Children Separated

  Children separated, howling. Maybe we should call the ASPCA.   (image: The Cut)

Making a Killing

Making money hand over trigger— gotta get that paper if you wanna be a Christian Gangster. Seeds of Judas the quick silver taker prey; tell me what it feels like living in lined pants, and I will oblige you with my medical bills. You deserve a laugh, after all, it must be awfully grueling strategizing

The Dust Storm

Dust with hearts pumping, and lungs screaming love and hate and sex and violence. Dust with stomachs aching— too much designer caramel latte, and blood in the streets. Dust with mouths vomiting rhetoric. Dust with ears hearing but never listening.   © Kindra M. Austin (image: The Babylon Bee)

Parkland: commentary from no one of consequence(?)

“An armed society is a polite society. Manners are good when one may have to back up his acts with his life.”—Robert Heinlein Are we not an armed society? I suppose not heavily enough, being that schools are gun-free zones. I find it comical and infuriating both at once that in America we “teach” that

We Cannot Look Away: Not another 17, not another One

Just another day just another town bullet perforated backpacks spilling loose-leaf lined paper, textbooks onto blood stained sidewalks helicopters hovering to give us the birds eye view I tried to avert my eyes out of respect for the dead the injured but I could not look away Christine Ray Even though I should Because I

See Ya’ll in Hell

Matthew 7:2 (King James) For with what judgment ye judge, ye shall be judged: and with what measure ye mete, it shall be measured to you again. I’m not religious, and I don’t fear a god, but I feel like I’ve got a pretty good handle on how people should treat one another. But I

Sheep

A couple of cool kids in knitted caps laugh in the corner of a coffee house and I wonder first, what’s really so funny about our present state of affairs? And second, did they knit those caps with their own hands from the wool of American sheep? Trump trumpeters trumpet in the corner of a

A Trip to the Hot Dog Factory

And the hatch unlatched, yawning wide; cranky hinges cried in distress Signal the Establishment before feet hit pavement— thunderous   Revolt against mechanisms manufacturing human meat freaks Processed, reformed fit into plastic packages labeled All-Natural  

Stupid Girl (the song I was listening to when I wrote this)

I win some, I lose some; I win more than I lose–I lose a follower, I gain three. Fuck you very much. I’m not a gambler, I’m just honest, and for me, honesty is never a wager I’m afraid to bet on. I know I often rub people the wrong way, and I’m totally good with

Assholes

Alarm clock screams. You’re awake, mind rushing. A happy hand silences the noise, and you say, “Who can I fuck with today?” Because you don’t have anything better to do– like say, your job. You have decent employment that pays your bills, and offers health insurance at a reasonable rate. It’s still cool to bash