"Climate"

"Climate" 

And who will write their words?
Speak into existence
all the sentences that air heard. 

Pardon me. 

While I'm here snacking on hors d'oeuvres,
they're asking for orders.
Molotov and torch heard.
Was taking my orders
but now
the check is on the counter
and the apron on the floor.
They are kicking in the door.
They were denied something more.
Never owners of our stores.
One of many excuses
used to substantiate abuses
they have suffered in a blatant sense.
Another decrease in numbers.
No wonder we're tense
and I've been latent since
my last recollection of that run in.
Woman across from me
and I don't know her name.
Another ounce of words I can't pronounce.
Expensive champagne.
Things weren't this strange
until it felt this strange
to see how much time changed.
Their throats slit and blood stained 

and who will write their words?
Speak into existence
all the sentences that air heard
but where birds fly,
I've seldom seen a bullet. 

Could fix my fortune on portion
but I might still pursue it
in manners they don't peruse.
Their challenge is in the news.
Biased political views
from those wearing the shoes
that have yet to frequent chalk.
No walks amongst caution tape
without camera.
Handle you
by handing you preparation
like lyrics from ghostwriting.
Talk more and more about the fighting,
rioting,
pillaging,
burning of buildings
but less about the reason why.
There is a shelf life in media.
Soon to be update on Wikipedia
when my people die. 

My people. 

I watch the hate
in their eyes when I can't relate
as if I'm trying to be down.
How I never come around.
How I never thought to visit.
Life outside of city limits.
My progress seen as a gimmick
My success washed over images
of those my age that cry
over those my age that try
but before that cage would pry,
most of those my age would die
and not nearly enough of it
was circumstantial.
That trip back to where I once was
I thought to cancel.
Found no reason to travel miles
just for rejection.
Especially over the misconception
that I wouldn't need protection.
Entourage econolodged.
Driver took a day.
Made it here with no delay.
They all have so much to say.

I know it's hard
but who truly stands to record? 

I'm still wondering:

Who will write their words?
Speak into existence
all the sentences that air heard. 

More bullets than birds. 

Blood curdles and boils.
Battering rams at doors.
The scratches of open sores.
Profusion through open pores.
They try to even the score
but no one cares to count.
The alive count five
or six a day
but that delay in the broadcast
is an attempt to watch them fall fast
under criticism.
News for the country
but something stale in journalism.
Church bells are rung
and then the time comes to negotiate
over the fate of killers
protected by those willing to deliberate.
Orchestrate some denial
and polish it up as progress.
Attend a senseless trial
and fish for some due process
to stave the reprimand.
Our blood still on his hands
A gun placed in the hand
of the young man who was unarmed.
Not charmed by their wiles
or their rhetoric.
Fight to take away our pride
but quick to call us heretics.
Selective embellishment
as long as our culture is defined
as entertainment for the times.
Pockets lined from the maligned
but the militant intimidate.
Their mandate exclusive.
All inclusive in their targets.
Strange their fruit you used to harvest.
Flung my cufflinks.
Tossed my shirt.
Parked my sedan.
Off from work.
Took this trip all by my lonesome.
Thought I came here for the wholesome
but I've walked into this war.
Cops that spar with the defenseless.
Night stick.
Gun butt.
Beat us senseless.
Place cross hairs against our brows.
Frame us later.
Kill us now. 

I know now
and I've been writing.
Witnessed riots.
Saw the fighting.
Knew what media would cover.
Social mediums discovered
ways to apply new restrictions.
Threat with sanctions.
Tease conviction.
Hide description under race.
Only show the victim's face
after the suspect is secured.
I am intrigued.
I am lured.
I invest time in the unknown.
I was silent.
I have outgrown. 

You won't like me.
I am concrete.
You cheap leather.
You will not spite me.
You don't compete.
You know better. 

The people you have slain
live on further in my brain
for my heart cannot contain
it all without a call
to have knowledge applied
to supplement and reside
next to violence so consequential.
I may not condone it
but I certainly will own it
and while others phone it in,
I'll just pick up this pen

and bring to the surface what the air already knew. 

Written By: Devin Joseph Metz