What We Need?

                         Revolution ~ Philip Brent Harris

~~~~~

Video games train us,
violence, murder,
hand eye coordination.
Mayhem’s future,
except, perhaps,
we have not reached,
reach far enough
into tomorrow.
Into all our tomorrows,
extrapolated
final effects.
So much; too, too,
too much
death, destruction.

A random boy,
twelve-years-old,
tells us
he likes to play,
play Leona,
feminine, heroin.
A killing machine,
this woman
with powers,
battling, decimating
enemies, evil,
evil in context,
law of blade and gun,
at twelve-years old.

A random girl,
fourteen-years-old,
chooses to play,
play Lioner.
A mighty warrior
who bashes brains,
slashes and stabs.
Shoots down enemies,
enemies with no thought,
no guilt,
no care.
Without restraint,
anywhere,
no sit up straight,
cross your ankles,
not your legs.
Always, always, always,
be demure, defer,
put yourself last.

Young men who learn
to bide and wait,
learn, perhaps,
not to fight,
fight and hate.
Still killing,
it is chilling.
Yet, these roles
may begin,
start to change,
change and choose,
what to toss
what to use.
Both, neither,
abuse, lose.

Still assassination,
character assassination,
slaying, secret
murder, gut wounds,
decapitation,
hits and slaughter.
Garrote, a perfect gavotte
for each son,
each daughter.
Arms, large and small,
arms and legs
flying away
In bloody
balletic arcs.

Bullets calibrated,
between the eyes,
to the heart,
only a start.
Hit and run, what fun.
Drive by’s,
gang style,
cold and clinical,
explosions.
Innocent, combatant,
no matter.
Baths of blood,
oceans of blood,
worlds of blood,
cannot be washed,
wished away.
Out, out damn spot.
Turn away, turn away,
a way to turn,
a way to learn.

Our death-driven high,
high-cost addiction,
addicted, always,
always coming back,
back for more,
more and more and more.
Yet, not enough,
thrill gone,
high too low.
No longer play,
makes us stay,
rote, routine, habit.
No longer
enough
hours in the day.

So build more games.
Ramp them up,
more killing,
forget stories,
heroes, glories.
Only death and blood
spilling, chilling.
Worth every shilling.
conscience stilling,
more, still more,
Blood, guts, gore.
Till from our eyes,
our ears it pours,
till all we wish
is to remember
How we felt before.
Forget reason
voices of concern,
code and create them
with all speed.
I think they may,
may be
just in time,
just what we need.

~~~~~

Peace is Purpose, Nonviolence is Strength,  Diversity is Unity, Empathy is Empowerment

~~~~~

Please, leave a comment and let me know what you think.

See more of my creative offerings and opinions at:

The Pen’s Might

Brent Harris Fine Art

Philip Brent Digital Art

Vida Voices

Scriggler TPM

The Extra Mile
Art, shirts and other gift items

 

 

 

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