"coons" poems
My little deer
Is that you
peeking between the trees
peering at the stag
but your heart's
still not at ease
... time ago
a short time
a stray cupid's arrow
shot the night air
splitting your spirit in two
frightened you took off
from the foreboding
hiding in a lea
there was sun
and cloudless skies
but not really
as your insides
raged
in a storm
in a hourglass
with sand pebbles fighting
to heal
for the best
now as you peer
between the trees
of salvation
do you hear
birds singing near a brook
... songs sung
so beautiful
in concerto
with the chipmunks, ***** crickets
then, as you take
that step forward
so lion hearted
peering
between those
branches
of redemption
my little deer
are there rays
of sunshine
peeking back
LR-4/23/17
Apr 23, 2017
Apr 23, 2017 at 11:46 AM UTC
to exonerate the clippings
they took the back road to oswega
the tudor house rabbits
had long lost their heads
(presumably to the *****
and what remained
of the landscape
was dead
and dry
and orange
that happy home
on the brink
of cattle loop
was now gull grey
the needles
and stragglers
from shady bay
remained (in growing numbers)
on the outskirts
of the driven back park
the once fabled town
of horse drawn tours
and dignitaries
was stone washed ~
on the back of it's
government docks
sat decrepit toppers
set against the high tide
beside the lighthouse
and its measured song
flutes and fiddlers
and acoustic sitars
ride the accompaniment
nose rings
and signage
in the hands of
staged protesters
the sickly spit strewn
with tidal run
and ocean bags
hedgerows trimmed
along the sea side
rolling hills fade
adjacent the chuck
mint juleps
and flop hats
peak on the parade
clydesdales
and royals
blinded in the back
Apr 2, 2017
Apr 2, 2017 at 2:41 PM UTC
Moon zoos zoos on the moon in white man spaceship zoos on moon,
earth chavs chavs on the earth in a burberry chav ship chavs on the earth,
sun ***** ***** on the sun in racist spaceship ***** on the sun.
Dec 9, 2014
Dec 9, 2014 at 4:21 PM UTC
I mourn for skunks.
The squashed, flattened masses
***** mashed, their stripes scattered
Matted masks disguising unseeing eyes
Through how many fields have they run?
Once sweet babies, small noses, downlike fur
fleeing to their final place from green leafed bowers in a terrible act of asphalt bait n' switch
Let us all grieve the sacrifice which,
Unto the motor gods
Has been served.
Sep 30, 2016
Sep 30, 2016 at 3:10 PM UTC
I'm broken
Worthless to my owner
No care for me at all
They think I was born to fail
Send me away I'm a sinful
Lock me in hay with no bail
Inject me with lead you'd all love if I were dead.
Cut out my eyes listen to me wail.
Tear me to pieces cause I'm frail.
**** with my feelings it's okay it's a game
Soon I'll be hangin like other *****
Slave to no man but a noose.
Before death I'll be screaming you'll love that tune.
I'm lit like a flame but burning in pain.
Put knives in my brain.
I'll be sharp in my head.
Deathwish is what I want.
While I'm bleeding to death.
My death will be praised.
They all I've never been sane.
I cry myself to sleep.
At my funeral don't weep.
You cut me wide open
So 'll get a late abortion.
You played with my emotions
More than with female sheath
You took away my oxygen
When you lied to me
I know you never liked me though
I always knew you were a fraud
You said you're queer when my heart speaks
So now all girls just disgust me.
I was never good at lust
I get confused with loving
Jan 20, 2018
Jan 20, 2018 at 4:21 AM UTC
Some dudes are down to fight
but they don't.
But what's crazy
is that *******
won't fight around white people
they're trying to impress.
They don't want to be a ****
even though
they don't know that we're all *****
in some way.
So when I slug you,
I'm not slugging you,
and when you slug me;
you're not slugging me;
we're just trying
to break free.
I miss the days of black pride,
black panthers
and black determinism,
when we weren't killing each other
and we weren't killing them
we were killing
what needed to be killed;
a mindset.
Without Marcus,
Malcolm,
Tupac,
Martin,
and Carlos
we are lost and we fight,
because all the black flowers that used to bloom
no longer bloom,
and the hope the resided in the birth of a screaming child
no longer resides.
Jan 28, 2012
Jan 28, 2012 at 9:25 PM UTC
Maine ***** are extremely kind
intelligent telepathic lazy beasts
wisely equipped for joviality.
^.^
Jun 20, 2015
Jun 20, 2015 at 7:22 AM UTC
It's a quiet sacred place,
deep in the oak hammocks,
way beyond the pine flatlands
& cabbage palms.
There I commune
with the crows
and the crickets.
And at night,
a bullfrog symphony plays.
The mosquitoes,
*****
and armadillos
come out to play.
It remains sacred,
but is not nearly as quiet.
May 11, 2015
May 11, 2015 at 5:07 AM UTC
The night he died he sat on the bed amid
my drum museum and thought about that time
at Christmas, how we hiked up Vincent’s Peak
to Leo Hightower’s log cabin with a box
of cornflakes and pancake batter all ready-made,
but with no knives or forks to eat them with.
He thought about that patch of pumpkins we
found frozen in the snow up there, a whole field full
of hued orange snow, once bright, now half eaten
by skunks and ***** Eau’ de parfum de melon.
Memory, Gramps, your new pied-á-terre. He smiled and
took out his teeth. He tapped my tin drum one
last time—my mother heard—to signal earth,
her mist, his wish, their presence, ours.
He died amid what pumpkins’ say when cut
apart, for it was Halloween that night, and all the timpani…
well, the timpani try to talk come Halloween,
you know , just as the pumpkins try to die.
Mar 20, 2011
Mar 20, 2011 at 5:42 PM UTC
I cast my line into the water. The bobber bounced a few times and then rested on the surface slightly cocked to the side. I pulled my hat down low, just far enough to block the sun and still see the water. Everything was quiet. Tigger was running around the other end of the pond, looking for raccoons I guess. He went to the water and took a drink, then he took off into the woods. He’ll be back. I love that dog. I must have had him for 10 years now.
I lit up a cigarette, a Marb red. God, this is the life, man, just chillin, fishin. I had other things to do. I should be looking for a job I guess. I should probably be cleaning my apartment, or taking care of those overdraft fees, I forgot about those, **** Oh well, this is my day. The birds had started to sing again. I whistled along, Andy Griffith’s theme song, God’s gift to whistlin fishermen. I could feel the sun on my bare arms. That’ll be good for my tan. I took another drag on my cigarette, the air was calm enough that I could blow smoke rings. So I did, for about an hour.
Then out of the corner of my eye I saw the tip of my pole dip down a little, it did it again, again, and again. Finally the bobber disappeared under the water. I grabbed my pole and started to reel ‘er in. It was a catfish, about five pounds I’d say. This was perfect, I would get Tigger and we could go home and fry this sucker up, and I would drink a few brews, watch the game and go to bed. What a wonderful day. I called for Tigger, but he didn’t come out of the woods. Probably found one of those ***** So I walked around the pond to where I saw him go in. No matter how many times I called for him he didn’t come back. I searched for two whole hours but I couldn’t find my dog. He was gone.
Aug 10, 2010
Aug 10, 2010 at 5:03 PM UTC
My eyes began to hide as we retired conversation.
My eyes began to hide as the night grew tired
And we’d lie next to eachother like two lines on the road
And I didn’t want to open my eyes for fear that you had snuck from the covers
And then suddenly you were singing like the call of a nightingale.
My eyes and mind were deluded into believing the occurance of the following events.
We sat together like two birds on a branch.
My breathing was heavy like the tree being supported by the ground.
We sat together as the wind carried loose limbs and leaves to the next town.
The storm was coming but I wanted to stay a little longer.
The storm was coming we must set flight!
But I did not want to separate for fear you’d be gone forever.
But I did not want to be blown and beaten for the Maine ***** grabs.
The storm was coming, so I left my ambitions to be carried with the limbs and leaves
And I left my nightingale alone in the night, to fight with the Nimbus as the storm carried on.
My eyes began to uncover from blankets, I felt your existence inches away.
My eyes were mislead and I rolled right on over and went back to bed.
Sep 29, 2010
Sep 29, 2010 at 11:27 AM UTC
As I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,
Seeing chalked outlines of brothers, I haven’t met,
Cause the cops been harassing and profiling so long,
People become desensitized, pretending nothings wrong.
Seeing so many innocent children that didn’t deserve it,
Have a hoodie in the store, you assume it’s a burglar,
You better watch your chatter, otherwise the gun gonna clatter.
Becoming just another body bag for another mother.
And the news may report it,
But the next day it won’t matter.
I really hate to alarm, but I’m fed up,
Some think it’s silly, saying **** it up.
The same fools that never experienced harm.
Assuming based on colour, that I must be armed.
So, they pull up on me like I’m a terrorist,
Which is pretty ******* racist,
No matter what way you measure it!
Having a knee on a neck,
Like they need a prayer addressed.
Yet they call my people violent.
Very ironic? Isn’t it?
Been spending most our lives,
Living in a colonist paradise,
Could hang as much ***** as you like,
Living in a colonist paradise.
We keep spending most our lives living in a colonist paradise,
Have many have to be sacrificed till we question this colonial paradise?
Look at the situation they got us facing,
We can’t live a normal life, we was taken from our land.
So, now we got to conform to new rules G,
Becoming puppets for the bourgeoisie.
I’m an educated savage with justice on my mind,
Got my Diploma in my hand and pride in my eyes,
I’m a rez’d out desperado, Cree that’s muy guapo.
And my patience is worn, so don’t provoke my fuego!
Fool, death ain’t nothing but are martyrdom away,
Just one spark away,
From lighting the fuse,
That will blow away.
The old narrow minded and rotten society.
Every child matters,
It’s pretty sad, that I even have to say that homie.
Been spending most our lives living in a colonist paradise,
Could slaughter as much children as you like,
As long as you say you’re doing it for your Christ.
We keep spending most our lives living in a colonist paradise,
Have many have to be sacrificed till we question this colonial paradise?
Power and the money, money and the power.
Promise after promise, liar after liar.
Everybody breathing, but half of them ain’t living.
It’s going on in our community, but nobody looking.
They say I gotta get over it, but nobody here see’s the trauma from it!
If they can’t understand it, how can reconciliation come out of it?
I guess they can't, I guess they won't
I guess they frontin', that's why I know my life is out of luck, fool!
Been spending most our lives living in a colonist paradise,
Could imprison as many asians as you like.
Living in a colonist paradise.
We keep spending most our lives living in a colonist paradise,
Have many have to be sacrificed till we question this colonial paradise?
Jul 9, 2021
Jul 9, 2021 at 5:32 PM UTC
**** all of you
With a ladle or a spoon
Die! All of you
You **** filled ugly *****
Wretched stomas leak their filth
Spilled upon the page
Plastic clichéd phrases
Recited spins me in a rage!
Just shut the **** up all of you
Drown or go to hell
Just shut the **** up all of you
Please, drown or go to hell
Nov 13, 2014
Nov 13, 2014 at 8:51 PM UTC
***** nigguhs got me twisted
Listening to this new artist
Got nigguh goin' ballistic I'm sadistic
**** all these cats open fire with my gat
Open up there chest now ya see where there hearts at?
Apart from that got these fools lookin' Ashamed
Givin' past black leaders a bad name
I'm for the drama and **** every body and they mama
If they ain't ridin' to this **** Eminem and yea its a diss
Whites always get the start now they always wanna a part
Of the black community nigguhs was risin'
From pac to eazy to Marley now we dyin'
Last of the breed
Only real nigguh left is Scarface soon to be out of place
Too many ******* running **** america is a culprit
To there own murderin' the image
Rap used to be take a look a history
And tell me where we supposed to be?
They bringin' slavery back nigguhs not catchin' on
To busy dancin' like ***** to Tyler Perry church songs and the beat goes on
Just different lyrics for ya mind to pitch I ****
On my.enemies bomb first watch em bleed in vain
Pleasure through pain I got nothing gain
So I guessed I'll loose and choose to be a rebel.
They say **** life is evil and its the devil
They just scared of a revolt **** the occult
I talk loud and reckless put me in casket you cold ********
**** the innocent then honor the dead
like ya did to Kennedy King and Malcolm X its bloodshed
On the hands of the elite expose there plan you end up obsolete
I practice what I preach and preach what I practice
Dead aim with telekinesis I could shoot needles of a cactus
Touch free I'm.roaming alone in the danger zone
Blitz and tipsy off the Hennessey
Somebody pass the Mac to me so I can show em catastrophe
Got **** now I'm a grown man I see underdeveloped master plan
My ambitions is pluck the whole world leave em holy
Pay up Amerikkka ya owe me !!
Dec 12, 2014
Dec 12, 2014 at 12:10 PM UTC
There was, every spring, a new batch of pups,
Yipping, nipping, clumsy ***** of ***** fur,
Looking for all the world like speckled tennis *****
Before they’d learned any hard lessons
At the hands of a racquet.
They chased their tails and each other,
Not to mention various other denizens of the barnyard:
Frantic chicks, cranky piglets,
The occasional bemused draft horse,
And sometimes they chased us as well,
Yelping childishly, rolling with us on the ground,
Nipping bare fingers and toes,
Afterwards lying on the ground asleep,
Looking , save for the rhythmic twitching of their paws,
Positively angelic.
Come late August,
The time would come to set them on the *****
We’d long since stopped thinking about it,
Much less questioning it
(I had, one year, asked my father if the puppies had to go
One time too many until,
With a look that brooked no further conversation,
He said flatly It’s what they’re born to.)
So we went on with the business
Of the soft, slow late summer
Until one evening just after sunset
We would hear the baying of the hounds
Out toward the back fields,
Mechanical and workmanlike at first,
But soon strained and syncopated with excitement,
And at some point there would be
A cacophony of cries and snarls
Until such time there was only silence.
The next morning we would visit the dogs,
And we’d pet them and rough-house a bit,
And there might be an oddly rouged spot
On their coats here and there,
Or one of them might sneeze out a tuft of fur
That didn’t rightly belong to them,
And every year our Uncle Bryce would slyly opine
*You boys may want to be a bit more careful
Around their mouths now, hear*?
Apr 13, 2017
Apr 13, 2017 at 10:18 AM UTC
I've met a young boy in the valley of ghost
Caught in the vines wrap with his hopes
No sign of defeat he ever barely shows
A masquerade ball of masks and robes
Glows from his eyes made of pure solid gold
Dripping of tears he poured out his soul
Years have gone passed
Admiring him from my room
Where there once stood a young boy
Now just vines filled with reckless *****
As I shut my door closed
There he was standing root
No longer there's vines
No longer wrapping his foot
I tried to reach as he reached out too
Only to be separated by a barrier glued
We sat and we look admiring both views
His mimicking skills copying my every move
Agitating me making me feel like a fool
I search for an object
An object that I could threw
To break this barrier and call for a truce
I found a bottle perfectly on cue
Mustering all strength before I finally threw
Breaking the barrier shattering beneath my foot
No boy I could see just my old empty room
I smiled of satisfaction
As I look down at my foot
And there he was in cracks of pools
Smiling back up
He smiled at me too
@2014 Maman Screams
Feb 25, 2014
Feb 25, 2014 at 2:19 AM UTC
O yea this might hurt some feelings
Uh
Yo **** white supremacy !!!!
You can **** my **** til it reach
Natural vasectomy
Ya wanna be
Black so bad look what the **** they did to Sinbad??
My dad was never there so i
Had to stop n stare
Lookin' at the sun the holy one
I seen an image of a black son
Layin' in the gutter strugglin' with his mother
N brother no other
Can relate to the tough times hard crimes
Deep in the neighborhood
Cops up to no good
Poppin' shots then get mad when we
Bust back to make it understood
Dont diss me im a g been in this ****
Since the birth of slavery
**** the media n the press
You say its too many nigguhs
Well smoke some sess
Hilary aint nothing but ***** to me.
Along with Obama
I put that on my mama full of drama
Cuz i was a born hell raiser
Been throwin' thangs since elementary
Solds drugs to me in my community
So you can lock us minorities
In the state penitentiary
On everythang i pack slugs
Check my six spinnin' on dubs
Minus 10 you get 10
Spokes is chirpin' mad smokin'
Sessions intense dollars n sense
Use common sense
Bombin' with my cavi flow just so ya know
Ya fuckin' with a pro
Uh killed all my leaders cuz they was tryna feed us
Knowledge **** the white college
I know my real history **** black history
What about the real.heros
Killin' all the slavery
Nat Turner Malcolm and Martin
To Jesse Jackson n Al Sharpton
Benefitin' off the fake race bait
***** in disguise nigguh open yo eyes
Its no surprise
Black face is right before our eyes
This aint vanilla sky
I see grey along with the thunder the rain the strain nigguh feel my pain
Uh its an everyday thang roll with a gang
After the white house eradictin'
There reindeer games
Uncle sam aimin' his finger at the poor folks
The military is joke for black n hispanic folks
Ya cant make change 1000s of miles away
So listen to the **** what i say
And ya know im real pack a big steel
Buckin' Capitol Hill as retain my throne
Im the King of the Hilllll!!! $!
Oct 10, 2016
Oct 10, 2016 at 3:09 PM UTC
june 10, 2014
his eyes are like grey marbles,
sprinkled with green ivy.
his hair is like sunkissed ocean waves ,
his hands are tsunamis.
he's beautiful and dangerous,
his hands leave the ocean screaming;
his voice ***** like the water hitting the shore
-it acts as a nerve, 'cause I can't help but smile.
when he sings he sings out of tune,
but even still the birds are in awe;
how can something so disastrous be so beautiful?
how can something so right be so wrong?
(NJ2014) all rights reserved.
Dec 5, 2014
Dec 5, 2014 at 9:56 AM UTC
off season digital hunting
Dove, quail and deer
Eat corn at the feeder
Two turkey fly down from the roost
All heads come up as hogs walk by
Batteries in my pocket and SD card in hand
No rifle in hand for a reason
Currently nothing is in season
Just came to swap batteries and cards
In my trail camera
It watches and reports silently
Day and night
The comings and goings, natures delight.
The ***** and squirrels are frequent visitors
Robins and cardinals, titmouse and woodpeckers
All come for a bite
All captured digitally.
Sep 16, 2016
Sep 16, 2016 at 2:21 PM UTC
well... when you begin in a "premature"
(so called)
phase,
and can't produce any *****
you know what happens?
in the first half, of your 30th year
you'll; literally grow out of the practice...
ah he he he he.... loci's words, not mine.
but it's true, once you start dictating a drink
that's amber bitter, that's code for english ale
and you have corvus corax to boot...
you're bound to find a second for a thought
concerning valhalla.
but i'm dead serious...
when you start to ********** prior
to puberty, knowing that prior to puberity the act
doesn't produce any ***** well... by the time
you hit 30... you kinda stop the practice...
it's ******* weird though...
go a month without ***********
what are you going to find that's "remotely"
******
how about a magic trick?
pet a cat with a toothpick.
i'm serious about that: pet, a cat, with, a ******* toothpick.
and that's me basically saying: omni-eroticism just
found its place.
a cat and a toothpick?
are we talking about iranian poets?
what?! one and the other at the same time?!
**** me! that's clever!
seriously though, when you start engaging in the practice
at an absurd age, to begin with, i.e. 7 / 8.... and that's not a fraction,
you forget the whole shindig by the time you hit 30...
voyeurism and *********** sort of die off
i can't stomach this ****** oh look! i'm clued in!
i rather have the ******* key, than keep staring through
the ****** keyhole.
which makes drinking, to excess,
so much fun, if you're unrepentant,
via the disrepture with asians having an intolerance
with the juice.
but hell! it's so nice to realise the complete cenobite potency
of, finally having become bored of ************
it's a bit like a gay "coming out of the closet";
fuck's sake! burn the bras! moment.
cats and toothpicks though?
that **** is kinky... pet a cat with a toothpick,
and it'll turn into a leather clad gimp;
i have no idea why they like the prickly sensation,
i guess it must invoke a sense of frost, pinching them,
esp. since they are *maine *****
Apr 27, 2017
Apr 27, 2017 at 8:04 PM UTC
The bird sings into the silent night
And puts all the frogs to shame.
The crickets lower their violins
To be able to hear the echo of names.
The names of all the beautiful things
That makes up this little world.
The names of every flower,
Twinkling star,
And little girl.
The bird resonates into the silent night
A solo opera for open ears,
It bleeds its soul into the darkened sky
Only audible for a few to hear.
The creatures wait on baited breath
To listen to its song.
To hear the melancholy tune
Stretch out all night long.
The bird ***** in its little tree
With eyes only half closed,
It sings a sweet soft melody
To nature down below.
It sings of tomorrow’s promises,
Of all the laughter and the joy,
The bird sings us a lullaby
To help our dreams come alive.
ALC March 17, 2016
Mar 18, 2017
Mar 18, 2017 at 3:35 PM UTC
When I open my eyes,
I'm here again,
Blue skies, incoming dark clouds, Blink,
I'm here again,
Climbed a mountain, thought it was a mole hill, long trip through the fall,
Breathe,
I'm here again,
In an Audi going 140 on i80, the blur of signs blind me,
Beep beep,
Crash,
I'm here again,
Made it to cirque du soleil, the universal smiles make me frown,
Laugh laugh,
Cry,
I'm here again,
In my dorm, start studying, you know ***** can't crack calculus,
Puff puff,
Pass,
I'm here again,
Satin sheets, brown stains, when I sleep I fear I'll dream,
I'm here again,
Oct 16, 2016
Oct 16, 2016 at 7:14 AM UTC
By Arcassin Burnham
Got a penny for my thoughts every time i see your face,
fine prints on my skin from when you touched me,
I wake up with red spots , the thought of you is majestic,
I live for things like this,
beauty mixed with pure bliss,
the kiss was fantastic,
reminds me of Cheyenne,
with scriptures and skin tans,
rock the boat if you want,
I promise I'll be gentle in this time when you need me,
not pulling stunts, I'm pulling time,
to be with you,
Even though we both have the same goals we can pull though,
and your beauty brings wonders all in one room,
stuck around a bunch of so-called men , but they're *****
But all I know is where you've been,
your faithfulness minus the tragedy,
the perfect one around the imperfect,
Diamond in the rough for empathy.
For empathy.
Feb 2, 2018
Feb 2, 2018 at 10:31 AM UTC
Shadows crawl against the fade of the sunlight on the window payne.
Damp night with a warm breeze the darkness it consumes me.
Layin still and prayin for sleep but my mind is on fire ablaze in the sheets.
The sun cuts a slit through the leaves on a tree.
Burns through the curtains and incinerates me.
Sunshine on the high side, inside feelin run down.
Dim light in a ****** eye.
Monday morning comin down.
Rundown from the comedown of flyin, sundown comes the dread of tryin.
Thread the needle just to sew up the need, steady feelin deep like the sea.
Maybe freedoms just a state of mind, rippin, tearin, flyin down the line.
Soarin through the wind on a hope and a whish.
Headed down the ridge on a prayer and a whim.
Sunshine in a dry time, landslide on the way down.
Dim light in a ****** eye.
Monday morning comin down.
Well baby,
we have been up for a ***** age, them long nights we had no escape.
All day we would just wait, and wait, for a wild nights that would last for days.
But honey
It's touchdown from a long flight, we ain't slept in our whole lives I'm a train wreck, and a car crash.
I'm comin down and I'm not alright
I got sunshine in my eyes, inside I feel so low down when
I see that dim light in a ****** eye.
I know it's Monday morning and we're fallin apart.
Feb 26, 2023
Feb 26, 2023 at 12:13 PM UTC