550. Criminal Empire

Until we change the world,

It threatens to destroy us.

We, the victims of life,

Huddle in this great necropolis,

Imprisoned by ourselves.

Look at what we’re doing?

Criminality is normalized,

And normal feelings criticized;

While victimhood is psychologized,…

And for what “greater good”?

Does this help anyone?

Other than the criminals?

Who stomp on others’ rights?

As the arbitering sentinals,

Of human destruction?

Why aren’t thugs called insane?

And offered rehabilitation?

Instead ‘different’ means insane,

And victims get mere indignation;

And all the social shame.

A society’s wrong,

That lets criminals go free,

And others pay for crimes.

Understanding criminality,

While misunderstanding mercy.

For no mercy will come,

When it’s assumed that bad is okay,

And being good is ‘just too bad’.

The most innocent will always pay.

The road to hell’s been paved,

With those society chose to lay,

At the feet of those it saved.

K. Aldaya, 6/28/21

Picture: https://wallpapercave.com/blood-aesthetic-wallpapers

548. Oppressed

Don’t make me laugh human.

You are nothing if not a joke.

You love to blame everyone but yourself,

For every fire you stoke.

Don’t make me laugh human.

Do you think that you know of pain?

You love thinking that you are so oppressed,

And touch blood for the stain.

Don’t make me laugh human.

You don’t know what it’s like to be,

Pushed to the outside of your own species,…

Forgotten completely.

Don’t make me laugh human.

Your superficial victimhood,

Is so clear when you always get to speak,

Louder than others could.

Don’t make me laugh human.

If you were oppressed, you’d be me:

A humanoid-looking being who’s scanned,…

Classed as, “Anomaly”;

And no one would ever agree,

To listen to you, or to understand.

They’d simply press *Delete*,

And then continue on as planned.

K. Aldaya, 6/13/21

Picture:

535. White Privilege

“Do you plead guilty for being skin-white?”,

The judge asked, pointing his gavel at me.

“We must rid the world of the hateful sight,

Of privilege and self-superiority”.

I pled, “I’m not guilty, your honor!”,

To the resounding of gasps, oohs, and ahhs.

“I’m not guilty any less…any more,

Nor have I broken any just moral laws.

I reject your claim that I’m a color.

I am human. Nothing more. Nothing less.

Of the same shade as our first ancestors.

Color only matters when used to oppress.

We are of the same fam’ly and species,

Though our troubled history is quite clear.

Evil has been done to everybody,

For we’re all susceptible to manipulation and fear.

Color and anything that’s “different”,

Is used to attain power and control.

Forging divides where they once were absent.

Oppressing far too many a human soul.

So I can not be guilty, your honor,

For I refuse to accept division.

My privilege is merely in living, sir.

I do not acknowledge this court’s position!”

“Sentence her!”…”Guilty!”, the court erupted;

As, “Order! Order!”, the judge shouted out.

“I see this trial has long been corrupted.”

“Not guilty”, the judge firmly declared. “Out! Out!”

And as I strode outside into the sun,

Someone in the crowd yelled, “Racist!”, and *BANG*

Another human oppressed by oppression.

And in the end: What is won? What is won?

As the lynched and I sang, yes, sang to the grave,

The power-mad laud that finally…

“Justice has been done!”

K. Aldaya, 4/28/21

Picture 1: By Volkan Olmez on Unsplash; https://unsplash.com/photos/wESKMSgZJDo

Picture 2: By Kamil Feczko on Unsplash; https://unsplash.com/photos/fd3BpI6NcMU

534. The Devil’s in the Details (Uncensored)

They told him that he was insane,

When life had beaten him down,

And instead of offering love and support,

They gave him drugs in which to drown.

They told him to stay locked away,

“To protect the most innocent”;

While the suicidal were sacrificed,

Upon their altar of consent.

They told her the baby should die,

When she feared being a mother.

Instead of helping her be one,

They taught her how to smother.

They told her she was only worth,

The money she could earn.

There was no worth in “family” work.

A home was meant to burn.

They told her she could have it all,

When there is only so much time,

So instead of having everything.

Everything was out of time.

They told him he was guilty,

For the crimes of a skin color.

Instead of individual guilt,

All are guilty for another.

They told him he was racisms’ victim.

That everyone else held him back.

So instead of giving him a hand to stand,

They stood upon his back.

They say they care for nature,

While they destroy it all too well,

And conspire against human life,

Forgetting humans are of nature as well.

They told him he was toxic,

For simply being born a man.

Instead of accepting nature as it is,

They told him he’d be better as a tran.

They told her sex is a construct,

Of an oppressive system,

While oppressing her with testosterone,

Was part of their stratagem.

They told him to speak his mind,

That the country was still free.

Instead they censored and cancelled him,

‘Til he promised (on one knee) to never again disagree.

They do not care about you,

But there are those out there who care,

They just aren’t for big government,

For power does not care.

Power seeks more power,

Be it by fear, or by deceit.

If they wanted to build where you stand,

You’d end up in concrete.

They’ll tell you they are in the right,

When all they do is wrong.

If one says one thing and does another,

You can bet they’re leading you along….

Into the depths of hell.

K. Aldaya, 04/19/21

Picture 1: By: Murilo Gomes on Unsplash; https://unsplash.com/photos/EYdFerWxoQY

Picture 2: By: Tech Nick on Unsplash; https://unsplash.com/photos/5YuVGW2deMw

526. Coliseum

I long to write, though who will listen,

To the rantings of the insane?

The title merely grants invisibility;

And a face without a name,

In the coliseum of civility.

I wander through the crowds,

In the stands, where spectators watch,

As warriors and politicians,

Earn another scar or notch,

In the holding of their positions.

I stretch my hands out for scraps,

As they shoo me out of sight;

Though from here I see it all,

And know that none of this is right…

And soon all of us will fall.

Be it by starvation, wound, or pride.

We are all part of the show.

I may seem but a distraction,

Yet I’ve gone where others can not go;

And seen every angle of inaction.

For they play their parts quite well,

And the world moves to their plans.

I’ve seen every move and collapse,

As money changes hands,

And they fall in the same traps.

From the outside, I look in,

Year after year…Sin after sin.

I hold my voice, and hold my breath.

No one’s listening, so who can win?

We stand aside until death.

I look at you. Do you see me?

Are you looking? What do you see?

God’s play games, as day absconds.

Are you a God, or are you me?

Do you play games with human pawns?

For who can win an endless game?

And who can fight our mortal fate?

Though, in my eyes you’d find the sun,

So listen well, it’s getting late.

This entertainment is not fun!

And this game you can not win!

The only money, worth it, to spend,

Is found in the outstretched hand.

For the show continues long after curtain descends…

And only in the heart of another could you understand,…

All we have is each other in the end.

K. Aldaya, 10/7/20

Picture: By: Jorge Fernandez Salas on Unsplash; https://unsplash.com/photos/hvxJ2cnecd4