Bullets, Blood, and Bad Dreams: A Nightmare on Our City Streets


Guns and violence seems to populate the news more than anything positive. Not a year goes by where there is not one mass shooting. Some days I cannot bear to turn on the television or read the internet due to the depressing situation in our nation when it comes to firearms. I don’t protest to be a man of politics or have the answers to these questions. The 2nd amendment can be interpreted any number of ways and I’m not about to try and navigate those turbulent waters. I don’t think our politicians know what to do about the growing gun violence. Each time there is a mass shooting there is a renewed call for gun laws to be reformed. However, as usually happens, once the shock wears off we are back to our lives. I don’t blame anyone for this. I believe we just move it to the rear of our minds, so we can cope with the bloody reality of what is occurring on our city streets. Maybe we really can’t do anything to stop the killing of multiple people or the shootings of unarmed minorities in our communities.  I have no issues with the police force as a whole. We have officers whom leave their homes and families unselfishly each day to protect our families from harm. As with any profession there are bad apples, but we cannot label the entire police ranks as awful because of that idea. I sincerely hope and pray for our nation. We need to figure this out so innocent children, mothers, and fathers will no longer be shot dead in a nation whose constitution swears to protect them. I wrote the poem below as a form of release for myself. Please read and comment if you would like.


Blood and bullets invade my nightly reveries

Crumpled bodies on city streets

Brothers on pavements bleeding out dreams

Cops pulling out pistols

Doling out death to ones not equal in matters of taking a life

Melanin creates images of a monster

Red eyes and angry

Incapable of being anything but a “THUG”

He isn’t anybody’s baby boy

A useless thing only good for a body bag


Mass shooters snaking through

Eyes wide with the evil men do

Warped ideology resting in their back pocket

Misplaced anger sitting on the end of a trigger finger

Releasing tension in a barrage of hot bullet fragments

Stealing future memories from loved one

Creating emotional voids like black holes

Sinister intentions spilling blood of innocents

Unsuspecting neighbors stand with agape lips

Words of why sitting on the tips of tongues Paralyzed by surprise

Guns carry no thought

But are bought by folks with bad intentions

Guns only spit death at the beckoning of human hands on pistol grips

Peace be with the families lost in despair

Due to issues that were not their own and not fair

Human kind needs to end this mess

One day a test may come to put is all to rest.