such
grip if but survival, a clip wailed, a bullet vanished, he clutched, fell, as
toppling over. such brutality into atmosphere or water for violence assumed in position.
our presidential our great inheritance while kids are anti-slavery. if silence
we have it, if musical those tar faces, if discouraged we bleed more; such
menticide where more are good as time judges a man! women have uniqueness, a
subtle/overt war, while we soon need rich intimacy—somewhere to call emotion,
somewhere we yearn for, something unlocking those primitive recesses. the lover
in me those tiles in blood where Hampton was crucified; so renewed where it never
ceases our country returns to cobblestones—as men mis-analyzed or true feelings
where a stupid savant is given the classroom. we see patterns, while we play games,
where no one is tolerant; as misunderstood in a wily land, where authority mustn’t
be challenged: else, deep disrespect, even a lynching, for categories say
perfection; such bleeding nooses such rage in its capital while a protest is
thrashed by gunfire; so much in Democrats, so much in Liberals, while
Republicans remain neat; these are dramatic so cursed where a baby was fed gun
powder—then crucified right afore his father where rage ensued. our ancestors
our grandparents our mothers with fathers—to then ask, “Why are they filled
with violence?” never a reason for
you or even an issue where it just feels normal; but ours are steel doors both
decided & disgusted, where it just feels right!
by song in essence
by casualty in cities where alienation becomes divorced from itself. so much
passion such mind shedding so angry to ask a man, “Isn’t better?”
