"coppers" poems
Why the hell ... do they do it … ???
They run blacks like ... " Fluid " ... !!!
Well ... THE TRUTH is ...
Most Coppers ... Keep Proving ...
... They're ... STUPID ... !!!!!
Harassment ... INDEED ... !!!!
is why ... some of them ... BLEED ... !!!!!
But ... Let me ... Proceed ...
cos' ... I will ... NOT Concede ... !!!!!
that ... ANY ... Police Force ...
is .... " RACISM FREE " ... !!!!!!!!!
" This Morn' " ...
It was ... ME ...
who they wanted ... " To be " ...
ANOTHER ... Young Black ...
in .... " Police Custody " ....
“Excuse me sir,
your car is registered,
to a national bank ?”
“THAT’S BECAUSE THE CAR’S LEASED,
I’M PAYING A FEE,
SO THE CAR IS THE BANKS ….
IT DON’T, BELONG TO ME … !!!…”
“Okay Okay !!!
but, can we have,
your name please ?”
“LET’S GO TO MY WORKPLACE,
IT’S OVER THERE, SEE !”
See .....
That's when ... their faces ...
Disguised their ... TRUE HATRED ... !!!!!
of ... seeing a black ...
Who Ain't ... " Selling Crack " ... !!!!!
The car that I drive ...
is ... " LEGIT " ...
That's a .... FACT .... !!!!!
While ... RACIST OLD BILL ...
NEVER SEEM ... to get ... " SACKED " … !?! …
When ...
" Their Nature's " ... EXPOSED ... !!!!!
They Quickly ... ” DECOMPOSE ” ... !!!
and then ... just .... RESORT ...
to ... ******* ... Up Their Nose ... !!!
Which ...
Just goes to ... SHOW ...
It's NOT ... " Only Blacks " ...
who take drugs ... when they're low ...
It's ... White People ... TOO ... !!!!!
who shove ... Coc' ... Up Their Nose ...
But whose ... " Cashing In " ... ???
is what ... I want to ... KNOW ... !!!!!!!
because i'm ... Getting Sick ...
of ...... " ALL TELL " ......
and ... " NO SHOW " ... !!!!!
They ... KEEP ON HARASSING ... !!!
Then ... KEEP ON SUGGESTING ...
"Blacks being mis-treated,
is NOT a Race Thing !"
But …. ???? ….
These ... "hidden-cam" ... shows
Now Show ... how things' go ...
It's ... NOT JUST ... undercovers' ...
Who ... " Sniff Out " ... THE TRUTH ... !!!
Now ... Journalists too ...
have ... " Suddenly Learned " ... !?!
That .....
" White Men " ... under cover ...
Show Racism's ... TRUE ... !!!!!!!!!!
NOT ...
A figment in ... Black peoples' ...
****** …. Brain Tool ... !!!?!!! …
Now ...
Those are not words ...
I believe to be ... True ... !!!
I’m just ... " THE BLACK ” ...
.... Sherlock Holmes .... !!!! ....
Giving people ... " Some Clues " ...
as to ... WHY ... " Some " ... Black Men ...
feel the way that ... I DO ... !!!
Harassment ... is ... REAL ... !!!
But ...
Here is ... THE DEAL ... !!!
" Some " ... Black people STEAL ...
and DO ... move in ... "The Dark' ...
Like ... "Covert" ... Navy Seals ... !!!!!
But ......
THIS ... Does Not mean ...
that ... EVERY ... Black Person ...
is into ... " THAT SCENE " ... !!!!!!!!
and that ... Money they've made ...
Really NEEDS ... A Good Clean ...
in a .... " Laundry Machine " .... ?!?
It's Policemen ... to me ...
who work in ... " ***** TEAMS " ...
and then in ... " Their Dreams " ...
Make ... Black People ... SCREAM ... !!!!!!
Just check through ... THE NEWS ...
You'll SEE ... what I mean ...
Well .....
My day's getting ... better ....
now i've ... " Typed " ...
These few ... " Letters " ...
But it's .....
Time to ... STOP TAPPING ...
cos' this poem i've written ...
has allowed me to ... VENT ... !!!
My View ...
On These ... PIGS ... !!!!!
