because

when you stare down the barrel of that gun,

when you stare through the tinted glass

you don’t see a man

you see blood

murder strikes the retina in your eyes

and through the rays

the light display

there

goes

a

spark

bang

.

because

when you stare down the barrel of that gun,

you don’t see a man

.

because

when you look

you don’t see

there is no face

there is only greed

and

what would you do?

.

.

what would you do

for the life you desire

for the indulgence in the flesh

would you kill a man

what would you do

with the emotions trapped inside

for all the bitterness and the anger

for all those who didn’t treat you right

would you kill a man?

.

.

.

would you kill a man

for a $100,000 bounty

would you kill a man

because of a wound in your heart

would you kill a man

to secure that life

the one you want to lead

dropping girls

smoking weed

dealing like a trade queen

would you kill a man

so you don’t need to worry about money

so the gangs will respect you

for one-upping the homey

would you kill a man

so your dad will look at his son

and acknowledge him

for once

.

.

.

what would you do?

would you kill a man

would you kill a kid

would you kill a woman

would you kill many

bang

x 1

x 17

would you shoot and shoot

so you could see blood

so you could overcome

oh hun,

do you really see death as the end?

.

.

.

.

well f*ck

i’m out

(‘xcuse the french ~

how else to express.

this fear-warped-care)

.

bang

.

why don’t you shoot

go on

you know you want to

.

because

when you look down the barrel of that gun

and you press that trigger

and you dream blood

and it comes

then you find

in your own face

not the face of a man

but

mr.

mortal

.

.

.

why

mr.

mortal

murderer

.

.

is it for the money

or is it

to have power over death

to claim control over evil

is

it

to

decide

who has life

?

.

not him

not her

not them

.

take them

kill them

.

choose them

.

yes

them

any one

who cares

just avenge

.

.

strip them of their face

distort the frame

remove their names

.

but

remember

the book of life

recording your days

remember

the account of all you have done

remember

the lake of sulfar

remember

the justice

remember

the screams

remember

the end to which

temptations leads

.

and

yes

.

the trigger is enticing

the barrel of that gun

promises

“you won”

but

.

when will it end,

friend?

.

when will you die?

will you get to choose

will you have power

will you avenge?

.

or

will blood blur

.

or

will another blood

c l e a n s e

.

what is this mercy

this grace

that finds an outlet

even for those with your face

the one behind the barrel

a face who does not see faces

.

for if you saw a face

you would not have

shot a face

and

if you shot a face

then you would not

have lost your own face

.

don’t you feel it

that face

it’s all numb

no?

.

you let it go

you let sensation

you let empathy

g o

.

and now

only

the

bang

.

.

and you have lost your face

you live digrace

.

but

.

will you hear

will you see

will you have a face again?

will you receive a new name?

.

.

.

there is still a chance

to

seek

His

face

…

…

oh!

how to empathise with a man

who killed a man

?
.
.
.

look in the mirror, darling

what do you see

.

?

.
there,

a murderer

s

t

a

r

i

n

g

.

.

if you had a gun

maybe you’d stare down that barrel too

.

.

.

.

.

but

how to reconcile mercy in the face of murder?

.

.

would a man be wounded

for us to understand?

.

would a man be wounded

for us to be free?

.

what of this man of sorrows

dying

rising

for those who love

and kill

and murder

and bleed

and mourn

and weep

for those who

are not worthy

?

what of this man of sorrows

how can we receive

his

blood

offering

?

yes, Lord

to repent and believe

to call out the sinner in me

::

i am the murderer

i am he

standing behind the barrel of that gun

::

i crucified my Saviour

::

yet, Lord

you died

to

set

me

free

to offer mercy

to restore you broken humanity

…

oh!

how i long for the day

when our resurrected bodies

will be before you

.

.

.

may death leave no pang

despite these

bang

bang

bangs

.

yes, Lord

hasten the day

when there will be no more pain

…

…

…

…

…

…

…

SO.

that was.

interesting.

i don’t even know what this is.

i don’t even know if it will make sense.

it is an attempt from me to try and make sense of this mess.

the mess that is murder.

the question of why.

…

this scattered page, words, thoughts, strange strings pulled together here

these are the remnants of today, my processing … all raw & reeling

…

today a man shot a man in the face across the street from work

there were coppers all over the scene

there was an ambulance

and they tried

but

the man died

he went to hospital

he had cardiac arrest

and

there is something morbid about death

but there is something sorrowful about

m u r d e r

something that makes you wonder why

oh

and that’s not all friends

to then discover there was more death

mass shootings in a school (in the U.S.)

there, seventeen more

something that makes you wonder why

and when i think about that man

the one who lost his face

and when i think about those seventeen

who lost their lives

i can’t help but think

wow

how do i still have mine?

why do i still have mine?

and this face

it’s fine

but

it doesn’t feel right

why?