Rioteous Rant

Khareef

I live in anger, in hatred, I was born into
shouting, vile insults and outbursts,
and when I step out into the world
the world spits back just as worse.
The grass is only greener on the planet
where confusion, ammunition, panic,
murder, explosions, execution,
are non-existent,

I have seen the scars of lynching,
yet, I see the noose hanging on
a tree branch at the bottom of
the road, patchy grass, worn
out burn marks on wood, torn,
fraying strands of rope, swaying,
like a child’s swing in the breeze
In burning heat, in a white freeze,
When it’s black, when it’s pale,
a pail of blood for every look,
for every word a writer took,
I’ve had enough of wars,
of fights, of boycotts, of laws
of oppression, of aggressors,
of tyrants, of abusers,
of hate disguised as love,
disguised as care, of
righteous pompousness,
of judgemental eyes
in religious guise,
of ‘religion-free’ standing taller
with condescending tones
and sense in biased stones
of fact, thrown at the skulls of
helpless bloggers on the web,
stuck in a net of constant abuse,
danger surrounds a different view,
waking up minds with hapless alarms,
the alarming woke an activist’s charm,
a cover the Judge of a life’s true worth,
the blurb a useless addendum,

I’m tired of leaking, of hiding,
of persecuting and failing
to revolutionise, of destroying
families, systems, unity, hope,
I’m exhausted of seeing child graves
in conflict, collateral damage, save
both sides for their words, explain
how a world deserves us to be in it,
to eradicate species and build a
conglomerate of cutting away roots,
burning away freshly grown shoots,
trampling over nests, suffocating the
atmosphere and looking to the stars up high,
ignoring the waters that lie below,
Rising stars, on pages, defamation,
products of our daily entertainment,
or our nightly gossip, 60 second updates
on fashionable topics, interest rates
glued to artificial light, pushing aside
child, parent, sibling, partner, pride
in puffed out chests commanding in
harsh shouts, to sit, to watch, to be seen
and not heard, monarchy, the people,
the government, creating steeples
higher, higher, higher, higher still,
sinking a wall of separation into a hill,
segregation, no wisdom to share
inquisitive minds are to simply stare,
questions are an ill-burden to deal with
the hope of intelligence a disease
without aggression, without anger,
without power, without superiority
remain mindless, to fruitlessly listen to
self-proclaimed rulers, erasing, overwriting
going forward in knowledge, desecrating
the values they stand for, we stand for,
we stand for media hypes and media absent,
popular protests protesting for the moment
we change our minds, new evidence arrives
at trial, quick misconceptions, guilty until
proven guilty, by any means necessary, spill
over the front pages, private memoirs from
digital spaces, hidden devices, word bomb
fears, excuses, mistrust, veiled threats, BANG!
No more secrets, everything in the open,
Doesn’t matter what it is, or if they’re coping,
crooks of evil from drugs to smoking,
drinking a gin and tonic whilst speculating
alcohol is the key to the broken society,
dressing and scolding with words of piety,
large cash reserves, the homeless poor a blight
on poor old Blighty, poverty overshadowed
by fussed over world cup shock-horror exit
zit cream to clean it all up, distracted by TV
story lines of gang-rape, walking past the barn
and the screaming, pleading, begging ‘help me’
“chorus of ungrateful choir kids”, blaming the
dresses, clothes, make-up “made-up like a hooker”,
designing and buying to “act like Lord Lucifer”,
vandalising for peace and arresting for war,
our morals accept the looting of stores,
a step too far, not enough help,
last resort, last call, finally

Fort-imprisoned good folk free, “excuse me
for smashing in your scalp, for burning down
buildings, tearing apart the streets, my sound
was only meant to bring a little more money
to the bureaucracy to clean up this city, in my city
the pits are filled with temptation, short skirts
red lipstick, how am I meant to turn away
if I want what I can’t have, a few short bursts
Me and my mates, leave them there we’ll
be on our way, equality campaigns for rights
to strip, we’ll be back, stick in the back, fight
through the screams, fall silent while we fill
her up…”

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