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Syndic Literary Journal

Social Injustice ~ 4 Poems by J.H. Johns

Narration by Paul Churchill Mann

 

“ABSURDITIES OF YOUTH – BEGINNING A LIFE OF CRIME”

There was a time
when
not a one of them
thought about crime,
let alone
becoming a criminal;

no,
that awareness
seemed to be somewhere
in their futures-

until-

they found that tag-

you know which one I mean

the one you could find
on the bottom of the chair cushion;
yes, yes,
the one that warned them-

anyone-

not to remove it
under penalty of law;

but,
looking around,
they knew they were alone,
that
nobody would see them
and
nobody would tell;

all of which brought them
to the realization
that they could break the law
and
never get caught!

R – I – P!!!!!!!

Went the tag
and
into the pockets
of a couple of new
“hardened criminals.”

Just another-

absurdity of youth!

END

 

“SO MUCH HATE, SO LITTLE TIME”

So much hate,
so little time,
it doesn’t leave for much,
in the meantime;

so much hate,
so little time,
they can even practice
in their spare time;

in their hate
they bait
and never
talk straight;

they’re sly
when they lie,
the truth
they deny;

sitting there
and talking,
sitting there
and hating;

so much hate,
so little time,
they’ve got enough to last,
their entire lifetime.

END

 

“CRIMES AGAINST THE AMERICAN DREAM”

                                    “Life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness;”

                                    “Life”-  self-explanatory;

                                    “Liberty”- self-explanatory;

                                    “Happiness”-  “The American Dream;”

                                    to be successful,

                                    and maybe even well-off;

                                    and, so,

                                    when one of our elected representatives

                                    is

                                    indicted

                                    for insider trading,

                                    we automatically ask-

                                    how much did he make?

                                    Millions?

                                    Tens of millions?

                                    Hundreds of millions?

                                    Ah, well- not quite.

                                    Now,

                                    here’s where “the dream”

                                    becomes a victim of the crime;

                                    shouldn’t have this case

                                    of the “American Dream”

                                    have ended- at least-

                                    with a blank slate,

                                    a break even?

                                    That,

                                    the savvy American-

                                    though allegedly

                                    breaking the law-

                                    should have not lost money?

                                  But, alas,

                                    the “crime against the dream”

                                    is that

                                    there could be jail time

                                    for actually having done just that-

                                    lose money?!

                                    So,

                                    is it-

                                    gene pool dilution?

                                    A 21st century version

                                    of

                                    “The Gang Who Couldn’t Shoot Straight?”

                                    I fear for

                                    “the crime against the dream”

                                    and

                                    to what prison that losing mentality will take us.

                                                   END

 

“BAA BAA BLACK SHEEP”

(Revisited)

Baa Baa Black Sheep

have you any wool?

Yes, sir,

yes, sir,

thousands of bags full-

but,

none for my Master

and

none for my Dame

and

none for the Euros

who live in the Shengen;

I’m keeping them

all for myself

so

when the rolling blackouts come

and

the food riots commence

and

there is no heat

or water

or anything-

at least I’ll be warm.

END

 

 

Compiled/Published by LeRoy Chatfield
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