injustice poems

The Dogs Slip out Again | Tricia Knoll - Contemporary Poetry Website Featuring Notable Poems

The Dogs Slip out Again | Tricia Knoll

/ Best Poetry / , , , , , / Leave a Comment

That black and white TV, police dogs,
night sticks, and fire hoses. 1963.
Birmingham scared this child viewer.

Now with the remote in my hand,
in full-color black dogs pull
on leashes held by corporate security.

Up the chain of command someone cried
havoc at the oil fields. Let loose
corporate dogs to draw blood

for black oil money. Scare
the people with treaty rights.
Tell them oil drives, not ancient bones,

nor sacred waters, nor wind prayers.
Only rights of passage
of petroleum.

Handlers ignore the bones
dogs might understand.
People stand up, hope

never to be bitten again.

More at http://triciaknoll.com.

Dictator | Osatogbe Shola - Contemporary Poetry Website Featuring Notable Poems

Dictator | Osatogbe Shola

/ Best Poetry / , , , , , / Leave a Comment

Looking at the serpent, trying to dissolve the conscience of a few in turpentine.
Trying to quarantine the consciousness of many on the eve of Valentine.
Wipe the smirk off the face of the nobodies.
Empower the busy bodies elevating them to becoming somebodies.
Play a discordant tune, horde and hurt them.
Burn bridges and don’t build bridges.
Synergize with the outlaws as well become a law unto yourself.

Regard the law but disregard the Rule of Law.
Many a few has followed suit in the concrete jungle taking the route of jungle justice.
The judicial system is not trusted.
In a “lawless” society lawlessness is bound to abound.

In the full glare of the international community remove your garb and fight dirty.
Smoke them out, round up the dissenters and light them up smoking them (one after the other) like a cigar.
The egos of the egoistical gold digger getting bigger.
His shenangians are becoming more obvious, oblivious of the fact that the international community have a hawk view.
Now all can see that he is just a spoilt brat lacking tact.
Wack is his art so his displays will never be taken to heart.
His Achilles hill is that he surrounded himself with praise singers. Gullible as he was they ultimately got his finger burnt. He was once adept at pointing accusing fingers- deflecting attention.
Back then he was always finger licking; human right abuses was his hors d’oeuvres.
Now he must eat the humble pie.

Capital Steps | Judy Moskowitz - Contemporary Poetry Website Featuring Notable Poems

Capital Steps | Judy Moskowitz

/ Best Poetry / , , , , , / Leave a Comment

Let me walk you
down the long
dark hallway
where voices are muffled
caught in their throat
diminishing a human being
crushing faith with a warning
let me walk you
up the hill where the powerful
flex their muscles
wearing thousand dollar suits
alligator shoes
above suspicion
let me walk you
through a conscience
in a deep state of sleep
undressed for the world to see
a time bomb exploding
and the world goes round and round

Social Injustice | J.K. Durick - Contemporary Poetry Website Featuring Notable Poems

Social Injustice | J.K. Durick

/ Best Poetry / , , , , / Leave a Comment

When does something like this end?
When will it lose its prominent place

In the list of things we see around us
Hear about, know from experience

Pass on the street, we read about in
The newspapers we have left to read

Witness on the evening news in
Between ads for the latest meds to help

Us along, make things easier to take?
When will we have better things to think

About, to write about, our better selves,
The better angels of our nature coming

Forward to put an end to some, if not all
Of things like this – that’s when.

Baltimore's Son, Freddie Gray | Najwa Kareem - Contemporary Poetry Website Featuring Notable Poems

Baltimore’s Son, Freddie Gray | Najwa Kareem

/ Best Poetry / , , , , , / Leave a Comment

Would you have guessed you’d be next?
Perhaps you said so to someone close once in a text. Your suspicions concerning the police kept you running.
Did you ever consider that maybe you were too stunning?
That maybe your continuous smile was too bright.
That maybe your face was filled with too much light.
That maybe your comings and goings, your daily visits to Mom were too much.
That perhaps your happy, cheerful, respectful demeanor could reach out and touch.
That maybe a look into your eyes, they were blinded by the sun.
That surely at the ripe age of 25, your life would be done.
An act of racism I ask?
An act of brutality I ask?
An act of inhumanity I ask?
An act of injustice I ask?
Where in police school does one learn that a young black man standing on the street makes him a suspect?
Where in police school does one learn wearing Prada makes you a
prospective criminal?
Where in police school does one learn that having a nickname Pepper
makes one a target?
Where in police school does one learn that a citizen’s lead
poisoning makes him a magnet for a 6 police officer raid?
Where in police school does one learn that having no knowledge of a
man carrying a knife makes him the next chase?
Where in police school does one learn that being a human officer
entitles one to act unjustly against a human person?
Who are you or I to say because he couldn’t read as well as you or I his life didn’t matter?
Who are you or I to say because Freddie lived like many in low-income housing he didn’t deserve a chance at a better life?
Who are you or I to say because he had been arrested for drug
possession in the past he didn’t deserve to live out his dream?
Who are you or I to say because he liked to sing and make others laugh he didn’t deserve a life of dignity?
Who are you or I to say he didn’t have the right to continue
visiting his dear Mother, Mrs. Gloria Darden?
Who are you or I to say he shouldn’t have had the privilege to
continue walking Baltimore’s streets?
Now Freddie our hearts grieve your loss.
Now Freddie my heart grieves your uncalled-for death.
Now Freddie your prideful city has simmered down but it still feels
the pain.
Now Freddie my warmest sympathy to you, your family, your friends,
your supporters, and the city of Baltimore.

Best Poetry Online