justice
  
noun*  jus·tice \ˈjə-stəs\

the quality of being just; righteousness, equitableness, or moral rightness.*


I woke up at midnight to the sound of a gunshot. I was beyond scared to look at my window and see what’s happening outside. But I gathered all my courage and got out of my house to see policemen and their vehicles, to see many people emerging to take a look at what’s happening. And then I saw a dead body, a man with a cardboard sign saying he was a drug pusher. It felt like my world dropped at that moment, I couldn’t sleep that night because all I could hear was the sound “BANG!”. The next morning when I went outside I was confused that the people not bothered, that they acting like nothing happened, that they did not care. I asked one guy if he knew what happened last night, and he said yes. I asked him if he was even terrified, if these killings are normal, if the sound that I will be hearing every night is a gunshot, and he said, “Don’t you worry. A gunshot means justice.”


A gunshot means justice. It means if you hear it in the middle of night, it doesn’t matter if that someone is a person you know, it doesn’t matter if you know that person is innocent, because that gunshot means the thing we’ve all been seeking for. It means you don’t have to be scared that people are getting killed everyday without any due process because it’s for the better. It means watching your fellow people die but you have to be happy because they’re bad people, they deserve to be killed and it’s for the country. It’s justice, we’re killing criminals who deserve it. And we promise, innocent people will not be a part of this. But does justice mean a teenager getting shot by the police, and it turns out he wasn’t the one they were supposed to ****? Does justice mean a 12 year old girl getting shot by a stray bullet when she was about to go to church? Does it mean innocent people dying, shattering a teenager’s dreams, taking away the lives of children? A gunshot doesn’t mean justice, especially to the victims. When we live in a Catholic country where people say we’re supposed to follow the bible but when it comes to this they all suddenly forget about God, when people shame you for loving someone because it’s a sin but we’re failing to remember one of the commandments of God, “thou shall not ****”. When we always say we need to forgive people, but drug users and pushers don’t deserve second chances, they deserve death. When they’re asking for help but instead of giving it they pointed a gun to their heads. They said this will keep our nation safe, but does safe mean being frightened to walk at night because you can get killed without even doing something, when the possibility that someone you know will die is too high, when you know that every night another person dies? But all they say is that what we have to do this, to be able to achieve justice.  


But how can justice prevail when the thief who stole money from us got out of jail and is now living happily? When the dictator who stole and killed our people was considered a hero? When the top criminals of our country are now free? When the rich can be given a second chance but the poor gets shot instantly? How can justice prevail when our human rights are being destroyed and forgotten?


justice
noun  jus·tice \ˈjə-stəs\
rightfulness or lawfulness, as of a claim or title; justness of ground or reason

There are millions of dictionaries in the world. And all of them have the word justice. Maybe they have the same, or different meanings. But the word justice suddenly becomes missing when we talk about the victims of the killings.

(k.b)

You see me day by day at the corner
Pockets in hand
Shelves of rotting produce cardboard boxes
20 cent sweets that past their sell by date a year ago..

Diligently you see me, come rain or high waters
I stand there pockets in hand
From dusk till dawn
Broken lips that whistle all day
Zimba chips, Cool time, packet tamaties.
A tune the little ones love to hear
No choice I have, ends meat is all I crave
But you brand me as a low class citizen.

Education I have not The Class room smarts they say
I can't construct a well thought out  sentence
With concords alliteration and all those linguistic devices.
But I know how to communicate
I can't solve Linear Equations or know who pythagoras is
Buh I give you correct change to the last decimal.

I give you tabs that your hyper markets and pick & pays stores will never allow.
But you still brand me as a low class citizen
Any mischievous activities occur I'm the first to wear the blame.
And no apology is afforded to me
The man at the corner

The robs I wear are not to my liking but are a testament to my financial struggle.
All you see is a **** Bo tsotsi.
Does a mans status really revolve around money.
How I wish my luck will change with those 7 miniature *****.
But still you'll find me, the man at the corner.

