'Crime' poems - Hello Poetry

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Santiago Jun 2015

Conejo - Crime On My Mind

I fear nothing this ah war for souls
They get no better nails and I’m counting my goals
Was ah thresh hole how much can you handle
I hid up in your hood C Rock is ah vandal
Nightmares he seen the eyes of ah dragon
In the fifty-nine Chevy call me baby blue wagon
It get deeper I’m the grifo with caper
You ah played out beeper and my cell is the sleeper
Cutting throats we could meet in the trench
Cause when it be your turn in hell you will burn
He gon’ return more people I drown
Enslave with the music know you feeling me now
You wish to enter the ******* point
This ah dream state where the subjects in mode
Bad place you could end up missing
I slay for the hunger with the murderous vision

I got ah crime on my mind that I haven’t committed
But I’ma execute it with some soldiers that’s with me
We hit Lakes and **** with their bricks
Their ten key piddles of that AZ ****
I got ah crime on my mind that got me living
Like I said on L.A times the unforgiven
Hard hitting in this music busi.
Location unknown but I’m running this *****

Ese dead to the world I’ma tell ah terror
With the skeleton key unlock ah new era
Full of rage from the first four albums
Homie see the laughing corpse playing with the revolver
I emerge from the fall of mountains of madness
C.O.N the baddest make ah enemy vanish
Candles burn for endless nights
You see highs from the pen and this is why
The rebel violence ******* solve
From the steel gold shells on the ground they ball
The decor body dead on the floor
He screamed like ah ***** but the city ignored
No report that’s why she died
Thirteen bullets out the corner of my eye
Then five past twelve you said goodbye
Rest in **** muthufucker but I got no reply

I got ah crime on my mind that I haven’t committed
But I’ma execute it with some soldiers that’s with me
We hit Lakes and **** with their bricks
Their ten key piddles of that AZ ****
I got ah crime on my mind that got me living
Like I said on L.A times the unforgiven
Hard hitting in this music busi.
Location unknown but I’m running this *****

Conejo - Find That Balance

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Park Shin Mar 2019

Sinner

If loving you is a crime,
Then I am guilty, yes I am.
I'll admit it all this time,
I loved you, as a woman, as a fan.
No need to hide the screaming reality.
There's no escape from my insanity.
Don't ask me where my fearless passion started.
For I don't know, I just found my self addicted.
You change my life without trying
You set my heart in jail, and I'm crying.
I dream to walk with you under the moonlight.
Stealing a moment,
To hold your hand for the entire night.
Your lips and smiles makes me shiver
As I stare at your eyes, crime has overpower.
I committed the crime,
But I'm the one who been murdered.
By the way your body move,
With the music your group rendered.
An arrow from your bow struck my heart.
Love arrest my innocent soul from the start.
But I don't repent this crime I did.
For stealing your heart is all I wanted.
Call me crazy, but I don't care
I won't look back for the word fear.
Punishment of pain might await.
Let me be judged by the law of fate.
Oh my love, I'm a sinner , yes I am,
Because loving you from the start is all I've done.

this poem is dedicated to all my bias in Kpop, specially to Bts Park Jimin

#fangirl #kpop #bangtan

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Christopher K Bayliss Sep 2014

Oliver Twist or The Parishboys Progress

Alone in the workhouse. Is where she gave birth.
The starch Parish Surgeon. A Drunken old Nurse.
The cries of a boy child. In her arms did he lie.
Gently kissing his forehead. Before she did die.

Not to be married. Mentioned the Nurse.
Was not to be heard of. Almost a curse.
No Father to speak of. Illegitimate offspring.
His Mother a corpse. With no wedding ring.

Without relations. Brought up with force.
Grown as a captive. Poverties course.
Life in the workhouse. Juvenile offenders.
Selfish providers. Fat cat Pretenders.

"Mrs Mann", Overseer. An hierarchy lie.
Starves and abuses. Would let them all die.
Nine years of age. Each picking a straw.
The boy stumbles forward. Asking for more.

Gruel knocked aside. The fat man, Bumble.
Shocked and alarmed. Off top shelf does stumble.
Dragged by the scruff. Out in the snow.
Sowerberry’s undertakers is where he will go.

Childish look. Innocent way.
To walk at the head of the hearse, they will pay.
Treated unfair. Leading the dead.
Next to a coffin they position his bed.

Insecure Claypole. With nasty remark.
Temper unleashed. Thrown into the dark.
Overwhelming silence inviting a tear.
By morning, escape. Will leave this room clear.

Seventy mile trek. Things look so bleak.
In London he lands. Dejected and weak.
The first friendly face stands counting his loot.
All wide eyed and fresh. In whistle and flute.

"Jack Dawkins the name. But you call me Dodger.
Need somewhere to stay, cause I know this old Codger."
Old Fagin insists to offer him bread.
A warm place to live. A snug place to bed.

Next mornings instruction as Fagin explains.
We live by our wits. Rely on our brains.
Its not thieving we do. We take it by slight.
If they wanted to keep it, why leave it in sight?

Bet and Nancy drop by. For a drink they are glad.
Showing concern for this down trodden lad.
Oliver’s training goes on for days.
Each time he succeeds is allotted with praise.

The day that gave Oliver oh so much tension.
When he met the man he had heard no one mention.
Gruff, rough and evil, A man no one likes.
With Bulls-eye his dog. The man known as Sikes.

The day comes around, when Oliver goes out. With Charley and Dodger, their isn’t much doubt.
The two older boys get the items they sought. Though in all of the turmoil Oliver’s caught.

Brought before Fang, the court Magistrate. Innocent plea onto deaf ears migrate.
Last minute witness brings light forth to shine. On innocent captive in front of said shrine.
The message is out, the crooks are all fraught. Nancy is allotted to spy in the court.
The boy is acquitted. Nothing is told. Nancy relays that they haven’t been sold.
The kindly old victim shows pity on boy.A quiet misdemeanour, a look in his eye.
A child of worth, should not be alone. Mr Brownlow decides to take Oliver home.
For the first time in ever, contentment and love.Poured onto said urchin from those up above.
A picture looks down on this scene from the wall. Similarity so true, most evident for all.
But outside a danger does start to lament. The signs coming out from a previous event.
Sikes and his lady hide out in the shade. Waiting in patience for mistake to be made.
A simple small errand would easily portray. That Oliver Twist is not of bad way.
Mr Grimwig suggests that the boy should be bound. With a parcel of books and the sum of five pound.
Brownlow agrees but his friend will soon gloat. Of the loss of said books and the crisp five pound note.
Surely as hell the time is upon. When onto the streets the child is soon gone.
But Grimwig still boasts that the boy they did trust. Was simply a fraud and just earning a crust.
The kindly old man does have to agree. That Oliver Twist is about on a spree.
Held up and imprisoned by this awful pair. Terrified boy removed to old Fagin’s lair.
Bill Sikes decides that the boy needs a blow. Nancy steps in, she will not stoop so low.
Be satisfied Bill for you have ruined his life. Condemned the poor boy to an history of strife.
Is that not enough to cast onto him. He has been through the mill, now he’s out on a limb.
Brownlow decides to post a reward. For information on the loss of his young ward.
Bumble arrives for the five guinea toll. As he opens his mouth the lies they do roll.

