insufficient for purpose…

ain’t got
no fancy
iambic pentameter
to wrap around
my words
nor
sweet rhythms
to conceal
the crimes
of our time
no metaphors
for the sounds
of bullets
ripping
the flesh
of children
huddled with fear
in their classrooms
can’t find
an anonomatopoeia way
to say
the gun lobby
is french kissing
dollars
into the mouths
of senators
so they’ll
turn a blind eye
to the streets and classrooms
flowing
with innocent blood
but they ain’t
the only ones
refusing to see
that racism
defines this nation
and perhaps
the entire white world
for tears are shed
when ukrainian children die
but not even a sigh
is heard
when children starve
to death
in africa and bangladesh
or
children are struck down
by an israeli drone
there’s no fixed meter
that can convey
the absolute sadness
of parents
with their child’s death
no poet can ever
capture the emotions
for such an event
we merely stutter
our thoughts in words
onto the page
hoping to express
our personal rage
at the inhumanity
of mankind