Category 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.
His name is Bisan but they call him Dan
All alone in this world
His house for freedom he sold
But the key in his hand he still holds
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.
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
this tropical complicity. Give me
a hundred names for snow,
Wagner,
Give me all the guilt
I never owned.
My sweat smells like Dachau,
even under Caribbean blooms, even
after I have thumbed it red. I wear
other cultures because mine is
You need a wake-up call
We should not sacrifice our privacy
in exchange for imaginary safety
It is just an excuse
to control, to abuse
Cameras in every street
check where and when we meet
