The River Runs Red

Artist unknown

The River Runs Red, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

The city’s skyline looks like poker chips
This is a place of winners and losers
The winners choose not to walk on these streets
Loser to loser the alley they meet

The rustle, the hustle, day almost done
Any civility was left at work
One’s inner frustration must now be heard
Even if someone’s life to end tonight

The great “melting pot” is starting to boil
No longer employed are knife, bat and fist
Time has taken on a new jousting form
Where knight meets knight in the darkness of night

In their fast steel steeds they speed down the street
With lances in hand a victim they seek
Sending swarming bees of lead through the air
Claiming a victim sitting in a chair

A massive current of red runs quickly
Appears if knowing where it is to go
Joining a clotted mass of blood below
Now gathered to the river it will flow

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I wrote in poem in 2018, and it sat quietly on my computer. 

Now I think it appropriate for the times we are currently experiencing 

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