When was the last time I saw a man die? It was yesterday, in fact, right in front of my eyes. His head was blown apart, point-blank range, and I was about twenty feet away, watching the violence unfold. It was cold and gray that morning, but nothing else about what happened was unusual. This is the reality now.
Continue reading “We Don’t Grieve Anymore in This Town (microfiction)”
Bang! Pop!
Was that a gunshot?
Or was it a firecracker?
For a second, I thought
There was an attacker
Bang! Pop!
Was that a gunshot?
Or was it a car?
Maybe an engine sputtering
Loud noises from afar
I don’t know how this war started
but I know its ultimate end –
blood feud over pieces of land,
lustful for riches in the sand,
exploitation of earth,
mass machines churning
in desolate fields –
Continue reading “Blood Feud (a poem)”
There are more guns in
America than people,
and some like that fact
Continue reading “American Guns (a haiku)”
locked inside, i forget myself
empires I’ve built have
crumbled like castles
made of sand
i can’t stand this forever
monotony & uncertainty
violent, crashing waves
appearing on screens
yet ever so still
symphonies of madness
with devil-eyed maestros
foaming from sad mouths
(Photo by Jr Korpa on Unsplash)
there’s a world inside my body
begging to break free
clawing at my insides
wanting to remove me
wanting to scream in lonely forests
wanting to show me
there’s no such thing as progress
without the pain of
violent birth
(Photo by Cassi Josh on Unsplash)
a Black man has been slaughtered, again
shot like a dog, in front of family
did you see? it was broadcast
to millions of eyeballs
he suffered from bipolar
a disorder i share with this
now-deceased man
Continue reading “Broad Daylight Demons (a poem)”
this orange-faced goblin
beckons me to be violent
I refuse
keep yappin’, Mr. Yapper
spit your lies
cover the eyes
of the faithful who
follow you to an abyss
I refuse
Continue reading “We Refuse (a protest poem)”
I heard those seductive voices in darkness
not the ones you think
they weren’t from lipsticked-maidens
call girls nestled in hotel sheets
the voices were calls of
violence, conspiracy
they called not from red-light districts
but corners of the online world
they promised secrets of
the way the world worked –
I said no thank you, sir
your secrets are safe with me
but I won’t agree
to be part & parcel
to your devious proposals.
America is on fire, but it’s okay –
we’ve burned before and we’ll surely
burn again. Men in masks smash store windows
and flames from a police car rise into a clear night sky.
I saw it all from the apartment window.
Continue reading “America is on Fire (a poem)”
