Saturday, April 4, 2009

A Killer's Mind

(Wednesday, March 11, 2009; Tuesday, March 17, 2009; Monday, March 23, 2009; Sunday, March 29, 2009; Friday, April 3, 2009. After the recent series of rampage killings, I began to wonder what the killers might be thinking and this is my version of those thoughts. This poem is not written to glorify these killers for I have nothing but contempt for them. These are arrogant people with no regard for life, who for reasons known only to them, decide killing innocent people is the way to settle their perceived grievances. My prayers are with the victims and survivors.)

Rage simmering,
ready to boil over.
How dare you
treat me like this?
See me, I am hurting.
I have feelings!

I'll show you!
Get a gun,
kill those who done me wrong.
Bullets, I need bullets,
lots of them.
Load the gun,
find them.
Pull the trigger,
scream, die, bleed.
Hurt like me.

Damn you all!
You'll never take me.
Put the gun to my temple.
Show them,

Friends and Neighbors:
He was such a nice person.
I could never imagine him doing a thing like this.
He must have snapped.
I never saw him get angry, always had a kind word for everyone.
He use to yell at his wife and kids.
He was strange, never said hello to anyone.
Kept to himself, a loner.

Copyright © 2009 Sylvia A. Feeley All Rights Reserved

Thursday, March 19, 2009

The Old Lady

I've watched the old lady over the years,
where she was once young, stood proud and tall,
she now walks stooped over,
as if the weight of the world is on her shoulders.

The hair is gray, the skin is wrinkled,
the twinkle in her eyes has diminished.
Life has taken its toll on her
and dreams she once had are gone,
replaced by the realities of life.

There are aches and pains that come with age,
yet she never gives up.
Each day is a struggle now,
but she gives thanks to God
for another day on His earth.

Her mind and memory haven't suffered,
still as sharp and clear as ever.
It is difficult for her to accept physical limitations,
because she finally has to acknowledge,
she can no longer do the things she once did.

She is a survivor and I know her well.
You see, I only have to look in the
mirror to know, the old lady is me.

Copyright © 2009 Sylvia All Rights Reserved