I guess I’m okay… What more can I say?
Forget it—never mind,
You wouldn’t understand anyway,
Would you even know what it's like?
Inside a scattered disconnected mind,
Employed to go on strike?
Where indirect misdirect
The sincerity at play,
When sinusoidal chaos spikes
And past meets the future present day?
As paranoid points outlandishly connect
At intervals of broken lines,
Memory lost in recollect,
An array of misshaped bells
Internally infect the eternal confines
Of infinite distributional decay,
Parallels with no intersect,
Streetwise cells with empty signs,
Burned out lights, potholes, and landmines,
Littered all the way.
How am I to convey that all those times
You let your mind wander away
That I was reading, thinking, dreaming,
Teeming, never idle, never strayed,
Seeing, being, so far and away,
Even the brightest intellect beaming,
Could not grasp the feeling
In the slightest of highest orders reeling,
Wound unbound, or as it would be seeming,
Imperfect, even to the disarray
Of the tamest prefect, whose verdict
Could not predict the reflect,
For in this world, seeing is deceiving,
As the lamest reject, defect,
Increasingly decreasing,
In simplistic bliss obey
Crowned unsound fallacies
That contradict all meaning,
Hiding behind reality, the actualities
Lest, protect the thoughtlessness perceiving,
Let me stop you if I may...
I must interject for I digress,
What nonsense was I weaving?
Forget it—I've lost my mind,
I best be leaving,
What more can I say?
It's periodic I must confess,
You probably don't care anyway,
Yeah, yeah, I'll be okay,
Until next time I guess,
I wouldn't want to be misleading.

A thistle is just enough
to encumber a ruff
rider through the hills
never mind the flour mills
to process and possess
and gain interest
on fervent capital gains
which are not worth the pains
for glory be told
for those who'd rather be old
and grey without headfeathers
and times naught but better
have then the vanity
to spew chicanery
to delve into the society
of anti-sobriety
and them then who lost
streetwise cost
but for the depreciated stock
which will be bought up by the flock
will credit its debits
to gangs that met its
match to the makers
and the tough men shakers
who make it possible to move
product without anything else to prove
than to their mothers
dead fathers and brothers
that one can make a living
off of *******, soul ******* and killing.

It's been a long time since I've been to church

My horns are starting to grow back again

I'm back, *******

Well, well...

Missed me?

Relax. There's plenty of me to go around

Enough to keep you coming back for seconds

That's all I ever do.

The thing about a Jezebel is that she's been through stuff

So she's more streetwise and seasoned

With fault and reasoning

To make you keep coming back for more

Ruths are plain and bland

Uncooked meat

Raw and salmonella-inducing

Makes you puke on the spot and swear off meat forever

Turning vegan

Swearing off the word

Turning heathen

Wondaland, a.k.a. The Magic Metropolis
June 13th, 2021

Esteemed Readers and Writers, Gangstapoets and Hangarounds,

Gangstapoetry proudly declares that CREATION 96 is now the second unit of our Global Movement.

We are welcoming our new members. You are now a part of us. Much Love.

Tizzop


GANGSTAPOETS


**** 13.8  *  MIKEY DA STREETWISE  *  EAZY LEGS *  ADORABLE GREGGIE  *  MONICA MATADORA  *  SLY BOOTYGIRL  *  COLLAPSIN CHAOT  *  THE LADY REVENANT  *  BEEN  *  WOOZY WIZARD  *  TELLY  *  CRATERSKATER  *  CHEYENNE IS STARVIN  *  CASPER THE PSYCHOTIC GHOST 


GANGSTAPOETS


DESERT SAMURAI  *  PRESTON  *  ALBOW  *  SNOWBLADE  MUTANT  *  SAMBA  * 
UNKLE OF DOOM  *  PLAY  *  ANTWONE  * 
BOBBY BUTCHAH  *  TINA  *  JOEY  *  DREAM SEEKER  *  TRANCE DISCIPLE  *
*  MOTH  *  DR. ****  *  KOBA COBRATONGUE 


GANGSTAPOETS


SVETLANA  *  GUNJAHTOOL  *  LOUIS ORTGIES  *  MISHU BRAVE BEAR  *  GÖKHAN TATCHOUOP  *  DESOCIALIZED KID  *  WIND DIGGER  *  SABIÇ  * JUAN  * DEAL  *  LUCY TARANTULA  *  TEXAS HOLD ME  *  SOUTHSIDE DRILL ASSASIN  *  SHAWN  *  JAMMED JAY 



GANGSTAPOETS


THCO  *  TIMMY ROTTEN  *  PLATIN ZIPPO  *  WORLDWIDE WAGGING  *  ZOMBIE NEIGHBOR  *  BUTCH  *  KWAME'S LOST SON  *  TRANCE24/7  * JIMMY  *  JOSE, FELIPE & CATHERINE  * LAST OPTION PHIL  *  KIAN  *  MAX NEWMAN  *  MAGIC GOON

Her fingertips loosed the glass
bottle, which had
of late
gathered rain like the
hands of paupers.