You pass me by in your luxury cars with your fancy titles.
I have only known Bra Dross.
Well that's sufficient for me
Buh still with your discerning eyes feel like shackles to my navel constricting my ambition to pass on my name
But still you find me, the man st the corner

I excepted my fate buh still looking forward to my better day
Next time you see the. Man at the corner
Leave a greet for him, share a smile with him
He is just a man
A man at the corner who said no to un lawfulness

sometimes you drink a bottle of whiskey,
and you're like: there's a poem in me,
there's a poem in me!
but there ain't a poem like there ain't
an oasis in a desert, so
so you take a few snaps, an it feels justifiable
to be taking pictures rather than writing
phonetic encoding, then you worry
about the people reading you with Pythagorean
zeal - baked bean and all -
you read a newspaper and overdose on
Heidegger's dasein - you pick philosophical
problems when your life is easy,
you ignore them when life's complicated enough,
the two never meet, so i don't know
whether fame solves the "problem" of consolidating
universal relief with particular agitation of
cared for interest - being famous is hard to craft,
i'm not aiming for any fame other than posthumous fame...
the dust has to settle - with poetry:
the naked narrative - no clothing for the the narrator
to dress in with his Karamazov brothers....
just nakedness to mind -
against the coastline erections of grammar this
Odyssey is bound to impregnate with news' reels
of a shipwreck number dead...
i hate newspapers, like i hate Asian brothels of
power... i hate western media like i hate
Iranian despots... they're the same to me...
they both wrestle with authoritarian exertion -
they're not that different... one and the same
for me....
so, after drinking a bottle of whiskey you sometimes
think there's a hibernating poem in you...
you want to create art that's simply lazy and people
can have it as canvas and think their part out...
it's such a shame that poetry is not equipped for
technology for the masses, but rather well equipped
to entertain the aristocracy when the radio wasn't
invented... i bemoan poetry,
the lacking orchestra... i'm jealous of other art forms,
not as a person, but as a person concerned with poetry...
we only invest our entire lives for the medium
while others detach themselves from their encrypted medium
with the price of oil-paints to mind... or the price of
pianos... never did poetry entertain the crowd,
always the minded singleton of our mutual concerns...
as said, the existential tactic is anti-Darwinism -
it's hardly ever Swedish... teach evolution with the Vikings...
don't be prone to erase pretty much all of history
to make a standing ovation... for celestial t.n.t. -
but it doesn't matter... i just like to experience
pristine Alpine mineral water cascade of peace -
i'll hardly get it... i never thought i would...
from a wholly physical experience i became a wholly
mental experience... you can knock twice for
Santa Clause's response with what i'm saying...
i'd like to return to my fully engaged body...
but there were a few that said i should preach
the Christian message of forgiving enemies without
enacting the duty of expressed lawfulness -
because, i mean, what's the point of forgiving your
enemies after you enacted the full compensation
of law, and prison, and reprimand?
Cain walked free! shallow aesthetics,
pointless diatribe of forgiveness for the photo opportunity...
many of the death row inmates would rather
hear the guillotine drop like a lapping tongue
than hear the phrase: rot in hell -
preserving human rights has its limits -
people simply became thieves in the case of capital
punishment, they robbed criminals of their right
to experience the adrenaline rush...
all acts of suicide don't have this luxury -
mere cognition does not produce the biological
effects that actions beyond thinking do,
suicide is worse than capital punishment,
there's no adrenaline involved, no spontaneity.
i think capital punishment is a clearly set-out
Christmas present... keeping someone locked up
on death row is like battling premature *******...
it's not human... it's zoological...
i vouch to say most would rather have it done
away with in the manner of seconds passing
rather than the billions of years it took for stars
to form, or as in their case... a conscience.
look how many people are trying to revive
the **** euthanasia regime... esp. with motor-neuron
disease... they're begging for it...
not even a cubic metre of a promise of heaven
will equal the ably limb'ed their time on
this earth, known in Dante's theology as purgatory.