jaguarry3

Why the fuck is no-body stepping in to stop the slaughter in Palestine. What Hamas did was wrong but they were pushed into a corner and Israel and its supporters were the ones who put them there. They committed atrocities but Israel has been doing the same and they are now doubling down and committing even more heinous atrocities. Time to call a halt and stop backing a terrorist state. The hypocrisy and double standards are there for anyone to see. Western guilt set up this tragic scenario, but it is time to try and resolve this shit-storm which the western world created and backing Israel is not the answer.

Two wrongs never made a right.

I am grown far to old

Death stalks me like a tethered Goat

My soul I have a long time sold

So now in limbo do I float

O Captain! My Captain! By Walt Whitmanmore Walt Whitman O Captain! my Captain! our fearful trip is done, The ship has weather'd every rack, the prize we sought is won, The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting, While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring; But O heart! heart! heart! O the bleeding drops of red, Where on the deck my Captain lies, Fallen cold and dead. O Captain! my Captain! rise up and hear the bells; Rise up--for you the flag is flung--for you the bugle trills, For you bouquets and ribbon'd wreaths--for you the shores a-crowding, For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning; Here Captain! dear father! This arm beneath your head! It is some dream that on the deck, You've fallen cold and dead. My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still, My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will, The ship is anchor'd safe and sound, its voyage closed and done, From fearful trip the victor ship comes in with object won; Exult O shores, and ring O bells! But I with mournful tread, Walk the deck my Captain lies, Fallen cold and dead.

getting close never thought I'd reach this age but here I am. but how much longer do I have?

I work all day, and get half-drunk at night. Waking at four to soundless dark, I stare. In time the curtain-edges will grow light. Till then I see what’s really always there: Unresting death, a whole day nearer now, Making all thought impossible but how And where and when I shall myself die.