Minneapolis Burning

Jun 11, 2020 by

N.D.Y. Romanfort

A poem capturing the gist of the George Floyd protests/riots going on in the U.S. and overseas.

Public execution without trial―

How vile!

Dial the fourth estate

with their scandalous reprobates

filling ears with fears of years-long resentment

from demons who never repented

for the crimes of earlier times.

Mic up the psyched-up exhorters of disorder,

armed with exorbitant degrees and assumed expertise,

haranguing reiterations of interpretations

from the public congregation

spiced with self-serving bastardizations,

inciting agitation, all the while―

indulging in infatuating illusions of eminence,

reminiscent of revered leaders of old―

so bold

is the new savior stronghold

willing to unfold

Hell on Earth

to secure their alluring role.


A new generation

neurotic to the despotic situation

take to the streets where they meet

commendation and condemnation

from spectators just as multi-layered

as they are,

matter of fact―

the bird’s eye view

displays a dual development:

2 syndicates

possessed with distress,


by an inherited narrative,

beckon for the correction

of corruption.

One through

signs and rallying cries

while the others plunder,

livelihoods left asunder

while the proprietors wonder

if insurance claims

and go-fund-me fame

will help sustain.


The democratically elected representatives

and bureaucratically appointed administratives

who oversaw the brouhaha

from day one

cry for their speech writers

to resurrect rhetoric

to herd the unheard

when they take a que

from M.L. King

but play the scolding


when some turn to anarchy

all the while―

patiently pondering tax receipts

set to repeat

every year.

No fear

from the government brass,

their cash

is always accounted

lest anyone get hounded

for tax evasion

to spend hundreds of days in


How brazen

the system is

when citizens

are forced to forfeit proceeds

to feed

the state apparatus

while receiving no status

to judge who can trudge

in the blue uniform.

The storms

of sentiments about good sense

and temperament

aren’t worth a cent

if the financial incentive

isn’t bent

at that angle.

To wrangle over

ethics and justice,

seeking armistice

but leaving in place

the same process

won’t offset

the tyranny.

It’s clear to see,

from history,

the periled predicaments

will lay dormant for a spell and then

reemerge to scourge

for another round.

Photo by Joseph Ngabo on Unsplash

About the Author

N.D.Y. (Never Deceive Yourself) Romanfort earned a B.S. in economics from Frostburg State University. His poetry has appeared on Notes on Liberty and Education Views.

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1 Comment

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    Anthony J Lancaster

    Great poem!

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