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"bandits" poems
Do I relate to the post-postmodern True-life voodoo incomes are hard-earned If I put a hyphen between words Does that spawn a new one like lovebirds Isn't love the same word that I saw Don't crows live like bandits and outlaws Don't they have the outlook of bourgeois Carry stolen crackers in their claws There's no change that I couldn't change Every change that I change always stays the same I wanna sing with a slingshot serenade I wanna donate change to a masquerade I wanna die while I'm in the spotlight I want my death to inspire a rewrite I want to blur the lines of insight I want to make them think that I'm their height So give me all your red green yellow blue If you can find a pool then I'll refract with you You're a mirage and your favorite color's see-through You're my fata morgana from this point of view Are there any words for my freakshow feelings Isn't sugarcoated terminology appealing Wouldn't it be easier to represent the meaning Of a hard to swallow concept with an arbitrary ceiling Cryptic cultish crease in the catalog Paranoia backtrack to analog I can run much faster than I can jog Magic circle summoning Chernobog I can break the barrier of sound and space With these essential elemental explanations in your face But it doesn't matter everything I say will go to waste Because the power of the mind is putting power out of place Hindsight reflecting, teenagers texting Late to the punch with the big money flexing Let's settle this with a match in the ring Or a match to the rope of a cannon firing I wanna die while I'm in the spotlight I want my death to inspire a rewrite I want to blur the lines of insight I want to make them think that I'm their height I wanna hypnotize and paralyze I wanna make them think that I'm their size I wanna break their spirits drink their blood I wanna **** their souls I wanna **** them good
0
Dec 18, 2013
Dec 18, 2013 at 7:58 PM UTC
armonparty
lovebirds
Do I relate to the post-postmodern True-life voodoo incomes are hard-earned If I put a hyphen between words Does that spawn a new one like lovebirds Isn't love the same word that I saw Don't crows live like bandits and outlaws Don't they have the outlook of bourgeois Carry stolen crackers in their claws There's no change that I couldn't change Every change that I change always stays the same I wanna sing with a slingshot serenade I wanna donate change to a masquerade I wanna die while I'm in the spotlight I want my death to inspire a rewrite I want to blur the lines of insight I want to make them think that I'm their height So give me all your red green yellow blue If you can find a pool then I'll refract with you You're a mirage and your favorite color's see-through You're my fata morgana from this point of view Are there any words for my freakshow feelings Isn't sugarcoated terminology appealing Wouldn't it be easier to represent the meaning Of a hard to swallow concept with an arbitrary ceiling Cryptic cultish crease in the catalog Paranoia backtrack to analog I can run much faster than I can jog Magic circle summoning Chernobog I can break the barrier of sound and space With these essential elemental explanations in your face But it doesn't matter everything I say will go to waste Because the power of the mind is putting power out of place Hindsight reflecting, teenagers texting Late to the punch with the big money flexing Let's settle this with a match in the ring Or a match to the rope of a cannon firing I wanna die while I'm in the spotlight I want my death to inspire a rewrite I want to blur the lines of insight I want to make them think that I'm their height I wanna hypnotize and paralyze I wanna make them think that I'm their size I wanna break their spirits drink their blood I wanna **** their souls I wanna **** them good
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44
You are going to ask: and where are the lilacs? and the poppy-petalled metaphysics? and the rain repeatedly spattering its words and drilling them full of apertures and birds? I'll tell you all the news. I lived in a suburb, a suburb of Madrid, with bells, and clocks, and trees. From there you could look out over Castille's dry face: a leather ocean. My house was called the house of flowers, because in every cranny geraniums burst: it was a good-looking house with its dogs and children. Remember, Raul? Eh, Rafel? Federico, do you remember from under the ground my balconies on which the light of June drowned flowers in your mouth? Brother, my brother! Everything loud with big voices, the salt of merchandises, pile-ups of palpitating bread, the stalls of my suburb of Arguelles with its statue like a drained inkwell in a swirl of hake: oil flowed into spoons, a deep baying of feet and hands swelled in the streets, metres, litres, the sharp measure of life, stacked-up fish, the texture of roofs with a cold sun in which the weather vane falters, the fine, frenzied ivory of potatoes, wave on wave of tomatoes rolling down the sea. And one morning all that was burning, one morning the bonfires leapt out of the earth devouring human beings -- and from then on fire, gunpowder from then on, and from then on blood. Bandits with planes and Moors, bandits with finger-rings and duchesses, bandits with black friars spattering blessings came through the sky to **** children and the blood of children ran through the streets without fuss, like children's blood. Jackals that the jackals would despise, stones that the dry thistle would bite on and spit out, vipers that the vipers would abominate! Face to face with you I have seen the blood of Spain tower like a tide to drown you in one wave of pride and knives! Treacherous generals: see my dead house, look at broken Spain : from every house burning metal flows instead of flowers, from every socket of Spain Spain emerges and from every dead child a rifle with eyes, and from every crime bullets are born which will one day find the bull's eye of your hearts. And you'll ask: why doesn't his poetry speak of dreams and leaves and the great volcanoes of his native land? Come and see the blood in the streets. Come and see The blood in the streets. Come and see the blood In the streets!
