Skip to main content

Poetry Sunday: Another School Shooting, Too Fucking Close by peachpit

I went looking for poems about school shootings and found this one by a poet who goes by the moniker peachpit. It reeks of the anger and frustration that so many of us feel. I offer it here without comment.

Another School Shooting, Too Fucking Close

by peachpit

A school shooting so damn close to home
I know everyone says it but
You never expect it to happen so close to you.
Always seems so far away when it's on the news
Until it happens to you
Classmates tell about friends of friends dying
Friends are injured
We give our condolences 
But it's all we can do

Gun control
As if this will every happen
They shot up small children at Sandyhook
An ELEMENTARY SCHOOL
WITH SMALL CHILDREN
That's literally the worst case scenario of a school shooting
But nothing happened
No new regulations 
No gun control
If they didn't do anything there
Why would they now?
As long as they can keep their guns 
They're happy

"Oh it was just mental illness. The RESPONSIBLE gun owners
would never do this."
Fuck you
Who gives half a damn
Take away all the damn guns for all I care
Why the FUCK do you need automatic rifles and shit?
Machine guns? 
You really need all that bullshit to protect yourself with?
You NEED a fucking gun that can kill twenty people in less than thirty seconds?
Fucking mental.
Get fucked man.
You don't give two fucks until it's your own kids dying at school
Who knows
Maybe even then your deranged minds will think
"But if the students had guns
They could've protected themselves."

Comments

  1. Hmmm...I agree that it always seems far until it hits close to home. Why any civilian would need an automatic weapon is beyond me, or a house full of rifles and guns for that matter. (!!!)

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. And more school children have died from gunfire this year than have military personnel. What a society we live in!

      Delete
  2. Or having only one entrance will protect the students. Or having piles of rocks. Or anything besides....controlling the guns.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. To hear our Texas politicians tell it, school massacres are caused by social media or video games or, according to the NRA, Ritalin. But they are never, ever caused by the easy availability of guns.

      Delete
  3. Now it was close to my grandchildren. Never thought I would live in terror but now I do. If I had kids at this time, I would be afraid to send them to school.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. And one of my daughters works at one of those schools. Yes, it is terrifying. And still we do nothing.

      Delete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Poetry Sunday: Don't Hesitate by Mary Oliver

How about we share another Mary Oliver poem? After all, you can never have too many of those. In this one, the poet seems to acknowledge that it is often hard to simply live in and enjoy the moment, perhaps because we are afraid it can't last. She urges us to give in to that moment and fully experience the joy. Although "much can never be redeemed, still, life has some possibility left." Don't Hesitate by Mary Oliver If you suddenly and unexpectedly feel joy, don’t hesitate. Give in to it. There are plenty of lives and whole towns destroyed or about to be. We are not wise, and not very often kind. And much can never be redeemed. Still, life has some possibility left. Perhaps this is its way of fighting back, that sometimes something happens better than all the riches or power in the world. It could be anything, but very likely you notice it in the instant when love begins. Anyway, that’s often the case. Anyway, whatever it is, don’t be afraid of its plenty. Joy is no...

Poetry Sunday: Blackberry-Picking by Seamus Heaney

My mother was a farm wife and a prodigious canner. She canned fruit and vegetables from the garden, even occasionally meat. But the best thing that she canned, in my opinion, was blackberry jam. Even as I type those words my mouth waters!  Of course, before she could make that jam, somebody had to pick the blackberries. And that somebody was quite often named Dorothy. I think Seamus Heaney might have spent some time among the briars plucking those delicious black fruits as well, so he would have known that "Once off the bush the fruit fermented, the sweet flesh would turn sour." They don't keep; you have to get that jam made in a hurry! Blackberry-Picking by Seamus Heaney Late August, given heavy rain and sun For a full week, the blackberries would ripen. At first, just one, a glossy purple clot Among others, red, green, hard as a knot. You ate that first one and its flesh was sweet Like thickened wine: summer's blood was in it Leaving stains upon the tongue and lust ...

Poetry Sunday: Hymn for the Hurting by Amanda Gorman

You probably remember poet Amanda Gorman from her appearance at the inauguration of President Biden. She read her poem "The Hill We Climb" on that occasion. After the senseless slaughter in Uvalde this week, she was inspired to write another poem which was published in The New York Times. It seemed perfect for the occasion and so I stole it in order to feature it here, just in case you didn't get a chance to read it in the Times . Hymn for the Hurting by Amanda Gorman Everything hurts, Our hearts shadowed and strange, Minds made muddied and mute. We carry tragedy, terrifying and true. And yet none of it is new; We knew it as home, As horror, As heritage. Even our children Cannot be children, Cannot be. Everything hurts. It’s a hard time to be alive, And even harder to stay that way. We’re burdened to live out these days, While at the same time, blessed to outlive them. This alarm is how we know We must be altered — That we must differ or die, That we must triumph or try. ...