Pacifier, By Brian37 (AKA Brian James Rational Poet on FB/META and @Brianrrs37 on Twitter/X)

You behave as if it was in the womb
The labor went on your obsession consumed
The repetition is filling the tombs

The past slides and swings on the playground
The shattered lives the body parts found
The latest bowling ally, the pins fall around

Out for a drink, bloody Mary Happy Hour
Spray the lead, in crimson they shower
The fetish of this object, their pacifier

If as if it breathed and slept in a cradle
Fragile and innocent, yet you are unable
To see it as the malignant tumor it is

A compulsion, a delusion, it’s for protection?
It’s just insecurity a deadly infection
Resulting from cultish indoctrination

Body bags filled with your infatuation
Toe tags sleep on a morgue’s slab
Wreath makers are pleasantly sad

E.R. Doctors are thrilled with our laws
The shattered sculls and broken jaws
Everyday shooters run through the halls

High capacity ejaculate, “good guy” sales pitch
Immaculate. It’s just an addictive opiate
You scream of the 2nd because you are desperate

You are a liar who needs a pacifier
You bully the rest of us and have no desire
For public safety that would require

Knowing that objects aren’t living
And that 18 more are not breathing
Because of your seething

Self serving selfishness.
(end)

Notes on this poem.

“The past slides and swings on the playground” Is the sick realization that not even Newtown reversed our attitudes about firearms.

“The latest bowling ally, the pins fall around”

And ” Out for a drink, bloody Mary Happy Hour”

Obvious as to the date of this poem and national news.

A bowling ally and bar were shot up by the same killer.