Who ...... THRIVE ON ......
……… ” HARASSMENT ” ………. !!! ? !!!
Dec 6, 2014
Dec 6, 2014 at 5:49 PM UTC
Ok, I didn't want to do this
but there's rules that you must know
Etiquette to be followed
A line that you must toe
Listen very closely now
I think you all should try it
The things that you will now learn
About a protest and a riot
Firstly, have a purpose
Just random shouting, that's persay
If you do not have a topic
Then all the new folks go away
Throwing bricks at coppers
Breaking windows on the street
Is this a sign of protest
Or is it idiots in heat
No signage, and no speakers
Just random yelling for a cause
This isn't a good protest
Just breaking random laws
A protest has a purpose
It presents a point of view
A riot is an ugly thing
Which one is right for you
MLK could run a protest
Make a point and get things done
All without a mob forcing
A cop to use his gun
The rules really are simple
Keep the young ones all at home
For people in glass houses
Should really not throw stones
A peaceful resolution
From a protest is the goal
But a riot is just aimless
It puts the city in a hole
Victims of a riot
Are not the ones who are to blame
They're just owners of the business'
Who get caught up in the game
Next time that you protest
Protest rioting instead
It will turn out for the better
And nobody will end up dead
Apr 28, 2015
Apr 28, 2015 at 11:36 PM UTC
One day
Woke up feeling randy
No one else was handy
What's to do?
Get dressed
Satisfy the horn
With badly acted ****
On pay per view
Hopes sink
Cable's on the blink
But twitter lends a helping hand
Bang, bang, come and have a gang bang
Gain entrance on demand
Have a gang bang
Come and have a gang bang
It's a gang bang
Come and have a gang bang
Went out
Followed the directions
Battling erections
All the while
Red cheeks
Granny at the bus stop
Let her vision drop
Then cracked a smile
Half four
Knocking at the door
It opens and a voice proclaims
"Bang, bang, come and have a gang bang
We've far too many dames"
The host was a sight to see
Not far over seventy
And wrapped in a silk dressing gown
I thought I would walk away
But saw that the sky was grey
And it star-
-ted *******
It down
Stepped in
Blinded by a deep gloom
Ushered to a dark room
Curtains shut
Deep breath
Air is old and musty
Carpet feeling crusty
Underfoot
Sprawled there
Women lying bare
And fellas with their organs free
Bang, bang, cover up your **** ****
Regain your decency
Pretty gang bang
Pretty ****** gang bang
****** gang bang
Pretty ****** gang bang
Look round
Writhing on the ground
With squishy little sounds
But something's odd
Fat lass
Itching at her *** crack
Isn't that a ball sack?
Oh my god!
Jaw drops
Granny from the bus stop
Wearing nothing but a grin
Bang, bang, pretty ****** gang bang
What ******* let her in?
She's nothing but skin and bone
With ribs like a xylophone
At least several decades too old
To use the vernacular
It's like bumming Dracula
She's wiry
She's wizened
She's cold
Oh (pretty) no ******
Rasping on my ****
With fingers like a sock
Filled up with ice
No (scary) chance (hairy)
Giving her the slip
My todger's in a grip
Just like a vice
It (saggy) seems (baggy)
Like she's in a dream
While scraping with her ancient hand
Bang, bang, ****** ****** gang bang
My sore and swollen gland
Granny bang bang
Granny granny gang bang
Granny gang bang
Granny ***** gang bang
Knock, knock
Coppers at the door
Go crawling on the floor
And off at speed
What fun
Looking at the punters
Myriad of munters
As they flee'd
Cold, wet
Drowning in regret
With trousers round my knees I stand
Bang bang ****** ****** gang bang
Next time I'll use my hand
Bang bang ****** ****** gang bang
Next time I'll use my haaaaaaaaaaaaaaand!
Feb 22, 2013
Feb 22, 2013 at 3:00 AM UTC
Monet was painting up my vision
while the droves were driven out.
We stepped out to the derision
of a tenor waterspout.
The town outside is dancing
in the ruddy neon hues
and I’m ****** whilst Amsterdam-ing
by the slam-dunk cognac blues.
