Sunday, January 24, 2016


What do you do when there's no
rabble to rouse? How do you make 
the situation fit the crime? Ream out
the punishment needed, while you mete
out another round of justice deferred.
White men are all the same, they hone
the knife on both sides and then
complain when their hands get cut. 
I've seen their type before, hanging
around barbecues and drinking beer.
I've listened to their words around the
campfire. Mother. Justice. Violence.
And blood's own product : Deceit.
'We weren't doing anyting wrong,
just had a few ideas.'

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