Douglas Polk- Two Poems

The Jungle

bars on windows and doors,
house after house,
street after street,
outposts and fortresses,
in this jungle,
of cement and concrete,
where wild creatures prowl,
untamed,
a city of prisoners,
trapped and shackled,
house after house,
street after street.


Rainfall

rainfall floods city streets,
America being washed away,
global warming,
maybe,
or maybe,
the teardrops of the victims,
the innocent ones,
slaughtered,
week after week,
day after day,
while we as a nation,
do next to nothing,
and try to look away.