And a cap was shaking coppers
in an out cove by the way,
where instruments and owners
had begun to play.
The bar stools are all swaying
whilst the festival ensues,
and I’m ****** whilst Amsterdam-ing
by the slam-dunk cognac blues.
With the rhythm of the rimjhim
and the stamping our feet
we sing our drunken-whim hymn
whilst we stagger down the street.
And we had sunken five; still sinking
Im strung out, slammed, and stinking
Four sheets to the wind and freaking
about what I had to lose.
so that’s when I got to thinking
had an inkling to the linking
between my errant drinking
and the slam-dunk cognac blues…
Aug 12, 2015
Aug 12, 2015 at 6:37 PM UTC
A dancing Bear grotesque and funny
Earned for his master heaps of money,
Gruff yet good-natured, fond of honey,
And cheerful if the day was sunny.
Past hedge and ditch, past pond and wood
He tramped, and on some common stood;
There, cottage children circling gaily,
He in their midmost footed daily.
Pandean pipes and drum and muzzle
Were quite enough his brain to puzzle:
But like a philosophic bear
He let alone extraneous care
And danced contented anywhere.
Still, year on year, and wear and tear,
Age even the gruffest, bluffest bear.
A day came when he scarce could prance,
And when his master looked askance
On dancing Bear who would not dance.
To looks succeeded blows; hard blows
Battered his ears and poor old nose.
From bluff and gruff he waxed curmudgeon;
He danced indeed, but danced in dudgeon,
Capered in fury fast and faster.
Ah, could he once but hug his master
And perish in one joint disaster!
But deafness, blindness, weakness growing,
Not fury's self could keep him going.
One dark day when the snow was snowing
His cup was brimmed to overflowing:
He tottered, toppled on one side,
Growled once, and shook his head, and died.
The master kicked and struck in vain,
The weary drudge had distanced pain
And never now would wince again.
The master growled; he might have howled
Or coaxed,--that slave's last growl was growled.
So gnawed by rancor and chagrin
One thing remained: he sold the skin.
What next the man did is not worth
Your notice or my setting forth,
But hearken what befell at last.
His idle working days gone past,
And not one friend and not one penny
Stored up (if ever he had any
Friends; but his coppers had been many),
All doors stood shut against him but
The workhouse door, which cannot shut.
There he droned on,--a grim old sinner,
Toothless, and grumbling for his dinner,
Unpitied quite, uncared for much
(The rate-payers not favoring such),
Hungry and gaunt, with time to spare;
Perhaps the hungry, gaunt old Bear
Danced back, a haunting memory.
Indeed, I hope so, for you see
If once the hard old heart relented,
The hard old man may have repented.
4.6k
‘A festive song for thy ears’,
Sang the jovial busker;
Brimming with gratitude,
With pennies of silver
Or the coppers from well-worked hands,
The heavy gold of the rich;
Once weighed down pockets
Generously giving.
‘A festive song for thy hearts’,
Sang the jovial busker;
Playing with precision,
With clarity and care
Or the subtlety of pristine art,
The blending sound of the voice
Soothingly warming.
Feb 5, 2022
Feb 5, 2022 at 12:50 PM UTC
Joe of to the poky.
Joe off to the pen.
Joe of the ***** wagon again and again.
Joe fit shased and sailing, three sheets to the wind.
Joe swearing and cussing.
Joe in the back seat.
Joe sits on wrists. fingers all numb.
Joe tossin his cookies. Joe real no count ***
Joe know all the coppers
And breaks in the rookies.
"Hey rook" asks Joe " "can you loosen these up"
My hands been asleep since Henry was a pup.
Joe Bangles they call him and erbody knows.
That Joey cant get lit up and keep on his clothes.
Institutional homeboy.
Going back to the house.
Three hots and a cot.
and wild stories to tell.
slippers and tooth brush in an eight by ten cell.
Mr. Joe Bangles Dance.
Oct 15, 2013
Oct 15, 2013 at 12:05 AM UTC
My sister boasted to me one night in a Liverpool pub
She had *** with a couple of coppers down the Mersey Tunnel.
'You're nothing bit a fat slapper' I scolded her,
As she examined the selfie I had taken
Just a few moments earlier of me
And her best friend up against the ladies' bog door.
