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The Web Poetry Corner - James Bredin - Cops and the ghetto

Cops and the ghetto

by

James Bredin

People in the ghetto donít talk,
They look around when they walk,
They know friends have been shot,
The shooters still there and not caught.

Goody-two-shoe types now in charge,
Cops at fault by enlarge,
Complaints are the name of the game,
And the cops are easy to blame.

Those cops are no help at all,
Hat in a car on a call,
Scared of bullets and complaints,
Why rush with these restraints?

Politicians are even worse,
Platitudes promises perverse,
Social workers come and go,
Designed this place for the bro.

Always complain about case load,
Live by their own social code,
No where near the project,
Donít mix with the wretched.

Crazy people on the loose,
Witnesses wonít put head in noose,
They just want to live in peace,
Not count those on early release.

Every weekend at least one or two,
Bullets people and walls they go through,
The coming and going is dizzy,
Funeral homes are busy.


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