It was a Tuesday evening;
Just about 7 o'clock, when
I stopped to smoke a ciggie
And listen to the church bells ring.

Sometimes late at night, I sit
On the steps across from my
Apartment complex, where
I hear kids play in the evenings.

Today he earns
White interest for its ' savings;
"******* only threaten"
Woes our racist king in natal grace.

Puzzle pieces
Fit in boxes
That sit on shelves
And gather dust
Like the brown rust
On playground swings
That sticks to the hands
Of tiny children

sweat trickles
excessively
this is getting to me

It's in his shadow we plead
Under his wrath we bleed
His destruction leaks hate into the weak
Leaving the unsubstantial reaping his critique
His actions scorned through years of neglect
It's in his perception only, that we become wrecked
Why do we follow knowing wrong from right
Pushing those we love away from the light
His power is without doubt equal to the greats
Although derived from stray minded it opens the gates
The gates into the souls of those who are tattered
Turning old memories to ones now shattered
Although through it all, we have nothing to fear
For he is nothing more than a broken mirror
It just takes practice to realize his weakness
All his power is nothing to the strong but bleakness
It's in his own prison he will rot
Although it's up to us to become the Juggernaut

-Joseph B Schneider

How to successfully live our life,
is revealed when helping others live theirs.

-Joseph B Schneider