Corruption has a new name and it’s called Chicago

It funny how the CPD claims that every new hiring is a step closer to security
But they’re not even securing us.
Betty can look outside her suburban windows and see white snow on asphalt
I look outside my city windows and see tainted snow on asphalt
So I ask you CPD how come Betty can look through her windows and see white snow on asphalt but mines are tainted with red.
This mud-like body pours red tears out from the holes in there back
And I can hear the White snow screaming stop.
Chicago has a problem y’all
But it’s head is too proud to admit it
Chicago needs hospitalization,
I mean can’t you see its sick in every part of its body.
I can hear its heart skyscraping.
Its head is full of holes and reeks like unwashed hair
Its legs are lame, from the years left broken and untreated.
Its right arm bleeds profusely and
Its left arm is beginning to lose consciousness
—The legs can’t move without the mind instructing it—
But yet it’s eyes and mind choose to not get treatment.
So thus Chicago lays vegetablized.
It’s funny how the CPD claims that every new firing is a step closer to security
It funny how the cpd claims that every new firing(blah) is a step closer to security.
--
Corpses fill my city streets,
Like we went back in time to Venice.
I thought when Zuber died  
A super increase for safety would be voiced
Voices screaming let’s be safe, would fill the air
Enter our ears and spark a change.
But instead it hangs on till its safe.
Hangs there until its late
Hangs there… like a painting in a museum for the blind.. Hangs there like a coat hanger. That’s all it does, it is just hangs!
--
Today there was murder,
The shooter was Chicago
The gun was the ignorance and arrogance of Chicago
Let me describe the scene
It was Back at the Yard, where a young girl’s aspiration got shot
Its as if in my backyard freedom can not walk down the street.
Freedom cannot drive down a street.
Freedom can not live free because freedom is dead
Freedom cannot be freed because is dead, on that square mi you stand on freedom is dead
On top of a hill freedom is dead, In your school freedom is dead, when the faces of classmate resemble target symbols.
Freedom. Shot down by weapons measured in millimeters
Whereas freedom was measured in leaps and bounds
And I wonder how can something small jump and bind freedom.
Now we have a concession stand,
A slain friend,
Crushed hopes,
And crushed homes
--
Speechless, just speechless
Let’s go back to Mississippi, back to Alabama, back to South Carolina, back to Georgia, back to Louisiana, back to slums and the ghettos of other northern cities.
Wondering why the situation hasn’t changed in all these years- When the situation will change- How the situation will change

This poem is about: 
My community
My country

Comments

Need to talk?

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741