Oliver is taken, carted away.
By Nancy and Bill to the place where they lay.
No notice is taken to the tears he will sob.
For Sikes plans to take the small boy on a job.

Shepperton town is the place they will go.

To silence the boy a gun he will show.
Darkness will produce where his sights are set on.
A quick in and out and with goods they’ll be gone.

Toby Crackit and Sikes are partners in Crime.
Through a small window will make the boy climb.
But plans all go wrong and they do not get a jot.
Although in the event the poor lad will be shot.

Old Bumble is called to the workhouse for wine.
With widowed matron intending to dine.
Things interrupted the matron must go.
To visit old Sally on deathbed below.

The dying old woman does make good a wrong.
As she pours out a death persons song.
She tells Mrs Corney about a gold locket.
That she in the past had decided to pocket.

Inside it gave clues to someone’s true worth.
As owner was dying whilst still giving birth.
To a small sickened child it could of helped save.
Returned him to family as she went to her grave.

Three Cripples a pub where to Fagin will fast. A man named of Monks will throw light on the past.
The story of Oliver’s plight he does pitch. Not knowing the boy has been left in a ditch.
Giles and Brittle two servants regale. Remembering the robbery they did make fail.
An embellished story that has one slight hitch. The bloodied young man will make their story switch.
Doctor and Constable soon to arrive. While injured is taken upstairs to survive.
Upon seeing Oliver, Miss Rose does exclaim. That burglar and boy are not one and the same.
Officer’s Blather and Doth examine the scene. Oliver soon will explain his regime.
Miss Maylie house owner and her niece Miss Rose. Will not let the boy to a prison expose.
Losberne the surgeon and Rose take some time. For ways to conceal the boy from the crime.
Giles and Brittle are forced to retake. Admitting to Officers that they made a mistake.
Oliver’s life takes an healthy uplift. And lady and niece are so glad of this gift.
Tender care and love, make this young lad at home. Never again need to feel so alone.
Losberne takes Oliver to London to see. Where Brownlow and Bedwin could possibly be.
Upon their journey the news they do find. The persons in question have left England behind.
Without any warning poor Miss Rose gets sick. Oliver runs to get Losberne so quick.
On his return as he walks down the lane. He comes on a man who is writhing in pain.
Having retrieved some assistance for man. Returns towards home just as fast as he can.
Wanting to make certain of good news for Rose. Memory of the man in the lane simply goes.
Maylie’s sons Giles and Harry attend. Harry wants Miss Rose as more than a friend.
Whilst Harry is aiming for fortune and fame. Miss Rose has a sensitive mark on her name.
Although the misdeed was no crime of her own. Her parents wrongs will not leave her alone.
Harry is aiming at Prime Minister. So marriage beneath him would cause quite a stir.
With love in his heart the relentless Harry. Tells Miss Rose once more that he does want to Marry.
Although after this time he will not ask again. A tearful lady does have to refrain.
Oliver wakes up in shock from a sleep. Whilst at the window two men they do peep.
Fagin and other man, run off for their shame. Memories rekindled. The man in the lane.
Giles and Harry soon at Oliver’s aid. Searching the grounds but no trace can be made.
Away from the scene things come to an head. Old Bumble and Corney it seems have been wed.
The matron tells husband about what she’s learned. About the dead woman, money could be earned.
Chance meeting with Monks Bumble does make. To meet this caped man his new wife he does take.
For twenty five pounds a deal is made. She passes the goods for which she has been paid.
The locket from Sally, she did take and hold. Inside of locket a ring made of gold.
Inscribed on the inside the man Monks saw there. The name of Agnes and two locks of hair.
Inclined is the man, evidence must go. Weighted and thrown into rivers own flow.
Sikes is in fever and sweat it does shine. As Fagin arrives to deliver some wine.
Fagin replies he does not think it funny. The sickened Sikes still demands from him money.
Fagin takes Nancy back to his hideaway. To get Sikes the money he must indeed pay.
A visitor arrives, two men speak alone. Inquisitive Nancy can hear their drone.
Whatever she heard commits her to see and knock on the front door of Mrs Maylie.
Admitting to Miss Rose so that she should know. Who kidnapped the boy from Mr Brownlow.
She explains what it is she heard from the other. That Monks is indeed poor Oliver’s brother.
Oliver later is out for a treat. He spots Mr Brownlow out on the street.
The young man relates what he saw unto friends. Mr Giles and Miss Rose to Brownlow attend.
Oliver is allowed a visit to see. Brownlow and Bedwin who don’t disagree.
The story from Nancy is passed onto both. To keep it from Oliver they all swear an oath.
The idea to see Nancy would be a vantage. So visit they must, upon London Bridge.
Plans are drawn up things are in sight. The deadline is Sunday. The time is midnight.
Sowerberrie Robbed, Claypole the crook. To London a journey. The police he should duck.
A meeting with Fagin does help to define. The shaking of hands as this union align.
With Dodger locked up the need for a new. Association, by joining the crew.
First on the agenda a visit to court. To view on the sentence that Dodger has bought.
The sentence is in, result deportation. For Dodger a blow, Fagin some irritation.
Fagin tells Noah he will give him one pound. To latch on to Nancy and follow her around.
The midnight meeting from shadows perceived. Of talk about Monks who is not too relieved.
Spying for gentry Nancy will announce. When Monks will attend at that old ale house.
Idea as such, he will be forced to declare. The truth about all he has worked for and where.
Sikes is informed of Nancy’s concern. Anger and hatred through him will burn.
When he returns home, throws the girl onto bed. Lifts up his stick and beats Nancy dead.
Sikes will flee London the following day but tries to drown Bulls-eye who could give him away.
Brownlow captures Monks, taking him to his home. After constant question his cover is blown.
The secret of Monks they were soon to discover. Real name Edward Leeford they then did uncover.
His father he told was forced into marriage. With woman with whom he had tried to disparage.
This loveless union for the father was coarse. So he left but was not to secure a divorce.
Agnes Fleming, this lady became his only affection. The two of them seemingly lost their direction.
As a result of this loving affair. A woman alone with unborn child to care.
Fagin and Noah by police are detained. Though Sikes and his freedom still they remained.
Held up alone at his iniquitous den. Out of the way of all other men.
Bates he does follow, Bulls-eyehe will track. Calling on others to help him attack.
Murderer Sikes is forced now to flee. For the ****** he did to his poor Nancy.
He uses the rooftop with avoiding intent. Hoping that crowds will soon give up, relent.
Using a rope to air his escape. About his person the rope he will drape.
High up on rooftop Sikes does his trek. With rope still entwined in a loop around his neck.
A slip as he ran caused a rooftile to loose. Effecting in Sikes with his head in this noose.
Onlookers can see this of this man that they dread. Asphyxiated. Hanging stone dead.
They say what it is that made this man die. Was caused by seeing into Nancy’s eye.
That her ghost came along and did have its way. Making Bill Sikes forever pay.
Even though this story we cannot prove. For many a persons minds this does indeed sooth.
A Letter its told was found by another. Proving to us to be Edwards mother.
Destroying both a Will and letter. Ensuring that Edwards life will be better.
Agnes’s father found out when she left. Became broken heart and soon to bereft.
His shame and honour were both denied. Accelerated greatly the time when he died.
Poor little sister is taken we see. By good Samaritan lady named Mrs Maylie.
Bringing this child up as her own. Miss Rose as she is now, to us be it known.
Bumble and his wife confess. To their dealings in this mess.
Concealing to Oliver’s history. Never again, office be held by he.
Harry’s makes change of his life’s employ. Prime Ministers aim he will deny.
And thus open another direction. To marry her of his hearts affection.
Fagin is sentenced for all of his crimes. The Gallows imposed for his evil times.
Oliver will feel a need to beset. Fagin for proof of his legitimate
Noah is pardoned, excluded his time. For his testimonie about Fagin’s crime.
Monks travels by ship to the new world. It isn't to long until his life is unfurled.
His wicked ways again he will try. Imprisoned, eventually this is where he will die.
Oliver becomes the adopted son. Brownlow a father does also become.
Miss Rose as aunt that will often frequent. To see Olivers life gaining so much betterment,
Life now to all will be a good friend.
This story is formally now at an end.

