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
Golden Star Poetry 
I didn’t realize exactly how much I missed your poetry until I read it again. Thank you.
you are so welcome. your appreciation makes it all the more worthwhile!