She got to wake up the next day
He didn't.
She got to live her life
He didn't.
She got to have her own family
He didn't
She lied
He didn't.
She admitted to the lie -
No repercussions
He was a black boy -
He got murdered
Carolyn Bryant,
A murderer
Emmett Till,
A victim
The courts awarded her due diligence
His family fled in fear, that it'd be repeated
Leaving their home, scared they'd be targeted
Their home a ghost to a child evicted
A system built to allow racism
Charlie Kirk shot dead
America’s soul, bled
Red, the color of conversation
~ absent communication
I gazed into my husband’s eyes.
Eyes once borne by my daughter.
Agamemnon upon Mycenaean soil once more.
I embraced him as a figure crept out of the shadows.
Aegisthus slipped the knife’s hilt silently into my hand.
Agamemnon now forever lay beneath the land.
You'll no more know another man,
for if I can't have you, no one can
They shoot, stab, and run,
some are caught and then released
showing no remorse.
Fell to my knees, broken that day
Couldn't believe you'd been taken.
Cut down in your prime by Evil.
Blood. Bullets were not meant for you.
The Devil flashed a smile in court.
Your family grieved in silence;
Screaming inside, "You murderer!"
Karma will have her way with you.
*Oxymoron Poetry Contest
*Sponsored by: Nette Onclaud
*Entered on: 08/31/2025
It came quiet as the night
Nothing you could fight
It drifted unnoticed in the air
More lethal than an angry bear
He didn't feel a breeze, he didn't feel a change
Nothing out of order, nothing struck him strange
It bound to his hemoglobin, 200 times as strong
His cells were suffocating, all systems going wrong.
They found him in my car, a snow drift behind
The got him out in time for the poison to unwind
I researched it, other compounds also creep in stealth
They may change the way you act, they may destroy your health.
A crime mob found this out, they can ambush, poison you
The motive might be foggy, the method leaves no clue
Just another thing to worry about these days
Bad things can happen, in so many new ways.
See, there are crimes you know were done
But with stealthy drugs in air, there is no smoking gun
We can rub the wrong guy the wrong way
then wonder why the joy fades out, and our life goes gray.
Her winsome smile belied her secret essence
A temptress and siren
Given to saturnine quintessence
And I a man of placid and calm complexion
Became ever more umbrageous
With each stranger she offered affection
Ciara Cybelle chose to take her chances
Unconcerned by my mood
Continued her frenzied romances
She swooned at my charm
And laughed at my wit
And yet held to another man’s arm
Ciara Cybelle a nymph out of hell
Twisting a man
With her temptress spell
I had to make her understand
She simply had to see
I must be her only man
But Ciara Cybelle laughed instead
Eyes flashing fire
She brazenly said
The likes of me would never know
The deliciousness
Of the charms she would bestow
On other men she found fairer
Then in a rage
I struck in blind error
And carefree Ciara Cybelle
Lay shattered and still
At my feet where she fell
To the dark waters I fed
The alabaster body
Of Ciara Cybelle dead
Now benthic stillness of cimmerian depths
Disturbed by the pale lifeless limbs
Of Ciara Cybelle
Now tumescent and water pruned
The once sempiternal beauty
Forever ruined
So long ago
It was a far different world
It was safe to be a child
You could attend school
Go to your church
Or just play outside
You would feel perfectly safe
No one decided when it was time to die
Now you cannot do these things
Not without worrying if you would get home
It is a sad world when there are daily death counts
Telling how many died, where, and when
Almost like getting sports scores
One thing, it all has to stop
Kids should not have to think of death
And may they never have to see it
© Poem – XXVIII/VIII/MMXXV
LRET
Dedicated to the lost and wounded
of Annunciation Catholic Church
in Minneapolis on August 27th, 2025
and all of the children murdered so often
Seed of Fear: Jack and Jill
Mack and Stacks went up to the trap,
to stash a pail of cash, slick and packed.
The street was quiet, corners still,
sun hung heavy over the window sill.
Mack held the bag, pockets tight with green,
Stacks right behind, eyes sharp, unseen.
A shadow broke, the door rattled loud,
a flash, a bang, the night turned proud.
Mack hit the ground, crown knocked low,
Stacks stumbled next, nowhere to go.
They both fell fast, fear in the air,
the block held its breath, nothing was there.
The pail was gone, the trap left bare,
echoes of warning hung everywhere.
Mack went first, got hit in the dome,
Stacks went next, it hit his neck—neither made it home.
coroners report
murder or undetermined
dissatisfaction
left in limbo
do we seek perpetrator
family left hanging
it was a bright pretty happy day
Joy had always been excited about life
she was from a small town
seventeen years old, in her happy element
She was from the kind of a town where people take care of each other
her bicycle chain broke on a country road
a nice-looking man in a blue pickup truck smiled at her
He turned his truck around to help
Offered to take her to town to fix it
Lifted the bike into his truck, showing his kindness
Joy trusted his smile
she was never seen again
Alberto Nisman didn't know the danger he would enter
when he looked into the bombing of a Jewish center
He said president Christina was hiding the truth
he had the goods, would soon show the proof.
He was supposed to appear in Congress, but hours before
Somehow hitmen got by his door
He knew too much, so bad guys moved fast
If you let on what you know, next moment might be last.
Veronica Guerin reported on the Dublin crime scene
They had to kill her before the big clean.
She stopped at a traffic light, two bikers drew nigh
She knew she'd be shot, she knew she would die
She asked them not to shoot her in the face
So they shot her in some other place.
Jack knew secrets, but the mob didn't want death yet
So they punished him whenever he seemed a threat
He walked among you, but you could not see
The overarching underworld reality.
So beware the secrets that you've found,
Even heroes may not leave the battleground.
For truth’s a boomerang—when it comes back around,
Your message may die with you, six feet underground.
Sue felt strongly that Chet had murdered his missing wife
When he offered her rides in his truck, her hair stood up straight.
She felt threatened by him without knowing why.
He looked normal, but something felt amiss.
He gave her the creeps.
She told her relatives about her feelings.
He is okay, Uncle Todd said.
Nothing wrong with him agreed Aunt Sandy.
Twenty-two years later Chet was convicted to 15 years
after his wife’s body was found
Forensics proved she had been murdered in his pickup truck.
As a young boy
when not very old
I did enjoy
being told
grisly bedtime stories
by my Mother
the favourite was
none other
than
altho' I was just a nipper
Whitechapel Fishmonger Murders
perpetrated by
Jack the Kipper
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