Hateful Justice | Teen Ink

Hateful Justice

October 13, 2010
By TimmothyMark GOLD, Hertford, North Carolina
TimmothyMark GOLD, Hertford, North Carolina
19 articles 0 photos 21 comments

Favorite Quote:
"I can do all things through Christ who stregthens me." - Phillipians 4:13


With Satan’s devilish influence, Waco cried out.
They persecuted him who carried the body, who let out a woeful shout.

The Black man murdered, the black man raped.
The white man’s heart filled with hate.

They did not care about the youths troubled mind.
For it was twisted and deluded in a natural bind.

They chained his neck and drug him ‘round,
With shovels they treated his flesh as ground.

They beat him to a pulp and stoned him with bricks,
They hoisted him high above a pile of sticks.

They removed his manhood and lit the pile aflame,
They cut off his fingers to prevent escape, and yet their hearts felt no shame.

The 16,000 of Waco cheered and roared,
And Satan laughed with delight at the human horde.

When it was over, they let him be,
So that their hateful justice, all could see

The author's comments:
This poem was written in memory of Jesse Washington. Jesse was a mentally ill, 17 year old farmhand from Waco, Texas who was wrongly accused of murdering a white woman. After a trial of four minutes, they seized him and put a chain around his neck and drug him behind a truck down the town square. They dug shovels into his skin, stoned him with bricks, and spit on him. They castrated him, that is, to remove his genetalia, and hung him up on a tree by the chain. They lit a fire beneath him and dipped him into it. When they did this, the crowd of 16,000 men, women, and even children would applaude and cheer in agreement. I was inspired to write this poem after seeing Abel Meerpol's "Strange Fruit".

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This article has 1 comment.


on Nov. 25 2010 at 7:15 am
SMWells PLATINUM, Carlisle, South Carolina
22 articles 0 photos 294 comments

Favorite Quote:
Some truths best left unspoken.

Very well ritten. Somethings are to auful to want to dwell on. But we don't need to foget. It's a bitter memory our counrty has made fore itself all round. Wich only makes me realise again the satire of thanksgiving.