banana boat. And I know that you’re full of beans and that you think that fighting is fun, and that you can do it freely to anyone if someone you admire points at someone else who doesn’t look, or think like you, and says that one.

So go for it. Just do it. Don’t think, or feel, or ask someone who has come before you. Just pull the trigger and know that the words – forgive them they know not what they do – are reserved for you. Because the only way for you to know what it is you do – is to do it, over and over again until your life becomes not just an internal prison but a hell. So that those of you who swagger tall, and talk tough can come to know that hell is not cool, oh no, it is not. It is hot. So hot and interminable, that when you have fallen and tasted it you will never want to go back. Instead you will come to understand that true heroism is not found in declaring war but preventing it. In being a weapon of mass creation and respecting life and every one in it.

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