Capitalism And The Ghetto

Living in poverty men learn to die. In the hot southern sun, black children wither like grapes on the vine. Most live without any real dream's. White law enforcement officers line up the men against the red crumbling five and ten cent store walls. Old faded poster signs haphazardly speak of better days gone long since past. While further up north, in the white side of town, I hear them speak about killing all the niggers, eating donuts at Krispy Kreme. If we could get away with it like they do elsewhere quietly buried under each other, and no more heard about. One muttered that the pit no matter how wide or deep would never be deep enough and their flesh under the clay, like newly planted seedlings of old time's past. And the world would think nothing more of it and the white jury would nullify their murder charges by forgiving them of their own past transgressions. And as a reporter, these are some of my most least desirable job's.