state sanctioned violence poems

An Unjust Law | Gil Hoy - A Poetry Website Featuring Poems by Contemporary Poets

An Unjust Law | Gil Hoy

Can’t get that execution
out of my head, damn.

Took 26 minutes to kill
him, some new-fangled
poison not the usual,
a half-baked horror show.

Sour drugs flowed through
blue veins, the prisoner
strapped to a gurney gasped,
vacant eyes staring,

rattling,
nose snorting,
choking almost guttural–
like food stuck in your
windpipe
on and on, convulsions.

By all accounts, he was
a horrible savage man

25 years ago,
raped, tortured and killed
a young woman with child,

just married, still to live
and be enjoyed.

So nothing cruel or unusual
here, an eye for an eye,
a tooth for a tooth,
Lex talionis, as prophesied.

But this death, more
like a Macabre blunder
at a public square picnic
hanging from days of old,
when the man’s head
in the too-tight hemp noose
might come clean off.

Minute after lingering
minutes, following terrible
60 second minutes
Strangling from the inside,
a mammal gasps for breath.

Heard that his blood in the
crowd had to cover their ears
and wipe their tears from
soaked ashen faces,
I say listen up, after what he did.

If you agree, show the
video play-back to your son,
so he can see what we do,
Though slow suffocation
is not for the squeamish,
something to Hide?

Murder: premeditation
and unlawful killing,
the state does you one better,
premeditation and ceremony.
Who are we to tell
the state what to do,
sounds A-OK to me.

Much ado about nothing.
Throw to hungry lions
crush them with fat elephants,
devoured by wild sweaty-toothed beasts
does the trick.
Tear them apart by Galloping horses,
burn him like an over-cooked
headless turkey for your Thanksgiving roast,
crucifixion, decapitation, boil until cooked.

Firing squad? Pass the loaded Gun
please. Stoning? A duplicitous
contest to see who casts the first
stone. Disembowelment, OK,
dismemberment, tie him to a
cannon and set the charge, so cool

your mouth just drips with blood
like a stale English Pudding.
Gas, hangings, electric chair,
That covers it.

But somewhere I read and
believed to the marrow, now
shaking terrified: Turn to him
the other cheek also, or we
will all be Toothless and Blind.

No one’s listening or caring
anymore.

Blood red Hearts disgorged on a
winding cobblestone trail that leads
to a distant dream.
That our eyes don’t hear anymore
and that tastes forgotten anyway.

I Had a Nightmare Last Night | Gil Hoy - A Poetry Website Featuring Poems by Contemporary Poets

I Had a Nightmare Last Night | Gil Hoy

I had a nightmare last night,
A nightmare deeply rooted
in an American nightmare.

Where churches and schools,
theaters and city streets
were dying.

Where military weapons
were firing into unsuspecting
innocent crowds

Tentwentythirtyfortyfifty
pigeons intheblinkofaneye.

I awoke in a terrified sweat
as bleeding children wailed
and cried and screamed.

While those to protect us tasked
slept soundly in their beds.

A nightmare deeply rooted
in an American nightmare,

I had a nightmare last night.

A Simple Truth | Gil Hoy - A Poetry Website Featuring Poems by Contemporary Poets

A Simple Truth | Gil Hoy

For so long as the NRA
controls Congress

With its pumping poison
mutant lifeblood

Corrupting souls,
buying silence,

Innocents will
continue to die

From high-powered
weapons of war

As lone wolves sing
their rancid noteless songs:

A witch’s brew of shrill
staccato tempo

That our numbed eyes
don’t hear anymore

and that tastes
forgotten anyway.

America | Anuja Ghimire - A Poetry Website Featuring Poems by Contemporary Poets

America | Anuja Ghimire

Shoot a father before his toddler
Empty bullets into the belly of a baby-bearing mother
while her children outside her body watch
Wear a uniform
Bust through apartment homes and oak doors
Shoot by the road, river, under the moon and stars
Take two seconds to finish a child in the park
Bust a girl’s jaw in the library
Rain bullets in a parked car
Stand your ground until earth has holes
Arrest a woman for not signaling a lane change
Release her corpse from jail
Slam a child near a pool
Remove a son from his classroom desk
Choke a husband on the floor of a diner
Escalate
Escalate
Escalate your fear
Reach for the gun
You know you are always already free
Earn your bloody badge
Shoot while their dark hands are raised to heaven

Don’t.

More at https://saffronandsymmetry.tumblr.com.

What the Little Brown Girl Lost | Marcelius Braxton - A Poetry Website Featuring Poems by Contemporary Poets

What the Little Brown Girl Lost | Marcelius Braxton

Police lights; remain calm.
Bang. Seven shots.
Hysterics, tears, shouting.
Close your eyes, little brown girl.
Maintain your innocence for just one more day.
One peek. Left eye.
Blood stained shirt.
Close your eyes.
Second peek. Right eye.
Motionless body. Heartbreak.
Destroyed innocence.

Useless trial. Same verdict.
Not guilty.
The banging of a blood-soaked gavel releases the jury.
Let’s begin to heal they say.
Move on,
and brace for more sirens.
Will we make it home?

More at https://twitter.com/marceliusb.

Systemic Depression | Tana Cambrelen - A Poetry Website Featuring Poems by Contemporary Poets

Systemic Depression | Tana Cambrelen

They killed my ancestors for being black.
They killed my ancestors for slavery.
They killed my ancestors for speaking back.
They killed my ancestors for trying to be free.
Yet they called us the problem.
I hope they don’t kill me.

They killed my grandparents over protests.
They killed my grandparents because they wanted equal rights.
They killed my grandparents because they wanted the same restrooms.
They killed my grandparents because they put up a fight.
Yet we’re a problem.
I hope they don’t kill me.

They killed my daddy over cigarettes.
They killed my brother over skittles and iced tea.
They killed my sister for sleeping on the sofa.
They killed my uncle for CDs.
They killed my aunt for “driving recklessly.”

They’re still calling us the problem.
They’ve stripped me of my family.
If I call them the problem,
they will probably kill me.
I’ll be another hashtag on Twitter.
My sister will lose a sister,
while my murderer walks free
as I’m buried six feet under
simply for being me.

Chicago Blues | John Robert Bland - A Poetry Website Featuring Poems by Contemporary Poets

Chicago Blues | John Robert Bland

I have been shot many times
by bullets of hate
Lain face down in my blood
as death stole my fate
With siren and uniforms
they surround me with markers
Framed by my rich plasma
as my Picasso looms larger
Hauled off by employees
in zipped disposal bags
No doubt the most attention
I have ever had
And I can hear mama
asking Jesus why me
Like the chorus to a song
play on
play on
as long as they keep killing me

More at http://www.amazon.com/Urban-Removal-John-Robert-Bland/dp/1493743341.

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