Somewhere over the horizon stars collide.
Exploding into pieces of fiery matter
that fall into the atmosphere.
Burning the grass it caresses.
Watching in the distance
The two of us lay blown away
By the array of flaming gun powder
Spinning as a tornado would,
as it floats on the winds fingertips.
Our attention broke from this display of grace,
With the sounds of gunshots.
We look into each other’s eyes,
long enough for our lips to connect.
The sparks that were in the sky grounded.
The moment we touch.

Two book bags just got shot down,
while celebrating the end of the school year on the play ground.
Destroying our souls.
Again and again!
in Chi-town.
Ain’t nothing sacred anymore.
Marching from here to there.
Saying “Stop The Violence”
is met by a corrupt system;
that just don’t CARE.
We The People must learn to CARE once again.
About our community....
Our brothers and sisters in their beautiful black skin.
Those two book bags represent someone’s
little girls bleeding out on the cement shores.
Never to explore education's reach, marriage, or raising children in peace.
“Stop The Violence” isn’t just a tagline.
Its a call for justice,
while sustaining the Black man's bloodline.
Our children deserve to be safe,
while being Proud and Black in any living space....
at any given time.
Why does my Black skin come with a 'they died too soon' deadline?


(C) Copyrighted

is delicate.
breakable.
prone to trauma,
and thus an effortless
vehicle for vengeance.

with a river of pain coursing
through arteries
and slender vessels linked
between the most vital
***** and the source
of thought, emotion
quite often thwarts wisdom.

And, oh children,
a steel serpent lingering
within easy reach
remains ever ready
to strike
at will.

have mostly passed,
pressed into the pages
of history books, but how
they linger in memory!

two men, reputations
mutually compromises,
meet to prove their valor
on the feild of honor.

with great ceremony,
their seconds present
the pistols, oiled and gleaming
deadliness in the wavering light.

the rivals take their places
and, beloved guns in hand,
they stand back-to-back,
gathering courage.

eight paces in opposite
directions, at the signal, turn,
take aim, praying it’s straight,
that your sight remains plumb.

Fire.

is vastly overrated.
you can think you’ve tucked
something far, far away,
relegated it to a dark cupboard
inside your psyche, slammed
the door closed.

but you can never secure
the latch completely.

childhood traumas
are especially persistent,
knock-knock-knocking,
ricocheting wall to wall to wall
until finally a crack appears,
leaking memories.

and with them, often,
the desire for reckoning.

here, character counts,
reinforcing strength of will,
the lean toward good or evil
as much about programming
as instinct.

The moment I lost faith in the red, white and blues
is the moment 20 kids died in their school shoes
How could I expect the heart of people to be cold and so offended
just at the sheer possibility of gun rights getting amended
Sandy hook made us look,
Even here in Great Mills we felt chills
They see the damage that guns do
but don't blame weapons, they blame pills
they blame the finger the one that fills
the space between the gun and the trigger
they blame a lone wolf, a lonely kid,
"he was always kinda weird, we're not surprised at what he did"
why'd he have an AK? the constitution says it's OK
why'd he an M16, we look above and below the facts but never in between
the loss of young life, we should never defend
we cannot control people, but we can control guns, we should never pretend
too much blood has spilled, too much innocence lost
we have to make sure it ends, we cant pocket the cost
We should have the right to protect who we love
but America has to choose what it loves

I remember when I asked you,
October 2, 2017
what if something happens tonight?

I remember when you,
rolled your annoyed eyes
there is zero chance that something will

I remember thinking,
anger flooding my brain
I bet that no one ever thinks it’ll be them

I remember mourning,
the 50 people who died
they never saw it coming

I remember the anxiety,
following me to every concert
maybe tonight someone snuck through

I remember praying,
looking around at all the strangers
I shouldn’t have to fear for my life

I remember shaking my head,
wanting you to listen
we need stricter laws

I remember our fight,
your exhausting arguments
guns don’t ****, people do

Guns and money
bullets and power
running and hitting
chidren in the shower