America has been feasting
on that Billie Holiday strange fruit
for so long,
drinking that thick red wine
straight off the long thin vine
of mankind’s suffering,
profiting from people losing their sanity,
gaining from the loss of our humanity.

Black as that sweet star sparkling night,
mothers, and fathers denied the right
to stand up and fight,

bullets to the back
as they try to enter their own houses,

bullets to the side
right in front of their children and spouses,

bullets through the heart of a child
in the middle of his imagination,

bullets through her bedroom,
no space to escape
not even some safe head room:

All that agony and desolation
to be constantly facing
violence and degradation
from the so-called authority figures
who only see another dead ******.

Blue lives, white supremacist guys,
proud boys and Neo Nazis
have grown obese.
These foul ******* beasts
have eaten the heart and soul of us
right off our bones and thrown
the rest to the scavengers back home.

We are all a part
of a universal whole
each living soul
is connected
unless directed
to be disconnected
war breaks the chains
until all that remains
are the crosses we sow
where flowers used to grow

A Monster with Roses

A monster with roses in his hands,
is still a monster,
and he will force-feed you thorns,
sugarcoated and chocolate dipped,
turning your window eyes
bloodstained and cracked.
Then leaves you when he chooses,
your soul sickened, body broken
and bleeding upon the floor.

James E. Roethlein copyright 2020

Dipped in crimson
The sky bruised blue at the edges
Just like on her jaws etched
Didn't complain, could she?

Air of ash and smoke masked
The aura of captivity dusk to dawn,
Using white lighters to see whats infront
Says he was a poet by heart
But recited with scars
With poetry scrambled behind
Cigarette packets
Recital was rather peculiar
She was his muse, and well used
Couldn't leave, could she?

A storm reckless if left both unbound
Like Bonnie and Clyde
Begs to not fall in love
You might be shot, or left stranded
At the eye of the storm
Leaving you wondering why storms are
Named after people

Rip to those who fought to make sure we live,
The street is bitter and sweet to give,
Only the bravest and strongest can survive in the hood.

Black lives matters
To survive the street you will get batters,
Black kills black and forgotten the motor that says unity we stand.

O arise thy hoodlums come,
Raise from the gutter, badly tortured, mistreated with bad conduct.

Government promote the violence caused by this thugs in the street,
Our people are dying while they show nothing to stop
the killing in the street.

Street bullet caused by this
hoodlums robs man of his soul,
The people are not in save hands,
Government got no plans for the citizens, 20-10-20 can never be forgotten.

What are their plans for the youth in 2021, they keep on muting,
Letting many souls puking,
Will 2021 be like it's brother 2020,
Many forbids,pray,  fight hard to abstract from the hood.

Street bullet where people **** to make money,
Country flag stain with blood and pains,
Street with no determination,

Street with no hope
No plans for the generation
May God help us all.

i look at you and
my heart begins to flutter wildly
creating a certain heat inside of me, beneath my skin
my heart swells and swells
until it bursts, ripping my chest open and spraying my guts
against the surrounding walls in a thin layer of glittering entrails

a masterpiece of carnage and gore
practically glistening in the morning sunlight
so dazzling, i barely even notice the smell of my sizzling flesh
as the golden sun rays rain down on my ruptured organs,
transforming them into a puddle of bubbling crimson brew

my legs turn numb and i collapse to the floor
in a pile of bones and blood

oh how you make me MELT .

guests used to comment on
all of those picture frames
pinned proudly to the walls.

you would smile politely
and give them a tour.


“there’s my daughter
on her first birthday!”

“there’s my son building
a fort out of snow!”

“there’s our family
on vacation at the beach!”


you used to get so many
compliments on your
picture-perfect family.


I wonder what they
would have said if they
knew about the holes
punched into the wall
underneath those frames.