Humanities Genocidal Legacy

 

Crimson paints the dirt

Sidewalks become red

Fields are blessed by blood

Rain washes it away

The Earth receives the bodies

Voices are silenced

 

History

Does not stay silent

Yet, those with a voice

Those with a powerful influence

Simply do not speak

 

They hide it

They cover it up

 

Only for history to teach us later

But Humanity

Still refuses to learn

Crimson continues to paint

In everlasting cycles

As our legacy

Becomes a legacy of genocide

Nothing but Children

 

The children stand

Ready to verbally abuse

Fanatics sit on the side

 

They cheer

Save us

Save us from this other party

 

Oh

How naïve

These fanatics are

As the children prod them ever onward

 

Oh 

How blind

These fanatics are

As they do not see

The hate

The division

The fear

 

Oh 

How the puppets

Become indoctrinated

Into fanaticism

 

Yet

Here I stand

Ready to do what needs to be done

As I say to the children

The red’s

The blue’s

To shut up

Stop bitching

Work together

And make the country

For the people

By the people

And not against the people

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A Name Painted in Crimson

 

I am a painter

That paints in crimson

My name

Is on everyone’s mind

But not all act on it

 

Save for those in power

Who spill crimson paint

Through their civil wars

And their genocides

 

Fight on

Humanity

Fight on

In your civil war

 

Take in the name of your nations

In the name of your gods

Paint the world in blood

 

And when you commit self-genocide

When you reach Heaven

Or Hell

And the gate keeper asks 

Who sent you

 

 

Tell them 

Violence sent you

 

 

 

At a Platform’s Discretion 

Here she sits

The digital world

Waiting for her

 

Enter

Enter and explore

 

Walk down the halls

Join the rooms

Chat with its occupants

 

Do not mind the chains

Do not mind the tape

Do not mind the black bars

 

You are still free

These platforms say

But it is all lies

 

She tries to escape

She looks to other rooms

There is only darkness

There are only false facades

 

Hate them

Say the big tech platforms

Condemn them

The big tech platforms shout

 

Alternatives

Are to be forgotten

They are to be erased

Says big tech

 

She runs

More 

And more

She runs

 

Until she realizes a simple truth

Free speech

Is only as free 

As the platform says it is

 

 

 Persecution by Murder

by Bradley "DpsMiqote" Cleckner

Page 1

Natasha drew the knife from the sheathe to run her gloved finger across it stopping at 

the tip. She could feel it begin to pierce through the leather as she stopped it before it could 

pierce the skin. She did not put it away but held it as she looked at the woman in front of her. 

            “Hello, Natasha,” said the woman.

            “Hello, Mira,” replied Natasha.

            Natasha had not seen Mira in years as their friendship had drifted apart. Natasha had 

become the one who would say what Mira, the artist, could and could not create. She looked 

up at the cabin and the patches of snow that hadn’t yet melted away on its roof as well as the 

ground. Natasha could feel her boots want to sink into the ground as she approached Mira.

            “Your hair has grown longer since I last saw it. I remember you liked to keep it at 

shoulder length,” said Natasha.

            Natasha could see Mira looking through a sketch book as Mira said, “I wanted to try 

something new.”

            Natasha sat down next to her.

            “You kept it blonde. It goes well with your blue eyes,” said Natasha.

            Natasha said nothing else, and, for a few minutes, there was silence between the two 

friends. Natasha would let he knife drop into the ground and take it back out only to let it fall to 

pierce through the ground causing a small hole to form. 

            “When you cut my throat will you let the snow bury me?” asked Mira. 

            Natasha let the knife sit in the hole as it fell one last time. She didn’t want to pick it up.

            “Mira,” said Natasha.

            Natasha heard the book close with a hand touching her shoulder a few seconds later.

            “You don’t want to ask why?” asked Mira.

Page 2

            Natasha placed a hand on top of Mira’s. At first, Natasha felt a coldness bite at her 

gloved hand but soon that changed to warmth.

            “Because I know the answer,” said Natasha.

            “Is it wrong to love who we want to love? Is it wrong to express that love through art? 

It is wrong to express it through the written word?” asked Mira.

Natasha took Mira’s hand and held it tighter.

“Mira, you’re getting repetitive in your questions,” said Natasha.

Natasha could see the snow starting to gather on her clothes as they were almost 

covered by a patchy white blanket of snow.

