Home » Poetry » an open coffin.

an open coffin.

There will always be poverty

and powerless men, who feel nothing

towards people just trying to exist.

Believe it or not it was a club to join,

Till 1955,

all it took, was a .45 colt, a river, a fan.

But it (is) not that world anymore, is it?

I want to say no, but Jackson’s slaying of elderly men?

Born of the same bullet that lay Evers dead.

It’s enough to make you want to blind your eyes, it’s enough to know better than to blind your soul.

So as there will always be poverty and powerless men,

there must never be closed,

an open coffin.

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