Bam Bing Boom Through Your Love's Window

that old world black magic sparks  
"I've killed a man?!"  
done so many times before  
too often known these chunks  
of vomit  
onto the mausoleum floor  
for the soul does not wait  
leaving bit by bit  
built internment for the slain  
to be thought of as ripped  
 
the pistol drawn  
not with charcoal  
without a lock out of a drawer  
a dashboard says sometimes  
you can rob the robbers  
then usually there's much much more  
 
for gun control I'm all about it  
though such an expensive idea  
to rid the world of that old black magic  
an idea which I hold dear  
then the one legged man hops  
an eye for an eye only blinds in part  
 
I've seen ricochets matter toward doom  
in bars and in the streets  
I am not just a bam bing or boom  
I am the shot through a soon broken window  
which makes your baby dead meat  
 
so up in the air some ideas must be  
for blasting off without thought  
controls that which we hardly know  
were there not guns beyond lock and key  
then a gangster's breath should not be wrought  
outside of stead fast tasers  
outside of death row  
 
Poem by:
M.E.L.

(accompanied painting untitled also by M.E.L.)