Couldn’t be bothered to remove your knee
from a man’s neck.

Couldn’t be bothered to protect
the huddled masses of poor,
when you and your buddies can make more
from building machines and waging wars.

Couldn’t be bothered to tell our youth
the deep and painful truth
about our history.

Couldn’t be bothered until you were
inconvenienced;
Until your bosses see this
and you get in trouble
for vile rants.

Couldn’t be bothered to be
a decent human being,
and you wonder why
people cry,
let it burn.

Build your fort and be its watchman
Wound me with silence or cut me with words
Humiliate me, remove happiness
Put me in lonely company
Make me autarkic

I will battle with whispers
I will hide in plain sight
I will sulk in the now
I will **** with looks
I can cry in secret

I don't know why the garden behind a lulled neighbourhood
Reminds me of the forgiving past
When, I jotted my thoughts from the start
As a pale boy

Understanding the road of violence taken
Many ideals ceased to exist until poetry came
Maybe, because of white privilege
But, the Bible is all we had for freedom

Now that black lives matter, thorns stub your head
As the nail impairs the prolonged hammer
We write for a culled audience
Dealing with prejudice, with our hands tied

Things are not black and white anymore than before
It is my duty to see the color
Life is more than warm and white color
Like blooming flowers grasping their innocence

Life is a beautiful wonderment
It isn't born of acceptance
A dirge-like procession always carries on
Yet, indelible writings are on the wall

slash their words by
demanding obedience.
burn them by
shaming their dreams.
cut them to the core
by belittling their feelings -
say their feelings don't matter
as much as yours.
the result?
doubts bring them
to their knees,
constantly questioning
others and their motives.
they wonder if they're
too much and not enough,
if their feelings are valid.
their wounds scare them
into submission.
authority is not an excuse
for abuse.
nothing is.

Trample my thoughts like you have the authority to say what is right or wrong.
Hack down my ideas like this mighty forest is your personal play-thing.
These ropes you've tied me down with are but a construct of your twisted imagination. As effective as dental floss restraining an elephant.
Get off your high horse you tiny fool.

I will tell you
the truth,
adjust and fine tune
till your view
matches
the matchstick
reality I made
for you.

I will cut and clip,
snip and rip
all of the
fanciful
fairy wing bits
that I want you
to forget.

I will mold
and distort,
stretch and contort
till your
red clay mind
conforms
to the norms
that I formed.

But if you dare despair
act scared
and air
your understanding
to try and repair
everyone’s
perceptions
of our shared
reality,

I will find you,
and take your rationality,
ostracize, or exclude
till you die
or submit to
the prechewed
military issued
world order
I eschew.

authority, a position unknown to minority...


Military will only help temporarily,

Until the repetition

Becomes addiction

To violence.

Then like a sheep to its Sheppard,

Follows the police.

Diminishing the quality,

Of equality.

As chaos doesn’t subside.

Authority turns ruthless,

dressed in weapons everywhere they ride.

Contradicting by disrupting ‘world peace’.


Desperately in need of headgear and a mouthpiece,

Praying to reach a pleasant release,

Before hitting solitary, on the edge of madness,

With fear of fatality,

That could have you permanently resting in the cemetery.

How is deprivation of freedom correcting one’s behaviours?

Is gaining the ability to fend for your nation now classed as an act of superiority?

Gun in one hand, bible in the other.
Is not the word a sword?
Why need for a gun too?
Or is it a justification to ****?
The same as a rocket launcher on one shoulder,
and the koran in the other hand.
Or a flag in one hand, and a sword in the other.
The image says justified intimidation.
Fear me, for I have the Authority.
But really, the Authority is only as valid
as there are fools who submit.
And the only true authority is the gun, or sword,
as you certainly know it.
And the flag, or bible, or the koran,
are but for your own conscience.
or cover for your lack thereof.

The bible and the gun:
an oxymoron;
a display of faithlessness,
the defilement of holiness,
a blasphemous act;
affirming the proud fool you are,
that says in its heart, there is no God!