Terror

It’s about terror.

That’s all.
It’s about being the thing under the bed. The monster in the closet.
The footsteps behind you at night.
It’s about terror.
If it were about one cause or one goal or one vision
the world would be reeling with a ‘new’ word: Terrorism.
But it is old as the hills, older actually.
You only need to whiffle through any history book.
 
Terrorist attacks are about terror.
Terrorist like to see themselves as mighty heroes, when actually they are akin to the cockroach. 
Millions of years of progress and change and they are still here.
Why?
Because they scuttle, they keep to the shadows, they slip through cracks.
And know how to wait.
They can survive on anything; poisons, dirt, things deemed inedible by other species.
The rotten, the disgusting, the discarded – they thrive on it. They get bigger on what other living things shun.
Cockroach heaven is a reeking garbage dump in the dark.
Terrorists are cowards, fooling themselves about a bigger purpose, a higher calling.
Bullshit.
It’s a cockroach move. Making a space for themselves on top of the garbage dump.
And they love to watch us fight each other.
Blame each other.
It takes the focus off of them, safely hidden in the cracks, biding their time.
It’s about terror. Sick, twisted, cowardly and indefensible terror. 
That’s all.
 
 
©jayetomas2017

 

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About chimerapoet

I write. I write a lot. A. LOT. There are times I am half blind with a sentence ricocheting off the walls of my stupid, cant be shut off to save my life, brain. I am miserable until I get it down on paper. Punch it up a bit. Usually cross out half of it. And then breathe. Relax. Only to do it all again..... But I just thought that was me. How I am. Not a writer....noooo...not me. Writers are.....writing people. People Who Write. REALLY write. Write things that matter. All grown up very important things. Not.....me. I am just a scribbler of sorts. And I was/am content with that....if it's true, well then....a scribbler am I. Until the thought wormed its way in to my brain (the furtive sneaky bitch) that maybe...just maybe...that is writing. My style. My strange way. But....still writing. So here I am at the dance. Not sure I know any of the moves and the music is entirely mine. But.....only one way to find out. Would you care to join me?
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2 Responses to Terror

  1. Thanks for writing this Jaye. You say it so well. There are too many people shouting their prayers for European victims, as if it’s an attack by Muslims on our Christian culture. As far as I know, the 80 plus victims in Kabul were all Muslims, and why is there such anarchy in that part of the world? It isn’t about religion it’s about who we consider our friends, and economics. Terrorists just leap into the cracks we make for them. Like cockroaches.

  2. Thank you, Jaye. We can only ever hope that love rises above this hatred.

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