ain’t nothing to see here…

just dead body piles
oh you may know some of them
but the president
bets you’ll forget them if paid
so how much does your soul cost

 

please no jokes before the funeral…

laughter is healing
so searched for lighthearted words
but began to think
what is there to laugh about
nation’s got one foot in grave

 

how freedom’s lost…

most folks take notice
when a small dog makes a fuss
but the hounds of hell
arrive unannounced no sounds
silently taking a soul

 

survival subroutines…

those human actions
evolved over a lifetime
as a response to
those who have had white privilege
developed to sustain dreams

 

another laundry day…

child
ain’t nobody
gonna
wash
your laundry
those stains

have been
on
your bed sheets
for
years
and
as much as
you’d like
they
ain’t
no
turin shroud
looks
more to me
like
the face
of
a dying nation
outlined
in the blood
of
its
fringe
citizens
but
you do as you wish
add
some more
bleach
to
make it
as
white
as
snow
just like
you’ve done
everytime
that stain
for
freedom
reappears

 

the book of dying 3:4…

in death’s darkness comes the light
all is reveal the pain inflicted
the hands nailed the screams unheard
pleas for help denied and ignored