The Giraffe Blog – Poems by Virgenal Owens

We are forever doomed
To replay history.

We say we are the change,
But we always seem
A day late, 
A dollar short,
A dream deferred. 

A life subdued. 

The Black Blood of those my streets has claimed
Is like a flower planted in a stampede. 

Lives, futures, are ended
Before the conclusion 
Was even a decision. 
Tears pelt ground and erode
All hope in the soil. 

This is repetition at its finest. 

A merry-go-round
With no operator,
Gears rusted away,
Waiting on the machine to break,
Or someone to say

Stop. 


~Written by: Virgenal Owens