the shamrocks bleed.....Ireland's countrymen gang wars, slaying each others' dreams

I hate  political conversations
Especially ones about our dear nation
Should I start with the politician’s lies
Or society’s bias?
Yes, I am young and I don’t know much
But did you see how hard she clenched her purse?
Youths wanna be big
But don’t want to stoop to dig
Trying to look for shortcuts to success
That carries no stress
Men and women in uniform always forget life is A boomerang
they think they can play God cos they’ve got big guns
Our government claim they don’t have enough resources to help us all
but go the extra mile to fund meaningless wars
Humans have allowed their love for innovation to devour them
so much they have failed to acknowledge what they have become
People are so quick to praise loyal partners
Is Cheating acceptable and accessible now?
Politicians love  using tragedies to stay relevant
making false promises to win people over
Countries can’t fix the war on their soil
but go around bombing other countries
to steal their resources and destroy innocent lives
for their financial gain
I see you lot who embrace our black culture
but keep quiet when it comes to our struggle
You can’t choose when to be black sweetie
I don’t know why Vloggers brag about their good deeds
Don’t get me wrong, I am always moved by  your touching videos
but you shouldn’t film the vulnerable
for your views
The internet has  succeeded in painting the perfect body for its audience
that people feel they would be rejected if they don’t meet the society’s standards
We look up  so much to celebrities
because they are reflections of who we want to be
instead of using our little time for our development


Don’t get me wrong
I know and understand
©O.K
June 2020

She grabs her by the neck
And I can see it unfold
She never stood a chance
Her body slams to the ground
She gasps upon impact
Blood running from her mouth red as her hair

She reaches up
Unclear if as an act of pleading or anger
But a figure dressed dark as night rips her off the ground
Only to slam her down again

This time she lets out an unearthly moan
She spits blood onto the pavement
It glistens in the sun
A puddle of color against the blacktop

The figure grabs her again and drags her by her hair
Her lips quivering
She puts her arms below her
And as she pushes to lift herself up another blow
The dark figure kicks her in the side of the head
She falls to the ground
A sharp kick in the rips and she spits blood once again

She looks up pleading with her eyes
Scrapes cover her face with streaks of red
The tears are streaming down but she does not cry out
Another blow to the ribs and she doubles down
Using her hands over her head she attempts to protect herself

Finally relenting the dark figure stops the kicking
She lay broken and quivering unable to face it
It begins to scream
And when she turns away it grabs her face to face the lingual horrors

When I see her face next it's only a glance
But her eyes seem empty now
Glazed over and lifeless
The figure picks her up again

She makes no sound this time as she hits the ground
For a moment it seems as though she will try to rise up
The figure stands over her watching
But she doesn't move

From off the pores of pitch-black skin,
Floyd's soul saps aways,
Little by Little,
One last time
One last effort
One last fruitless plea
In tinny scraps of air
Pushed up from greying lumens
Sourly yields a quashed neck coldening ,
The sore man sighs the last of life,
The man with the loathed shade met his end

Where have the great games
of childhood gone?

Father and son
tossing the grenade

Little sister skipping
over ***** traps

Somehow, someway
we reached a cease fire
in the "eleventh hour
of the eleventh day
of the eleventh month"

Not sure which of us
was gaslighted
in the eerie orange
of shoreline blood
and the unsettled darkness

"You were right, I was wrong."
read the treatise

Somewhere, someway
an airplane missing
for nearly a century
descends from the clouds
and touches down
in an empty field

The fallen souls
of weaponry
unload on the tarmac

Let the games begin...

A country divided
Depressing but true
Leadership wanting
By both Red and Blue.

Faction's aplenty
Each shouting loud
The noise overwhelming
Fomenting the crowd.

Cities in uproar
Police under siege
Anarchists aiming
Our culture to breach.

The media ecstatic
With words to inflame
No boundaries or morals
As if playing a game.

Yet above all this din
A message breaks through
The need to treat others
As you'd like them treat you.

Neither color nor creed
Must poison our soul
Our aim be just one
To make our world whole.

Different indeed
In more ways than one
But Americans all
A freedom hard won.

In my household,

The validity of my feelings have been neglected.
My desperate cries for help have fallen on deaf ears.
The words I speak immediately became shunned and cast aside - does anyone truly care for me?

In my household,

I am oppressed by my own flesh and blood.
I am classified as unwanted and valueless.
I am invisible - does anyone truly care for me?

But once i leave the place allegedly called home,

I realise I have friends with shoulders to cry on.
Those willing to carry the heavy weight of my burdens, needless of compensation.
Those who have nothing to give but their love.

A love, that transcends space and time.

avoid military service
due to a bone spur
for which there is no evidence

have managed to tell
an average of 16.5 lies per day
since elected into office

slander possible opponents
and everybody else who
has a different opinion

divide their country
at a time when unity
were most desirable

sets police on peaceful protesters
just so they can pose for a photo-op
before a church flaunting a bible

but only for self-aggrandizement
    
     no prayer
     no empathy
for those who suffer most
    the victims of racist violence
    the thousands of deaths from the pandemic
        caused by his delayed actions
    the 20 millions of unemployed

people there are who
are simply too incompetent
to lead a country

the media endlessly repeat
a video with a white police officer
kneeling on a handcuffed black guy
who keeps saying “I can’t breathe”
until he dies

******* of violence
of the worst kind
makes you feel guilty
     like a ******
both repelled and fascinated

racist ****** perpetrated
     blatant
     in full sight
by one whose badge claims
he protect you from harm

outrageous

Hes not that bad I say
On my knees again his friends laugh
Hes not that bad I say
He yells at me for a minor thing I did
Hes not that bad I say
When he calls me stupid
Hes not that bad I say
smaller portion for me he says I'm fat
Hes not that bad I say
When he raise a hand to me (I flinch)
Hes not that bad I say
Split lip cracked ribs
Hes not that bad I say
When hes calling other girls
Hes not that bad I say
When I leave and he says he loves me
Hes not that bad I say
I think I can fix him
Hes not that bad I say
No means no and he does it anyway
Hes not that bad I say
When he holds my hand my fingers are broken
Hes not that bad I say
When I've called the police again
(just a misunderstanding)
Hes not that bad I say
When his hands leave my throat
Hes not that bad I say
I get flowers and I rasp I love them
Hes not that bad I say
When I pull the trigger