|
|
Is to assure us we have //
so much heavy breathin / gasps/ and/ groans
What to do now crawlin over the bodies/ movin / shards of bloody bones/
Out of the way/ an arm \ here \ a finger separated from a hand &
Necks/ barely attached to heads /half blown away
‘Are any blacks in here/ I don’t have anything’ against blacks
Yet/ he killed /them cuz they were there with the gays
They were black and gay /like my daughter/ achin
From draggin herself/ thru the heaps of bloody bodies
Shot down in rhythm /with the music they enjoyed
So much they thought /the gunshots were the/ bass
Of the music/ making them /writhe /wiggle & shake
On the beat & they were shot quickly/ like their arms
Cuttin/ thru the air/ on the beat/ as they fell one by one
On top of one another their/ last breaths reflectin the
Joy of dancing/ dancin in the face of terror/
In slow motion / they ran /to hide anywhere
Put/ their gay bodies/ some place safe like the
Bathroom white/ tiled /free of the music
They craved /now silent /cept for the sounds
Of surviving//
when wd somebody come to stop this
all this bleedin ripped sinews organs exposed
& bones peekin from flesh who wd save them
Wd anybody come to help/ my daughter trapped in the
the pulse/ is common to all of us//
letting us know/ we can breathe
But/ one night/ there was only gunsmoke and flames
Blood /and dancin feet made still
One night/ my daughter who loves to dance /who is gay
Wda been there/ had she taken her daughter
To a theme park to play and/ imagine
She wda been/ climbin over the bodies/ sweatin
Bloody/ usedta be gleeful bodies now strewn neath the
Disco lights/ so eery sounds jammed with moans & pleas for help
During pride/ month the pastel flags coverin their bodies
Maybe/ make believe protection from gunfire
It is wrong/ their lives so they must die.
These young vital joy seekers in outrageous costume &/
That may be/ a jihadi freak / a white trash bigot/ a button down business man
Whoever feeds the slime of hate and the is amazed at the beings hidin
In the bathroom /with the shooter waitin to die/ that cd have
Been my daughter crouchin in the corner/ tryin not to be seen
When
everything abt her life was to be seen\ her wife \her lover \ the woman
she dedicated her love to / they were open & proud
& visible/ now smudged with soot gunpowder and blood
So much blood/ from so many bodies/ now seekin/ breath at/ the pulse
Heaps of flesh bleedin & hurt so/ gay free & joyous
when they came/ wd anybody be left/ with a pulse
49 didn’t make it. My daughter waznt there this time
so much heavy breathin / gasps/ and/ groans
What to do now crawlin over the bodies/ movin / shards of bloody bones/
Out of the way/ an arm \ here \ a finger separated from a hand &
Necks/ barely attached to heads /half blown away
‘Are any blacks in here/ I don’t have anything’ against blacks
Yet/ he killed /them cuz they were there with the gays
They were black and gay /like my daughter/ achin
From draggin herself/ thru the heaps of bloody bodies
Shot down in rhythm /with the music they enjoyed
So much they thought /the gunshots were the/ bass
Of the music/ making them /writhe /wiggle & shake
On the beat & they were shot quickly/ like their arms
Cuttin/ thru the air/ on the beat/ as they fell one by one
On top of one another their/ last breaths reflectin the
Joy of dancing/ dancin in the face of terror/
In slow motion / they ran /to hide anywhere
Put/ their gay bodies/ some place safe like the
Bathroom white/ tiled /free of the music
They craved /now silent /cept for the sounds
Of surviving//
when wd somebody come to stop this
all this bleedin ripped sinews organs exposed
& bones peekin from flesh who wd save them
Wd anybody come to help/ my daughter trapped in the
the pulse/ is common to all of us//
letting us know/ we can breathe
But/ one night/ there was only gunsmoke and flames
Blood /and dancin feet made still
One night/ my daughter who loves to dance /who is gay
Wda been there/ had she taken her daughter
To a theme park to play and/ imagine
She wda been/ climbin over the bodies/ sweatin
Bloody/ usedta be gleeful bodies now strewn neath the
Disco lights/ so eery sounds jammed with moans & pleas for help
During pride/ month the pastel flags coverin their bodies
Maybe/ make believe protection from gunfire
It is wrong/ their lives so they must die.
These young vital joy seekers in outrageous costume &/
That may be/ a jihadi freak / a white trash bigot/ a button down business man
Whoever feeds the slime of hate and the is amazed at the beings hidin
In the bathroom /with the shooter waitin to die/ that cd have
Been my daughter crouchin in the corner/ tryin not to be seen
When
everything abt her life was to be seen\ her wife \her lover \ the woman
she dedicated her love to / they were open & proud
& visible/ now smudged with soot gunpowder and blood
So much blood/ from so many bodies/ now seekin/ breath at/ the pulse
Heaps of flesh bleedin & hurt so/ gay free & joyous
when they came/ wd anybody be left/ with a pulse
49 didn’t make it. My daughter waznt there this time
