hands up don't shoot

This being my response to Ferguson, and the over the top police response. the video at the end was filmed by Peter Charles Macpherson

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My lumps my lumps my lovely baton lumps

After Los Angeles riots
After Rodney King
A commission investigating
The beating found that
Police were perceived
An occupying army.
Not community members.

I had no alternative
But to elevate the level
Of our response.

Hands up -- Don't shoot
Hands up -- Don't shoot

Recent high school graduate
Starting technical college,
Visiting his grandmother,
Shot at least six times,
Including twice in the head.

Hands up -- Don't shoot
Hands up -- Don't shoot

Walking home, unarmed, no record
Three minutes later
A hail of pistols shots

UPDATE 7 P M
Few details have been released
It has been confirmed --
A police officer
Shot and killed
A male subject.

Lifeless on the street
Hours after the shooting -- uncovered.
A photographer captured
The street scene -- a dead boy
On his stomach, his right cheek
Hard against the asphalt.
A long trail of blood
Flowing his head.

Hands up -- Don't shoot
Hands up -- Don't shoot

The situation was tense.
A large group gathered and
Confronted police
Obscenities and chants
Crips and Bloods arm in arm
United righteous anger.

Hands up -- Don't shoot
Hands up -- Don't shoot

On the grizzled brick walls
On the concrete flyover pillars
Spray painted dissent
The only good cop
Is a dead cop.
No justice, No Peace!
Hey hey, Ho ho
Killer cops have to go!
And in reply Officer Boar
Grunts out “Bring it,
You fucking animals! Bring it!”
Several times-gunshots could be heard.

Hands up -- Don't shoot
Hands up -- Don't shoot

Unarmed no criminal record
How many times this same song?
It was at least six shots
As many as eleven
It was more than just a couple
More than just a couple
I don't think it was many more.

Hands up -- Don't shoot
Hands up -- Don't shoot

Yet there were two in his head.

Hands up -- Don't shoot
Hands up -- Don't shoot

Schools were closed down
As the tear gas cannisters
Banned as chemical weapons
In war time banned flew.
Activists from Gaza tweeted
Tactics against the gas.
Notorious hackers Anonymous
Shut down the city's website
For much of Monday.
A random shot in the air.
And the airport was closed
To provide a safe haven
For law enforcement activities.
Armoured trucks patrolled.

Hands up -- Don't shoot
Hands up -- Don't shoot

Fat white men middle aged
Born and bred in fear.
Gun shop owners gleefully
Reported a surge in sales --
And they are buying
Home defense shotguns
Personal defense handguns
For conceal carry

Hands up -- Don't shoot
Hands up -- Don't shoot

Recent high school graduate
About to start college
Why y’all got my son out in the street?
His mother cried. Frightened
Cops, poorly trained,
Pawns in the game,
Out of their depth,
Restrained her. Officer Brute
Said -- You can’t see your son.
You need to calm yourself down.

Hands up -- Don't shoot
Hands up -- Don't shoot

Bottles and rocks.
Sound cannons
And clouds of tear gas,
To disperse the crowd.
No medical support on call.
Frightened poorly trained
Old time cop riot
Inflames -- Again & Again
Flames as the shop burns.

Hands up -- Don't shoot
Hands up -- Don't shoot

Reporters chased away,
Mocked, abused, roughed up,
Arrested. Get the fuck out of here
And get that light off,
Or you're getting shot with this.
Amnesty gassed,
Forced to kneel.
Your press pass
Officer Porker grunts
Don't mean shit.

Hands up -- Don't shoot
Hands up -- Don't shoot

Burning chemical smoke
Rises and billows Golden
Arches glowing. Casting weird
Shadows the rain slick streets
Glowing and smearing the lights
Crowds roll and surge
High tech cold red dot
Power demon eye points
Sniper rifle on his chest

Hands up -- Don't shoot
Hands up -- Don't shoot

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Sou’easter

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Three days windy rain.
Three days rainy wind.
Leaf twig stripping.
Wave crest spindrift.
Foam gathers dirty the strand
Battered of wind and rain days.
Crashing sea spray and salt
Thin covers cars and houses.

Rain and wind
Rattling windows
Tin night roof drumming
Dreaming. I am disturbed.
Roused sleep, broken branches,
Troubling dreams.
My child
My ten year old son dead.
On the street. His face bruised,
So much so I can not tell
Him, save by his feet.

It seems. So real.
My heart races.
My gut heaves
I feel ill.
Retching reaching
Stumbling stairs.
I can not sleep.
I listen his
Ten year old
Reassuring rhythmic
Sleep breathing.

Chamomile tea
To sleep settle.
I close my eyes
That image
Again and again.
I see.
Again the image.

A book. Maybe.
Read to nod.
Dozing off. Sleep.
Diverting mind
Void restless
Away false powers.
The dark cloudy night
Howls moonless.
Swaying dancing
Trees lash the roof.
Cracking creaking
Sounds of stress.
Leaves and branches
Scatter the garden.
Gather the garden.

After The Rain

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After three or four days of on and off rain
I step into the gloomy night to dormouse wise 
Feed my head and take the dog to walk; 
So as to not embarrass his doggy self, 
And damage the carpets, to relieve himself.

Like many small bits of paper, or plastic bags
That are caught up the wind and forced to dance
In wild Matisse lines of random arabesque 
Across the land; like the trees which bend and bow
To the strong winds, or walkers who are bent over
To fight pedestrian the blurting blasting gales. 
So to it seems as if mighty Orion is caught up 
And sent tumbling cartwheeling (caterwauling?) 
By the windy roaring insensate fourties
Across the night, one arm outstretched, 
His hand on the top of hill, pushing off. 

In the morning I organise my young daughter.
Back to school after holidays. I struggle
To wake and get myself into the groove,
Back into the beat after a lazy fortnight.
Make her breakfast, and serve it to her.
And while she chatterboxes away
Anticipating her new day at school,
I listen and make her lunch, spreading peanut 
Butter across the bread. A piece of fruit,
A little tub of yoghurt, home made cookies. 
I wash her face and hands, get her dressed.
As she watches Sesame Street, I dress myself.

And we leave the house, opening the door, 
Flooding the lounge room with the streaming
Sun, the excited, twittering songs of birds.
The rains are over, the water tank is full 
To overflowing, two, three snails crawl
The potted plants the porch. The wind 
Has blown away the wet spongy clouds.
There is and optimism is on the rise.