Deja Vu Poem by Isaac 'slimx'

Don’t get me started nor take this lightly,
Lest you see my lightning flash,
I feel energized like a quiver,
Darting and flying, striking and shrinking,
Not minding where I may be treading,
Even if angels don’t back my assailing,
And Jesus won’t want to be in this game,
Sorry Lord, there’s no disrespect,
I’m here to take it to the next level,
Tell the story just as it happened,
About the street not far from my tent,
It was twilight when it all unfolded,
When the gunshots came calling,
No birds were singing their lullabies,
For all humans were under cover,
Silence stole a prowl down the gully,
Tranquillity arrested with no immunity,
Darkness growled aloud with impunity,
For him it was like a game of chess,
With soulless pieces flanked by predators,
Displaced with no compassion,
Not even priced like a commodity,
Not until moments later as the sirens howled,
Blood dripping, bodies sagging, eyes rolling,
Wailing from a distance, mothers screaming,
Chests beating, looking for their grown babies,
Then he realized, that though the earth rotates,
Its reality comes with no button for reversibility,
That’s when I last saw him walking,
Though we’d talked the night before dinner,
His last dinner, a piece of tuna lasagne,
Plans to go to Carolina,
Away from the fierceness and trauma,
Of a man lost with megalomania,
Murdering for self gratification,
All for the bride from Medina,
Just to have a darkened testimony,
Hoping to be a don like Catalina,
I stood there reminiscing,
Where the slug hit, by the tree gmelina,
How time passed by so fast like lightning,
How the poor were easily forgotten,
And the helpless fainted looking for help,
The unborn babies still rejoicing,
In a world not far from here,
Yet have no idea what awaits them,
In a globe filled with auditions for repetition,
Divisions, multiplications, subtractions,
Just a little addition for presentations,
All under probation for man’s consumption,
Fuelled by the lust of his wandering eyes,
A better relabeling designed for addiction,
Driven by the lust of this mortal flesh,
Nothing new, just another classification,
And remodelling all for the pride of life,
To make me feel superior to my brother,
And more sophisticated than my mother,
Many call it life’s vanity recycling,
More like a river meandering in cycle,
With tons of sorrows, tears and hatred,
Mingled with abundance of love and grace,
Flowing down the path my homie once called,
Déjà vu.

Isaac 'Slimx'
Jan 2009