0
23.3k
Pablo Neruda
I'm Explaining a Few Things
You are going to ask: and where are the lilacs? and the poppy-petalled metaphysics? and the rain repeatedly spattering its words and drilling them full of apertures and birds? I'll tell you all the news. I lived in a suburb, a suburb of Madrid, with bells, and clocks, and trees. From there you could look out over Castille's dry face: a leather ocean. My house was called the house of flowers, because in every cranny geraniums burst: it was a good-looking house with its dogs and children. Remember, Raul? Eh, Rafel? Federico, do you remember from under the ground my balconies on which the light of June drowned flowers in your mouth? Brother, my brother! Everything loud with big voices, the salt of merchandises, pile-ups of palpitating bread, the stalls of my suburb of Arguelles with its statue like a drained inkwell in a swirl of hake: oil flowed into spoons, a deep baying of feet and hands swelled in the streets, metres, litres, the sharp measure of life, stacked-up fish, the texture of roofs with a cold sun in which the weather vane falters, the fine, frenzied ivory of potatoes, wave on wave of tomatoes rolling down the sea. And one morning all that was burning, one morning the bonfires leapt out of the earth devouring human beings -- and from then on fire, gunpowder from then on, and from then on blood. Bandits with planes and Moors, bandits with finger-rings and duchesses, bandits with black friars spattering blessings came through the sky to **** children and the blood of children ran through the streets without fuss, like children's blood. Jackals that the jackals would despise, stones that the dry thistle would bite on and spit out, vipers that the vipers would abominate! Face to face with you I have seen the blood of Spain tower like a tide to drown you in one wave of pride and knives! Treacherous generals: see my dead house, look at broken Spain : from every house burning metal flows instead of flowers, from every socket of Spain Spain emerges and from every dead child a rifle with eyes, and from every crime bullets are born which will one day find the bull's eye of your hearts. And you'll ask: why doesn't his poetry speak of dreams and leaves and the great volcanoes of his native land? Come and see the blood in the streets. Come and see The blood in the streets. Come and see the blood In the streets!
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78
Willets cull the seawall snapper on the grill rock ***** swoon in shallow lagoons long boats pass under quiet palm shade Plovers dance and flutter handrails frayed and torn graffiti spots at lovers rock frigate-birds fall from a high noon sun Thatched roof on a mud wall fish flags settle score anchors arch in front line march pillar cracks form under rust brown scars Elegant tern and grebe watchmen fall in cue children play on crested waves whimbrels and notchers perch above Tentaciones Striped pelícanos the bandits of the sea! merchants grow in steady flow siblings jostle in a tide cooled sand Heerman gull and boobie durango smoke in yurt boiler shrimp and puffer blimp castle buckets and scrapers under a dusk light cheroot Six pulls on a lead line painted toes in sand shearwater run in a rainbow sun the portly mexicano flaunts his tacos and wares Rooster house for swordfish bamboo shoots and sails broken shells and ocean swells rise on the perfect La Ropa bay
0
Apr 14, 2017
Apr 14, 2017 at 2:22 PM UTC
ck-baker
Sotavento
Willets cull the seawall snapper on the grill rock ***** swoon in shallow lagoons long boats pass under quiet palm shade Plovers dance and flutter handrails frayed and torn graffiti spots at lovers rock frigate-birds fall from a high noon sun Thatched roof on a mud wall fish flags settle score anchors arch in front line march pillar cracks form under rust brown scars Elegant tern and grebe watchmen fall in cue children play on crested waves whimbrels and notchers perch above Tentaciones Striped pelícanos the bandits of the sea! merchants grow in steady flow siblings jostle in a tide cooled sand Heerman gull and boobie durango smoke in yurt boiler shrimp and puffer blimp castle buckets and scrapers under a dusk light cheroot Six pulls on a lead line painted toes in sand shearwater run in a rainbow sun the portly mexicano flaunts his tacos and wares Rooster house for swordfish bamboo shoots and sails broken shells and ocean swells rise on the perfect La Ropa bay
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53
I miss Lydia I lost her from my side I wanted so much for her to be my bride now I feel so lost She told me she was my sword and shield I took her with me across many a field but now I pay the cost. I need her by my side she fought so well from the Draugr, Bandits, the Forsworn and Dragons I cast many a spell she held me very tight at nights so that she could defrost. Lydia Lydia Lydia I call you're name why am I so heart broken it's just a game. I am now heavily laden items must get tossed I might have to start this game anew but that would make me feel so blue I made it to Whiterun and the forest I crossed I searched and searched for you as far as Markarth when will you join me once more and satisfy my heart I have come to a final point and feel extreme exhaust.
0
Oct 10, 2012
Oct 10, 2012 at 9:13 PM UTC
david-huggett
Skyrim
I miss Lydia I lost her from my side I wanted so much for her to be my bride now I feel so lost She told me she was my sword and shield I took her with me across many a field but now I pay the cost. I need her by my side she fought so well from the Draugr, Bandits, the Forsworn and Dragons I cast many a spell she held me very tight at nights so that she could defrost. Lydia Lydia Lydia I call you're name why am I so heart broken it's just a game. I am now heavily laden items must get tossed I might have to start this game anew but that would make me feel so blue I made it to Whiterun and the forest I crossed I searched and searched for you as far as Markarth when will you join me once more and satisfy my heart I have come to a final point and feel extreme exhaust.
