Bumble Bee bullets sting through gray smoky air.
God’s dirt captures the noses of children.
Are we done yet, have we more to kill?
Nabil and Yara are laboring in a concrete corner,
still alive yet eyes blank
like a thin king’s heart, blank and callous.
Leaders of the world unite to kill more.
A fair haired president climbs aboard an F35,
bigger than his penis, smaller than his ego.
Bombs away America.
Death blood leaks from the slave’s house,
white irony in action.