POEM: Peppered With Violence

Bland and tasteless souls
Often pepper with
The salt of the earth
Writing a vicious cycle
In rehashed seasonings
Winners of discontent
The Fall’s harvest
Yet even sow
springing eternal
And summers of
As have know choice
In what sow ever fallowing

Spring is a season of .  It may very well be no accident that the Easter season coincides with Spring.  Spring is a profoundly palpable metaphor for in and inhuman a cross human .  That Spring follows Winter with perennial reliability seeds amidst the fallow seasons of human and those cold spells witch bedevil the human from claiming its natural endowment of , hope, and of the seasons of human must navigate the epic realities of , proffered as both the cause and solution to all of our problems.  Violence Will Not Silence Us POLITICAL BUTTON coexists with and coexists with life in the undulating pulse of human .  The , even hatred, of presence us too hour of lethal as the irreconcilable solution to an inescapable dilemma.  Unfortunately, such and hatred, blithely beating the of and repression, is incongruous with the true pulse of life.  Winter happens.  And sow does Spring.  The eternal question posed is weather we cast our lot with Spring or Winter.  To wear due wee target our lives?  Untoward the tender shoot, or effacing bearing lives?  Either weigh, Spring shows up.  Due we our lives in too the riches of this earth, even if not living to seed what happens, daring that life will cede us?  The quest in is up to us.  Will we lift more than a single finger to the won-ness of ?  I, for one, will root for all of my tender buds to emerge from winter.

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