OF BOOMARANGING INJUSTICE
No, we can’t say it didn’t happen; it did!
Senate produced and White House directed.
Improvised and played out before our eyes:
And they said the revolution wouldn’t be televised.
However, just check out daily Breaking News
Of Trumpian overtures being played out in classical
Themes of constitutional comedies of errors:-
(And the beat goes on.)
Where noosing ropes once stretched
And pulled innocent necks, we must now take hands
And pull down inking votes, noosing injustice!
Now, in the present of the future’s past, we must show
That truth spat and dumped upon, shall rise again.
Come, let us throw the boomerang of reciprocity,
Shattering the bigoted “in” out of bloody injustice,
Rebirthing the mountaintop of gained justice/-
Remember, it’s better to be aware than sorry:
Our confused and abused youth are watching us:-
Let not history again reduce ourstory to footnotes:
Let us continue to rise, with our eyes still on the prize.
(Let’s not be as Sisyphus; but as Jacob.)
Moving on doesn't magically fix injustice
They say, "Move on" like pain's a switch,
Like an interval of time alone alters that
Glitch.
But scars don't fade; incitement they insist-
Moving on doesn't magically fix inequity.
You walk forward, still feel the bruise,
Still hear the fabrication they tried to use.
Healing ain't concealing what they dismissed-
Moving on doesn't magically fix injustice.
Football brings a people together,
A country's people unite,
And yet almost but not quite,
When race is a factor, hatred leads the fight,
A sport that supposedly brings together a nation,
Sure does like a bit of discrimination,
When a Black player scores -
The crowd roars,
When a Black player misses -
The crowd becomes malicious,
Fans become hypocrites,
And when the team needs support, all you hear is crickets,
Just racial remarks,
And racists embark,
To blame,
As an excuse to shame,
To hate -
And humiliate,
Black players who are the only reason their team is so great,
Justice or JUST US -
It seems to be - that this is NOT -
Just a trend, but a common thread,
To how things seem to work -
And no I'm not being woke,
Us Black people just seem to know,
How -
This world works.
We see with our eyes open,
They see with wilful ignorance,
Double standards become the white man’s self fulfilling prophecy,
A legacy -
Created to keep Black people in a state of misery,
In a state of unwanted complacency,
In a state of anxiety -
Of an unknown future,
Where self defence is a life sentence,
And being attacked is a death sentence
Justice was never for US,
Just for U -
Who?
Non Black people -
They get excuses,
We get damnation,
Their violence is proof - of abuse,
Our innocence - twisted to fit the narrative,
Damned if we defend ourselves, damned if we don't,
Either way we don’t get to go home,
A body bag or a prison cell?
Either option is a different version of hell.
Justice is not for us -
A Black person.
We do not get the privilege of impartiality,
Just the label of guilty,
Where the colour of our skin -
Meant justice was a case we would never win.
SLAMMED -
D
O
W
N,
To the ground,
C-R-A-C-K -
The only sound -
Made,
Knee on neck,
Blood blanketed the pavement,
STAY DOWN,
He did nothing wrong,
STAY DOWN,
His only crime was being Black,
STAY DOWN,
In the eyes of the police - it warranted an attack.
He could NOT speak back
He would NOT speak back
He can NOT speak back
Why?
He was DEAD,
Blunt force trauma to the head,
Slammed down with a cracked neck,
The police couldn’t care less,
No panic, no stress,
They know, without a doubt - they will get a not guilty verdict,
They are white with a badge - this means they are protected
The cycle repeats over and over again,
The cycle never ends,
And now police brutality -
Becomes their favourite trend,
And if they get caught they will claim self defence
burn it.
Burn it.
BURN IT.
All of it,
Every single system,
Every single institution,
Every single building, built by the blood of Black hands.
Violence was a language they understood -
All too well,
So fire is the message we send back
Peace was never an option,
When war was a crime forged against us -
The very people who built their empire.
