Let me start by first saying that I, in no way shape or form, consider myself a poet. It’s not that I dislike poetry but it’s not my medium.
But every now and then you may spot something that you want to comment on and when you write what you’ve seen, you find that it possesses a particular meter or flow. You find yourself saying, “that’s not bad…”. Or am I giving myself too much of a pass?
In the midst of white chunks.
Running, jumping, throwing, sliding
Trapping, slinging, cashing and hiding
From the black and white consequences
Of judicial interventions.
Entrepreneurs or managers
They all can be
Obvious talents are easy to see
As they balance illicit budgets 1, 2, 3.
Save for the history that declares them doomed
And destined to be nothing but the criminals they are
Given proper guidance they could go far
Away from the stone hewn playgrounds of criminal enterprise.