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Inner city blues

Shakingly, 

My thoughts of the beautiful, white Crescent Moon

Were lost on the ebony sky of late November.

Complacency fled like winter sleet melted,

The glint of the knife, on that coal black night,

The one in the hoodie, with the facial tattoo,

 Lunged forward screaming into thin, cold air:

“Put the fucking money in there!”

....

So what did he get when he terrified me?

Two barrels of a shotgun, fired in the blink of an eye.

Brain matter splattered over land and sky.

A cross-eyed giant king snake

Tossed his remains across the Styx into hell.

And that's all there is to tell.

 

◄ Cancer

Lines ►

Comments

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Don Matthews

Sun 23rd Feb 2020 21:03

Sheesh!.....

?

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John Marks

Sun 23rd Feb 2020 20:00

Thank you kindly Keith. In brief, in my opinion, too much attention is focused upon the social ills that affect the perpetrator of violent crime, too little time is spent on consideration of the physical, emotional, sexual and spiritual devastation that afflicts the victim of violent crime.

“Time and Nemesis will do that which I would not, were it in my power remote or immediate. You will smile at this piece of prophecy - do so, but recollect it: it is justified by all human experience. No one was ever even the involuntary cause of great evils to others, without a requital: I have paid and am paying for mine - so will you.”
― Lord Byron: Selected Letters and Journals

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keith jeffries

Sun 23rd Feb 2020 14:50

I love the finality of it.

Thanks
Keith

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