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
An Observer of Life in Bad Poetry 