A poetic translation of Oliver Twist by Charles Dickens..
May 28th 2011

#dickens #charles #twist #parish #oliver #brownlow

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John F McCullagh Sep 2012

An Amish Hate Crime

An Amish elder named Mullet,
And some of his ****** clan,
bore hatred deep in their gullets
for their Amish fellow man.
****** seemed out of the question,
It’s rare among Amish, folks say,
(It may be that a horse and a carriage
doesn’t make for a quick getaway.)
So Mullet and some of his minions
Invented a new sort of crime:
Shaving their bearded opponents
one Amish man at a time.
Losing one’s beard among Amish-
A disgrace before God, it’s been said.
Mullet spared no woman either
choping the hair from their heads.
His victims are speechless with anger,
denuded of both beards and hair.
Leave it to someone named “Mullet”
To offend using a Barber’s chair.
Mullet’s in Federal custody;
charged with a crime, not a sin.
He refuses to answer the charges
By the hair of his chinny chin chin.

A true hair raising tale- you can't make this up.

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Carolyne McNabb Sep 2017

Lady Justice, Molested

I stand accused.
Accused of a crime I most surely committed.
A crime of the most heinous issue.
More appalling than a sickness transmitted.
The accuser claims I have destroyed my family,
because of my crime.

What did I do?

What was my crime?

I spoke out when I was molested.
Molested by my dear, innocent cousin,
who could not possibly have done wrong.
I was molested.

I did not point fingers
or name names at first.
I simply said "I will stay in a hotel this visit."
But you cannot remain vague with family.
Family has a way of enticing your confessions.
They demand to know your sins.

I stand accused.
Not of a crime, but of a plot.
A plot to destroy my family with evil thoughts.
I am a trickster whose pleas are refused.
I stand accused
of being molested
in a world that says "Get over it."
and a family that screams "Who should trust you?!"

I was molested,
and I stand accused.
Help from Lady Justice refused.

#justice

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Bloodline of King Yashayah Aug 2018

Crime Shame Fools Act the Same

I'm a Kool g rockin' coogis poppin' coochies
Haters get murked like Colhese my rap lease
Debutin' numero uno the heavy weight sumo
Born on Jupiter raised on Earth my heart's colder than Pluto
Mic judo flows stickin' of ya corticals
Check me in the articles I be the broken particle
Of the universal ya need rehearsal **** goin' commerical
I lay raps like a hearse flow for rappers funeral
I a criminal none keep gats by the abdominal rhymin' phenomenal the mighty Apollo
Blazin' my cocoa flippin' crime like Bardellino
One luv to my nino got it locked like a Vegas casino
We checkin' ya dough at the front door so stop ya show
Fronting and stunting once my nines get the hunting
Bullets spikin' like kickers punting raw taunting
Game hungriest similiar to the lochness
Mon-star far from subpar rhymes ride bizzare
A pharcyde takin' ya into a spiritual homicide converged to the angelic hide

Still a crime shame all of 'em say the same
Thing flexin' diamonds on they pinky rings yet another sad soul that sings sub siblings
To the underworld debators contract initiator so you can create a
Pace between the stage and the audience face
**** that rather keep a gat tucked in the front or the back
With wisdom to rack
Imagine that fools breakin' for stats? see where my heart at?
Diggin' reachin' into the minds of the youth with the brutal truths
Chippin' my tooth
From killin' booths once I plot ya will ya loose
bringin' the ghetto blues and cruising *****
Still a sober jealous God am I call me Jehovah
Tactics of a Cobra one strike it's over
Venomous ridiculous hataz so conspicuous
Hatin' us only to anger my artillery surplus and who bust?
More rounds than Matt Dillion coatin' ya brains
With my lyrical penicillin stealin'
Back the spotlight
Catch the bright sunshine that stares into my mind
A Pharoah prophecy laid in the back of me
Head til I touch my final resting bed I'll embed
The realist **** ya ever heard shooting a bird
To all my enemies I blast at 'em with as the bullets herd

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Bob B May 2019

An Accomplice to a Crime

"William Barr is my name,
But you can call me AG Barr.
Protecting Donald Trump must be
The highlight of my repertoire.

"I'll defy the rule of law,
And I don't give a **** if I'm--
Despite what others say or think--
A sly accomplice to his crime."

"Lindsey Graham is my name,
Call me Senator Graham, please.
Selling one's soul to the devil is
Where I have my expertise.

"I don't care if Trump's corrupt
Or stretches the truth all the time.
If he furthers my goals, I will
Be an accomplice to his crime."

"Devin Nunes is my name,
But you can just call me Devin.
Having Trump as president
Is a right-wing extremist's heaven.

"If you want to obstruct justice,
Follow the president's paradigm.
Give up your integrity AND
Be an accomplice to his crime."

"Sarah Sanders is my name.
I am THE press secretary.
Whenever I lie for President Trump,
I just say a quick Hail Mary.

"Working for this president
Is something that I'd call sublime.
No one really cares if he
Or she's an accomplice to his crime."

So many people willing to lie--
So many people willing to begrime
Their character and reputations
As accomplices to the president's crime.

-by Bob B (5-5-19)

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Maxine Robbins Oct 2014

Cleavage Is A Crime

I wake up in the morning and put on a pretty dress,
My goal is to stun, amaze, and impress.
I make it about halfway through school without fuss,
But around 5th period I’m written up because cleavage isn’t a must.

I’m getting punished for my own set of double D’s,
Because the men around me get erections from a passing breeze.
If kids in high school can’t control themselves,
Why should I be the one punished for my huge shelves?

Why are men not taught to respect women,
But I am told I look slutty once again?
You’d think boys would be more than their ***** by this time,
But as of now cleavage is still a crime.

