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SøułSurvivør Nov 2020
Looting. Burning.
Building's fire.
They rob and mob.
They do not tire.
Some are anarchists.
Some for hire.
The TV blasts. It is a liar.
An airplane skims
a telephone wire.

Where is it going?
Where can it land?
Every runway
shifting sand.
All citizens
are in their bands.
We are under
Judgement's Hand.

America.
Alive with stasis.
All opponents
in their places.
No room for love
in those rat races.
We could be gone
without any traces.

No trace of culture.
No money earned.
All gain is stealing.
Compassion spurned.
Museums raided.
Books are burned.

Hard to watch it.
Trees are felled.
Racial violence.
Hatred sells.
Anthropology
gone to hell.

All hope is
A WISHING WELL.

SoulSurvivor
Catherine Jarvis
11/18/2020
Please,
No parallel parking
in front of my
complex-apartment
Bro I got a linked-
compartment
with an assortment
of bargains
Oh.. I beg your pardon?
I say I'm not known for
Violence,
Rioting
or arguing
So don't make me.. a Target
Yo.. and it doesn't take a
Genius
just to get into Yale,
Princeton or
Harvard
They say I'd cheat but
That kind of hate is.. way
too.. Obvious
"Yeah"
You know, I really think
you're only
mad bro
Because I'm great at self-
Marketing
Cryptic Freestyle Quickie
Safana Aug 2020
Hey!
Rodent,

I'm not worrying
For what you are
Stealing,
I'm
only sadden,
for taking away
What you took
from me.
Robert Ippaso May 2020
The country's on fire
Buildings ablaze
A situation most dire
Filmed through the haze.

Protesters all shouting
Passions inflamed
Of their anger no doubting
For the victim now named.

They march with hands raised
Indignant and loud
Determined, unphased,
To pressure unbowed.

But the message is tainted
The moment hijacked
The vision now painted
Of stores all ransacked.

Looters in droves
Their arms filled with goods
From iPhones to clothes
Their faces in hoods

Frenzied they run
Opportunity knocks
Plate glass they shun
With hammers and rocks.

Men of no soul
These rats of the night
Not caring they stole
What's pure and what's right.

Sadness surrounds us
Few places to turn
So much to discuss
While our cities now burn.

— The End —