Shutdown City

On asphalt, wet with blood and sweat (down streets with no address),

there lay a man, snuffed by the Man and left to evanesce.

The Man then strode along the road and smiled at his success

and, cavalier, he bought a beer, sat down to decompress.

A life was gone, but day wore on, the sun awash in heat -

the riddled head no longer bled, concealed beneath a sheet,

and passers-by began to cry, were sobbing indiscreet’,

while holy bells in distant hells began to moan and bleat.

In heaven's eyes (no one denies) due process is decreed,

but down below, where burdens flow, it rarely can succeed

and certainly not for those distraught, benighted in their need,

so Men in blue (you know the crew) thought nothing of the deed.

Though just eighteen, a little green (was still his mama's son!),

adored by all, but left to sprawl in webs of hate, undone,

the youth was shot and left to rot, but never held a gun,

so people cried and wondered why'd the evil deed been done.

The sheriff said "forget the dead, his crime was black as slate"

and in the rush to hush and shush, he hissed "I'll tell you straight,

that boy, today, was on his way to rendezvous with fate,

so now you know - I gotta go, it's gettin' kinda late".

Not satisfied with those who'd lied, some took to fill the streets

with peaceful cries neath blackened skies, were paid with clubbed retreats,

cruel gas cascades and stun grenades, then days in jailhouse suites -

though curfew's on from dusk till dawn, each night this scene repeats.

With exits barred, in came the Guard to rumble and repress,

for people stray both night and day in search of some redress.

The city's scarred, the houses charred, the locals in distress -

with cut or bruise, they still refuse to kneel or acquiesce.

So choppers fly above the sky with whirling, twirling blades

and drones in flight within the night erase the renegades.

The tarot cards and crystal shards reveal the masquerades -

the beating parts of diamonds’ hearts forever club the spades.

Now puppet Pols are making calls and acting out charades

(like shouting loud within the crowd, and marching in parades),

while underneath, where lies a wreath, the hope for justice fades.

Yet, freedom waits behind the gates, beyond the barricades.

Reviews

[Terpsichore]

Putting aside the skill employed to compose such superb rhythm and rhyme, this poem saddens me.

I truly think that mankind will never learn from its mistakes; and we are thus doomed to remain as divided and divisive as ever.

Sometimes I wish I could wave a magic wand, though mostly it's all a bit overwhelming.

T

[Terry O'Leary]

Thank you, Terpsichore!

You may be right with your pessimism... if we don't destroy ourselves quickly ('nuclearly') which seems to be looming on the horizon, we will surely take the longer route (global warming)...

Unfortunately, these matters are in the hands of the few that only think of the bottom line in the short term... they have no interest in the long term...

On the other hand, if we don't completely annihilate our race (perhaps only returning ourselves to a pre stone level), a new surge in evolution will finally lift us out our present morass...

[Coyote Poetry]

I did enjoy this tale my friend.
"The sheriff said "*forget the dead, his crime was black as slate*"
and in the rush to hush and shush, he claimed "*I'll tell you straight,
that boy, today, was on his way, to rendezvous with fate,
so now you know - I gotta go, it's gettin' kinda late*".
I liked the complete tale and the above lines were my favorites. Thank you for sharing the amazing tale.
Coyote

[Terry O'Leary]

Thank you, Coyote... you are very kind!
Terry

[Coyote Poetry]

I love your work and you are welcome.