For George Floyd & Pity the Looters (Original Poems)

For George Floyd

What is to give light must endure
burning, a man once said
Other men became the matchstick
that set a nation aflame

But fire, and its appetite, cannot be
calculated, like freedom
Injustice and desperation make men
combustible, like dry wood

When words lose their meaning
and an entire people their voice –
so they can neither scream nor dream –
death and life begin to taste the same

From Minneapolis, to DC, to cities, nationwide
the light from a burning fire proved catching
And those with nothing left to offer, but bodies
fanned the embers of their hopes into a blazing nightmare.

Pity the Looters

Those who feel unseen and unheard
whose hopes and dignity have been robbed

They do not take pride in their nation
since its laws and leaders fill them with shame

What’s the value of broken glass or twisted steel
next to a soul that’s been crushed?

They are presumed guilty, until proven guilty
their only birthright is humiliation

Those with nothing left to lose
desperate, take what they can.

‘The old world is dying,’ said Gramsci
‘the new world struggles to be born:

now is the time of monsters.’