This poem is a repose to the death of Mr George Floyd in Mineapolis MN.
So again tonight the blackness of smoke is rising to the heavens all across America. And Heaven knows the reasons.
The red is flaring, it is updated and hot. Nowhere is safer than the land of the brave and the home of the free. The crackle of flame illuminates my point.
Yellow is the conflagration, the heat is being drawn. Are the people being treated like they are naturally targetable? Is it inevitable, all this black death?
We saw it in horror, we didn’t believe our eyes. A person being stifled, and no doubt not for the first time or encounter.
And the fire and the mayhem are a self inflicted wound, a man is unjustifiably killed openly and on the street. Everyone is suffering on the inside. This is an ache for justice. Let the scales fall from our eyes. Everyone is precious, everyone one has a life to give, everyone has a right to live. Offer an open hand to lift up your brothers and sisters. Surely it is better to be blind then to judge another by the sight of their skin?
There is wrong, there are wrongs to be corrected. There are people and there are streets, there is much yet to do.
The Oxygen of forgiveness and equality of truth is the simple soul solution and the way of life is love. Each in self examination needs to help bring about all that is true.
Let’s replace this red, yellow and black, with a red white and blue.
C G T Devon, England.
As a bit stream,
Into which river would you flow
If given the choice?
All is ahead, it is all there for you
Yet to be discovered.
You have motion and you dreams.
You burble some times with love.
And the restlessness of youth
Drives the conviction
That You alone hold the power of the future.
You concentrate in droves
And Placard your demands for change,
And march with a stupor.
You refuse to revisit our past,
Having no time for history.
How will you learn?
We offer ample time to be understood,
But the precious wisdom
Is not accessed, not even a byte.
Afterall who can look up the future?
Who would dare?
Our engine shares with all
Because of life.
It speaks and will listen to all
Because of life
It will forgo for all
Because of its own imminent death.
There are a myriad reasons
To fear the past,
It haunts in the chromosomes,
It leaches from the skin.
It forgets nothing.
And the time table of truth
Tests the water in which all drown.
There is nothing as unsure
As the certainty of youth.
Life is total or nothing.
But the ransom of worthiness
Is written in the hearts of people.
And the Captain recalls everything
As the ship is sucked under.
That the avoidable plot line
Was too rich for the young.
Too sweet and too sickening.
Whilst the tables had been turned.
The Baton too was dropped.
And as the Delta is approached,
The dead dangle.
© 2018 Christopher Thompson. All rights reserved
It may be advisable to brace yourself.
What I announce here may be
Received as something in the nature of shock.
I have just decided
To throw this poetry
To the Wind.
#There is no guidance in board.
View it as a literal form,
A type of psychological ejaculate,
For it too contains a message.
It is as important.
#There is no see-saw on which to ride
Feel it if it touches,
A sense of connection, communication,
For it bares a type of truth.
It will help.
#Understanding is not always required.
For all poetry contains some order of light,
In air or on paper or on screen,
By which it informs, it acknowledges truth.
Illumination comes from within.
#I know, you know, we knew all along.
Poetry is brought into existance to be shared,
The poets share themselves wholly,
The poetists shares their moments of inspiration.
Emotions are given freely.
#I am who you are, we are who I am.
©2018 Christopher Thompson