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
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
Rodent, I'm not worrying For what you are Stealing, I'm only sadden, for taking away What you took from me.
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 —