Showing posts with label gun. Show all posts
Showing posts with label gun. Show all posts

Wednesday, August 6, 2014

Thoughts on Technology & Humanity

When we moved from the sword to the gun, did we lose some of our humanity? Is gun use less personal? And are those using guns less skilled and ethical then earlier warriors who used the sword or bow?
In order to answer this question, one must define humanity.  Humanity can be defined as: the quality or state of being humane; the quality or state of being human; the branches of learning that investigate human constructs and concerns; the human race; whereas humane is defined as: kind or gentle to people or animals (Miriam-Webster 2014).  In that sense I would say that no, we did not lose some of our humanity; in some sense you could even go so far as to say that guns became more humane.  Many sword injuries do not result in an instant death or even a quick one, unless through beheading, which usually was not accomplished in one fell swoop.  Killing is still killing regardless of what weapon is being wielded. 
I honestly think that that a weapon being more or less personal has more to do with each individual and their values and beliefs, as well as their cultural and societal values and beliefs.  As a society death has become less personal and valuable.  We may have more humane ways of killing death row inmates with lethal injections, but that involves someone in another room pushing the buttons to activate the series of injections for a quick and low pain type of death.  If we are to take a look at earlier methods such as a firing squad, one could argue the humanity, but one could not argue the fact that it was much more personal to line up and look someone in the eyes and shoot them; whether or not the shooter knew which bullet was the one to deal the killing blow.  I do not see how this is less personable than a sniper.  Never having been a sniper myself, I can attest to those around me in the personal way in which they have felt and relived each and every death that has come as a result of their weapon being fired.  They watch many of these shots and aftermaths for kill assessment through a scope, but they image and those memories never leave them.  The same can be said for Drones, just because they may be classified as a “game” environment, does not mean that if it less personal.  Many people are now being classified as having PTSD from the images on those screens, in a drone situation you are there to watch and get a BDA (battle damage assessment), you can be made to watch helplessly if any bombs go astray or if your own people are being shot and killed by the enemy.  Again, skills and ethics have to do with the individual wielding a weapon, not the actual weapon itself. 


References
Miriam-Webster. (2014). http://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/humanity

Tuesday, September 3, 2013

REVENGE- A Dark Poem

I actually LOVE the dark poetry that I wrote during the early 2000s and wish that I was inspired to write more now in life.  They always turn out so visual to me.  Have a look for yourself. 


Broken in the dead of night
Mourning for the sun to rise
Sobbing in the midst of fright
Too fed up with compromise
Promise of a better day
Broken by each day's light
Needing to go another way
Ready to put up a fight
One can only take so much
Trying desperately to understand
Shuddering from the thought of his touch
Staring at the wall, so bland
I'll love you 'til the day I die
Perhaps that day can be made near
No longer having tears to cry
it will all end hear
Contemplating knife or gun
More pain, or less time
Knowing those that care are none
Ridding the world of his grime
Drifting from one shower to another
Tightly gripping her weapon of choice
He prevented her from becoming a mother
Setting fire to his precious Rolls Royce
Another car drifts into the drive
She hears the engine die
Now he sets foot inside
From the shadows she whispers goodbye
Swiftly lunging out at him
Letting not one second slip by
Not even worth his own name, Jim
She thrusts the knife into his side
Twisting as he yelps in pain
Silent as he pulls it out
Something clicks within his brain
His face turns into a pout
Slicing the air reaching for his throat
His hand grabs out for the knife
Memories of pain caused to her float
Within her mind glimpsing a new life
 He gags while choking on his blood
His body slumps onto the floor
Struggling, she drags him through the mud
Stopping only to open the car door
The car is prepped to be set ablaze
Rolling down the road, erupting flames
Her solemn mood, it does not phase
She could no longer take his games
Happily walking back to the house
Walking the stairs up to her bed
Slowly unbuttoning her blouse
Washing from her hands the red
Laying between the silken sheets
Praying to the starry skies
Finally slowing her heart beats
Peacefully she closes her eyes