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El Paso: August 3rd, 2019 Walmart 22 dead 24 wounded the shooter wanted chaos  wanted fear 
How many times, Do we have to die? How many times, Does our blood have to fall? How many times, Will mothers bury their children?
I awake with a scream, my ears still ringing from the gunshots and yelling, the hymns we were singing. We march in the streets and we all yell some more. But it falls on deaf ears
I used to hate the taste of mangos. The explosion of tangy sweetness, The odd, curved shape, And the disgusting shade of yellow; The one that could only make me think of as Decaying Gold.  
Today another tragedy in the news, Senseless violence from people with nothing to lose. Never once thinking about the destruction and pain,  Instead only focused on placing the blame.
Je suis Click, click Black heels reverberate smoothly in sync with the lithe body of a metal barrel shining in the streetlights an omen
Another child. Another friend. Another son. Another daughter. Another neighbor. Another cousin. Another mother. Another father. Another lover. Another classmate.
A hustler in love with a thug they are both into deep their destiny is their loyalty for the other their love is deeper then the ocen could ever be
The mouth of the metal monster the maw of the morbid mother the giver of gold or gall picking out the particular person plucking out precious people maker of more monopolies
Hang him from the nearest tree A place like school is not for thee 2 adults were killed today One student injured Back in the day
A heart pressed like a flower between ribcage pages every beat blooming in the blouse in the backseat the blood fertilizing gravel that will never grow to seed if it does it never grows nice things
Inspired by Billy Collins   It would be a lie to say I don’t have a habit of writing About every tragedy That is headlined on the evening news, A lie to say
My generation Only knows hate Because it's all we've seen.
shooting at malls employees killed shooting at schools children, teachers, and staff all gunned down shooting on the block gang rivals killed innocent lives taken shooting at parties
Hey Zimmerman, are you happy with your life right now? Do you think you go off free? Even if the courts say you are free, you will never be.
A joker isn’t always funny, A house isn’t always a home, A father isn’t always a dad, A bad person isn’t always an enemy. But twelve have passed, and thousands remain suffering. And by now it is Thursday,
  I’m depressed which is probably normal for a teenager suppressed from any social life because I balance eight classes, seven school activities, eating, sleep, procrastination and
Today I became angry with GodWhom I do not believe in
We're broken from the inside out tell me where do we go now in these dark nights and hopeless times when all our faith runs out
Child, he was just a child He was shot in cold blood With no reason, but he was the victim Children, children, children These children were young They probably thought they did something wrong
Weakened by the turmoils of the world I am contained By the television screens that speak of the cruelties And hinders my heart day after day
I find peaceful solitude in stereotypical places white people deem fit for me because civilized Pavements in this world mark danger for any Negro that reaches into their pockets for a pack of a gum, candy, cell phone or whatever.
(poems go here) (A young boy is being interviewed on the happenings at Conneticut Elementary. He tries to get it out as best he can, but his feelings right now are a mixture of emotions his soul has never encountered. He begins to speak)
There are explanations. Explanations that God keeps tucked away in a little box, In the corner of his office. He doesn’t even know what he wants to do with them.
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