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An Observer of Life in Bad Poetry

Commentary on Daily Life, Politics and Sports

Category

childhood

When It’s Black On Black, Matter Lacks

IMG_3162 (2)Another day another shooting another young life ends in death

Onlookers peek from windows and doorways as a young child draws her last breath

Fifty years ago Elvis Presley sang about an angry young man who lays down in the street and dies

And as a crowd gathers round his mama cries

Fifty years later the cries of anguish are still heard

The murders are numerous, so many atrocities the crimes become blurred

Today the perfectly coiffed news reporter stands at the scene trying to emphasize society’s decay

But it’s just the daily shooting and the public has become blase

This wasn’t a white cop involved in the fatality

So the standard interview with the neighborhood leaders is just a formality

The protests, rioting and looting will have to wait for another time

Because this was a gang related random act and somehow that’s not as much of a crime

It’s a black thing, you people on the outside just don’t understand

So to combat this senseless violence the call is for the police to disband

We may not understand but we’re sickened by the pools of blood on the sidewalk

And the forensics teams drawing tiny victim’s outlines in chalk

Oh, the mayor will form a committee to study this area’s depravation

And will issue a stern warning to gang members in a wordy proclamation

Just as a another little casket is lowered into the ground under cloudy skies

As a silent group of mourners stand ashen faced while another mother cries

The Wed Perse


“Kevin are you glad that you’ve gotten to leave the classroom and come spend time with me?
And if we can break your pronunciation problem with the r’s it will be time well spent. Don’t you agree?”

“So you just sit there and we’ll work on your speech. What color is my purse?”
“Ma’am, your perse is wed.” Knowing my r just went from bad to worse

“No Kevin, the purse is red, rrrr red. Can you repeat that?”
“Yes ma’am, rrrr wed.” More words the kids can poke fun at

Wats!

“Okay Kevin, we’ll try again. How many apples are on the stand?”
“Ma’am it looks like thwee.” Wanting to bury my head in the sand

Wats! Wats!

“Kevin it’s three, thrrrree. Can you repeat it?”
“Yes ma’am, thwee.” As frustration reached the point of throwing a fit

“No Kevin, it’s thrrrree. Repeat it one more time.”
“Thwee.” Just knowing I’m sounding like I’m committing a crime

Cwap!

“Kevin let’s take a minute and watch the yard man cutting grass through the window screen. What color is the grass?”
“Ma’am, he’s cutting gween gwass.”

Cwap! Cwap!

“Okay Kevin, I see our twenty minutes are up and your class is outside for recess. Do you know when our next session is before you go out to play?”
“Yes ma’am it’s thwee o’clock on Fwiday.”

Fuck!

“Oh Kevin, it’s thrrrree o’clock on Frrrriday. I guess I’ve got another ten minutes to spare.
So you’ll stay here and repeat after me, and stop squirming in that chair.”

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