#poem #poetry #rhyming #rhyme #angry #feminism #slam #***** #******* #cleavage

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Mohammed N Razavi May 2018

CRIMINAL MINDS

CRIMINAL MINDS

It is not a crime yet
That what I am thinking
A moonless sky
And the stars are blinking

It is not a crime yet
To watch the waves bumping
Rattles in my head
Won't stop thumping

It is not a crime yet
I find comfort in my madness
Happy in my own ways
And I don't seek gladness

It is not a crime yet
That I should care
With the same passion
Or a brand new flare

But it is a crime
That you are not here
Not in my dreams
Or anywhere near

But it is a crime
We are no longer lovers
Sad situation
How do I recover

It is not a crime yet
This love is old fashion
What you have given me
And all that you ration

But it is a crime though
I have fallen off the wagon
Going around in circles
And I chase the dragon

M. N. R.
25 MAY 2018

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jake aller Aug 2019

gun poems

I don't get it
I don’t Get It
Mr. Speaker I admit I don’t get it

How does prayer Stop gun violence?
Prayer did not work in Texas.
 26 people were murdered  while praying.

God if he exists Obviously does not care
About the poor people
Who died in his church
Because a mad man 
Got a gun
And no they were not praying To be delivered from death
No one deserves to die like this

So my prayer to you
Is simply this
 Get off your rear end
Rally the country
And do something

About gun violence

That’s a prayer I hope works

Dear Speaker Ryan
I want to tell you something 
The dead don’t want your prayers
The dead don’t care that you pray for them
They are dead after all

And you and your so-called Christians
Are to blame
You refuse to do anything Anything at all

to stop the carnage In our streets

The U.S. is flooded with guns
And more are sold every day
Millions of people don’t have health coverage
Millions are barely surviving

And your answer
Our dear great compassionate Speaker
Your answer
Is Prayer works Government action does not
You act as if the gun violence Plaguing our country
 Was like the weather Beyond our control
So here’s my prayer for you
 And your colleagues
When you die I pray that God Will send you

And your friends Straight to hell
Where Satan and his demons Will use you for target practice

That’s my prayer to you And as you know Prayer works

Mr. President You are wrong once again 
You said that the tragic events
in Texas And Las Vegas were not “gun situations” 
But rather were mental health problems
And that in Texas
if there had been no gun controls
Perhaps fewer people would have died

Mr. President 
I know you a smart man 
The smartest man in the world 

According to you
So please contemplate this fact 
According to the latest findings
 It is a gun situation

In fact, the reason the U.S. 
Has so many gun deaths
 Is because we have so many guns
 45% of the worlds guns in fact
And 33 percent of the world’s shooters 
Are Americans killing other Americans
And most of them

the majority of them 
Are White men killing other people
Not Islamic terrorists 

Most are in fact 
Self-proclaimed Christians
So Mr. President 
When will you come to your senses
And do what 90 percent of the public wants 

Enact nation wide effective gun controls?
And tell the NRA 
they can take their blood money elsewhere

When Mr. President 
When will you act 
When will you take charge
And become a President of the people
Instead of the President of the NRA?
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Virginia Beach Massacre Never Again
Virgina Beach
 
In a night of horrific scumbagery violence 
Rarely seen in this jaded age of ours 
Gone in one hour
In a spasm of horrific scumbagery violence I
In just a few short minutes 

Nothing more than that 
In just a few moments 
All 12 victims were murdered
By a disgruntled employee 

Every one he knew was shot 
And killed for no reason
Caused by the demons 
His soul was so infected

Murderous demonic voices 
All in his head 
Screaming **** them all
**** them all 

Screaming none stop violence in his head 
All the time
Causing him to start shooting
everyone he saw 

Regardless of who they were
or where they were 
Everyone must die
screamed the demonic voices in his head
No one can be left alive 

Everyone must die 
Virtually all must die
in his internal video game 
Everyone must die

 Regardless of who they were
or where they were
Again just another day 
Gone horribly wrong 

All across America In
every town 
No where is safe anymore
Virgina Beach massacre

Virgina Beach massacre 
Just another
Average night in America 
An Active Shooter
scumbagery violence
 Rarely seen

in this jaded wild world Gone in one hour
In a spasm of horrific scumbagery
In just a less than 30 short minutes 
Nothing more than
In just a few short 30 moments 
All the victims
were murdered while at their daily
work wrong place wrong time

act of a demotic deranged madman
voices screaming ****
The voices scream
death to all humans 

All must be killed
The voices scream over and over All must die now

Just another night in America
Land of the Brave
Home of the free
More Guns for Everyone in the World

The NRA has decided 
That the best solution to global problem
 Of rampant violence and crime everywhere
Is for the rest of the world 

To become like the U.S.
 Where anyone can buy a gun 
As an armed society is a polite society’

And so the President i
s about to announce 
A global campaign against gun control restrictions 

As these restrictions
are an undue burden 
On the rights of the US arms manufactures
To sell their guns
everywhere in the world

 As everyone wants what we have to sell 
The best weapons in the world
Instead of trying to limit the damage

 That unrestricted gun sales
 Have done to the U.S.
Our President, our great leader 
Wants to sell more guns 
Everywhere in the world

And there are eager buyers
 Lining up around the world 
Eager to buy the best guns 
The world has ever seen

We want to export 
The gun madness 
That has infected our society

 Leaving behind so many dead bodies
The dead were not consulted 
For they remain dead

 They do not vote They have no voice
For the guns silenced them

For good  just as the guns intended

Just doing their gun thing after all

Humanity has evolved From stones to arrows
To guns T o nuclear, biological weapons

And the U.S.  While proclaiming itself
A champion of Human Rights

Remains nothing
but a country
Of gun runners  Merchants of death And destruction
NRA Please Stop Talking

Another day
Another mass shooting 
Another incident
of domestic terrorism 

another gun man
killing people
because just because  he can
and he wants to **** people

The NRA  And their stooges
 Come out 
Flood the airways
With their noxious
Poisonous weasel words 

The NRA says
Mass shootings 
Are like the weather 
You can’t control them
You can’t predict them 
And you can’t prevent them

Just have to accept
 It is all god’s will 
Guns don’t **** people
IF guns were outlawed 
Only outlaws  would have guns

Only solution  Is more guns 
For everyone 
An armed society
they say  Is a polite society 

Support for gun control I is
socialist/communist/fascist/anti-Am erican/anti-Christian nonsense
The beginning of tyranny 

If only the Jews had guns
 The holocaust would not have happened

Jesus would want us all 
to be armed  with machine guns
To protect us against the evil doers 
It is the Christian thing to do 

To blow away evil doers
With heavy arms 

In America
Land of the free 
Home of the brave
We can’t do anything 

At all
About the mass carnage 
Unleashed by madmen with guns 
Who walk among us 
Searching for their next victims
Any restriction of the right 

To bear arms 
Is tyranny at its worst
The nanny state run amuck
 Talking about gun control 
After a tragic event Is

just not the appropriate time 
We only need prayers 
and meaningless thoughts

Universal background checks 
Too onerous
Registering guns 
Too burdensome

Researching gun violence 
waste of tax payer money
banning military style assault weapons r