"Good likeness, innit?" I commented and the
She farted stentoriously in surprise and,
The follow-through oozed down her dimpled thigh.
Feb 7, 2016
Feb 7, 2016 at 7:07 PM UTC
romeo is bleeding but not so as you'd notice
he's over on 18hh street as usual
lookin' so hard
against the hood of his car
and puttin' out a cigarette in his hand
and for all the pachucos at the pumps
at romeros paint and body
they all seein' how far they can spit
well it was just another night
but how they're huddled in the brake lights
of a 58 belair
and listenin' to how romeo killed a sherrif his knife
and they all jump when they hear the sirens
but romeo just laughs
and says all the racket in the world
ain't never gonna save that coppers ***
he'll never see another summertime
for gunnin' down my brother
and leavin' him like a dog beneath a car without his knife
and romeo says hey man gimme a cigarette
and they all reach for their pack
and frankie lights it for him
and pats him on the back
and throws bottle at a milk truck
and as it breaks he grabs his nuts
and they all know they could be just like romeo
if they only had the guts
but romeo is bleeding
but nobody can tell
and he sings along with the radio with a bullet in his chest
and he combs back his fenders and they all agree its clear
that every thing is cool now that romeos here
but romeo is bleeding and he winces now and then
and he leans against the car doors
and feels the blood in his shoes
and someones crying in the phone booth at the 5 points by the store
romeo starts his engine and wipes the blood off the door
and he brodys through the signal
with the radio full blast
leavin' the boys there hikin' up there chinos
and they all try to stand like romeo
beneath the moon cut like a sickle
and they're talkin' now in spanish about there hero
but romeo is bleeding
as he gives the man his ticket
and he climbs to the balcony at the movies
and he'll die without a wimper
like every heros dream
just like an angel with a bullet
and cagney on the screen
Jan 1, 2013
Jan 1, 2013 at 7:16 PM UTC
We wore torn blue jeans,
the holier the better,
pearl-buttoned shirts
& pointed Justin's
rounded out
our tough-guy
wardrobe.
We guzzled whiskey
& Crown
& told most folks
to kiss our *****
even the coppers.
The pretty lasses loved us
& some had bigger ***** than us,
they tried to capture our hearts
& make real men out of us.
Sometimes
they succeeded
& sadly,
sometimes not,
our common sense
clouded
by alcohol-laced
testosterone.
I lost a lot of precious time
trying to be cool.
Jun 26, 2014
Jun 26, 2014 at 4:10 PM UTC
I imagine us
collecting affections
like loose change
bits hidden everywhere
in couch cushions,
in strong, stitched
seams
pennies hoarded
in an old sweet
jar
cluttered coppers
at the bottom of
coffee cups
we count,
meaningless amounts
building neat piles
of insignificant coins
until they become
our fortune
Aug 15, 2016
Aug 15, 2016 at 8:36 AM UTC
maybe it's there, in the crevice of his hard heart, that he heard the soft echo of light.
maybe, if the wound really is where the light enters you, it's in the heavy handed claps or in that gruff way men tell their sons, when it seems like the right thing to do, that they love them,
and then it's gone,
vanished into the cold nothingness, behind
rough hands and hearty laughter and the slow descending numbness of duty and honor and being a man.
it's faded, worn over, rusted old coppers,
until there comes along a boy who'll tuck the rough love away, who won't stand startled but rather perplexed,
who'll keep it boxed safe like pressed flowers between thin brown paper.
and then maybe, maybe that sweet boy will spread a few more, until his love is no longer a coarse and dying brittle sea air but nourishing, sustaining,
and maybe then he can start over.
Sep 27, 2018
Sep 27, 2018 at 8:09 PM UTC
[Intro: Quavo]
**** man. Brrrrtttttt
Hello?
What the hell you mean Ma? I ain't did ****
****
[Hook: Quavo]
Feds hit the spot man I ain't saying nothin
They came around about 5 o' clock this morning (12!)
They telling me I'm copping contraband from informants
Channel 2, Fox 5, I'm America's most wanted! (Ooh!)
