Hate is the loathsome genesis of death,
For those who feed its belly churning fire;
More than for any target of their ire,
Who heard the wails and felt their gnashing teeth.
They hid their foul, demonic souls beneath
A mask of purpose, seeking to inspire
More hate, but found their hideous desire
Extinguished by a cartoon’s dying breath.
Looking to heaven for their just reward,
They twist a prophet’s words to suit their aim.
Yet when the smoke clears from the killing ground,
When they, in triumph, raise their bloody sword
And look to us, to revel in their fame,
Discover laughter is the only sound.


We built a fire
The paper of our lives
We smashed down doors
Tore up books
Fences flattened
No bed unbroken
We took it all
Stacked it to heaven
And with a wink
It blazed
And it burned
And it lit the sky
And the heat warmed the world
And from the blaze
A new alloy 
Precious, strong and beautiful
We lay in ashes 
Shrouded in smoke
I could not find you
I knelt
I breathed
An ember sparked