Restricts my right
to blow  away
 Bambi the deer with a M16

the NRA will keep talking
 talking and talking
 preventing anything
 from being done

and we will have another
 Mass shooting event
 Before the day is out

So my plead 
This day To the NRA A
and their stoogies 
Talk is cheap 
Your comments Are not helping

If you can’t
 Be a part of the solution
Just stop talking
 Please stop talking

 And let the rest
Of us figure out
 How to stop 
The madness in the streets
And stop the carnage 

So NRA
 Please  just  stop  talking  Now

military assault weapons  are locked up

yet in America 
the land of the free 
home of the brave 
everyone and his cousin 
must have their gun

guns for everyone 
cries the NRA 
that’s the solution

The president a
and his supporters
 deny the obvious
guns **** people
That’s all they do 

it is a gun thing
 you would not understand
Guns just do
what guns gonna do
**** people

Mr. President 
You can take your words 
your empty platitudes
Your empty promises
Your prayers

straight to hell 
and back

where with any luck
 Satan will use you 
as target practice
Chief of Staff You are Absurd

the President’s chief of staff
said the other day 
it was absurd
 to suggest that the president’s words 
had anything to do 
with recent mass shootings

yet is it absurd 
to see the lengths
 to which the President’s supporters
will twist and turn 
spinning awa y
the inconvenient truth
President Trump  is a racist bigot con man
 who some how  conned his way 
to become President
he call immigrants criminals, vermin, animals
 invaders infesting the country
the El Paseo shooter
 said that he went to the border
 to shoot the invaders 
and said  that he was a big Trump fan
it is not absurd  to connect these two huge dots
The President’s words 
have real world consequences

Yes Mr. Trump is a racist pig a
and his supporters  are being absurd
 to suggest otherwise

36
Jake Aller

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Jake Aller
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https://theworldaccordingtocosmos.com

John (Jake) Cosmos Aller

Novelist, Poet, Foreign Service Officer

Tel: 703-436-1402
Email: authorjakecosmosaller@gmail.com

John (“Jake” ) Cosmos Aller is a novelist, poet and former Foreign Service officer having served 27 years with the U.S. State Department in ten countries - Antigua, Barbados, Dominica, Grenada, Korea, India, St Kitts, St Lucia, St Vincent, Spain and Thailand. and traveled to 45 countries during his career. Jake has been an aspiring novelist for several years and has completed two novels, (Giant **** Spiders, and the Great Divorce) and is pursuing publication. He has been writing poetry all his life and has published his poetry in electronic poetry forums, including All Poetry, Moon Café and Duane’s Poetree. (under the name Jake Lee). He is looking forward to transitioning to his third career – full-time novelist and poet after completing his second career as a Foreign Service officer, and his first career as an educator overseas for six years upon completion of his Peace Corps service in South Korea.

He served in a wide variety of positions running from Consular management, Fraud investigation and managing the consular overseas computer support desk, to economic and political reporting positions, international labor diplomacy, commercial diplomacy - promoting American business overseas- international organization diplomacy serving as the deputy permanent representative to the Economic and Social Commission for Asia and the Pacific, to management positions including program management, evaluation and contracting management, and environmental and science diplomacy including promoting renewable energy solutions. He taught courses at the Foreign Service Institute and overseas in Bangladesh, India, Nepal and Kathmandu on consular fraud and consular Systems issues.

Senior program evaluator overseeing the implementation of the Department's evaluation program enabling the Department to develop a robust program evaluation system.
Coordinated training program training over 200 people in three years
Launched community of practice (CoP) web page (word press) with over 300 participants, greatly expanding the ability of State program evaluators to conduct program evaluations.
Conducted meta-evaluation of completed foreign assistance evaluations insuring that the Department’s evaluations provided critical program improvement data.

Deputy Political Economic chief, - Bridgetown, Barbados

Served as the deputy political economic chief covering political, economic, labor , environment and science and commercial diplomacy efforts in the Eastern Caribbean.
Received labor officer of the year award for work in setting up regional training programs in occupational safety issues, and meeting with labor leaders in all seven countries greatly expanding our labor diplomacy outreach;
Initiated two American Chambers of Commerce organizations,
Conducted fund raising in support of Embassy’s July fourth celebrations, the first time held in multiple countries, raising $100,000 over a three year period;
Conducted training programs in all seven countries demonstrating to hundreds of locals on how to access U.S. Government export financing programs .
.
CA/FPP Deputy Training Team Coordinator – Washington, DC,
Taught consular fraud prevention courses at the Foreign Service Institute, and in Bangladesh, India, Nepal, Pakistan, greatly increasing knowledge and skills in fraud detection.
Launched Lexus Nexus public record database access for consular officers worldwide, therefore dramatically improving consular fraud prevention efforts,
Initiated first interagency Fraud Working Group coordinating fraud efforts among Departments of Homeland Security, State, and Labor.
Received Cash Award.
Deputy Consular Chief, - Mumbai, India
Oversaw American citizen services, immigration visas in fifth largest operation in the world and fraud prevention programs greatly improving management of each.
Supervised and mentored 15 junior officers and 50 local staff resulting in each unit receiving group cash awards.
Received two cash Meritorious Honor awards for my work helping American citizens facing crises including helping American citizens whose family members died in India, or were arrested.
Organized task force that dealt with aftermath of worst earthquake in 50 years.

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8 stories • 1 lists • 1 lists • 5 groups

My Poems (224)AutorankLinks
I don't get it
I don’t Get It

Mr. Speaker
 I admit I don’t get it 
How does praye
 Stop gun violence?

Prayer did not work in Texas.
 26 people were murdered  while praying.
God if he exists
 Obviously does not care 
About the poor people 
Who died in his church

Because a mad man 
Got a gun
And no they were not praying
 To be delivered from death 
No one deserves to die like this

So my prayer to you 
Is simply this Get off your rear end 
Rally the country
And do something 

About gun violence
That’s a prayer I hope works
© 2 hours ago, john Cosmos Aller
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Dear Speaker Ryan

Dear Speaker Ryan
I want to tell you something 
The dead don’t want your prayers 
The dead don’t care that you pray for them 
They are dead after all

And you and your so-called Christians 
Are to blame 
You refuse to do anything
 Anything at all
to stop the carnage In our streets

The U.S. is flooded with guns 
And more are sold every day
Millions of people don’t have health coverage 
Millions are barely surviving
And your answer 

Our dear great compassionate Speaker
Your answer 
Is Prayer works
 Government action does not

You act as if the gun violence
 Plaguing our country
 Was like the weather
 Beyond our control

So here’s my prayer for you
 And your colleagues
When you die
 I pray that God
 Will send you
And your friends
 Straight to hell
Where Satan and his demons
 Will use you for target practice

That’s my prayer to you
 And as you know Prayer works

another gun poem © 2 hours ago, john Cosmos Aller
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It’s a Gun Situation, Mr. President

Mr. President You are wrong once again 
You said that the tragic events
in Texas And Las Vegas were not “gun situations” 
But rather were mental health problems
And that in Texas
if there had been no gun controls
Perhaps fewer people would have died

Mr. President 
I know you a smart man 
The smartest man in the world 

According to you
So please contemplate this fact 
According to the latest findings
 It is a gun situation

In fact, the reason the U.S. 
Has so many gun deaths
 Is because we have so many guns
 45% of the worlds guns in fact
And 33 percent of the world’s shooters 
Are Americans killing other Americans
And most of them

the majority of them 
Are White men killing other people
Not Islamic terrorists 

Most are in fact 
Self-proclaimed Christians
So Mr. President 
When will you come to your senses
And do what 90 percent of the public wants 

Enact nation wide effective gun controls?
And tell the NRA 
they can take their blood money elsewhere

When Mr. President 
When will you act 
When will you take charge
And become a President of the people
Instead of the President of the NRA?
another gun poem © 2 hours ago, john Cosmos Aller
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Virginia Beach Massacre Never Again
Virgina Beach
 
In a night of horrific scumbagery violence 
Rarely seen in this jaded age of ours 
Gone in one hour
In a spasm of horrific scumbagery violence I
In just a few short minutes 

Nothing more than that 
In just a few moments 
All 12 victims were murdered
By a disgruntled employee 

Every one he knew was shot 
And killed for no reason
Caused by the demons 
His soul was so infected

Murderous demonic voices 
All in his head 
Screaming **** them all
**** them all 

Screaming none stop violence in his head 
All the time
Causing him to start shooting
everyone he saw 

Regardless of who they were
or where they were 
Everyone must die
screamed the demonic voices in his head
No one can be left alive 

Everyone must die 
Virtually all must die
in his internal video game 
Everyone must die

 Regardless of who they were
or where they were
Again just another day 
Gone horribly wrong 

All across America In
every town 
No where is safe anymore
Virgina Beach massacre

Virgina Beach massacre 
Just another
Average night in America 
An Active Shooter
scumbagery violence
 Rarely seen

in this jaded wild world Gone in one hour
In a spasm of horrific scumbagery
In just a less than 30 short minutes 
Nothing more than
In just a few short 30 moments 
All the victims

were murdered while at their daily
work wrong place wrong time
act of a demotic deranged madman 
voices screaming ****
The voices scream
death to all humans 

All must be killed
The voices scream over and over
 All must die now

Just another night in America
Land of the Free
 Home of the free
another gun poem © 2 hours ago, john Cosmos Aller
Like (0)  0

More Guns for Everyone

More Guns for Everyone in the World

The NRA has decided 
That the best solution to global problem
 Of rampant violence and crime everywhere
Is for the rest of the world 

To become like the U.S.
 Where anyone can buy a gun 
As an armed society is a polite society’

And so the President i
s about to announce 
A global campaign against gun control restrictions 

As these restrictions
are an undue burden 
On the rights of the US arms manufactures
To sell their guns
everywhere in the world

 As everyone wants what we have to sell 
The best weapons in the world
Instead of trying to limit the damage

 That unrestricted gun sales
 Have done to the U.S.
Our President, our great leader 
Wants to sell more guns 
Everywhere in the world

And there are eager buyers
 Lining up around the world 
Eager to buy the best guns 
The world has ever seen

We want to export 
The gun madness 
That has infected our society

 Leaving behind so many dead bodies
The dead were not consulted 
For they remain dead

 They do not vote T
hey have no voice
For the guns silenced  them
For good  just as the guns intended 

Just doing their gun thing after all
Humanity has evolved
 From stones to arrows 
To guns T o nuclear, biological weapons

And the U.S.  While proclaiming itself 
A champion of Human Rights
Remains nothing

but a country 
Of gun runners  Merchants of death
 And destruction
another gun poem © 2 hours ago, john Cosmos Aller
Like (0)  0

NRA Quit Talking

NRA Please Stop Talking

Another day
Another mass shooting 
Another incident
of domestic terrorism 

another gun man
killing people
because just because  he can
and he wants to **** people

The NRA  And their stooges
 Come out 
Flood the airways
With their noxious
Poisonous weasel words 

The NRA says
Mass shootings 
Are like the weather 
You can’t control them
You can’t predict them 
And you can’t prevent them

Just have to accept
 It is all god’s will 
Guns don’t **** people
IF guns were outlawed 
Only outlaws  would have guns

Only solution  Is more guns 
For everyone 
An armed society
they say  Is a polite society 

Support for gun control I is
socialist/communist/fascist/anti-Am erican/anti-Christian nonsense
The beginning of tyranny 

If only the Jews had guns
 The holocaust would not have happened

Jesus would want us all 
to be armed  with machine guns
To protect us against the evil doers 
It is the Christian thing to do 

To blow away evil doers
With heavy arms 

In America
Land of the free 
Home of the brave
We can’t do anything 

At all
About the mass carnage 
Unleashed by madmen with guns 
Who walk among us 
Searching for their next victims
Any restriction of the right 

To bear arms 
Is tyranny at its worst
The nanny state run amuck
 Talking about gun control 
After a tragic event Is

just not the appropriate time 
We only need prayers 
and meaningless thoughts

Universal background checks 
Too onerous
Registering guns 
Too burdensome

Researching gun violence 
waste of tax payer money
banning military style assault weapons r

Restricts my right
to blow  away
 Bambi the deer with a M16

the NRA will keep talking
 talking and talking
 preventing anything
 from being done

and we will have another
 Mass shooting event
 Before the day is out

So my plead 
This day To the NRA A
and their stoogies 
Talk is cheap 
Your comments Are not helping

If you can’t
 Be a part of the solution
Just stop talking
 Please stop talking

 And let the rest
Of us figure out
 How to stop 
The madness in the streets
And stop the carnage 

So NRA
 Please  just  stop  talking  Now
another gun stop © 2 hours ago, john Cosmos Aller
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guns **** People
Guns **** people g
Guns do **** people
it is not mental illness
 it is not video games
it is not a million other things

it is simply this
a gun is a weapon 
a weapon designed to **** people

That is what guns do
guns don’t care 
they do as they are told
If you pull the trigger t
They will **** the victim

that is what guns do 
that is why  in a civilized society 
military assault weapons  are locked up

yet in America 
the land of the free 
home of the brave 
everyone and his cousin 
must have their gun

guns for everyone 
cries the NRA 
that’s the solution

The president a
and his supporters
 deny the obvious
guns **** people
That’s all they do 

it is a gun thing
 you would not understand
Guns just do
what guns gonna do
**** people

Mr. President 
You can take your words 
your empty platitudes
Your empty promises
Your prayers

straight to hell 
and back

where with any luck
 Satan will use you 
as target practice
another gun poem © 2 hours ago, john Cosmos Aller
Like (0)  0

Chief of Staff You are Absurd

the President’s chief of staff
said the other day 
it was absurd
 to suggest that the president’s words 
had anything to do 
with recent mass shootings

yet is it absurd 
to see the lengths
 to which the President’s supporters
will twist and turn 
spinning awa y
the inconvenient truth
President Trump  is a racist bigot con man
 who some how  conned his way 
to become President
he call immigrants criminals, vermin, animals
 invaders infesting the country
the El Paseo shooter
 said that he went to the border
 to shoot the invaders 
and said  that he was a big Trump fan
it is not absurd  to connect these two huge dots
The President’s words 
have real world consequences