Hot boy, hot boy, hot boy, hot boy, hot boy
Hot boy, hot boy, hot boy, hot boy, hot boy
Feds hit the spot say I'm copping from informants
Channel 2, Fox 5, I'm America's most wanted! (Ooh!)
[Verse 1: Quavo]
Yeah, yeah, Quavo
I pick up my **** and then hit the door (Oh **** **** 12!)
Surrounding my house and they kick the door (Boom! Boom!)
"Don't move, get on the floor!" I hit the window and fell on the curb
I'm trying to get up and take off, the officer speared me, like Goldberg
Say "Where were you 3 o clock on the dot?" "My Momma's house" "You a ******* liar"
Have you heard about your new worker? (Nah) Know I put him in your circle
I witnessed you purchase the pound (nuh uh)
I witnessed you purchase the brown (no you didn't)
I witnessed you purchase the white (no!)
Say goodnight down the road for a long flight
[Hook]
[Verse 2: Takeoff]
Hot Boy like Silkk the Shocker, pull up on your blocka with the Waka Flocka
Momma hit me on my cellular told me that Quavo got caught by the coppers ****
They say they've been investigating and Migo gang we connected with the mobsters (Huh?)
Can't talk to you ****** my lawyer talk. **** the prosecutor Mr. Marcus
**** Lookin out of my window, I see a black truck and it's empty
Walk to the door check the peephole (what that is man?)
Then I start hearing a noise and it makes me paranoid ****
Thinking what the **** is going on? (What the ****
All of these tools like it's Autozone
If I get caught I ain't coming home (No!)
[Hook]
[Verse 3: Offset]
Offset!
They said that I sold to informants
I told them I just got off touring
They circle my house like an orbit ****
He telling me he gon extort me (huh?)
50% of my income, unfortunately he not gon get none
Life sentence or freedom so pick one
**** ***** you trying the wrong one **** *****
Quavo call my phone, his spot got raided it just got kicked in
We all met up in the Westin
Who know what the **** going on it ain't making sense (who know?)
The police talking they got evidence
I told you ****** bout serving them Mexicans (I told you ******
**** There go 12 ****
I picked up my **** and I moved out the residence
[Hook]
May 7, 2015
May 7, 2015 at 9:13 AM UTC
Can you tell me have I lost my mind?
Seeking other lonely to be my guide.
Streetlight prophets have all your answers for a price
Turning all your coppers into fortified signs.
I keep on dreaming of you and of you only
Speaking your name as though it's something I hold holy
But can you tell me does the sky get lonely
.. Siting all alone up there
Sing me songs of love and revolution
In a rage of fury and absolution
The alley oracles keep searching for solutions
To find fortune in hearts weakened by contusions.
They sing...
Find me love sweet like sacramental wine
For my penance I'd pay any price
Give me strength to pursue my paradise
And the wisdom when I find it to recognize
That the only thing missing in my life
Was someone to walk beside.
They sing...
Can you tell us have we lost our minds
Seeking other lonely to be our guides
To navigate and hide us in the streetlights
As we lay awake looking for a sign.
Dec 31, 2018
Dec 31, 2018 at 8:56 PM UTC
driving along in my auto mobilemy baby beside me at the wheeleverything right, nothing seemed wrongrevealing her thigh, a glimpse of her thongteasing and pleasing, live action pornparty in pants, one wheel and two hornscrash, wallop, bang, cos i did'nt seepolice car in front, but he felt mea fine, six points, coppers new bumperthump her? or dump her, but wanted to **** hershouting mad rages, the constable rantswho stunk like a sewer.......he'd **** in his pants
Feb 24, 2010
Feb 24, 2010 at 10:37 AM UTC
Now I’ve...
Already Done Said It... !!!
Some Peoples’ Work Ethic...
Is... TRULY PATHETIC... !!!!!
And YET THEY...
Seem To Want CREDIT... ?!?
For The Way That They...
Choose To Work Away...
In Their Day To Day...
But They Need To REFRAIN...
From Making CLAIMS... !!!!
That Their Ethics SWAY...
To Having NO DELAY...
In Being... GREAT... !!!!!!
I’ve Said It BEFORE...
And … I’m Now SURE...
That I Will Say It AGAIN... !!!
The CLAIMS Some Make...
Are Those That Display...
... A Crying SHAME... !!!
That DENIES BLAME... !!!
Or Morals That AIM...
At Doing The Things...
That They’re QUICK To Say...
That Their Work Ethics...
Display In Their Ways... !!!
Like... MORALITY...
That I Have To Say SADLY... !!!
Defines Well ……….
... TRAGEDIES... !!!
WITHOUT Gaddafi... !!!
Or Morals That Gladly...
Choose To Be MANLY...
In... How They Move...
Like Doing EXACTLY...
What They Say They’ll Do... !!!
Instead of Move BADLY...
Like The Moves of FOOLS...
Who NEED Ethics School... !!!
The Type That INFUSE...
Being Able To PROVE...
Rather Than INCLUDE...
The Type of ETHICS..
That Should Be REFUSED... !!!
BELIEVE Me It’s TRUE...
of These INDUSTRY CREWS... !!!
Like Those Who CHOOSE...
To Make Those Tunes...
And QUALITY GROOVES...
In... Studio Rooms...
And Those In Booths...
Where Their Voices Croon...
Or Drop Rap Tunes...
I’ve Seen It Here...
I’ve Seen It There...
In Places Where...
The Caribbean Sun...
Makes Working HARD...
And... FAR From FUN... !!!
When Working OUTSIDE...
When The Sun Is HIGH...
Can... Burn Ya HIDE... !!!
That’s Right Ya BACKSIDE...
When There Are CLEAR SKIES... !!!
I’ve Also Seen THIS Stuff...
Run In... ENGLAND... !!!
Where Moral Codes...
When It Comes To Work Zones...
Have INCREDIBLY... SHOWN... !?!
That... RACISM...
Doesn’t Even Get SHUNNED...
When It Is... BLATANT... !!!
Because Moral Ethics...
Are A RARITY... !!!
In ALL KINDS of Scenes...
Where People Now Be... !!!
It’s... AMAZING To See...
That HUMANITY In TWENTY TWENTY... !!!
Has The Type of … Ethics...
That Are WORSE Than Testy... !!!
Deserving NO CREDIT... !!!
Because They Are MESSY...!!!
And Winning NO TITLES... !!!
Cos' They're NOTHING Like Lionel's... !!!
Whose Ethics Have Shown...
How They REALLY Should Roll... !!!
Barcelona Now KNOWS... !!!
That His Ethics Are Those...
That Are Worthy of GOLD...
Just Like RONALDINHO'S... !!!
Cos The Ethics HE Showed... !!!
ALSO... Did AMAZE... !!!
In HIS Playing Days... !!!!!
And Those Are The Type...
I Display In The Rhymes...
That I Now Sit And Write...
In Volumes And VOLUMES...
With Ethics That Choose...
To Yes REJECT NONSENSE... !!!
Cos My Ethics... HOVER ………..
... WAY ABOVE Problems... !!!
Because My Form of Soccer...
Shoots Just Like Revolvers...
And Drones Used As Bombers... !!!
And As For These Coppers... !!!
Their Ethics Are SHOCKERS...
That Require NO WORDS...
Because They’re ABSURD... !?!
UNLIKE Spoken Word Verse...
That Comes From Big Virge... !!!
That Yes DESERVES CREDIT... !!!
For NOT BEING PATHETIC... !!!
Because It's EXPRESSIVE...
And Somewhat Impressive...
Because It's... INJECTED...
With HIGH MORAL Values...
And Being AUTHENTIC... !!!
Which Is Why It's ALIGNED To...
...... DISCIPLINED.....
........... “ ETHICS “.......... !!!
Nov 23, 2020
Nov 23, 2020 at 3:14 AM UTC
Four hundred of us pour out
from the lights turned on,
girls in bare feet in the rain and the wind
to see Christmas lights on Grafton street.
Trinity’s beautiful, but not where the heart is,
the grass is muddy on college green
a cold breeze is whipping off the Liffey,
and everyone’s singing, low lie the fields.
The guards are milling, we’re trudging,
some holding hands or kissing –
bring me back to Stillorgan for ten euro?
**** off! No come on sir, I’m freezing.
It’s grey, it’s wet and it’s cloudy.
I want Burdock’s or some dodgy chippy,
I want to hear the song of a boy from Ballymun
and live forever young in Dublin’s fair city.
Nov 3, 2015
Nov 3, 2015 at 4:31 PM UTC
When the yellow day coppers to dusk
I paint my weary eyes dreams.
They nudely wade the crabhole muds
for marks of the great marksman
climb up the chunks going into tides
tiptoe through the needle roots
sniff a wind that smells of stripes
thrilled
death if comes
would be a momentary stir
a dangling cloth
resting on the trail of blood, marking,
someone ventured.
Mar 14, 2018
Mar 14, 2018 at 9:49 AM UTC
Bills Bills Bills Bills
Never a Sam or Clyde
I simply can’t get out of debt
No matter how I’ve tried.
Bills Bill Bills Bills
They come in twos and threes.
I wish that I could get a loan
To help me pay for these.
My credit score is way too low;
It’s only six-o-five.
I know they’ll never loan the dough
That I need to survive.
I didn’t know which way to turn
Until I spoke to Frank
He kindly said he’d lend a hand -
And help me rob a bank.
We put disguises on my face
And he pulled out a gun
We got some money in our bag
And took off on the run.
But we didn’t get too far
The coppers had us nailed.
They hauled us up before a judge
And both of us were jailed.
The problem now has gone away
My room and board is free
I have no monthly bills to pay
So I’m the winner, don’t you see.
ljm
Aug 12, 2023
Aug 12, 2023 at 10:45 AM UTC
You came to me at three in the morning,
you are a figment in my weary mind.
Your gnawled hand with it's broken nails,
reaching through the ether pleadingly.
Dressed in a drab grey dress and bonnet,
moth eaten shawl covering your shoulders.
An over powering sense of sadness prevails,
for I feel that you are not lost, but stranded.
I hear you whisper, a hoarse mournful whisper,
your breath so cold it chills my soul, - I shiver.
"Please, Sir, can ye spare me a mere two coppers?"
"So's I can catch the ferry to be with Jimmy."
I found two old pennies in my cupboard,
I took them and buried them in my garden,
I pray a ghost from Mr. Dickens found them,
and is now on her way to join her Jimmy.
(c)09/03/2010
Nov 1, 2010
Nov 1, 2010 at 10:21 PM UTC
By Arcassin Burnham
You've never known the devil dancing in the moon light,
Until vanity hits you in the face with a sack of fruit,
You've watched me my whole life,
Now it's my turn to watch you,
Situations and different places,
I have no idea how I got there,
Ah ! Man here comes the coppers , that's my cue,
You've watched me my whole life,
Now it's my turn to watch you,
Standing ovations to a life of purposeless conflicts,
Wouldn't wanna be in my shoes,
I'd rather you be you,
You've watched me my whole life,
Now it's time I believe in you.
Sep 22, 2015
Sep 22, 2015 at 3:11 PM UTC
If only the Christmas lights on Oxford street
could fill a table with food to eat.
In the hungry days of shop doorways where
some sit silently
shiver violently
the lines of lights light up their nights
as if they need reminding that the
'morrow brings them nothing new.
Nothing to do but wait
as another bus draws up and
more get off to sate their appetites
among the bright lights of
Oxford Street.
Winter nights.
The soup run does not come
never will
the traders,council and the coppers
think it gives bad vibes to shoppers,
still it would be nice to think
that homeless people get a drink of
something hot.
Down Trafalgar Square there's somewhere where
they can spend some time
have a meal ,a shower and a crypt
seems fine if a little odd
for the poor sod
who's only got what he's given.
A new shirt and trews
he's not from Scotland
but beggars do not choose
they accept and
sometimes painfully,
the helping hands from a charity.
It's such a sad affair that some don't care,
don't give a look and yet think nothing
of sharing pointless posts on
the pages of Facebook.
Another bus drops off a few even as some drop off the
grid
and we bid goodnight to the rights and wrongs
the Christmas songs
the happy throngs
and hide
inside
another
doorway.
Nov 10, 2014
Nov 10, 2014 at 6:25 AM UTC