Last night I dreamed a poem
I've never read before.
I guess you could say I wrote it,
Yet it left me wanting more.

Something about American Dreams...
About how nothing is as it seems...
Something about the city lights...
Something about our human rights...

I had scrawled it on the pavement
With a giant pencil in hand.
So all the world could know my intent
When first stepping into this land.

This morning I woke inspired,
I was ready, so ready to share!
I looked out the window and saw what transpired,
And now I do not dare.

They've stomped all over the pavement.
The roads are awash with blood.
There's screaming and crying.
My people are dying.
Their tears make a violent flood.

I don't care WHO you are!
On the left, the right,
You can't justify this ****** night
With words that defend without being contrite.
Have you no shame?
You cast your blame
Around you, as if we're not the same!
We are all Brothers and Sisters in Life.
By God on High, you ALL caused this strife.
And your wicked words are a double-edged knife!
In damning others you **** yourselves,
You're shouting so loud you can't hear the bell
It's tolling, extolling the end of our days!
But you're too steeped in hatred to hear what it says.

My poem is still as shapeless
As it was in the dream last night.
In my sorrow-blurred vision I see just one line:
"Please don't fight".