Ferguson second position

The white sun sets aghast, in its vile hypocrisy
Surrounded and against folds of rich, dark cotton.
And amid this now sudden, swirling, chaotic spread;
A revelation of humanity is revealed: rank and rotten.
The white is itchy for a fight in a slow savage burn;
With a wink of the eye and a mad malice of the brain,
The white sets a course, the white does not turn;
A vengeance voice is filled with iron-rain so stained.
White is made of violent pain and poor blasted blood
And white bellows with the rage of its retro-evolution;
To justify the white; the phoney and the empty revolution.
He does not think He does not blink, he presses to a click
The recoil twists, the bullets hit, in a savage rhythm of five
Extinguishing the pulses in a heart of a poor and honest life.
In blue uniform the enforcer stands trembling so bad,
The vile gun is so heavy in his thumping pulsing hand. 
Here the great King bitterly weeps in ghost
As his dream sadly starts to dwindle and to fail.
Here Black Power roasts in lines of black powder.
It heaves, as it swells, as it ruptures to the bloody core
Before falling into a swollen rusted sea: A tempest,
That scourges in spasms: a death bell for all humanity. 
And I would gladly be there with them the near lost 
Holding out my hands out against the ones with guns
And the vile and bitter lie that wreaks so preposterous 
For the enemy stands for nothing nothing but cost! 
And the poor people of Ferguson Show it for what it is.

© adh2014