“Chalk Outlines”
One more chalk outline, traced out, sketched out,
One more young blood, in cold blood, stretched out.
One more muzzle flash and another shell casing,
The line between Hell and Earth we keep erasing.
All about that cheesecake, we keep paper chasing,
Flags to half mass, that’s where we stop raising.
Like a raisin in the sun and into the sun we keep gazing,
Casting shadows beyond the reach of the time we keep wasting.
Lasting matters leave you bitter and so you keep on tasting,
Salty tears, down your face, endlessly racing.
Cadaver’s Joe Doe, but it’s not important,
The “Heat” won’t waste their time boiling down an informant.
Mom cries herself to sleep and night turns into morning,
The mourning fails to subside, grief hits without warning.
Trying to stand the rain, but now it starts storming,
From a small seed of fear, terror starts forming.
And the scariest of terrorists, by the narrowest of margins,
With various tactics, deadly accurately they hit their targets,
And it doesn’t really matter, malls or open-air markets, the savagery, emphatically, defies all logic.
With bystanders standing by, cutting up sideways,
And gunfire lights up the darkness of stairways.
And they give him mouth to mouth to clear his airways,
He dies, it’s not right, but there’s very little fairness nowadays.
At rapid pace this lust for life we keep engaging,
But God’s image in us we keep defacing.
Papa’s life so stressed he keels over and croaks,
After this mom’s stricken with a light stroke.
Like a hail of gunfire, life’s hell, so hard to cope,
Like a Hebrew slave, I push the envelope.
Away from lost foolish tongues who continue to boast,
Pushed to another venue where BS is revoked.
Foolish lines in chalk outlines cover with a cloak,
Dead for speaking over God’s word when he has already spoke.
And said, “As it is written, so shall it be done”,
And the odds of God failing is…none.
One who created all things for us to indulge,
The whole world is a crime scene taped off and corrupt.
And every hurdle you jump another murder goes bump in the night,
Can’t live life but they can get death right.
A.K. 86 ’em, gives Satan his fix,
There’s a war and we are in it, and you do not have to enlist.
A deep breath and a blink, you could be gone in an instant.
With your memories all distant, but change seems resistant.
Hard to stand the rain and bare the pain.
Still mourning on the morning and the shame remains.
Many dying off the Earth at a pace that’s insane.
Others feel helpless, depression ingrained.
Into your soul, sealed in, life’s taking its toll.
Full of disappointment, but you want to be bold.
Want to be strong and put up a struggle, but many a motivation gets lost in the shuffle.
Tussling with your conscience, it doesn’t want to get hustled.
And lies cave in and spread thin like old mustard.
All the bright ideas have lost their luster.
Still you cling on to life with all the zeal you can muster.
Avoiding the dust of the trace, lying lifeless in a place.
Death comes soon enough, and you don’t have to make haste.
Because its dog eat dog in this cat eat rat race.
The bliss that is true life and you have had only one taste.
Yet in the face of deprivation, you still chase.
Against the impact of disappointment, you can only brace.
God deliver me from temptation, and please consider me for salvation.
I ask that you please blot out my acts of senseless desperation.
Often manifested by unyielding agitation.
Many times, weeping in prolonged isolation.
If the mission’s compromised, then your soldiers are jeopardized.
Our determination is tested; this is no routine exercise.
Wars and rumors thereof are too numerous, fighting, retreating down corridors.
Same ole serpent forever notorious, same temptations continuously destroying us.
Violent contaminated culture quickly absorbs us, our elected officials forever ignoring us.
In them chalk outlines I am confined to crime scene tape and flashing lights I am consigned.
Written by: the late Mr. Rickie L. Blanchard
Open to interpretation…
silenceofutterances.com 