Blood shackled hands,
Tear stricken faces of the ancestors,
Each tear drop the glue of each cement brick,
Every building burnt - an act of justice,
Every building burnt - a form of reparations
Every system burnt, is justice served
Violence was the only answer -
To the oppressors acts of discrimination,
Of Black bodies strung, hung and burned,
Of every act of racism,
Of every Black person - murdered,
For the simple act of being Black in this world
What if they had lived?
What if?
Why couldn’t they live?
We will never forgive,
We will never forget,
What if they had lived?
And yet we will never get to see that happen.
Trayvon Martin,
Killed for skittles,
If he had lived -
He would have been a pilot,
If he had lived -
He would not have remained a kid
Tamir Rice,
Murdered for being a kid,
Playing with a toy gun -
All he did was have fun,
If he had lived -
He would be alive,
And for his family, his life was the most precious gift
If he had lived -
He would have been forever cherished
If all the Black kids,
Would not have been killed,
They would have lived -
They would still be breathing,
If they had lived the world would be a better place for it
Bodies float.
Down the deep blue sea,
Washed up on shore,
The life of a Black person no more.
Evidence erased -
By tidal waves,
Or -
So they say,
They claim,
It was an - ACCIDENT
But that is just hearsay
But…
There’s a pattern,
And more and more deaths happen,
Stories don’t add up,
Autopsies - covered up.
One plus one equals two,
And yet in the case of these Black bodies - this is not true,
Somewhere along the lines the truth,
Has been misconstrued.
Like a game of chinese whispers -
Like a solution that doesn’t match the problem.
In the end we will never know,
But bruises don’t just show,
And swimming doesn’t cause head trauma
And yet a blow to the head suggests - Murder?
Secrets eventually surface,
Promises made, are promises broken,
The courts favour the right to blame water,
And in the end we were burned,
By -
The so-called justice system
Gunfire,
Shots.
Screams.
Bloodshed.
Bodies.
Bodies.
Bodies.
Except one -
The shooter,
Who - was - white
The victims,
DEAD,
All the victims -
Black.
The police,
Arrive,
Ten - twenty minutes late.
The excuse -
Traffic,
There was no traffic that day,
They lied -
They didn’t care that Black life had been taken away
They arrived late,
Red and Black,
It was an egregious attack -
What was worse,
The faces of the police -
Stone cold -
Devoid.
The shooter was spared,
He was white after all,
They didn’t shoot -
In their words it would be ‘un-called’ for
The shooter lived,
The shooter - acquitted,
Why?
He was white -
And the victims Black
But obviously the courts did not say that,
They said he was mentally unwell - had a panic attack,
That it would be unfair for them to criminalise that -
After all this was his first offense, so he can’t be that bad,
Oh, also he has a family which means they need him back
The victims families saddened,
But not surprised - as history shows this has already happened
"Woman, I see through your disguise,
The alimony tears in your eyes,
You swore we were forever, then came the papers,
Now my paycheck’s yours like some legal capers."
"Oh-ho, you framed it just right,
False claims in the moonlight,
One call to the cops and I’m done for the night,
But baby, you know you’re still winning the fight."
"Take the house, take the kids,
take the judge’s side too,
Tax me dry like the IRS do,
One more court date, oh, what a surprise,
You taught me the meaning of ‘settle or die.’"
"Woman, remember that ‘mutual’ trust?
Now my bank account’s turning to dust,
You swore you’d never weaponize visitation,
But here’s your lawyer’s fifth deposition."
"Oh-ho, the system’s your knight,
My freedom’s your alibi,
One more ‘he said, she said’ and I’m locked up tight,
But hey, at least you sleep well at night."
"I love you—just kidding, that ship has sailed,
I’ll be paying your spa days while I rot in jail,
Doo, doo, doo, doo… see you in court!"
Doo, well, well... da, da, doo, doo!