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18
//// • || <> \\ / \ ### I I done seen everyone /// Too little food Over population ---- What do you think is gonna come ? ////// We walkin in a daze We tryin to be free The WARLORDS and BANDITS Runnin the whole place //// The fear of dyin The lose of dignity The child of compassion Is cryin /// We keep talkin as if somethin might be done /// I done seen you hidin ( I done seen everyone ) •••• Too little food Over population Fukushima death honeymoon /// Gather up the remnants and stand and be A lover of life till the end --- In full sanctity A world of pure wonder • A world Of purest possibility Becoming Love
0
Sep 17, 2014
Sep 17, 2014 at 8:21 PM UTC
jeffrey-robin
dignity
//// • || <> \\ / \ ### I I done seen everyone /// Too little food Over population ---- What do you think is gonna come ? ////// We walkin in a daze We tryin to be free The WARLORDS and BANDITS Runnin the whole place //// The fear of dyin The lose of dignity The child of compassion Is cryin /// We keep talkin as if somethin might be done /// I done seen you hidin ( I done seen everyone ) •••• Too little food Over population Fukushima death honeymoon /// Gather up the remnants and stand and be A lover of life till the end --- In full sanctity A world of pure wonder • A world Of purest possibility Becoming Love
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42
Pleasure, oh pleasure sitting in silence Among the lime trees The silence of delight A perfect pardon Sitting here in silence Among the lime trees No hurry, no hurry To go anywhere While strangers offer smiles Such perfect smiles Sitting here in silence Among the lime trees Magic a specialisation A practical specialisation Sitting here in silence Among the lime trees People of all kinds Come streaming by Pilot people Sitting here in silence Among the lime trees People passing with such power Sitting here in silence Among the lime trees All power is violence Sitting here in silence Among the lime trees Pleasure, oh pleasure Sitting here in silence Among the lime trees No power is needed here Sitting here in silence Among the lime trees Only truth and justice Sitting here in silence Among the lime trees No grievous ache remains a mystery Sitting here in silence Among the lime trees That purple mass made clear Sitting here in silence Among the lime trees An aroma here Sitting here in silence Among the lime trees An exuding stupefying aroma Sitting here in silence Among the lime trees That startles the sparrows Identical sparrows Sitting here in silence Among the lime trees Other silence is unequal Sitting here in silence Among the lime trees A quivering tenor of silence Sitting here in silence Among the lime trees Gilded silence that flashes Hazily across the vision Sitting here in silence Among the lime trees Frenzied silence, irresistible silence Sitting here in silence Among the lime trees Silence split into fragments Sitting here in silence Among the lime trees Fragments that remain intact Sitting here in silence Among the lime trees Silence that vanishes from sight Sitting here in silence Among the lime trees A severed silence That remains infused Golden and deceptive Sitting here in silence Among the lime trees Like split up bandits On the run Sitting here in silence Among the lime trees Who race up two Different boulevards Sitting here in silence Among the lime trees A day return silence Always nervous and irritable Sitting her in silence Among the lime trees A softening handsome Lilac colored silence Sitting here in silence Among the lime trees Regal in its resonance Of romance Sitting here in silence Among the lime trees A silence of scarlet kerchiefs Wears a tail coat Has black raven hair Sitting here in silence Among the lime trees Trying to catch spiders Rats, little devils and dogs Sitting here in silence Among the lime trees Day breaks Inexorably in silence Over the poet Sitting here in silence Among the lime trees The unstoppable Silence of silence Sitting here in silence Among the lime trees Such silence once started Is unstoppable Sitting here in silence Among the lime trees Such as the strange silence One finds in snow Sitting here in silence Among the lime trees Silence in a deserted shout Sitting here in silence Among the lime trees Oh such silent noise Such silent noise Silent noise, silent
0
Sep 28, 2012
Sep 28, 2012 at 3:46 PM UTC
edgar-whitman-wilde
Silence among the lime trees
Pleasure, oh pleasure sitting in silence Among the lime trees The silence of delight A perfect pardon Sitting here in silence Among the lime trees No hurry, no hurry To go anywhere While strangers offer smiles Such perfect smiles Sitting here in silence Among the lime trees Magic a specialisation A practical specialisation Sitting here in silence Among the lime trees People of all kinds Come streaming by Pilot people Sitting here in silence Among the lime trees People passing with such power Sitting here in silence Among the lime trees All power is violence Sitting here in silence Among the lime trees Pleasure, oh pleasure Sitting here in silence Among the lime trees No power is needed here Sitting here in silence Among the lime trees Only truth and justice Sitting here in silence Among the lime trees No grievous ache remains a mystery Sitting here in silence Among the lime trees That purple mass made clear Sitting here in silence Among the lime trees An aroma here Sitting here in silence Among the lime trees An exuding stupefying aroma Sitting here in silence Among the lime trees That startles the sparrows Identical sparrows Sitting here in silence Among the lime trees Other silence is unequal Sitting here in silence Among the lime trees A quivering tenor of silence Sitting here in silence Among the lime trees Gilded silence that flashes Hazily across the vision Sitting here in silence Among the lime trees Frenzied silence, irresistible silence Sitting here in silence Among the lime trees Silence split into fragments Sitting here in silence Among the lime trees Fragments that remain intact Sitting here in silence Among the lime trees Silence that vanishes from sight Sitting here in silence Among the lime trees A severed silence That remains infused Golden and deceptive Sitting here in silence Among the lime trees Like split up bandits On the run Sitting here in silence Among the lime trees Who race up two Different boulevards Sitting here in silence Among the lime trees A day return silence Always nervous and irritable Sitting her in silence Among the lime trees A softening handsome Lilac colored silence Sitting here in silence Among the lime trees Regal in its resonance Of romance Sitting here in silence Among the lime trees A silence of scarlet kerchiefs Wears a tail coat Has black raven hair Sitting here in silence Among the lime trees Trying to catch spiders Rats, little devils and dogs Sitting here in silence Among the lime trees Day breaks Inexorably in silence Over the poet Sitting here in silence Among the lime trees The unstoppable Silence of silence Sitting here in silence Among the lime trees Such silence once started Is unstoppable Sitting here in silence Among the lime trees Such as the strange silence One finds in snow Sitting here in silence Among the lime trees Silence in a deserted shout Sitting here in silence Among the lime trees Oh such silent noise Such silent noise Silent noise, silent
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131
Purple velvet curtains mimicked purple proses of long dead authors Auteurs and Anglophiles expressing desire, the desire for Desiree and she danced, she danced. Christie too, she danced, she danced Kick, snare, kick kick, snare, she danced rhythmic hypnosis Daddy watched from the bar, banal dance of the bandits And Katzarina, baby in the back, dances for love Fatherless child begging attention Dance no more my dear soul, for you deserve more Lecherous lounge acts, the men in ties Order another round, girls gather around Please me, dance for me, ****** and bashful The purple velvet reminds them of mother Cruel institutions that decay our psyche Patriarchal pesticides in pasta and porridge On the side of the mango, matriarchal monotony Oh stop this pretentious pillaging of poor prostitutes You are but a boy at the gates of existence, fear not, for the father and the mother shall hold your hand in the heavenly harem.
