A Certain Criminal’s Encounter with Justice

I once owned a bottle
Which could fit coins despite its narrow neck.
I stuffed bills as well,
The fruits of good work.
As I wanted to use them for the good of the world,
I labeled them “For Justice” with red brush-turns.
Things were managed well for a time
But then came a time when my brother went vile.
He snatched the bottle because he wanted money
Which he was likely to spend on some more numbing.
Remembering the label on the bottle as well,
I thought it fitting to slam on his head.
More than expected, my brother’s head hit hard,
First by glass cracked, then on concrete flat.
Blood became a pool, his life tiding out,
Drowning the pieces of paper, metal, and glass around.
I couldn’t read the label I painted on anymore
And I didn’t feel that much better at all.
Green joined the pool,
I had been a fool,
And what wrecked me wasn’t an iron fist
But shards of glass that dug into my skin.

Advertisements

World Complex and Faith Challenge

Good, Evil.
Goo, Devil.
O God, Evil.
Good, Live.
Go, Do Evil.
Dog, O Live.
O Dog, Live.
Do Go, Veil.
Good, Veil.
Vile, Go Do.

Good, Evil?
God, Olive.
God, O Live.
God, I Love.
God, O Veil.
Live, O God.
Vile, Do Go.
Live, Good.
Live, Go Do.
Good, Live.

Crack Justice

Once, in a frat initiation,
I was asked to inhale something by the majors.
Said it was a pure part of nature
And its piece form the purest.
“Don’t cook it,” they said,
“The scent would give a bad trip.”
So I did what they did
And sniffed the stuff in.
I knew they were shards
But I wanted my name in the charts.
I let my nose bleed,
My head losing feels.
Later, I woke up
Feeling under a cop.
I hated being caught
So I grabbed some sort of cup.
Swung it down like a judge
But it wasn’t so tough.
My head was driven to the front
And I smelled something burning up.
One of the cops was smoking stuff
And then to death he choked and coughed.
I got a whiff of it too
And then I understood:
It was that stuff I was warned about
And its name was “Justice”…just as it should.