"Sometimes We Call Them Terrorists" (poem)

Sometimes we call them terrorists
but they work just down the street
the name is only private
and it's a laugh between some friends

We don't laugh at terror
but always at lunacy,
the fetid rotting stink
of artificial comedy
to disguise all things real
and find solutions for nothing
except more ways to steal
from those who need just a little help
and ask for nothing more.

in thinking we can judge them
when we have never said a word
except about smokes or soft drinks
of course we laugh
it makes no sense at all

Many really do pass judgment
without even knowing their names
and shame seems an obvious rhyme
but it only plays into a game.

Any one of them could be
the boy on the beach
that kid out of reach
that place beyond this one
that region no-one goes

Here they operate a car wash
and ask if there's anything else you need
One thing you never see is hatefulness
they aren't sowing any seeds
they don't speak of evil deeds
They ask if there's anything else you want
is there anything you might need.



Note:  seriously weak answer to my friend's poem of today, "Child on the Beach," about Alan Kurdi.  She said the article here, "His Name Was Alan Kurdi," sparked her to some extent and that's a hugely good feeling.