0
Feb 14, 2013
Feb 14, 2013 at 5:53 PM UTC
reece
Disregard My Hypochrisy For a Moment
Purple velvet curtains mimicked purple proses of long dead authors Auteurs and Anglophiles expressing desire, the desire for Desiree and she danced, she danced. Christie too, she danced, she danced Kick, snare, kick kick, snare, she danced rhythmic hypnosis Daddy watched from the bar, banal dance of the bandits And Katzarina, baby in the back, dances for love Fatherless child begging attention Dance no more my dear soul, for you deserve more Lecherous lounge acts, the men in ties Order another round, girls gather around Please me, dance for me, ****** and bashful The purple velvet reminds them of mother Cruel institutions that decay our psyche Patriarchal pesticides in pasta and porridge On the side of the mango, matriarchal monotony Oh stop this pretentious pillaging of poor prostitutes You are but a boy at the gates of existence, fear not, for the father and the mother shall hold your hand in the heavenly harem.
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18
Love and all its bandits steal lives and souls and hearts. No discrimination-- Won't tell good or bad apart. With an arrow at their fingertips, a bow that's poised to draw; Love and all its bandits steal and give to all.
0
Jan 28, 2015
Jan 28, 2015 at 11:32 PM UTC
cheyenne37
Thieves
Love and all its bandits steal lives and souls and hearts. No discrimination-- Won't tell good or bad apart. With an arrow at their fingertips, a bow that's poised to draw; Love and all its bandits steal and give to all.
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12
When I look out from the smudged and cracked windows of home, I know there's no place quite the same as right here; No place I could find that quite catches my ear, And no place quite the same that can swallow my fears, To the depths of this heated and comfortable box, In which I am protected by numerous locks, From intruders and bandits, Salesmen and clerks; I am the legal intruder, And for me, that's what works. Yet I'm here when, in fact, I am meant to be there; Not far from my home, I'm meant to be learning whats fair. I am meant to be learning what's right and what's wrong, Yet 6 hours of my time a day seems quite long, To be spending on verbs, nouns and pronouns, On algebra, fractions, and abnormal word sounds. This life is not theirs; this life is all mine, Such an old and used system would appear to be right, Yet I beg to differ, as revolution now squeaks, To push through the systems cracks and cause leaks, In which free-thinking filters the words of the old, Who believe themselves better, for they're trained and so bold. When I look to society, what is it I see? Is it a throng of a thousand people who seem to be free? Not quite, yet at the same time, that seems quite close, They are free in a box, in which authority is the host. *"Civilization has to be defended against the individual, And its regulations, institutions and commands are directed to that task."** Quite an obvious command, And it seems that at last, Man is learning to embrace what they each see as free; And it does not simply stop at being free to simply be, It goes beyond such in mind, matter, soul, and in trust; For it is the systems denial, Towards which I lust. The institutions, and nations, Corporations, news stations, Stateism, classism, all attempt to control, Who I am, what I do, where I go, who I meet; They tell me to relax, and just take a quick seat; Yet I know what I want from life is free feet, To be who I am, And take all the heat. To do what I do, And ignore what's 'elite.' To go where I go, And control, as such, my feet. To meet who I meet, And next to them, take a seat. I am not a name, And I am not a number. I am always awake in my mind, As I slumber.
0
Oct 18, 2010
Oct 18, 2010 at 10:58 AM UTC
tread
Fractal Ambivalence
When I look out from the smudged and cracked windows of home, I know there's no place quite the same as right here; No place I could find that quite catches my ear, And no place quite the same that can swallow my fears, To the depths of this heated and comfortable box, In which I am protected by numerous locks, From intruders and bandits, Salesmen and clerks; I am the legal intruder, And for me, that's what works. Yet I'm here when, in fact, I am meant to be there; Not far from my home, I'm meant to be learning whats fair. I am meant to be learning what's right and what's wrong, Yet 6 hours of my time a day seems quite long, To be spending on verbs, nouns and pronouns, On algebra, fractions, and abnormal word sounds. This life is not theirs; this life is all mine, Such an old and used system would appear to be right, Yet I beg to differ, as revolution now squeaks, To push through the systems cracks and cause leaks, In which free-thinking filters the words of the old, Who believe themselves better, for they're trained and so bold. When I look to society, what is it I see? Is it a throng of a thousand people who seem to be free? Not quite, yet at the same time, that seems quite close, They are free in a box, in which authority is the host. *"Civilization has to be defended against the individual, And its regulations, institutions and commands are directed to that task."** Quite an obvious command, And it seems that at last, Man is learning to embrace what they each see as free; And it does not simply stop at being free to simply be, It goes beyond such in mind, matter, soul, and in trust; For it is the systems denial, Towards which I lust. The institutions, and nations, Corporations, news stations, Stateism, classism, all attempt to control, Who I am, what I do, where I go, who I meet; They tell me to relax, and just take a quick seat; Yet I know what I want from life is free feet, To be who I am, And take all the heat. To do what I do, And ignore what's 'elite.' To go where I go, And control, as such, my feet. To meet who I meet, And next to them, take a seat. I am not a name, And I am not a number. I am always awake in my mind, As I slumber.
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54
In the land of silk goods traded hands- cotton, ivory, wool, gold, and silver - down one stretch of land a down side to this trade that led to much disarray was the bandits and disease that also traveled this way
0
Nov 5, 2015
Nov 5, 2015 at 11:51 AM UTC
Hopelesscause
silk road
In the land of silk goods traded hands- cotton, ivory, wool, gold, and silver - down one stretch of land a down side to this trade that led to much disarray was the bandits and disease that also traveled this way
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8
Until then, I'm going to keep driving in the darkness until the sun rises and brings me light. So I can see through all this ******** traffic. So I can find my way home. Either way, one day. Someday, that's a nice thought. It's going to happen.
0
May 14, 2012
May 14, 2012 at 12:52 PM UTC
Sacrelicious
Bandits! Part VII: Da Game Plan.
