Sins boomerang.
If I teach you nothing else
in this short life,
please remember,
violence begets violence,
hate begets hate,
and good intentions
executed with incompetence
begets harsh revenge
from the people
we claimed to help.

Sins are almost always hurled
with the strength of our passion.
When they return,
they come fast, unforgiving,
and with the determination
to destroy.

Blood,
And shadows enough for two,
Lust,
For someone far from you,
Hate,
Sharper than a Blade,
Patience,
And a part in the play.

Abandoned in the corner of the street
my very existence was born this way
a small child without a ray of hope
no light, they were all gloomy days.

Aging, a slow and painful process
a life with no friends or foes
shunned by society in all my forms
before me, even pity takes a bow.

Blamed for all the sins I kept
punished for all the things I did
too cruel, it was my reality
rage, it's hard to keep it under the lid.

I did not choose to be this way
it how the people shaped me, that matters
a monster, a killer, that's what they call me now
they say everywhere I go I bring disaster.

Why must I keep revenge out of reach?
Why must I be the one to take the blame?
When I sought happiness, you taught me hate
I was your creation, have you no shame?

The blade now turns to you with a glint
crimson, just like my tears once were
had you paid attention, had you any love
I wouldn't have turned out like this, I'm sure.

You sowed the seed of hate in me
You shall reap the anger that grew
You Abandoned Me In The Corner Of The Street
Now with your blood, I shall be anew.

Long ago, there was a man who stood
On the outskirts of a village he once fought for
The gates were rusted, painted with blood
With prejudice he was banished by the conqueror

"You shall set foot in these grass no more
Or set your gaze upon the town's sunsets
You shall not walk, cruise, or pass its stones
Do so and be met with blades and arrows."  

With great grit he smiled
As if he was welcomed with beer and wine
As if the banners were hung
As if the people sang the song of victory  

"If it is your decree, my majesty then
I shall leave my home, my people
I shall flee to the West,
And towards it I shall run endlessly."

With vigor and aplomb he added;
"But my king, you shall not forget
That a man who treads the West
Is destined to reach the East again."

Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown
So days, weeks, years yet not long after,
He who once renounced a marvelous knight
Became he who shouts at passing rats

One day while begging alms with cupped palms
His ears, wrinkled and old but still clear; heard a familiar voice
And his eyes, sank by time and forlorn,
Witnessed the return of the stars, the moon, the sun

“I have walked, ran, and rode in my journey
I have met, slain, and aided people in my journey
Yet in the wars I’ve fought during my voyage,
None was harder than what you’ve put me through.”

“And now I return.”
The king, now a mere vagabond, closed his eyes
Hearing the familiar sound of a sword unsheathing, he whispered
“And now you return.”

Your lips hang,
pulled by the murk, the grime,
smothering your face.
Separated from your kind, your kin.
Have you haunted these putrid waters,
patient for your time?
Or do you plot, terrible dreams of revenge,
to take the light?

She was a girl so tough,
Soft inside but showed to be rough,
Out came her vulnerable side,
Just during the tranquil nights.

Known as the girl who plays basketball,
But when alone, the poet inside her calls.
She must avoid the dove,
To not fall in love.

But every story has a prince charming,
Sometimes serving as a warning.
And there came one for her,
Who made her lose all her nerve.

He treated her like a princess,
But had his benefit in that.
His princesses were many,
The girl didn't know any.

Found out he cheated,
Though her heart bled,
She got up and took her pen,
And now the boy is a mere fan.....

The south was dark and dangerous in. 1954
The **** called in the darkness
as fear hung from the night like spiders webs.

In the woodland by kitty Gains farm
alongside the perfume of corn and wheat
and the staccato chirping of hot august cicadas
stood the hemlock tree scared and black at its base
where its bark would never refresh its color
the hanging tree became the burning tree.

Molly Evans and her husband Abel arrived first.
The ten year old Chevy truck
pulled into the clearing
she held a basket
covered by a clean laundered tea towel.

Abel spread the old wool blanket
as she served his dinner fried chicken and corn.
With two cups of homemade lemonade.
The sun was low and the sky had a fire in it
as if by duty the mosquitos started to bite.

Abel slapped his arm
leaving a crushed insect and a patch of blood.
****** hitch he shouted
as Molly chastised him
language she churns God is listening.

