Poem 4

Its the sadness that looms
over eyes
they are deprived from marching and newsreels repeating headlines
depressed units housing souls
walking around in octagon patterns
leaving worn trails for the weary to come home…
to lie down
the passing is the dying saves no one
everyone’s crying and screaming
asking for permission not grabbing it and thrusting it upwards
when will this cycle be broken and we will not have to ride
this merry go round that is death by cops by same race
death by armed robbery by kidnappings and sodomizing
blood on sidewalks and tree stumps and hands of mothers lovers cousins
repeating a pattern that was laid down in inner cities
called bus routes and projects
babies and daddies of babies
pajama pants as attire and crack vials
everyone is running around
crying and screaming
and it has become normal
and we are…

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About monalisasrandomthoughts

I craft people poems. I laugh out-loud. I love all things. Everything is about order. My movements are chess. Everything to me calculates. I just look like this.
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