L.A. Is Burning Poem by Sandra Osborne

I sit here alone
Safe in my house,
With the TV blaring,
And the lights turned out.

L.A. is burning,
And ghosts can be heard,
Silently mouthing,
Burn, baby burn.

Mixed with the smoke,
Are scenes of the beating,
Not just the one,
But more, and the many.

The scenes seem to drift
As the camera pans higher,
The colors fade black,
With white yellow fire.

L.A. is burning,
And ghosts can be heard,
Silently mouthing,
Burn, baby burn.

Here and there
Mass mobs can be seen,
Moving in and out
Of the broken glass scenes.

A man on his knees,
With his head being kicked.
While others are grabbing
The spoils of the verdict.

L.A. is burning,
And ghosts can be heard,
Silently mouthing,
Burn, baby burn.

More cops and more fires,
More stealing for fun,
More cries for some justice,
But the city has none.

In the streets men are seathing
With nothing that's right,
While deep in their hearts,
Hate is coming to life.

L.A. is burning,
And ghosts can be heard,
Silently mouthing,
Burn, baby burn.

So they brought in the army,
Guns allied with hate,
Fifty-five dead,
And for them it's to late.

The thousands beaten,
Battered and mauled.
The scarlet police,
Who started it all.

L.A. is burning,
And ghosts can be heard,
Silently mouthing,
Burn, baby burn.

Three days and three nights,
The streets are now quiet.
The fires mostly out,
As is the riot.

But hate never stops,
We've made it to strong.
Gnawing inside us,
And always, it's wrong.

Now L.A. lies quiet,
But ghosts still are heard,
Silently mouthing,
Burn, baby burn.

Written May 4,1992