Mamma, Bernie don’t want to play Said he won’t give his hard earn money away Mamma, didn’t realize The four of us would be surprised When Bernie, took that ride I remember what was told By the white old man in his robe “I’ll tie you up and raped your soul without pity” And then a jury of my peers Had option for the next twenty years But I showed elegiac tears Than freedom They found no guilt in what I steal The verdict was that social ills Has caused this life of crime to fill My pockets So the cops had fingers tied Legal mandate on my side Streets and subways people hide In shadows I take a ride down the street People bow and kiss my feet Retribution in defeat Total homage But then they flipped the subway token We cried heads but tails were spoken Laying there four bodies broken Bernard Goetz had his day Mamma, Bernie don’t want to play Said he won’t give his hard earn money away Mamma, it seems so strange Thought I had it all arranged Till Bernie, took that ride
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I like the first person narrative in the form of poetry…it’s a great way to tell a story with a moral.
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Like George, I was puzzled at the time by the conflicting views of the general public. What was vigilantism, and what was stand your ground?
Your piece presented the episode from a viewpoint I hadn’t considered.
Nicely done!
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As one who lived through that time (in the area), I marvel how he was both a villain and hero at the same time. That sentiment ran across the racial lines as well!
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