Until then, I'm going to keep driving in the darkness until the sun rises and brings me light. So I can see through all this ******** traffic. So I can find my way home. Either way, one day. Someday, that's a nice thought. It's going to happen.
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18
"Hello there," said I to the stranger beside, "I'm Cari, and this is my boyfriend." The stranger looked past, with some side-eye and sass, And said, "You must be overjoyed, then." I tilted my head to the side then and said, "I am, we've decided to marry!" The stranger just frowned and then said, his voice down, "I was being sarcastic, he's scary." I frowned then, in turn, and my boyfriend, face stern, Said, "C'mon, babe," in dirtied apparel. With his crossbow in hand he led me through the land, Snuffing zombies and bandits-- oh, Daryl.
0
Aug 21, 2013
Aug 21, 2013 at 11:52 PM UTC
cari-jane-leemaster
Daryl Dixon
"Hello there," said I to the stranger beside, "I'm Cari, and this is my boyfriend." The stranger looked past, with some side-eye and sass, And said, "You must be overjoyed, then." I tilted my head to the side then and said, "I am, we've decided to marry!" The stranger just frowned and then said, his voice down, "I was being sarcastic, he's scary." I frowned then, in turn, and my boyfriend, face stern, Said, "C'mon, babe," in dirtied apparel. With his crossbow in hand he led me through the land, Snuffing zombies and bandits-- oh, Daryl.
Continue reading...
12
Fifteen uniform clouds Roll across the prairie In a neat little line on the horizon Kicking up dust storms as they go Hurrying along Silently The settlers driving their wagons Keeping their lips tight And their eyes sharp Because there are Indians Lurking behind every rock Bandits and thieves Waiting in the hills Snakes Scorpions Buffalo Guns Disease Separation Heartache Might surprise them at any moment Might make them victims and this moment their last The settler’s hearts are racing At 120 beats per minute Pounding out a rhythm Unlike anything they’ve ever known Their hands are working at nothing In the thin dry air Twirling, twisting, pirouetting frantically Their jaws are clenching tightly Spasming, biting, drawing blood from their tongues Their eyes are wide, unblinking, terrified Seeing it all as it really is, Really should be And secretly, perhaps subconsciously, Unrealizing, They hope life will always feel this alive But then, In a few weeks When they’ve made it to the city To the town To the shelter and comfort of ease Civilization opens up her greedy maw Swallows them whole And licks her ****** fingers clean So as not to stain her tidy white frock And the settlers do nothing Complacently allowing themselves to be digested But they are thinking “This is what I wanted?” The voices in their heads have reached fever pitch, disgusted, screaming, “This is what I wanted??” And still they do nothing
0
Mar 19, 2012
Mar 19, 2012 at 4:05 PM UTC
holly-salvatore
The Settlers
Fifteen uniform clouds Roll across the prairie In a neat little line on the horizon Kicking up dust storms as they go Hurrying along Silently The settlers driving their wagons Keeping their lips tight And their eyes sharp Because there are Indians Lurking behind every rock Bandits and thieves Waiting in the hills Snakes Scorpions Buffalo Guns Disease Separation Heartache Might surprise them at any moment Might make them victims and this moment their last The settler’s hearts are racing At 120 beats per minute Pounding out a rhythm Unlike anything they’ve ever known Their hands are working at nothing In the thin dry air Twirling, twisting, pirouetting frantically Their jaws are clenching tightly Spasming, biting, drawing blood from their tongues Their eyes are wide, unblinking, terrified Seeing it all as it really is, Really should be And secretly, perhaps subconsciously, Unrealizing, They hope life will always feel this alive But then, In a few weeks When they’ve made it to the city To the town To the shelter and comfort of ease Civilization opens up her greedy maw Swallows them whole And licks her ****** fingers clean So as not to stain her tidy white frock And the settlers do nothing Complacently allowing themselves to be digested But they are thinking “This is what I wanted?” The voices in their heads have reached fever pitch, disgusted, screaming, “This is what I wanted??” And still they do nothing
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53
Glitz and glamour Subterranean armed bandits Streetwalker zombies
0
Feb 14, 2014
Feb 14, 2014 at 4:18 AM UTC
jonny-angel
Remembering Las Vegas (Haiku)
Glitz and glamour Subterranean armed bandits Streetwalker zombies
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3
Here I am, In a long, low, valley, On a horse, under sweltering sky. A single trail runs East to West, As far as the eye can see. The sheep-skin bags, Strung low off the saddle, Are empty. Bandits rode into town last week, And made off with a couple of dreams, Now I must know, Which way to go, I am the Sheriff, The dream-catcher.
0
Jul 26, 2012
Jul 26, 2012 at 1:36 AM UTC
ipoet
Dream catcher
Here I am, In a long, low, valley, On a horse, under sweltering sky. A single trail runs East to West, As far as the eye can see. The sheep-skin bags, Strung low off the saddle, Are empty. Bandits rode into town last week, And made off with a couple of dreams, Now I must know, Which way to go, I am the Sheriff, The dream-catcher.