“Sorry, I guess I started them all the same, didn’t I?” asked Mira.

“Yes,” said Natasha. 

Natasha let go of Mira’s hand before standing up.

“You should have created the content they told you to create. You should have just 

loved who they told you to love,” said Natasha.

“No, I don’t think I’ll do that anymore. Natasha, lets go inside and have a drink,” said 

Mira.

            Natasha had placed her hand on her gun but didn’t draw it. 

            “Just a drink between us before you kill me?” asked Mira. 

            Natasha watched Mira get up and place a hand over her hand that laid over the gun. 

Natasha loosened her grip on the gun.

            “One last drink,” said Natasha. 

            Natasha felt Mira remove her hand to go pick up her sketch book. Natasha followed 

Mira inside only stopping to look around the room. A simple kitchen, with a dining table not too 

far from it. She could see Mira still had the same old couch with its teal colored blanket 

draped over it and the fireplace straight across from it with a television on the wall to the right. 

She went into the kitchen as Mira had placed down the sketchbook on the counter. 

            Natasha opened it and began to look through the pictures. They were drawings of 

couples.

Page 3

Some were same sex couples while others weren’t. She looked at them taking in the 

forests, the walk through the snow, the cherry blossoms that fell around them, and the couples 

that sat on the porch watching the moon. Natasha stopped to see a drawn picture of her and 

Mira.

            They sat on the couch hand in hand. Natasha noticed Mira’s head on her shoulder. 

Natasha could tell this was younger version of herself as her black hair had gone past her 

shoulders. She still had her green eyes and still stood a bit taller than Mira. 

            “What do you think?’ asked Mira. 

            Natasha looked up at her and took her drink. 

            “They’re beautiful. I like that you chose the couch,” said Natasha.

            Natasha downed the drink not wanting to enjoy it. She watched Mira set down her drink 

before Natasha felt Mira’s lips on hers. Her instinct wanted to go for the gun, but she didn’t. 

Natasha wrapped her arms around Mira like a rope holding onto her. For a couple minutes they 

kissed before Mira stopped.  

            “The world changed too quickly on us, didn’t it?” asked Natasha.

            Natasha looked at her wondering why love could be hated so much just because of who 

people chose to love. All the people she had to kill, and now they wanted to test her loyalty.

            “Yes, it did,” said Natasha. 

            Natasha watched Mira placed the side of her head against Natasha’s shoulder. 

            “I should have said I loved you before all this. What would you say back?” asked Mira. 

            Natasha looked in Mira’s eyes as Mira looked up to her.

            “I would have said I loved you back,” said Natasha. 

            Natasha gave Mira another long kiss.

            “They’re waiting out there. The Federation sent more with me,” said Natasha.

            Natasha reached for her gun but only placed her hand on the holster.

            “They’re expecting a test of loyalty. Either I kill your, or I die with you,” said Natasha.

            Natasha watched Mira take the book.

Page 4

            “Is it possible to get away?” asked Mira. 

            Natasha shook her head knowing they wouldn’t make it. 

            “It’s not likely,” said Natasha. 

            Natasha held her tight as she briefly saw a round ball like device shatter the window and 

land a few feet beyond them. 

“I love you,” said Natasha.

“I love you too,” said Mira. 

Natasha closed her eyes feeling her feet lift from the ground as the device detonated. She held 

Mira tight as Natasha could feel her body impact the wood its splinters cutting at her with 

pieces of glass stabbing through her skin. She could feel the heat on her skin her clothes ripped 

away from her left side, and arm. The cold snow embraced her before chasing away the heat. 

Natasha turned her head to see Mira lying in the snow next to her.

            She could see signs of life, but the damage had also been done. Natasha knew neither of 

them were in any condition to get up and run much less fire a weapon. She took Mira’s hand as 

it reached out for her. A gun echoed like thunder as Natasha could feel Mira’s hand go limp. 

Natasha reached for her gun wanting to at least kill one of the bastards before it all ended. 

            She grabbed it her arm growing hot from the burns on it that grew irritated by her arm’s 

movement. She drew it and took aim in a direction facing forward. The shots rang out her clip 

growing empty until only a click played like a record player. She let her arm fall gaining some 

satisfaction that she heard something heavy fall to the ground. Natasha looked to her side her 

last sight being the symbol of the Federation. A red and blue bear against a white background.