Tag sociopolitical poems
for shooting practice
by white skins who think
it wise to destroy
the devil -in black-
We didn’t beg to be broken
into breaking news
scattered into lobes of
juicy stories on CNN, BBC
like propitiatory kolanuts
Are our differences all we can see?
We’re similar in ways but we’re not the same,
And is that really a flaw, something to blame?
We think like that is true, but we act like that is deceitful.
And tell me this, is one gender greater than the other?
If so, what has your sister done to be better than your brother?
he calls out yet you pull the trigger regardlessly.
What bothers you more is his skin,
not how you live heartlessly.
Don’t shoot,
she cries out knowing her precious child did nothing wrong.
Now you can add him to the list of
lives prematurely gone.
but not the same lungs
hold the same blood
but speak different tongues
we cry the same tears
and wash the same pains
but we are not one
and yet here we remain.
The writer is blogging
about the flavor of his morning coffee,
and a guy is dithering
over the type of tattoo that suits his forearm
while his girlfriend picks a new shade of purple
to dye her hair.
Mr. Pimp is very much at ease,
no doubt, joyful at the applause
that followed the hateful speech
of a political candidate
that bashed the immigrants.
Of a general pointing straight at me
And the words below shouted out
That a soldier I should be.
Yes a soldier now that was a thought
I’d never had before
I didn’t fight, I’d never fought
And I’d never been to war.
But myself, and millions of others
Decided to heed the call
And despite the tears of our mothers
We trooped off all proud and tall
Together as mates from our towns
All over these sceptered isles
We left young and happy, but soon frowns
Replaced our naïve smiles.
peeling skin with the broken promise of cooling
as she waits
to be pumped full of salty brine
and then discarded, debris
carried by the waves until she
washes up on some strange, sunbaked shore, a
sea-scratched corpse, the
refuse of murder, or perhaps,
suicide
she bobs up
and down, violently
tossed by the waves, frantically
snatching rapid half-breaths-half-gulps-of-ocean before she’s
plunged ten feet
under, then
propelled back up, an insignificant
buoy caught in a
cyclone’s raging passion. his arms
grasp at her as
forcefully as a prayer expands out against
her chest, calling
for ocean to swallow the
naked groans and shrieks yanked
out into the unforgiving air—
each scream,
a plea that she might
die this moment, escape
the body convulsing and writhing,
possessed
Told what to think about the topic
Instructed on how to feel
Roses champagne candlelight
Music, suite in hotel room
Topped off with your recent groom
That a combat zone is a bastard of a place
And it really doesn’t matter which side you’re on
Because whatever your belief, war is just wrong
Why is it so hard to live with each other
We are all one, you’re my sister, my brother
When did we become so expendable and cheap
Why is life too hard to cherish and keep
