Men In Black Poem by James McLain

In a Florida prison
From the small slit of my milky plastic window
I watch inmates not convict's, hang the razor wire they fall into
And then are beaton by the convict's for their
Cowardly behavior.

There are no river's here at the edge of the black water swamp,
Stagnant and filthy,
As are the mind's of so many of the people housed here.

For to many here beyond redemption, beyond hope, knowing
Release for those few will be a painful death.
As the punk's rife with a.i.d.s. lure those of low moral fiber,
Line up in the dawn of moon night and grunt,
Their lives away

Those whom wish to do what's right are as deer,
To those who prey upon the meek.
And here upon this patch of Earth the meek are
Torn and cut like Jesus Crist.

To the right, and left are hopeless men and hopeless men are ice
Glazed eye's the color of the clay, inside the pen.
Black Snuff-colored uniforms give rise to hopeless lives.

The dead are never seen released from custody in body bags,
Out yonder in the south pour forth the dead.
Broken black and blue and thin blue coats black shoes, and your
Trapped here a living hell,
Designed by evil men who prey on hopeless men, can heaven wait?



Copyright © James McLain | Year Posted 2018