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14
Olive Spectrum - An employee at the BNB Bank. Olive Spectrum is best friends with Jewel StoneWall. She is the love interest for Akurra Wings. Akurra Wings - The leader of the Black Crime Syndicate. Akurra owns a scrap yard. Akurra is thd love interest for Olive Spectrum. Jewel StoneWall - The owner of the Golden Scissors hair salon. Jewel StoneWall is best friends with Olive Spectrum. The Black Crime Syndicate - A black criminal organization led by Akurra Wings. The symbol for the Black Crime Syndicate is a winged snake coiling around a Cherry Blossom tree. Amber Forest - The second in command of the Black Crime Syndicate. Edward Davis - The owner of Club Envy strip club. Jade Moss - The leader of The Jade Dragons. Jade Moss is a black woman. Green Haven - The name of the city where the story takes place. The Jade Dragons - A criminal organization led by Jade Moss. The Jade Dragons are allies with The Black Crime Syndicate. BNB Bank - The bank where Olive Spectrum is employed. The Golden Scissors - A hair salon owned by Jewel StoneWall. Club Envy - A strip club owned by Edward Davis. The Long Arm Bandits - A criminal organization who members are corrupt police officers. The long arm bandits are rivals to The Black Crime Syndicate. Written by Keith Edward Baucum
0
Jun 15, 2016
Jun 15, 2016 at 2:24 PM UTC
keith-edward-baucum
Characters in GREEN
Olive Spectrum - An employee at the BNB Bank. Olive Spectrum is best friends with Jewel StoneWall. She is the love interest for Akurra Wings. Akurra Wings - The leader of the Black Crime Syndicate. Akurra owns a scrap yard. Akurra is thd love interest for Olive Spectrum. Jewel StoneWall - The owner of the Golden Scissors hair salon. Jewel StoneWall is best friends with Olive Spectrum. The Black Crime Syndicate - A black criminal organization led by Akurra Wings. The symbol for the Black Crime Syndicate is a winged snake coiling around a Cherry Blossom tree. Amber Forest - The second in command of the Black Crime Syndicate. Edward Davis - The owner of Club Envy strip club. Jade Moss - The leader of The Jade Dragons. Jade Moss is a black woman. Green Haven - The name of the city where the story takes place. The Jade Dragons - A criminal organization led by Jade Moss. The Jade Dragons are allies with The Black Crime Syndicate. BNB Bank - The bank where Olive Spectrum is employed. The Golden Scissors - A hair salon owned by Jewel StoneWall. Club Envy - A strip club owned by Edward Davis. The Long Arm Bandits - A criminal organization who members are corrupt police officers. The long arm bandits are rivals to The Black Crime Syndicate. Written by Keith Edward Baucum
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14
A splash of white and blue As if thrown there by a careless Van Gogh Is interrupted by a small black speck A message from the military: "Stay away from my favorite houses!" As they sour down to collect what none could reach You wanna go out there? Be my guest. The power must swoon with you. Do you three share advice or happen to know Exactly what to say? The muzzle flashes show me your position The blind dogs swarming the countryside Have you seen a mutant rampage As beautiful as this? In the sunset the pigs turn to gray matter The clouds become vapor trails Like the end of this AK Shelters are scarce and furthermore Can not be claimed It's just an ongoing war for refuge From all the acid rain. Radiation appears like the haze above a bonfire But in the middle of a dirt road And the Bandits want your ***** Mounds of garbage piled on hillsides Of swaying grass Facilities, power-lines, bare trees in April Holes in the sky Where to turn?
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Aug 10, 2010
Aug 10, 2010 at 11:40 AM UTC
ryan-bowdish
Chernobyl, My Sweet
A splash of white and blue As if thrown there by a careless Van Gogh Is interrupted by a small black speck A message from the military: "Stay away from my favorite houses!" As they sour down to collect what none could reach You wanna go out there? Be my guest. The power must swoon with you. Do you three share advice or happen to know Exactly what to say? The muzzle flashes show me your position The blind dogs swarming the countryside Have you seen a mutant rampage As beautiful as this? In the sunset the pigs turn to gray matter The clouds become vapor trails Like the end of this AK Shelters are scarce and furthermore Can not be claimed It's just an ongoing war for refuge From all the acid rain. Radiation appears like the haze above a bonfire But in the middle of a dirt road And the Bandits want your ***** Mounds of garbage piled on hillsides Of swaying grass Facilities, power-lines, bare trees in April Holes in the sky Where to turn?
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29
orange juice and a rabid flight of love for you but not the kind of love requiring either bent over the counter. the kind of love where what is one is alls'. is everyones', is everything and there is never one - either side - going wanting for our emotions shared are those mutually lost in the greater mass of what humanity has culled into their concept of social awareness and some chick ranting about the collective consciousness. they're evil, or so told. and onward, always forward but never straight to remember a perpetual motion of the hands controlled by the soul - that's what's called the mind these days. forgone, for a single word, far gone and lost in the wind with sails ripping from the flushed canvas swollen by the trade winds - not those trade winds, but ours. our conversation and appreciation, and this allegory - metaphor more likely - is of the soul being the true vessel when the vessel is the last vessel, and to please the dying vessel, repeat in infinity this ******* cycle of Samsara. en eternal vessel of meat ground fine to be filtered through silicone. this is our ship, this spurned burger of muscles that succumbs to parasites finding us pork. eat the **** gain the trich unlike caring Canadians who destroyed the pig in them. destroyed the mentality of what is wrong but quit? why ever try for greater, and learning is not an end to a means. and again the souls vessel - allegorized Ulysses proper - is in metaphor a ship, breath the trade winds and wisdom precious cargo. the null are bandits, the haired beast of both the North and South . . barbarous action through organization and labeling of existence as A to B, as A to Z, and realize that means twenty-six is the end.
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Mar 22, 2013
Mar 22, 2013 at 8:00 AM UTC
townsendfm
AGWANTI
orange juice and a rabid flight of love for you but not the kind of love requiring either bent over the counter. the kind of love where what is one is alls'. is everyones', is everything and there is never one - either side - going wanting for our emotions shared are those mutually lost in the greater mass of what humanity has culled into their concept of social awareness and some chick ranting about the collective consciousness. they're evil, or so told. and onward, always forward but never straight to remember a perpetual motion of the hands controlled by the soul - that's what's called the mind these days. forgone, for a single word, far gone and lost in the wind with sails ripping from the flushed canvas swollen by the trade winds - not those trade winds, but ours. our conversation and appreciation, and this allegory - metaphor more likely - is of the soul being the true vessel when the vessel is the last vessel, and to please the dying vessel, repeat in infinity this ******* cycle of Samsara. en eternal vessel of meat ground fine to be filtered through silicone. this is our ship, this spurned burger of muscles that succumbs to parasites finding us pork. eat the **** gain the trich unlike caring Canadians who destroyed the pig in them. destroyed the mentality of what is wrong but quit? why ever try for greater, and learning is not an end to a means. and again the souls vessel - allegorized Ulysses proper - is in metaphor a ship, breath the trade winds and wisdom precious cargo. the null are bandits, the haired beast of both the North and South . . barbarous action through organization and labeling of existence as A to B, as A to Z, and realize that means twenty-six is the end.
