shootings
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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
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
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.
