no answer (some small poems)

why was the world created,
aimless, weak logic,
but it was created, like
a miserable magic

…

we know killing is bad,
revolvers, pistols, guns
in the hands of children
of all ages; wealth created
by manufacturing such
toys, playful instruments,
films that market killing,
deceit, treachery, violence
gain on visibility

…

good and bad,
my mom must have 
taught me to gang-rape 
a woman, the skill 

to kill, and steal, 

she must have taught me
to open fire here and there

…

flocks of sheep,
coward, herding together,
gaining strength, creating
a ruckus in the world

…

the world, the only abode
we want to destroy through
thoughts, words, and actions

…

the rich becoming richer
the poor poorer,
explanations, written down,
remedies, written off