On Trayon Martin
This country has been washed white
Clean of carpetbaggers centuries
But we do not forget common things
Like bodies black
And tossed away before the eyes
What marks miserable memory then
Is not the story telling new
How vulnerable is the hoodlessness!
The pathological mendaciousness
Unpracticed because unneeded before
Yawns like a badly fitted exit door.
Memory has a more significant meaning:
The bag of chips littered in the mud
The half empty soda can still frothing
At the non-bulletproof naive mouth
The victim vandalized of honor again
Cowards alone
Taste death a thousand times after they die
Blood to mud and mud to dust
More marchers protesting our disgust
Children strewn on streets of hate.
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