We have a winner!!

Ghetto Summers (part 3)

Verbal Abuse

Voices ring out, with the shrill of a siren,

not wanting anyone in particular to hear,

but, instead, just wanting what they’ve said to be heard.

Two young voices have the sound of three,

and, three, the roar of a crowd.

They ring out, they scream out,

with no particular destination.

Any ears will do,

so long as their voice is heard.

Someone else is always shouting,

and, it’s always that same someone else,

always having nothing to say,

but, saying it loud enough for all to hear.

That same someone

always has nothing to say,

at least,

nothing that anyone else wants to hear.

Voices ring out,

with the shrill of a siren,

or,

above the shrill of a siren,

that pierces the night air.

911 zooms through my street, at 2am,

obviously not headed for my street, but,

some far away street.

Its siren is

vibrating,

activating car alarms.

. . . and, Charlene leans, and, yells

“Turn that damned thing off !!”

copyright © 09.07.1997

blackstarr52@gmail.com

Renaissance, The New Millennium, sirens, voices, 911, poetry