White Terrorist

Jim Crow wore a wide-brimmed, dust colored hat
as he rocked back and forth on a hot summer porch

When he saw the Feds coming, forcing his kids to
mix with blacks in Little Rock,

he aimed his rifle but did not shoot
Instead, he donned white in the night and had himself a hoot

II.
Years later, his son watched bodegas ‘deluge’ his town
while sharia threatened to become law of the land

“Where are ye, my white brothers?” he bellowed into the forlorn night
No one answered – they were working double shifts at Walmart

On the Internet, he penned manifestos that spoke of a flood of the black, brown and hijab
He, as Noah, would build a ship and save everyone

But no one was listening, at least not enough, he thought

He needed to make a mark, make a real difference
So he grabbed his automatic rifle and set off for deliverance

III.
The dead at the Little Rock unitarian church numbered in the
dozens, mostly children, white and brown.

The cops came, hovered but fired not a shot

From his prison cell, he reckoned he made his point,
he would not let the flood tear white America down

Peter Crowley is an independent writer and scholar with a M.S. in Conflict Resolution, Global Studies from Northeastern University. For fun, he plays in bluesy rock band around the Boston/NYC area. His writings can be found in Boston Literary Magazine, Mondoweiss, Mint Press News, (several publications in) Wilderness House Literary Review, Dissident Voice, Counterpunch, Foreign Policy Journal, Truthout, Green Fuse Press, Antiwar.com, and numerous other on-line publications. Read other articles by Peter.