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51
****** **** such a tragedy. Between kin bloodlines abominations of unrighteous unity. Speak loud and spare not, victims stop keeping it hidden. A sin so scandalous so forbidden. This secret is the reason for some insane things. Punishment on our Nation it brings. Stop the transgress it’s time to progress to detest the ugliness of ****** The sin of ****** put out from us such wickedness Crimes within the family. Outcry why oh God why. Emotions cry spirits die. Survival with scars somehow. Child kept secrets at least for now. Innocent sweet nectar just taken. Abused shattered then forsaken. Inwardly hating the humiliation. Lingering curse.   Bound to be rehearsed. A bloodline search, unthought-of   curse our generation. How can we cleanse this crime  from our nation. Child **** such outrage of wickedness. Such a corruptible trespass. Men lusting after little boys. Using them as ****** toys. Outcry iniquity.  Loss of innocent purity. Killers of purity, thieves, bandits doings malicious things in secrecy. Abused children in mind body and spirit. Hear their voices silently cry who’s close enough to hear it. Legal laws. Often with flaws Putting children in harms way. Hard to prove it allowing perpetrators often to stay. Courts judicial systems poor outcome. Criminals getting counseling with their worst still to be done It’s a unhealed spiritual condition. Warriors do our best to rid ourselves of this affliction. Wrongful unthinkable vexation. Impure affections of ****** connection. Between the bloodlines. Children with Children sexually learned crimes. Scares of a lifetime. People wake up let us not be blind. I beg you I pray. Let’s do more to protect our children in any way.
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Feb 12, 2018
Feb 12, 2018 at 2:15 PM UTC
SelinaSharday
****** A Tragedy Of Transgressions
****** **** such a tragedy. Between kin bloodlines abominations of unrighteous unity. Speak loud and spare not, victims stop keeping it hidden. A sin so scandalous so forbidden. This secret is the reason for some insane things. Punishment on our Nation it brings. Stop the transgress it’s time to progress to detest the ugliness of ****** The sin of ****** put out from us such wickedness Crimes within the family. Outcry why oh God why. Emotions cry spirits die. Survival with scars somehow. Child kept secrets at least for now. Innocent sweet nectar just taken. Abused shattered then forsaken. Inwardly hating the humiliation. Lingering curse.   Bound to be rehearsed. A bloodline search, unthought-of   curse our generation. How can we cleanse this crime  from our nation. Child **** such outrage of wickedness. Such a corruptible trespass. Men lusting after little boys. Using them as ****** toys. Outcry iniquity.  Loss of innocent purity. Killers of purity, thieves, bandits doings malicious things in secrecy. Abused children in mind body and spirit. Hear their voices silently cry who’s close enough to hear it. Legal laws. Often with flaws Putting children in harms way. Hard to prove it allowing perpetrators often to stay. Courts judicial systems poor outcome. Criminals getting counseling with their worst still to be done It’s a unhealed spiritual condition. Warriors do our best to rid ourselves of this affliction. Wrongful unthinkable vexation. Impure affections of ****** connection. Between the bloodlines. Children with Children sexually learned crimes. Scares of a lifetime. People wake up let us not be blind. I beg you I pray. Let’s do more to protect our children in any way.
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43
Trotting along, Narrow dusty trails, Under a black sky, It's not like the city, The stars don't illuminate the cold, empty dessert, Here they just forsake you. Lantern hitched to saddle, All it means is you can't see more than three feet ahead of yourself, Just deep, pitch black, inescapable darkness. Praying for safe passage, Armed for knowing better, It's not fear of the dark, of course, It's the fear of not knowing what lingers in it, Coyotes, wolves, maybe a mountain lion, None of 'em compare to bandits, It's reminiscent of Twain, Nothing like a coward using the dark to his advantage. Red on the horizon, Anxiety begins to sink as peach seeps into the sky, Survived the night, Hope to survive another, Under a black sky
0
May 21, 2013
May 21, 2013 at 5:37 PM UTC
jake-easterlind
Under a black sky
Trotting along, Narrow dusty trails, Under a black sky, It's not like the city, The stars don't illuminate the cold, empty dessert, Here they just forsake you. Lantern hitched to saddle, All it means is you can't see more than three feet ahead of yourself, Just deep, pitch black, inescapable darkness. Praying for safe passage, Armed for knowing better, It's not fear of the dark, of course, It's the fear of not knowing what lingers in it, Coyotes, wolves, maybe a mountain lion, None of 'em compare to bandits, It's reminiscent of Twain, Nothing like a coward using the dark to his advantage. Red on the horizon, Anxiety begins to sink as peach seeps into the sky, Survived the night, Hope to survive another, Under a black sky
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22
White Gods, for brown people Selling salvation beneath a church steeple They say to seek Jesus, for he is the one Cheaper than bullets, far less than a gun Your eternal soul is all you must give And together forever, in heaven you'll live
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Feb 21, 2013
Feb 21, 2013 at 5:23 PM UTC
tvleasco
Mexican Bandits
White Gods, for brown people Selling salvation beneath a church steeple They say to seek Jesus, for he is the one Cheaper than bullets, far less than a gun Your eternal soul is all you must give And together forever, in heaven you'll live
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6
The bandits and outlaws own this town, The anarchists and killers roam free, The innocent haven’t suffered, They’re extinct, Genuinely, Intensely, Migrated to a better place, Now that the laws and rules don’t apply, This world is free of substantial duty, Discipline exists as a rule of criminal code, The conduct of personal freedom is to live, Numero uno lives to rebel and scratch out, To know the enemy as himself, Regretting nothing, Punching himself in the chest Treasuring the moment, In all fickle splendor, To not be thought about too hard, Experienced in mishap, Total bedlam the usual events, Drunken buffoonery, Lazy expectations, Silly and trite, Can’t tell the difference after a while in this town. Maybe at one point there was a group, A genuine collection of unique and careful persons, With a great deal to offer and intelligence, A new way to think, An ****** for the masses created in a basement with some ***** The ceremony turned to reality, Too intimidating to comprehend and soon it consumed, Corruption and went ugly…quick, Roots went sour and now spread, Core and far and wide, Grew up to make it all sunken, Down the tubes, Fueling the sun and expounding nothing, Just mindless energy wandering, No purpose, Dealing with the devil everyday, Coming up on top.