Glitter in a heartbeat.
to be collected by old battered shoes
or car tyres
and streetwise magpies.

it joins a city evensong
this oceanic roar of nothing
fusing chords of cars and smoke
and lonely dogs
with hacks
and throngs
of perambulating suits
and suitors
trampling athwart broads of concrete
As swifts in summer.


We swim in it
through open atriums
and barren rooms of
magnolia and magnolia and magnolia.

All the while if you look harder
you see through chinks a sepulchre
in each greying tower
ranging higher and higher still.

Machines and machinations
stacking life upon life to
build pyramids
to gaudy kings
in pinstripe or herringbone.

Flumes of fumes ***** like floods
Into and out of train stops
and bus stands.
Circling lungs like hungry crows.
Crows which haunt
Bombed out chapels made new
resuscitated with waxen ivy
and ivory lilies.

And the leaves of saintly oak trees
chatter in shrinking crevices of green
story telling
Of how people and things grow old.
And you can walk these streets
And dive too like cormorants into
The platitudes of city living.

Soaked to the skin in sound
to tell your story
like the shards
of a broken bottle.

we shook hands
tell-all flashes flared up
this man's shame

I had vowed to curb this curse--
to stop spying on anyone's history;
to not stall long enough,
with streetwise small talk,
until I absorbed every gory secret

fair play denied,
my lips dished out a long enough topic
and by the time we parted,
I knew all
~~
..Sunday, Jan. 13, 2013..(C)2013 Spiros Zafiris
~~

i thought i had a poem... instead i had a conversation,
and a rag doll balled up
to request ******* in elevators,
alongside the chance to see the nest of dr. channard;
there was never a dear love-joy-killing-me-softly-yo-yo
to claim alimony cheques of the satisfied woman...
blah! ha ha ha!
well it comes like a ballooned pair of *******...
why give her the satisfaction of being sidetracked
left on the pavement starving
unlike a greek pagan and more like a question of immorality
like the singer of i.n.x.s.?
i have sanctified my will on that choice like a kamikaze
should the curbing of will come and i be left with
only a spectator sport of choice to “prove a point” bumming it
hungry cold and admiring the success stories of the leftover impermanences
willing for the lost glories of old age, of that age once sanctified
in noble wrinkle and spur of agitation into ***...
but leave the 20 year old man without chance...
and expect holocaust-like loathing! erase the old *******! erase!
my grandfather compared me to a napoleon without a gun...
he said: why didn’t napoleon shoot? no one gave him a gun...
well no one asked for nukes either...
but the third time a nuke dropped all the ***** **** lips started
an ****** of the ****** of the greek god mars
seeing there was no potential to invest in a 100 year war between
the anglos and normans -
so they dropped a nuke... to fake an asteroid...
then started giving out sticks & stones for gladiators’ combat
with einstein being reincarnated as the referee;
and the clowns formed a circus to avoid the technological public:
you embrace anonymity and we embrace the loss of makeup...
crescendo of ha ha... you first... nothing... oh... ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha!
you were supposed to sport this streetwise anonymity
on the streets on the freeways of digitalised interest...
and here’s us... clowns... clowns without makeup...
and the only pigment allowed being cow manure... and let me tell you...
that’s a pigment more flaky than the wrinkling skin
of invested-in *******, not that i minded the conception
of working girls within a western from the goo’ ol’ days with whiskey...
nuts bolted that tight with the boys in amsterdam
dreaming up all the “girls” from thailand only aiming at
wild eastern: **** **** **** that with a ****. huh?
i told you had a false poker card shuffle with that when testing islam;
i always knew the jews would win the tree that
translated acrobatic splits in the shape of the majority of trees
splitting into a y and yews.

A roses desire with a street cars name.
It doesn't matter the direction
Cause we're all the same.
Knock three times, to get inside.
Darlings of the night  and shady cabbies are your ride.
A streetwise junkies philosophy  sounds good while your high.
Wisdom of truth, while smoked in a lie.
Sometimes coming down isn't the hardest part.
Sometimes it's reaching  the end,  for another start.

Like that classic hit by Marvin Gaye
I have a story for you guys and gals today
One question you can ask, is how do you mend a broken heart?
How can you fix it when the world you two have created is falling apart

Anyway lemme finish with my tale
It was over a warm summer, the bane of the pale
I was young, wilder, and very streetwise
Little did I know I was dating a snake in disguise
We walked in the park, happy arm in arm

I kissed her cheek softly, like she was my good luck charm,
I said to her "babe I'm gonna be doing the show for flattes and sharpes,
It's a music store that's very very close to my heart

So I threw myself into rehearsals, playing guitar and contributing vocals to another man
Little did I know all the while she was giving something else to another man
I kept in touch with her the best that I could
But she always kept hanging around with the boys in the hood

Show night arrives and I'm nervous naturally
I texted her and she calmed me down actually
I didn't feel a change in her attitude, at least not drastically
I turned off my phone and played both sets
The Show ends and I wake up to an amazing text!
A picture of my girl laying on top of another guy, 
I couldn't help it when I got home i just broke down and cried

But thru that betrayal, from the womb of that pain
Came my list for befriending vowels and blending words now lodged in my brain
Essentially the reason that I write poetry,
Is because a girl cheated on me