Gattlin’ Gun

After realizing I am getting ahead of myself again for the third time this year

x x x x x x x

The gattlin’ gun
Was invented to protect your young
Blood,
Flesh of your flesh,
Salt of the earth folk,
Y’understand?

The gattlin’ gun
Was invented to protect your son
Your dear thicker-than water
Son,
Settin’ on a heartless plane of Africa
Where nobody knows a goddamn thing
Least of all his name.

You should know by now
Each round they fire
Is heaven sent
Is god-inspired

You should feel by know
The fear I felt
When I took to hearing
The first plain shot
Like a plank of wood
Being struck
Inside the bones of tut
Split wide shut

Copyright 2017 Golden Star Poetry

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A Death in the Family

i was on the bus and it hit me like a bullet that he could never love me back

in the way i loved him

and i cried like i was mourning;

not  in the bittersweet way or in the melancholy way that

yearns and lusts after and has room for hope.

it was the kind of crying that realized all hope was lost, and there was no coming back.

a death.

a hole inside me that would never be filled again.

for once in a blue moon i did not enjoy crying.

Copyright 2017 Golden Star Poetry