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.