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Poems On / About MURDER  3/4/2015 12:46:34 PM
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Black On Black Murder…..Addressed

Sharpton and Jackson..both Reverends
…Silent on the subject…but hounds
Posturing..politicizing…yet nary a word
Not even a visit..to the 'Burial Grounds'

The happenings a 'ghetto' phenomena
...Historically…without any doubt
Black on Black murder…prevalent
Despicable…as Giuliani points out

Snide though..Rudolph's observation
….Who was once a prosecutor himself
His heritage……….Italian-American
…Ethnic to the Gangsters themselves

Citizens whose subsistence demanded
Their joining some criminal mob
…Keeping food on the family's table
‘Twas the Gangster's nefarious 'job'

Which required annihilating one another
… Documented….it's factually true
Staking territory…mowing folks down
….Killing….ain't a damn thing new

‘Tis society's..latter-day…analogy
Black on Black murder…..addressed
Whatever resolve altered Italian behavior
..May Black…on Black murder..be blessed

Author's Note:
In the immediate aftermath of the Ferguson tragedy, and New York City's "chokehold" death, much has been countered, and questions raised in stark criticism with regard to the unabated crisis of Black on Black murder within the confines of the Black Community. Indeed we have seen a pattern of civic irresponsibility shamelessly on display, as the Clergy and Politicians of the area deliberately ignore the generations-old travesty daily playing-out before their very eyes. On its face, the complaint is a valid indictment in the wake of countless finger-pointing demonstrations, and riotous behavior as witnessed in varied communities across the United States. A closer look suggests an even deeper egregiousness, politically complicit, spiraling downward from the Highest Offices of Government, in blatant reluctance to legislate an effective end to this cancerous malady.

The poem "Black On Black Murder…..Addressed" recalls the days of the "Prohibition Era, " where through economic necessity, crime became the 'Gangster' way of life amongst a small minority within the Italian Community. Today's Black on Black violence, its attendant economic causations, the movement's desperate few; are all historically reminiscent of the ethnic pain of the distant past. The Congress of the 1930's, once realizing the error of its ways, enacted legislation legalizing the root cause of the economic woes of the day, abruptly putting an end to the 'Gangster' spectacle of, "White on White" murder.
James B. Earley

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(If your lover is the drug, it's no wonder you're so numb.)

If the reverend takes those left alive,
Who will stay to help me die?
No one in this world.
No one in this world.

All these things I hear them saying,
Are they true, or are they playing, now?
I don't want to know.
I don't want to know.

I'm just a mere incantation in this world of morphine.
If no one's murdered, nothing's gained.
Dreaming of the world of empty satisfaction.
If no one's murdered, you can't feel the pain.

The moribund lover's going fast,
Trying to grip what will not last.
He is almost gone.
He is almost gone.

With a murky sweetness on his tongue,
With her lips she stole his lungs, now.
He will never know.
He will never know.

He's just a mere incantation in this world of morphine.
If no one's murdered, nothing's gained.
All alone with their empty satisfaction.
If no one's murdered, you won't feel the pain.

Oh, that sweet drug you took to hide the fact that
You were hurt and under attack, then.
You were so close, but still to far from those:

Mere incantations in this world of morphine.
If no one's murdered, nothing's gained.
Lying numb with an empty satisfaction.
If no one's murdered, I can't feel the pain.
Shalyn Stachmus

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The Young Soldier

It is not death
Without hereafter
To one in dearth
Of life and its laughter,

Nor the sweet murder
Dealt slow and even
Unto the martyr
Smiling at heaven:

It is the smile
Faint as a (waning) myth,
Faint, and exceeding small
On a boy's murdered mouth.
Wilfred Owen

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Read more: murder poems, laughter poems, smile poems, heaven poems, death poems, soldier poems, life poems




Yielding clod lulls iron off to sleep
bloods clot the patches where they oozed
rusts crumble
fleshes slime
sucking lusts around decay.
Murder on murder blinks
in childish eyes.
August Stramm

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Read more: murder poems, sleep poems
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Poems On / About MURDER