Soon the field was full of vehicles a caddy a ford woody
trucks cars as big as football fields
nothing newer than 8 years old.
Men were drinking beer
ladies chatted of knitting and quilting
and harvest dancing socials.

It was then that jubels old beat up truck arrived.
In the back a ******* man
his hands tied behind his back
kneeling in the truck bed.
one eye closed and bruised
his face beaten ******.

The crowd fell to silence
yet an excitement filled the air it was palatable.
You could taste the bloodlust
as good as the fried chicken.

the ******* man had arms with muscles
. Like a football
he could carry huge sacks of produce all day never tiring.
But no more they would show
what happens to uppity blacks
that lust after white women.

He was accused by Lilly Taylor
of trying to **** her.
it was untrue he spurned her advances
he was married to Lisa his wife
and never ever did anything to her.
It was well known Lilly's husband
Seth drank moonshine until he could not walk
never mind fill his husbandry duties at home.

But lily was white and he was black in 1954
They watched as the truck parked
under the tall stout branches of the hemlock.
The rope hung down
and was measured his toes would tantalizingly
touch the ground as he choked on the noose.
it would keep him alive for minutes

****** don't get mercy here
they would know what to expect in this county.
The man who put the noose
Over his head was Marty Shue
the local bar owner
and his two assistants
were the the barber and the feed company owner.

Even the pillow cases they wore over their heads
with eye holes burned in them
could not hide their identities.
The barber poured a can of gasoline
over the black man
he begged don't burn my oh god no.

He had given up the hope of life
he was just  terrified of being burnt.
The begging went unheard
as the truck moved away slowly
the man fell from its bed
and dangled in the air
his toes dancing on the floor
gasping and choking for five minute.

then using his lighter
the feed company owner
Lit the black man.
He screeched an unholy sound
as the flames burnt him to death.

Across the hill in the shanty town
where the blacks lived.
the old lady looked at the lighted sky
in the trees

in her eyes a small boy
could see the flaming man
hanging burning dying.

Its your daddy son
he's at peace now let him be.
But the flames burned a memory
in his eyes.
and his mouth was dry tasting of death
and a new taste
that he had never felt before revenge.

1968
The boy was 24
a big man now
his arms strong muscular he stood 6ft 5
And 220 pounds

next to him in the old car
sat another black man slight and almost pretty
he has gay written all over him.
His relationship with Virgil was unknown.
just they were close
they were friends.

They arrived at Marty's bar
in the late afternoon
it was still a filthy relic of the postwar south.
The no ******* served sign
still hung faded and in defiance
to the new laws.

The light colored slight man
rattled the sticking door of the bar.
The three men were watching a wrestling match
on a beat up tv
Drinking beer.

He said to Marty I would like a beer please
You don't Get one in here boy
there's a black bar down the road a ways.
But I want one here he saId softly

Marty short of his usual millimeter of patience
picked up his huge louisville slugger bat
and said when I say go boy you ******* well go.
Hear me.

The feed store owner had a gun
hidden in his coat
the barber a long hunting knife in his belt.
The bat raised above his head
as Marty lurched forward

he tried to stop when he saw the glock
in the black man's hand.
it basted his kneecaps to pieces.
as Marty screeched as he hit the floor.

The feed company owner took the chance
to pull out his weapon a 45
he had had since a boy.
It never reached waist high
as the bullets blow his manhood away
and he cradled writhing on the floor

the barber tried to run for the door
but bullets blasted his feet
as the foot bones crumbled

Virgill came in he had a can of gasoline
drenching the men with it
they screamed don't burn us
why you doin this to us we are good men.

Do you remember August 28 1954
They went quiet
The ****** you hung and burned

Yes I am sorry Marty wept
I was young and stupid.

It was my daddy
said Virgil softly I see him every day.
He talked of the thin membrane that.
Separated the living and the dead

of the places where it was so thin
you could hear the demands of the dead
for forgiveness and love
and the loudest of all for justice.

I hear my daddy in my sleep
in my dreams in my soul.
The gas can was empty.

As he grew a cigarette on Marty
his body ablaze in the whoosh of the fire
then the other two .
The place was engulfed in screams and flames.

They drove slowly
within all speed limits
passing the state lines one by one.

They never found out
who murdered three men in Marty's bar.
They had no underworld connections
and all three were fine upstanding
members of the local church
and well respected
members of the community.
it was a mystery.

The end