Yes Mr. Trump is a racist pig a
and his supporters  are being absurd
 to suggest otherwise
another gun poem © 2 hours ago, john Cosmos Aller
Like (1)  1

Mr. President Words Matter

Mr. President Words Matter

Mr President
 Words matter
 your words matter

your words of hate
 your words of division
your words  calling fellow human beings  ****, vermin,
 invaders, animals  matter

they matter a lot
 and is it little wonder
 that people listen  
to the hate you sprew forth

and some deranged people
 take action  on your call  for action
against the invaders
 on the border 

they march to the border 
to **** the invaders
your words matter 
Mr. President

 and your false words of regret
fool no one 
the damage has been done
 the hate has been spread
 just as you intended

and you  have the gall
 to call yourself A Christian
you are the anti-Christ
 you are not a Christian
 so please quite pretending 
to be what you are not

please man up
 accept your responsibility
 set things right
 apologize

the dead though
 don’t need your prayers
 they need action
 they need leadership

and you are the president
 so please start acting
 like you give a ****

and if you do so
 perhaps  you will find 
people will follow you
but please  quite the words  of hate 

the words that hurt
and quit calling immigrants  invaders
and vermin 

they are human beings
 they are deserving of respect
this I ask of you  In Jesus’s name even though I am not a Christian another day, another shooting

Another Day Another Shooting
another day in paradise
just another day in Americal
Land of the free
Home of the brave

and gunshots,
lots of gunshots more guns for all cries the NRA

yes another day
another gun battle another white man
who just wants to ****

the President sends his condolences Thanks the law enforcement  for an incredible job well done It was horrible

Hate has no place
in our country
and we will take of it
 and do what ever we can do
condolences  nothing but false words empty words
 lots of things to do
it is mental illness problem
 but he fails to mention
the words gun at al
not at all
and tomorrow and tomorrow 
but he at least finally
said  hate has no role in country nothing but prime BS
in my humble opinion

he did not mention  white supremacy his rhetoric had nothing
nothing to do
about this at all

and so tomorrow
I will turn on the TV and we see
nothing at all

and the dead will remain dead the guns will fire again
 nothing will be done
welcome to America land of the free home of the brave

poems about gun violence

#guns #violence #america

Continue reading...

English Jam Apr 2018

Sitting in some car in a forgotten parking lot
Grey marks the skies
Lush green plants peeping in
The wildlife of concrete and paint makes the perfect background
For
Little ***** of liquid heaven falling on my windscreen
And some music to complete the scene
Each guitar line synchronises with each raindrop
Each blast of power thunder hits hard like heavy metal
But the soft clouds, the gentle ebb and flow lull me to sleep
Whispering, persuading me to dream
But I really don't want to miss this shard of time
I never want to lose little moments like these

A silver raindrop is born by landing on my car
Crash landing, rather
The bubbling pocket of mystery travels down
Swerving and slamming into other fellow pockets in crime
It's life cycle completes when it reaches the bottom
It races to it's death, unable to stop gravity's plan for it
Each drop morphs into another, making a wave
The rain weaves an intricate web of waves
All strutting their sparkly magic before me
I sense a metaphor for humanity creeping in
Millions of crescendos growing about
Too concerned with their internal politics to worry about others
But I stay focused on the beauty all around

I wonder if heaven has rainy days
If so, this must be one of them

#rain #imagery #littlemomemtslikethese

Continue reading...

Keith Edward Baucum Mar 2018

Characters in GREEN (The first version)

Malik Maxwell: The leader of the Black Crime Syndicate.  Malik owns a scrapyard.  He is the love interest for Kenya.

The Black Crime Syndicate: A black criminal organization led by Malik.  They are allies with the Jade Dragons.

Kenya Ayanna Night: An employee at the BNB Bank.  Kenya is best friends with Jewel.

Jade: The leader of the Jade Dragons.

The Jade Dragons: A criminal organization.  The Jade Dragons are allies with the Black Crime Syndicate.

Jewel Stonewall: She is best friends with Kenya.  Jewel is the owner of The Golden Scissors hair salon.

The Golden Scissors: A hair salon owned by Jewel Stonewall.

BNB Bank: The bank where Kenya is employed at.

Edward: The owner of Club Envy.

Club Envy: A ******* owned by Edward.

Amber: The second in command of the Black Crime Syndicate.

Mecca: A high ranking member of the Black Crime Syndicate.

Phil: A high ranking member of the Black Crime Syndicate.  Phil is a dog *******.

Cherish City: The name of the city where the story takes place.

written by Keith Edward Baucum

Continue reading...

Overwhelmed Mar 2011

in the court of logic

is there any
other business?
the drab
judge said
to his
fellow lawful
relics

the room was
silent

good,
we are dismissed
he said

I’m sorry,
a voice said,
but I can’t let us
go without saying
something

the judge let loose
a deep breath from his
nostrils

what is it,
brother?
have you a
concern?

a man,
the voice said,
one that is set to
hang
he is
not
guilty

and how is it
that you know this
brother?

his crime,
the commitment of
emotion,
is not a
crime

how so brother?
have we not seen
what happens when we
feel?

yes I know of the wars,
of the hatred,
of the destruction,
but I say
it is not a
crime!

but it is-
a crime

the room was silent then
the judge and the man
who the voice belonged to
stared at each other

it broke with the voice
not the judge

where would we be without
feeling?

where would we be with
it?

silence
again

we would be animals
without our emotions

are you saying we
aren’t
animals?

yes,
I am saying
we are better than
that

we are man!
we are human!
we have minds!
we have morals!
we are above the rest!
we are the best, the
greatest!

we can be responsible!
we can be trusted!
we can be allowed to feel!
we can love!

the air had long left the room
no one knew what to think
there was hatred and anger
but also denial and questioning
who was right? who was wrong?
what does this challenge mean?

it was the judge,
not the voice,
that spoke this time
first

arrest this man

he is guilty of our
most heinous
crime

and the voice was dragged off
his body desecrated and burned
by men in black masks and sick
smiles

the voice did not die
the man he was fighting for
did not either

the man ran,
to the hills he ran,
on the mountains he
screamed:

I love her
I love her
I love her

he was never caught
he ran about the country
and was heard by ears
and seen by eyes
and his image and his form
would not leave the minds
of the people

yet the corpse of that voice,
living now in a dying man,
still lies in some forgotten
warehouse, decaying and
rotting with worms

that corpse is what happens
to those that think freely
even in this age, of free speech
and free justice we are one
step from a court of logic
that forgets what it means to
love and truly thinks it is a
crime

this all plays within my mind,
the judge myself
the voice myself
the man myself
the message myself
the court myself
the meaning myself
and most of all

the torture
myself

Continue reading...

T. S. Eliot

Macavity: The Mystery Cat

Macavity’s a Mystery Cat: he’s called the Hidden Paw—
For he’s the master criminal who can defy the Law.
He’s the bafflement of Scotland Yard, the Flying Squad’s despair:
For when they reach the scene of crime—Macavity’s not there!

