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A Lamentation for a DEAD BOY

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Selfie by Frau Kolb, “IN HONOR of A Hoodie wearing human.” © 2013, all rights reserved

Dear Friends, Family, and OTHERS,

WE have come together on this morning to morn the death of a boy.  Yes, he was killed.  Yes, he was walking alone.  Yes, he had a pack of artificially colored, flavor enhanced, plastic coated candies in hand.  He did.  He did ALL of the above and NOW he’s DEAD.

Of course, his family are upset.  They say it isn’t fair.  They cry.  They hurt.  But, from a certain perspective, BROWN HUMANS serve well for target practice and the fact of killing unarmed brown children is A-OK in THAT twisted context.

NO PROBLEM!

NO ISSUE!

NO JUSTICE!

Ass, you can tell, I’m a little pissed about this latest NEWS story, butt I’m even more pissed to be pissed off angry, dejected, HURT by the NEWS of children dying just because, children killing is OK in video games and we all LOVE a good murder mystery.  WE delight in the viscous triumph of GOOD over EVIL.  To some people, Zimmerman, was justified in killing a traditional enemy, a pest, before it could grow more powerful and perhaps threaten the existing, “white,” power structure.

Now, I put “white,” in quotations, because I believe it to be a big part of the problem we face is that some people call themselves “white,” whereas others are NOT, “white,” they are sometimes called, “BLACK,” or “RED,” and even, “Yellow,” in the same color-coded system that divides the pie in uneven slices.  The function of the feast is to serve KINGS with almost the entire pie and for all the other people to get crumbs.  It doesn’t matter your “race,” if you believe this BS you short change yourself because YOU isolate yourself and miss out on all the abundance of universal LOVE and happiness that could be yours and is mine, on occasion.

Even today, as I write this angry letter to NO ONE in particular, I am content enough because I can write, read, and think.  Mostly, thanks to my beautiful father, who was once a poor boy, near starving, shining shoes to help feed himself and family, growing up in a famously corrupt colonial power and YET kept afloat by his staunch belief that EVERYTHING was somehow…always, weirdly and wildly… alright.

Forever,

Frau Kolb