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by Logan
Rated: 13+ · Poetry · Cultural · #2223787
Some thoughts around our current events, for those who should still be here

Lines crossed, left in tatters,
contrasts viewed that jar
Black and white lines matter,
divided as they are

'midst scenes recorded, played back,
broadcast to the crowd
A show of force, so laid back,
accepted... disavowed

with people present grieving,
a stagnant beating heart
Having trouble breathing,
the actors play their part

Different players, different screenings,
a part tied in the wings
Different people, different leanings,
'take a knee', means different things

Things considered black and white,
imagined shades of grey
Filtered through a spark, it lights,
blazing up the day

A city set to riot, blaze,
a city set alight;
as nations wonder why it plays,
unchanged, the same... despite

despite the climb in volume,
despite the sounds behind;
a picture skewed, grey scale, viewed
found much more sharp, defined

Demonstrations, stirred up, starker,
'midst the chaos in the fray
In the dark, and getting darker
... blacker by the day

With sainthoods sold to sinners,
Martyrs raised at rival gates
Nobody leaves a winner,
divided are the states

As left and right clash, heated,
truths butt, collapse beneath;
the weight of what is tweeted,
by either side, bequeathed

A narrative held horrid,
tales teased, and spun from lies
A picture heated, torrid,
with the contrast set to high

A pot to boil over,
a tinderbox run dry
Flames fanned, they have their drovers,
in embers, hard truths lie

Lay dead, defending windows,
people bowed down, 'neath a knee
A storm long due as winds blow,
from the depths of history

with flora cut by florists
fauna isolated... mute
Analysing angry forests
... ignoring deeper roots

The people who should be here,
regardless of their crimes
Anger founded in the fear,
reason lost in darker rhymes

A random mess of riddles,
shades of dark and light
No space left in the middle,
reduced to black and white

"midst isolated scapegoats,
to pacify a mob;
justified as pawns go,
... they pray, they'll do their job

Their purpose in the long game,
as books' long pages turn;
'midst strawmen drawn in both names,
incendiary, flames burn

Orange far removed from black,
with colours far from new
A segregation of the pack,
split, parted, black and blue

an image hard to understand,
statistics skew and twist;
a Bible in his tiny hand,
with figures in the mist

missed and hit, truths pending,
posts trending, losing track;
with situations ending,
In the red... not in the black

Ink black, crossed white washed paper,
the distances between
The lines that twist and caper,
both read, and left unseen

unseen as contrasts shatter,
in shadows, vague, they lay
Where black and white lines matter
... 'midst fractured shades of grey
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