Blue Rounds Poem by Timothy Long

Bang, bang, bang, with transtion of rounds to impound, barcade at the door, storming in to kill the poor, blood flying high in time with people to die, thundering with beats of the dead to come for my head, smoke fills the air with a frightning scare, the avirace police scream and shout out dogmatic views that led to a house of blues, expound of the law will it be the death of me who sees the injustice for corruption and wrong, just to be proven right, with 20-20 hindsight, jail is now home for the blue rounds, got me down for nothing now but the jail curcis clown.