Redrum

By KnightKrawler

Poem

In solidarity with Black Lives Matter, TNB Poetry has created this space for BIPOC voices to shine. We will be publishing work by Black poets daily.  Black Lives Matter.


(This poem dedicates itself to the city of Jacksonville and its astonishingly high murder rate. It’s sad that every time I perform this piece in the hometown, majority of the audience doesn’t even seem to realize that I’m talking about Jacksonville. Hopefully this poem will get to someone that needs to hear it.)

This city has developed…a taste for something
The more it drinks…
The more it wants…
No matter what…spirit you crave for
You drink enough…it gets you drunk

There was a girl…that read a book
And for this…the girl was shot
This did not…begin the tragedy
But it made us…stop and watch

For some years…we’ve been alcoholics
And addicted…to redrum
No matter what…spirit you crave for
You drink enough…it gets you drunk

There was a man…that had two jobs
He was a father…he stayed in church
He lived to feed…three of his daughters
A workaholic…to say the worst

One day someone…decide they gangster
They rob his job…this man gets shot
One time…close range
His daughters miss him
This drink we drink…it gets us drunk

See every spirit has a signature taste
And every vintage has a time
This city loves its rum the color of blood
And always drinks it…without ice

There was a boy…two undercovers
Witnesses say…he had a phone
Next thing you know…he’s on the concrete
As his body…gives up the ghost

Later on…the law will tell you
That it was only…in self-defense
………
You can’t fool us…we know how you do
We know exactly…what makes you tick

There was a man…that saw so much
He lived so long…it makes me sick
That he was taken…in violent fashion
Because he said, “enough of this”

You had two cops…two undercovers
Identities…they kept discreet
Pretending that…they dealt narcotics
They never said…they were police

Old man Isaac…he sick of this mess
He tells these men, “get lost,” to leave
He pulls his gun…defending his home
Was eighty-one…dead on the streets

This city has developed…a taste for something
The more it drinks…the more it wants
And no matter what…spirit you crave for
You drink enough…it gets you drunk

See every spirit has a signature taste
And every vintage has a time
This city loves its rum the color of blood
And always drinks it without ice…

Crazy…

TAGS: , , ,

One response to “Redrum”

  1. Ms. B says:

    This poem is truly a testament to our city and the lives lost! #BLM#Alllivesmatter#eveyonematters#allagesmatter

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *