"boomin" poems
Everyone dies
Story’s always the same
I just wish I could tell it
Some new, different way
To revivify life
With a vivid description
Instead of this atmosphere’s
Toxic constriction
Malnourishment kitchen
An infant mortality
Failure to listen
To self-absorbed, carbon-based
Standard emission
Way passed overfishin’
For likes on the social de-human condition
Automaton autobahn
Trickle down neocon
For-profit prison bomb
Boomin’ like radical
Islamic martyrdom
Unemployed masses
Of back of the classes
The masking of innocent
Voices in ashes
An **** of power
And greed wretches *****
Mother Earth out to fuel
Their big engines of war
An insatiable thirst for more
Curdled blood screams
As I rot to the Corps
Of America’s Dreams
Jul 17, 2018
Jul 17, 2018 at 4:13 PM UTC
Weather you ride motorbike
Or play the guitar
Weather you fight in the war
Or ride threw the stars
Weather you hide in the bars
Escape from the gloom
Weather your scared of the dark
Or confided to a room
Weather your the brain with a spark
Or a ****** addict
The drunk in the park
Or work at a medical practice
What im trying to say the common factor is human. Embrace move on no run nore race.
When life maybe be boomin. Grab a mirror look into your face and consider your place.
Quick to judge with no room for a thought
Quick to condemn no room for them sort
Society tells us where different.but im telling you where equal.
Put everything a side and see that where people.
Jul 9, 2013
Jul 9, 2013 at 1:03 PM UTC
You mad genius, Hep cat with the small change jinglin’ in your pocket and razorblade at your throat
Jagged gravel voice crooning love songs about the Apocalypse and the gritty city streets
Crazy angel talking to God and dealing with the devil; raconteur to both
Dig that broken glass cry deep down inside rising out of your ragged mouth
Piano playing jazz, muddy beatbox boomin’, guitar wailin’ in the back alley
Car alarms and the thump thrump thump of the bass, city life and high nights
Crank up the noise and blow that sax, got Ol’ Scratch on your back and death hitchin’ a ride
Ya gotta keep the fire burnin’ ‘til the snake oil salesman slither on home to his whiskey bottle
Lyin’ with your dreams on, just keep playing that late night street corner diner song ‘til I’m gone
‘Til I’m dead, far, and gone
Sep 17, 2011
Sep 17, 2011 at 7:13 AM UTC
Woke up this morning I was tired as hell, decided I would sit in the garden and dwell,
On the last weekend of pubs and clubs,when my ears picked up this feeble buzz,
Now usually the buzzin’ is my bassbox boomin’ but my bassbox bins were still back in my room,
Looked at my feet and to my surprise was a big bumblebee who’d fallen from the skies,
He looked worn out,torn up up,but still a lil’ fighter, musta gotten separated from the rest of his flight yeah,
So I remembered a tale taught by my mum,how to get a tired bee back to buzzin and hummin,
Put some salt and some water in a little saucer,and watch him build up his strength like a sorcerer,
But I decided to add my own twist to the game,so the Manuka honey,out she came,
Put a little dose of each in the saucer on the ground,so I could help the lil’ fella start buzzin around.
Helped him over the lip of the saucer quick,he looked about done in til he gave it a sip,
Then like popeye with spinach he started to swell,comin’ hummin like a trooper from the gates of hell,
From close to the end he was like Zip Zing!,floatin’ like a butterfly,ready to sting,
He took off and flew around all my ma’s fresh roses,full of beans, lookin mean striking Irish bee poses,
Then he landed on my hand but not to sting me up,
Took a little Bee bow then rose right up,
And I coulda swore I heard a voice hummin out to me,
"Thanks man you really helped out this busy bee",
He floated like a butterfly off my hand ready to sting if needed on the flowers he lands,
Then I gave him a wave and went on my way, and started the bee- ginnings of my own busy day.
Mar 27, 2016
Mar 27, 2016 at 3:50 PM UTC
Sitting down by the pond the other evening,
Taking in the sunset and listening to how nature puts her children to bed,
I happened to notice my amphibian friends.
Now, I love sounds, loud ones, soft ones, booming, and whispers.
Got a right fetish for listening to nature.
As I sat there entranced, my ears started picking out different frog calls.
You know, them boy frogs trying to sound all handsome and friendly to get a wink from their girlfriends.
And not just the frogs either, ya know, there's some toads out there too.
I was hearing big ole Bullfrogs, boomin' louder than a drum in a parade.
Tiny spring peepers, with their loud high pitched sharp peeps.
There was Fowler's Toads out there too, sounding like ole Henry stuck a knife in his wife's chest, and she screamed for her life.
Them there grey tree frogs, well they are somethin'.
Chatterin' like a monkey missin' his bananas.
And don't get me started on those green frogs, boy howdy, they can twang with the best of em.
Right funny if you don't mind me saying.
But, that trilling those American toads do, out shining those short trillin' Western Chorus frogs evra time, is somethin' else.
Why they can hold a note pert near a full three minutes.
Never can tell how rich wild life is around ya til ya sit a spell and take a listen.
You may not see 'em out there, but shore nuf, life's a going on.
Oct 1, 2010
Oct 1, 2010 at 3:58 PM UTC
Integration of spirit and body, is a reason for being mortal for a while
for some
secret reason
known only to the initiates,
the Melchisidekean
Priest hood, known by believers to be Jesus, Pre-existancy
Avatar thingy do.
Ah, but Lucifer and he were bros, y'know. The rub, that nagging urge,
get up and move the wagon, why lie
there comfy in your bubble
believing not all spirits are from God, but
some are. Try the spirits, if they can preach the good news
the angels brought:
God and the disconnected reconnected, Joy flows to the world.
Alleluia, right.
-- note: no list of do/don'ts save common sense.
Plugitin plugitin a bean in y'ear, a bean in y'ear
about as big as a yeast
beast.
Leaven, y'know, comes in flavors. Like proteins,
most leavening things leaven only one thing,
however,
word borne leaven leavens
everything,
and we ain't speakin' even-jello-ic jiggle of crystalizatio,
we talking boomin' gaseous gluten intro-learyant
beans, beans, beans po'folk beans
leavenistical
words witcha maya hoid yo grama say
breathe. Be leaving all your lies and tries to us as we
dare to cast our care
wind words, net let out, starboard,
un-error-o-matic
good new net. Wait.
Jun 23, 2019
Jun 23, 2019 at 1:03 PM UTC
Walk in the room everyone knows your the guy
Dudes thank you Kool but your just tryna get by
Women wanna ***** but you barely got the time
Making money quick knowin he has a plan
Used to burn daily not just Benjamin's in his hand
Rarely leaves home but works always boomin
Who woulda known one day the cops would come shootin
Stray bullet hit his son neck
Now it's on now mr,gold had shooters and choppers on deck
Feelin like scarf ace shootin coppers down
Bullets bust his head my.golds down
City's cold now police patrol now
Dudes fighting for control now
Nov 20, 2014
Nov 20, 2014 at 2:02 AM UTC
Gets glimpses of what you are
What you came from
Drive pasted miles Davis
Play it off my apple
Play it for the doctor
Needing patients
So I'm files saving
Speak of the devil
I just walked in
Teaching all you ladies what's fun again
Stereo blasting
Generations of woman
Diana Ross on the juke box making it retro
Metropolitan
Hit it with some strong
now mixing with metro boomin
Record it with some personus fam
Lady's what happened
Ladies What's happening?
to all of them
May 8, 2017
May 8, 2017 at 1:35 AM UTC
As gold as my soul as it slithers and shivers
And withers
To smithereens
First she was fire and ice at the same time
Second was burning wealth land with the moonshine
Deep as the sky when I’m high in the sky
Now I fear of no depths of the bottle, I ask why?
Try as I might to undo what I do
To imagine the tombs they await I and you
They equate I and you
They degrade I and you
And they make us see through what is not I and you
One more reason to fight
For a lefty theft right
To threat Tet upon agent’s of oranges blight
Splittin’ 3/5th’s a white
With arms-dealin’ pro life
Like it’s Jefferson smokin’ his whipper wind pipe
Diggin’ Ghraibs for his slaves in the back of a black site
Business is boomin’ like Truman in ruins
We trade magic mushrooms with animist humans
That’s just how we do it
In 50 state fascist Ford family reunions
Of clinically cynical gimmick illusions
Malthusian predictions
On stocked market shelves
Just as coated in sugar
As Keibler elves’ spells
British rebels who colonize
Liberty bells
Pledging sacrosanct vanity
Brinksmanship sanity
Phosphorous fire and fury brutality
Tyrant king lizards of ye olde feudality
Mar 4, 2018
Mar 4, 2018 at 11:12 PM UTC
September 23 is for Harmony
Yippee
23 plus 5 equals 28
The birthday of Allah's Prophet (PBUH), a most memorable date
2 plus 3 equals 5
days later, God hollers, Eid Milad Saeed, we're live
Your birthday starting last night
with a full moon shining bright
I waved happy birthday with a schoolgirl's sincerity
and you said back, A rainbow lunar halo, for some a symbol of harmony
To the most honest man, the most trustworthy human
Messenger Muhammad's full of Iman and taqwa, alive with stocks boomin
A fighter against injustice, oppression, colonialism, imperialism, racism, sexism, any ill we name
As Musa said, Somebody has to explain that paper money is the key threat in this game
The Final Chosen One went low to get he and others high
Talking God's words, speaking truth respectfully to help call girls get shy
On 23, God said, Enter the world a bright smile Harmony
On 28, Here comes good people to celebrate, a beautiful bumble bee
A most lovely man, we shout for, Yay, she saying, Cheese
His humble reply, Thank you. No, please
Insisting we give thanks and show gratitude to the one who birthed The Prophet, Amina
and to the ONE who created him and his daughter al-Zahra, Fatima
God's dutiful servant urging us, More eggs in the basket for the akhirah and less in the basket for the dunya
She too would say, your Siti Haneefah
We're here today, September 28th already and tomorrow will soon be gone, no more a life
An exuberant cheer, We love you dearest Prophet and your most beloved and favored wife
For Ahmad, Hamid, Mahmud, the focus, the VIP today
From a grateful student and from a thoughtful Auntie, this poem is for The #1 Muhammad and Harmony K
By: Najwa Kareem
Sep 28, 2023
Sep 28, 2023 at 7:19 PM UTC