David Somerset

Three Poems

Ride the Train 

no memory,

never got on this train

this ride’s not bound for glory

the rattle speaks a different story

 

traveling in insulation to oblivion with

sudden stops for shock and awe

this ain’t no party, this ain’t no disco

they’re not fooling around

 

mind your obsessions

under oppression, you follow directions

its war, war on poverty

turned war on the poor

 

the war on crime

wasting more than time

millions lost and imprisoned

each, a life sentence in limbo

 

promises flood in promising nothing

we never see anymore

only plenty of less, humanity

more suffering in our dispair

 

no child left behind

unless they are poor

urban children all left behind

their school bus long gone and hard to find

 

hope another wasted dream

trash,  thrown away

all those aspirations

buried under urban decay

 

deception is whatever they say

corruption, each and every day

souls are burnt offerings

to national decline

 

broken buildings collapsing

with broken windows Into broken dreams

of children born with two chances

slim and none

 

their early end

a tragedy already begun

they will have to trade their hope for dope

as they run from the guns

 

 

Crime and Punishment                                      

 

In New Zealand, the Maori

practice restorative justice.

Their guiding principles are

restitution and rehabilitation.

Offenders return back home to their culture

with community support and a welcome song.

Don’t expect a welcome song from us.

We don’t really want you back,

 if you’re an offender,

Just expect to be thrown away despite the cost.

A cell in New Jersey State Prison costs $53,000 per year,

while a seat at Princeton University is only $47,000.

Our justice,  just vengeance disguised in good intentions.

Here, offenders can’t vote, hold a job, support their families or themselves.

There only available employment we left them IS crime.

Crime and punishment for some is crime and rewards for others.

The poor are punished continually by a criminal system run by those most criminal.

Oddly corrupt, yet inept correction system empires,

without any corrections, except in corporate directions.

The warehouse for millions of the miserable victims of the wars:

on drugs, on crime, on poverty and on each other.

All wars by design and for profits all the time.

The joke is the criminal justice system;

the system is criminal, with no justice or liberty for all.

  

 

Origin of Evil

I was talk’in to Justice

and he said to me

I don’t know what to do

with the evil we see

 

even the darkest forest

had to grow from a seed

I said, how does this evil

ever come to breathe

 

British soldiers come to their home

in the middle of the night

take an Irish family’s father

then shoot him on sight

 

when hearts are wounded

souls begin to bleed, and

when no  kindness or love remain

only evil’s left , to breathe

 

when our shock and awe

kills thousands on TV

they see their family slaughtered

while we set them free

 

when fourteen year old boys

shoot each other dead in the hood

the police calls them gang members

and the media says they’ere no good

 

when terrorists murder innocents

in the heart of a city

survivors become sworn enemies

with neither  mercy, or pity

 

when the wealth of nations

destroys the homelands of the poor

and leaves them  in the crosshairs

of starvation and war

 

when children die by the thousands

with a needle in their arm

collateral damage of the war on drugs

of greed and harm

  

when the police shoot the people

and cops die in the night

its injustice and murder in the streets

and the city is never alright

 

when revenge is still more revenge

and clerics teach the children hate

then, the killing has no end,

only chaos in a failed state

 

when hearts are wounded

souls begin to bleed, and

when no  kindness or love remain

only evil’s left , to breathe

 

we came to see

no Prince of Darkness  around

and we, the only

fallen angels to be found

Dave lives in Salem, MA with his wonderful wife and a small disagreeable dog. He writes and performs poetry, stories and music at local open mics and features. He is a member of the Salem Writers Group and the Tin Box Poets. Dave’s work has been published in the Merrimack Mic Anthology, The Whisper and The Roar, Oddball Magazine, Ugly Writer, The Brave and the Reckless, and The Lily Poetry Review. Dave has also published a Chap Book: Among Poets Tonight.

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