American Lust

American Lust
Rosewood
Black Hills
Wounded Knee
Chinese Massacre of 1871
Bloody Monday
The last black man shot
The first cop acquitted 
The Chicago kid
that said "I'm wit' it"
The burnt flag
The spitter, the pisser, 
the two that stood with
fist raised,
The ripper and Susan B. Anthonys
with needle and thread.
The soldier,  the victim,
for those who cannot stand,
for bottled up passions that
often erupt into these
American Horror stories
always forgotten 
For the guy with hands 
raised and still blown away
Millionaires and billionaires;
for those without a nickel 
to their name.
It isn't disrespect until it happens to you.
America the free,  even
After all this time,
We still bleed
as if the Cavalry was 
hootin and hollerin &
horses' hooves 
a poundin'
pistols drawn
& women and children dyin'
Sit if you must
I ain't mad at you.
We all die
 under
"In God we Trust"
Copyright © | Year Posted 2016

Poem

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