Maybe riots are the voice of the voiceless/like the forgotten raisin in the sun/the explosion of frustration that the occupy movement and talk of the 99 and 1 percent makes cerebral/like the fluid leaking from the brains and bodies of the slain makes/ real/ the crumbled and ash coated lives that may never be righted are not only on other continents/ to be sad over property/ is one thing/ to be mad over human lives cascading in pipelines of doom is another/ neither rights the world/ covenant with me to believe the teeming voiceless die and suffer in geometric systemic numbers/ while we fill our carts and fuss about the long checkout line/ it maybe time for a new tenderness towards all flesh
Revrosee's Blog 