7 beers deep, sweating that good july sweat on a friends porch.

 

Redwood planks kissing the leather souls of my second hand kicks.

 

4 hours of fire works, illegall yet accepted pyro launched into the space between Mt washington and echo park.

 

We cooked these bombs up to show thanks and respect for those who gave their lives in order to make a home, a new country.

 

Fun bombs to stage a less violent reenactment of the bloodshed that led to our beautiful unyielding freedom.

 

plenty feel we glorify the violence humanity has adopted as a way of shuffling itself into order.

 

I dont feel violence needs glorification, there is an inherent glory in offering your life for an ideal.

 

This isnt a poem.

 

It isnt a story.

 

Its a calm, comfortable fuck you to those who wont accept that our life here in America, the greatest Nation in the world, was bourn of bloodshed, death and sacrifice.

 

Reality is dirty, get witht he times and salute the fucking flag