Image: Unsplash, downloaded (https://unsplash.com/photos/jM6Y2nhsAtk) 22.12.2021.
MY BAD
Haven’t seen a bullet hole up close.
But I’ve been witness to a bruise or two.
Mostly in bars.
Guys getting rowdy.
Taking their anger outside,
busting a bone or two in the street.
We’re a violent bunch.
Especially when drunk.
Especially when the system is against us.
But I’ve never come across a body
bleeding from where lead
penetrated its skull.
Though I did see some yellow tape once.
But it was just flapping in the wind.
And some chalk marks on the sidewalk.
For hopscotch actually.
So I have to read about the drive-by shootings,
the gang killings.
the drug buys gone wrong,
the pissing contests
where weapons were involved,
the mob hits,
the jealous rage that leads
to massacre
in home, at workplace,
or in a school.
I’ve never been there
when the guns are drawn.
I fear the ones
who would tell me
what I’ve been missing.
CONSUMER SOCIETY
Everything is
consumed faster
than it can be replaced.
Emptiness –
that’s the future.
Now how do we tell
the people who live here?
There’s a glitch.
Your dreams will not come true.
Just ask the dinosaurs.
But no one is yet thinking
of what it will be like
when there is nothing to think about.
Day or night,
the party is non-stop.
We drill.
We raze.
We suck dry.
And pretend the world is fine with it.
When last I checked,
ignorance is still bliss.
And bliss, in turn,
doubles for ignorance.
About the Author: John Grey is an Australian poet, US resident, recently published in Sheepshead Review, Poetry Salzburg Review and Hollins Critic. Latest books, “Leaves On Pages” “Memory Outside The Head” and “Guest Of Myself” are available through Amazon. Work upcoming in Ellipsis, Blueline and International Poetry Review.
