Lynch Poems - Poems about Lynch

Soul's laugh soul's cry Soul's live soul's die But what of the soul's of trees Sipping soil in which we bleed Nature uses our body to feed Colorful tears shed are leaves Falling like a ballet in breeze Whimsical dramatic blue melody Trees that stand as nations fall Despite wars in lands they stand tall Hearing all our tales bittersweet Fearing our own power in peak Chopping...

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A splendid job you did clinch: One helping you to others pinch; And warn them to not move an inch, Freely going mad when they flinch, Half hoping to a life lynch. It has been your dreamt role: To strokes of the cane increase; And where there’s none try a pole, Causes giving faces to crease; The inhuman you unleash with ease Of mounting pressures...

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Mississippi 1954 "Don’t you bring that no good So and so 'round here. If you bring him to ma door Bobby Roy and Billie Joe Will make him disappear." But Mother, I love him. "She’s a spool of trouble, son. A stitch in time...

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Western Justice It was known just as "The Tree" It was on the fence line of Jade Ranch And on the wizened, hardened oak Was a limb, known as "The Branch" On the branch hung seven ropes Of seven different lengths Depending on the sentence They chose one of seven strengths Now a posse and a lynch mob Are two completely different groups You may always...

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Clinton Lynch 1862-1912 It took a long time for me to die. Five long years; from the moment Doctor Barmore told me my heart was bad, Until the day I was on my deathbed, Staring listlessly through my envious window, At a world that was alive with people living, A truly strange and wonderful world, that Was presently passing before...

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We think we are free but we’re not….”I have a full proof method for controlling your black slaves”…..yet we’re not slaves anymore…Are we?….we’re chained by ignorance we are whipped by our own stupidity only leaving us to soak in our own humility….”It will control the slaves 300 years”….it has passed 300 years but we have...

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lynch an empty chair and wave a flag of freedom in racist delight gives proof that legislation can’t whiten a blackened heart...

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The house was mostly dark, save a dim light on the porch. I moved up the crumbling walk and stopped before a paint peeled door. Grasping the iron knocker, I tapped three times, hearing the sound echo in the bowels of the house. “Who is it” a faint voice said. “Go away”. ...

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