Sense Sonnet - Chiller

The Beat Goes On

We're called flash mobs on the attack,
When we are referred to at all.
And few are apt to call us black,
Since that is not a p.c. call.
As long as we beat up on folk
Who do not matter to the brass,
We'll keep punchlining this same joke,
While city hall just covers ass.
Call it the new reality,
Without media hype and spin.
Wrong time, wrong place and there we be,
Changing the color of your skin.

You think it won't happen to you?
More and more likely that we do.