I Spy

Is it so pretentious of me to want to play a child’s game?,
Come on, it’s a tale old as time, 
I spy with my little eye,
Tell me what you see, 
Something red?, 
Something blue?,
Could you be any more boring, 
My turn, 
I spy with my little eye, 
A big white guy in a mask, 
You see him too, right?, 
Well of course you do!, 
You’re the one who gave him the crown, 
And handed him a gun, 
What’s he need that for, huh?,
Oh, and by the way, did you hear about that chick Miranda?, 
I heard she used to hand out a whole list of rights that were read at every arrest, 
But these guys shot her dead, 
They call themselves the I.C.E., 
But I think they’re just a bunch of modern day Nazi’s, 
I even saw one guy with a swastika on his neck, 
But it doesn’t matter because it looked a lot like the American Flag, 
Okay I’ll go again, 
I spy with my little eye, 
Three bullet holes through the side of that mother’s face, 
Didn’t you catch it?,
You couldn’t guess it when you watched the video on repeat?, 
How far right are you?, 
Or wrong, I suppose, 
Okay, ready, 
I spy with my little eye, 
A five year old boy in a bunny hat, 
Maybe it’ll match the striped pajamas they throw him in once he’s made it to the camp, 
Bait, 
I’d guess, 
But that’s normal ain’t it?, 
They told me it’s okay, 
That this five year old was a drug lord and a violent criminal, 
The worst of the worst,
So kill him, 
And then kill me, 
Because this game just seems to repeat, 
And all I see are families being dragged into vans and sent away, 
And picked up off the streets,
So tell me, 
When are you going to open your eyes and see it too?, 
Because I spy with my little eye,
Terrors in the streets we are not angry enough about, 
Not even close to angry enough, 
And when we elected the KKK leader into office, 
Shouldn’t we have anticipated he’d be handing out pointy white hats?,
And waiting until the next thing we see is the cross burning in the street, 
Because this is the justice that people were after, 
Anything to not have to see a woman lead, 
And I spy with my little eye,
The death of me, 
The death of you, 
And the death of being free, 
The murder of the American Dream.
Copyright © | Year Posted 2026

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Book: Diverse Voices: The Poetry of Human Rights and the Pursuit of Peace