The Hunting Game

A poem about America’s White domestic terrorists. A poem about how White Supremacists hunt Black and Brown people for no reason.

The Hunting Game

The Hunting Game

The hunting game

The targets may look different

But the intent remains the same

Stalk the Blacks

Hunt the Browns

Kill the Blacks

And kill those Browns

It’s the game White men love to play

From a very young age

Big, older, evil hunters teach

Future, youthful, evil hunters to prey

To play with guns

And to kill stuff

It starts with paper

It ends with blood

Killing for White thrills

It’s his rite of passage

Make himself look strong

By making us look weak

That’s the gist of

Their hunting game

The hunter looks the same

He never changes his name

Not his words

Nor his actions

Nor his motives

And never his privilege

The hunter gets to kill and live

To go to jail

And become a martyr

For White Supremacy

H e buys guns

He picks fights

Finding solitude among

Other fragile hunters

Just like himself

Hunting anything

And everything


Because hunting is in his blood

And killing is his favorite sport

H e hunts the colors to

Kill dreams

Kill parents

Kill babies

Kill opportunities

Kill the colors

Snatch life

Incite fear

Ignite hate

Every day

In some horrific way

Seeking better hunting grounds

To advance the hunting games

From Africa, to South America

To America

This centuries old game

Never ceases

Low White men

Do the bidding of

The lowest White men

Hunting color for them

As they’re robbed

Of their money and their small minds

The small-minded hunters

Upholding White lies

Beating weak chests

Clutching scary hearts

Covering deaf ears

Angry at their

Little hands

Little dicks

Small brains

Hunting me,

Hunting you

Hurts himself

Destroys our worlds

So that he

May keep

His unearned place

The hunters may look different

But their cries all

Sound the same

Jews will not replace us

They are taking our stuff

Speak English

It’s changing

It’s too brown

They are dangerous

I hate them

They seem happy

They are taking our place

It’s too many of them

They are breeders

No reason, just because

Fill in the blank

Those others will accrue power

No one else should have

They are taking over, and

They, and they, and they,

And they, and they,

Must be stopped


In cold blood

In the name of

His birthright

His fake supremacy

We are more dangerous? Yeah right.

This miserable hunter

Has an insatiable hunger

For the blood of others

Killing the least of us

Embodying the ugliest of them

Every time he plays their game

It’s the game many White men play

But are too dumb to realize

No one

Ever wins

The hunting game

©2019 Marley K. All rights reserved.