0
Nov 15, 2012
Nov 15, 2012 at 11:26 PM UTC
wack-tastic
BANDITS AND OUTLAWS
The bandits and outlaws own this town, The anarchists and killers roam free, The innocent haven’t suffered, They’re extinct, Genuinely, Intensely, Migrated to a better place, Now that the laws and rules don’t apply, This world is free of substantial duty, Discipline exists as a rule of criminal code, The conduct of personal freedom is to live, Numero uno lives to rebel and scratch out, To know the enemy as himself, Regretting nothing, Punching himself in the chest Treasuring the moment, In all fickle splendor, To not be thought about too hard, Experienced in mishap, Total bedlam the usual events, Drunken buffoonery, Lazy expectations, Silly and trite, Can’t tell the difference after a while in this town. Maybe at one point there was a group, A genuine collection of unique and careful persons, With a great deal to offer and intelligence, A new way to think, An ****** for the masses created in a basement with some ***** The ceremony turned to reality, Too intimidating to comprehend and soon it consumed, Corruption and went ugly…quick, Roots went sour and now spread, Core and far and wide, Grew up to make it all sunken, Down the tubes, Fueling the sun and expounding nothing, Just mindless energy wandering, No purpose, Dealing with the devil everyday, Coming up on top.
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41
Leather seating, closure in these moments while we’re on the longest of this drive, Maps stuffed in the glove compartment; where shall we go on this long road? Not giving hearts, but giving you my word, in a blue chassis ride, skipping gears to get to five. Going down hill, and I’ll put it down into glide. I’m not as neutral, to express my eyes, reflecting all the pretty mirrors of your body. Lap sitting, holding onto my steering wheel, hand on a rear; wipers set on low. And I’ll kiss you one last time, as if the last becomes the first. _Blue Nissan,_ tell me if you’ve even been in a ride like this before? When your empty pockets are full, and you’re driving a car you could never afford. I promised myself, not to do the wrongs I do to myself to someone I love. To not go on stealing hearts, as if this world doesn’t have too many bandits. My hands are vowed to only rest their desires on you. These lips are a secret only to know your ears. This love I can only gladly give to my God, You, and His people. Death isn’t an end to us, but just a new beginning we can only get to one by one. So keep my seat warm up in Heaven, and I’ll keep yours too if it’s me to go before you. Whether sickness is chasing my lungs, cancers diagnosed on my list of problems, Let’s just be running towards the days of life you and I both still have. And like this drive, with no rush to our final destination, But enjoyment of all we’ll experience on this road of life.
0
May 14, 2022
May 14, 2022 at 11:46 AM UTC
OddOdysseyPoet
Blue Nissan wedding vows
Leather seating, closure in these moments while we’re on the longest of this drive, Maps stuffed in the glove compartment; where shall we go on this long road? Not giving hearts, but giving you my word, in a blue chassis ride, skipping gears to get to five. Going down hill, and I’ll put it down into glide. I’m not as neutral, to express my eyes, reflecting all the pretty mirrors of your body. Lap sitting, holding onto my steering wheel, hand on a rear; wipers set on low. And I’ll kiss you one last time, as if the last becomes the first. _Blue Nissan,_ tell me if you’ve even been in a ride like this before? When your empty pockets are full, and you’re driving a car you could never afford. I promised myself, not to do the wrongs I do to myself to someone I love. To not go on stealing hearts, as if this world doesn’t have too many bandits. My hands are vowed to only rest their desires on you. These lips are a secret only to know your ears. This love I can only gladly give to my God, You, and His people. Death isn’t an end to us, but just a new beginning we can only get to one by one. So keep my seat warm up in Heaven, and I’ll keep yours too if it’s me to go before you. Whether sickness is chasing my lungs, cancers diagnosed on my list of problems, Let’s just be running towards the days of life you and I both still have. And like this drive, with no rush to our final destination, But enjoyment of all we’ll experience on this road of life.
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36
It's Unfortunate that greed and all the other deadly sins have stolen the meaning of the message. I think this is why people can feel empty. Untouchable, Worthless, Disgusting & Ugly. Even though that's the polar bipolar opposite side of us. Just because they're in a dark, depressing ditch of despair. It DOES not mean, you have to join in on the pity into hate Debbie Downer party. Garbage dumps smell bad and no one wants to be in or near them. Stay outta da dumps. Debbie Downer can go down on herself. Mean people can just ********** till their parts bleed out.
0
Apr 1, 2012
Apr 1, 2012 at 9:47 PM UTC
Sacrelicious
Bandits! Part V: Realities.
It's Unfortunate that greed and all the other deadly sins have stolen the meaning of the message. I think this is why people can feel empty. Untouchable, Worthless, Disgusting & Ugly. Even though that's the polar bipolar opposite side of us. Just because they're in a dark, depressing ditch of despair. It DOES not mean, you have to join in on the pity into hate Debbie Downer party. Garbage dumps smell bad and no one wants to be in or near them. Stay outta da dumps. Debbie Downer can go down on herself. Mean people can just ********** till their parts bleed out.
Continue reading...
46