TODAY’S POLITICAL ATROCITIES
Coercive control,
Has become today’s new norm:
Liberties reduced:-
Democracy changed.
It is now only for the rich:
The poor must accept:-
Capitalism,
Is now in charge and controls
The country’s oppressed:-
How atrocious!
Pointificating greatness,
By going backwards:-
" I've pondered my nature
in the open will of defiance
stranger before my own
am I the example
of liberty-
summoned unto judgement
before the seats of a fools council
am I bred in open rebellion
pleadged in the court
of deceit-
bear my wretched wings
if they should fall by my side
for I have no grievance
before the sword
of the injustice-
demise is their proven poison
whose sweet intoxication is damning
believing that such justice
might bring the rewards-
that I myself refused "
Mandeville
Yesterday…
As a cherubic child,
do you have grand dreams, Pete,
of becoming, when older (but not wiser),
famous world-over (as a war criminal)?
Today…
“No quarter, no mercy,” you say.
“Punching them while they’re down,
as it should be” and with
“no stupid rules of engagement.”
To “provide quarter” ensures safety
of all combatants who surrender,
who lay down their arms,
with their hands in the air.
“No quarter” means to take no prisoners,
to execute on the spot all those vanquished,
without mercy, without justice, without due process
(like blowing-up Venezuelan boats),
a war crime by Geneva Conventions,
and war crimes got Nazis hung decades ago.
Yet now you brag about committing war crimes
while promoting reckless, endless war?
Tomorrow…
Years to come, on Judgment Day,
the cosmic Courtroom is full
of the formerly famous mighty
as well as those “following orders.”
Please take your seat, Pete,
next to jealous Nazis.
melancholic tidings—
optimism asystolic, now
fool’s paradise.
laconism stentorian
saline fluid agglomerating
“malignant” obfuscates,
formulates black stars.
fluttering, clouting
against ghostly pale tile.
aesculapian screams
circumnavigate weak cerebrum,
foxtrotting endlessly,
cold-blooded mockery.
serene bedrest
sinking linen counterpane.
morphing, suffocating
anaemic stature,
tasting like metal.
thrashing abnormal growth
actuate tunnels unending
i feel it.
i feel everything.
head encumbrance,
vessels strangulated,
blue skin a horror.
needle-punctured, scanned.
inhuman study. a specimen,
neglected medical non-priority.
fragile. no mind.
deteriorating. weaker.
sick. morningly.
please. help. ignored.
stained. vomit. pale.
monitor accelerating.
oxygen. chemotherapy.
please. help. me.
i. am. human.
bottom. medical. food. chain.
neglect. oxygen. oxygen.
oxygen. oxygen.
need. medicine.
nurses.
loud.
sonorous.
ringing.
light.
hunger. thirst. taste. smell. vision. touch. hearing.
taste. smell. vision. touch. hearing.
vision. touch. hearing.
touch. hearing.
dont. go.
hearing.
loud.
asystole.
The Pious Wolf of the Parish
The candles in the parish hall sputtered, casting long, monstrous shadows against the stone walls. There sat Abid, cloaked in the sudden, sickening reverence of the townsfolk. He wore his piety like a freshly laundered shroud, his voice a low, honeyed venom as he pointed his finger at her.
"Wickedness," he whispered, and the word hung in the damp air like rot.
It was an old trap, a familiar nightmare. He had spun this web before, burying his own black deeds beneath a mountain of fabricated sins, all laid at her feet. Now, he sat enshrined among the elders, a wolf sheltered by the sheep, his past safely buried in the dark soil of their collective ignorance. He was the architect of her ruin, yet he sat immaculate in the glow of their unearned grace.
She opened her mouth to scream the truth, but the sound died in her throat. She looked at the blank, hollow eyes of the community. They were blind. They were deaf. The heavy silence of the room told her everything: her voice was dead to them, a ghost story they had already chosen to forget.
Sub Categories
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.