Tyre Nichols (Poem)

It's a crucifixion.

It’s a crucifixion

Tyre, Memphis biblical names of the mythic East where nothings changed, not at least the greatest story ever told. Ends with a crucifixion.

Capital murder by state agents, torture, kick and flagellate.
Nightfall after sunset, time for a crucifixion.

Show me your hands, the cops shout but he can’t stand or move about,
“What did I do?” he asks the crew, the fix is in, Yo! crucifixion.

Held down by a mob of palace guards, they do their worst ’til he sobs,
I’ll do it Uncle he cries, it’s their job to crucify. Therefore it’s a crucifixion.

Blind with sprays of pepper gall, the red blood lights dazzle in wet haze,
flashing blue cracks of yellow taser, he staggers off but he’s no escaper.
Only the good get crucifixion.

A better man inside out, a polite saint versus the screaming louts, they cannot stand this innocence, it’s sunset in the South y’all, it’s a local crucifixion.

The real thieves who run the game, power stays always in their name.
It’s bigger louder at this time but attention fades from late night crime,
even if a crucifixion.

How much to buy your soul? To look away each time for gold. To tell that lie that’s never old. It’s only ever crucifixion.

Not just on Calvary, it happened to a boy Tyre. On the road to, oh don’t you see yet, that it’s a crucifixion.

Brothers in the skin, what they shoulda’ been to him. Enforce Pax Romana’s laws and sins, their pensions blot the systems ills, they could ha’ looked out for guys like him. It’s a crucifixion.

Mom he screams, behold the man, last moments on the body cam.
It’s a cruel and awful jam. It’s a beat down crucifixion.

My God America abandoned me, I thirst, I kneel, I obeyed, I plead.
A YouTube death replay TV - a modern meta-crucifixion.

Afflicted near the family tree, the crossing sign nearer to thee,
three days in the ER tomb. It’s a bruised face crucifixion.

Beaten, kicked, pepper sprayed. Arms, legs and body splayed.
Epithets and curses laid. Bro obey, be still afraid. It’s a traffic crucifixion.

Fed delivery skate-boy, treads on earth, soft with joy. Then the bad-apple excuse reel plays: ‘first I do theese and then I get theese’ IG Hashtag crucifixion.

Warning up next, graphic views. They kill - it makes five-seven news.
The robber barons laugh amused. Ha ha that will make the plebs unglued, we should bring back crucifixion.

“I’m just trying to go home”, why can’t ya leave me alone. “You doing a lot”, he moan. Seems extra, more, this crucifixion.

An excess of force, the story pushed. No, no, no, not murder in the first, if he had only obeyed us toughs. It’s his garden of Gethsemane, police just helped out 911. It’s a crucifixion.

Officers plead such innocence. How could these little lambs coerce.
He had a choice, we did not insist that he be a Memphis city crucifixion.

Let me see your hands bro, let me see your hands though.
We got to nail this situation down mo’, so it can be a crucifixion.

Cops then inventing, grip at straws. There no cause, no broken laws.
It was a beat down, neck broke, knocked out, slam-dunk, super crucifixion.

Left Tyre to chill on cold wet ground, the dough-cops talk their boasts and clown. The Paramedic he like, fucks around. Oh boy, such a crucifixion.

Driving dark and gentle black, in your own back yard at that, never safe, you know what? It’s a motherless crucifixion.

Six foot three, twenty nine, a lovely creatures life short timed. Finished here, who dropped a dime? Does the kid get a resurrection? ’cause it was so a crucifixion.

© John Munnelly (January 30th ’23)

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