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Fatalistic

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Fatalistic

haves never have enough
have nots make do with less
& less in some ways is more
when boys fall for girls
sultry skin & mascara eyes
thick glossy lips 
whispering sweet nothing
a weary story
 told over again
by lovers & fighters
who know all there is
is here & now
death comes for some
sooner than later
tragic immortal
survivors regret hope
an enemy some shake off
to roll in solidarity with shadows
lurking in the lurid lurch
they slip into solitude
appease death 
with youth's honor
fading too fast into
final breath rattles
gaping stars above 
blood stained gutters
left littered by love wilting
flowers cut then bound
by peasants peddling 
cheap bouquets
& bags of oranges 
left on dusty curbs
off the 110 as they dash along on ramps
leading to roars of traffic jammed
as ghetto birds hover on a smoggy horizon
a breezy
a shorty
their weeping mamasita
clings to her rosary
the virgin aching
still
forever
grief wells up
takes refuge in small pretty fingers
swept up & in
beads worn with worry
unable to soothe her
an OG grips his  steering wheel
grim forsaken grave
spares him not his child
his eyes grow darker 
than the distance ahead
colder than a marble slab
where corpses are held captive
until afforded caskets
at saturday car washes
in jars upon a counter
 at the liquor store
dollar bills crumpled 
or a little loose change
church collection plates 
are passed along
concrete prayers & asphalt vigils
some soldiers live & die in the street
each mourned where he has fallen
swift sudden senseless
this brutal dance leaps
into sadness
swells in flickering
 candle flames
where fading 
missives are folded
words are scars
inky hearts bleed
along the margins 
of pages torn
from school notebooks
damp with tears
always running
until loss 
marks a spot
with stolen spray p
aint or thick red stains
waiting for winter rain 
to wash away what remains
avenge east or west
fate chooses sides
every one of us
 is thrown into life
born into this 
war all the time world
where worse for wear men
are made into wage slaves
walking  the line 
that leaves
wrong color boys
waiting on slabs
waiting in cages
for someone
to claim them



 

 

http://www.hemlockontherocks.com

art soldier embarrorist poet Activist and Advocate for students, teachers, community Former college instructor, high school teacher in the hood Subversive

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