I think this addresses a lot of important points on everything.

These words are not conventional,
they're anklebiting;
passive and ambitious: fools.
As their parent
I suppose I take the blame.
You may read them with your
ears to your shoulder
or head held low -
just read them:

Life four - This book adorns murder.

Translucent bones
hold crumbled pages high
in their lacerating scorn.

Inside: Wild-eyed sneer,
jittery insects and
****ing abhorrence.

Life eight - This hill draws semblance.

Green grass,
red roses,
vile violets,
anarchy in paint.

Life nine - This machine kills fascists.

Curtain, cushions, pillows,
covers, feathers, chairs,
fresh-air, socks, padding
and love. Surprises, smiles,
happiness, the horizon.

Squawk how happy you are
and hunt for more,
tumble and play with harps
into fields or dreams,
death is a myth in this
valley planting peace.

Life one - This machine kills.

Deceit is his playground
and play he will
in a blue suit,
printing smiles.