Suspected Trend

Each Day on the News,

'Suspects' are killed,

now dead and through.

The Media accepts,

these bullets as due,

shots are played,

intensity review,

all these deaths are a numbing brew.

Added-Up to total true,

no reports equal view,

the possible shock becoming horror,

in addition it seems like War.

If a Suspect is just that,

never charged, 

shot in fact,

his or her day in court,

never had and just a bore,

much like a chore.

We will never know their 'More,'

their silence sealed,

an eminent reveal.

No Hearing, No Defense,

know Sentence followed,

for this is the World,

guns are hollow.

The Court to decide,

Guilt or Innocence?,

is this based on secrets or eminence?,

threats or cover-ups?,

the result delivers silence of.

Tone

So quick Reporters say or whip,

to the Weather, the Traffic forthwith,

to balance or measure?,

maybe it's pleasure,

but the dead can't get better.

kNow proof-needed Police are deeded,

now scared people become enemies that roam,

nobody knows if suspects are guilty,

they're just dead, charged not pled.

Guessing it will never matter,

not until it's you who's shattered,

misunderstood or mistaken for chatter,

"Who you'll scream?, I didn't do it, you'll say, I just look like that Man today."

however the Guns been pulled,

 you're blown away.

At that point Fare becomes dues,

apologies will not rule for you,

'cause you'll be under by 6ft down,

walking in difference,

it just seems planned.

Orders Set

First it is Them: 

You Watch!!,

say nothing accept they're due.

Than it is You,

You see!!

say nothing because you're speechless,

'cause you are now,

Suspect too.

"Suspect of what?" 

you uttered,

your last words as you bleed to death,

for an act you did not do,

but you have been shot straight through too.

Do the dead have a defense,

does the statement or the accusation,

the cause of a nation,

ever prove to be true?,

or is the action simply excused as a mistake,

and apologies made.

I heard this way,

on the News,

the other day.

Investigative Reporting,

emails or tweets,

looking in to the eyes of the perpetrator or the deed,

that twist in the gut,

identifying untruths so easily lost,

uncouth.

As Cell Phones confirm,

a text is a berm,

the sentence a lace,

to tie and to trace,

without that Face-two-Face,

connection erased.

So on those days in a hurry or a daze,

you run a red light,

disappear out of sight,

upset and feel,

fight.

A Cop stops you,

the infraction so clear,

in the midst of this plight,

your explanation,

your dog died,

develops a formation,

you lied,

shot dead in the middle of your proclaim,

you have been downed in your very own Nation.

Intentions are Suspect,

D.O.A.

No Ticket, No Court, No School to Traffic,

you are just another number,

too subtract it.

Family Whales

The story is told,

differently if sold,

to cover whats bold,

your loved ones listens.

The burial just happens,

don't bother them,

friends blend,

the words to say never find a day,

Conspiracy wiped away,

your wife sheds the tears,

the kids hang their head,

"there is no way, are Dad is dead, he didn't do it, they just said."

Theory Dread

The oddness subtracts and the Mind does track,

what is said can be heard,

do you listen,

it seems now common,

much like a blurb,

not even absurd.

What's left from this War,

a country torn,

mass destruction has been born.

Signs

Just like Toads the Frogs do show,

heat the pot ever so slow,

by the time it boils or blows,

all have been,

the focus is When.

Checks and Balances