Macavity, Macavity, there’s no on like Macavity,
He’s broken every human law, he breaks the law of gravity.
His powers of levitation would make a fakir stare,
And when you reach the scene of crime—Macavity’s not there!
You may seek him in the basement, you may look up in the air—
But I tell you once and once again, Macavity’s not there!

Macavity’s a ginger cat, he’s very tall and thin;
You would know him if you saw him, for his eyes are sunken in.
His brow is deeply lined with thought, his head is highly doomed;
His coat is dusty from neglect, his whiskers are uncombed.
He sways his head from side to side, with movements like a snake;
And when you think he’s half asleep, he’s always wide awake.

Macavity, Macavity, there’s no one like Macavity,
For he’s a fiend in feline shape, a monster of depravity.
You may meet him in a by-street, you may see him in the square—
But when a crime’s discovered, then Macavity’s not there!

He’s outwardly respectable. (They say he cheats at cards.)
And his footprints are not found in any file of Scotland Yard’s.
And when the larder’s looted, or the jewel-case is rifled,
Or when the milk is missing, or another Peke’s been stifled,
Or the greenhouse glass is broken, and the trellis past repair—
Ay, there’s the wonder of the thing! Macavity’s not there!

And when the Foreign Office finds a Treaty’s gone astray,
Or the Admiralty lose some plans and drawings by the way,
There may be a scap of paper in the hall or on the stair—
But it’s useless of investigate—Macavity’s not there!
And when the loss has been disclosed, the Secret Service say:
“It must have been Macavity!”—but he’s a mile away.
You’ll be sure to find him resting, or a-licking of his thumbs,
Or engaged in doing complicated long division sums.

Macavity, Macavity, there’s no one like Macacity,
There never was a Cat of such deceitfulness and suavity.
He always has an alibit, or one or two to spare:
And whatever time the deed took place—MACAVITY WASN’T THERE!
And they say that all the Cats whose wicked deeds are widely known
(I might mention Mungojerrie, I might mention Griddlebone)
Are nothing more than agents for the Cat who all the time
Just controls their operations: the Napoleon of Crime!

Continue reading...

Yenson Jul 2018

Where Is Justice..........

A while ago in East London, in an area called Poplar
a black man lived with his wife
Quiet, hardworking, law-abiding they both were.
never courted a scandal, never committed a crime
Just went about their business, working for  better tomorrows

Then next door a Scottish family of five moved in
and immediately started borrowing from couple next door
Do you have sugar, do you have bread, can I borrow a fiver
till our Giro arrives next week, please another tenner for Jim
He has to pay a fine.

Empty beer cans littered their doorway, they all drank like fish
fights and arguments rang late into the night
Police visited twice, thrice weekly and it was known Jim burgled.
and was always doing time, when not drunk and fighting
Joan eldest girl was pregnant at sixteen and Tom fourteen had
done two stretches in juvenile detention
Last daughter Kelly was also to end up in the duff at sixteen

Amounts borrowed was now sizable, the odd fiver repaid
stolen items regularly offered and rejected by quiet couple next door
Invites to the black man to visit while Jim in jail politely declined
Come and have a drink with me and my young daughters
No thanks, got to go and cook, my Mrs would be returning soon.

The family from hell has turned the neighborhood to hell
constant break-ins all around
strange men coming and going, fights and noise, beer cans
for carpets, stairwells reeking of ****, Tom and friends and
Marijuana fumes graced the stairs and veranda.
Mrs Scottish and two young daughters constant smiling invitations
to black man next door, duly always deftly rejected.

Black man and Mrs decided to stop lending money
it was all going on beer and smoke and never paid back
By the end of the week, their car had been vandalized and four
wheels removed, racist leaflets started appearing on veranda.
No more smiling coyly invites, now just loud music and loud
intermittent bangs on walls from next door.
We must complain, we most report all this to the Landlords.
No, lets just ignore them, not worth the hassle.

Then it happened, black man arrives home one afternoon
and finds his front door ajar, they had been burgled.
Seething with anger he stormed next door to be met by Mrs S
'you ******* thieves have robbed me, how can you be so low,
after all we've done to try and help you. None of you work, You are a bunch of lazy
workshy, welfare scroungers, you are pathetic lowlife. why don't you go and get a job instead of burgling houses and getting drunk all day long
I will start a petition to move you away from the neighborhood.
You no-good non working class scums'  a disgrace and an affront to the hardworking working classes. You ******* racist bullies, I will show you, you can't
mess with me'

Mrs S smiled wickedly and said, you will see
'character assassination, public humiliation, we'll ruin your life and you'd wish you are dead by the time we finish with you and your chicken legs wife. I will show you who runs the manor in East London.'
You can't do that, black man replied, I have done nothing wrong, you are the bare-faced thieves, you shameless woman. We have had enough of you and your anti-social behaviour. You are not going to mess with us no more!

OH, YES! they can and by jove, they did.
Mrs S retorted' You are the foreigner here, you are the one that would be leaving the country
and going back to your Jungle'.
Black man called wife to tell her, she came home immediately
the police came, no evidence, here's a crime report, get your door
fixed. How about searching next door, we can't, no witnesses.
And then Black man's life changed FOREVER.

Should I write about the intimidation from other white families
in the neighborhood, should I write about how the Local Socialist
Party got involved, and launched a propaganda campaign about a black Conservative member dissing the Working Classes,  should I write about how one of his beloved dogs was
killed, should I write about a rumour campaign that black man was a wife-beater, a ****, a con man, a greedy parasite, should I write about sudden hostilities and bullying at his work place, how his wife was also sacked, about being randomly insulted and abused in the streets, about kids spitting on him, about being shunned inexplicably by locals
he's known for years. Should I write about outrageous fabrication, smears and humiliation.
Should I write about political victimization, about the black man 'who thinks he is better than us all,' about how a wedge was driven between him and his wife, till she broke and upped and left without warning,
should I write about how strangers shouted 'solidarity with the working Class' at him, should I write about daily torments and constant harassment everywhere he goes, should I write about Criminal gang stalking,
should I write about being informed they were going to ruin his career, ruin his marriage and ruin his reputation, check, all done. S I write about how they said they were going to chuck mud at him everywhere he went and blacken his name forever, should i write about pure isolation, about being made a target and being  hounded and stalked and disrespected everywhere. Should I write about how they stated they were going to drive him insane and drive him to suicide.

If so, WE WILL BE HERE ALL DAY.
Just  know that somewhere in London, a decent, law-abiding progressive, and innocent black man, is now on his own, broke, in debts and on Welfare benefits, unable to find a job, friendless and isolated, discredited and shunned.  He is still being stalked, harassed and hounded, round the clock. All for daring to stand up to CRIMINALS.

IS THERE JUSTICE IN THE WORLD?
IS THIS WHAT ENGLAND HAS BECOME?

Continue reading...

Eliza Sterling Feb 2014

It’s fact, fiction, and lies, as the devil continues to pry
On my soul and my flesh, punching holes like paper on a teacher’s desk,
Slouched over I’m a mess, a mess as a drunken sketch
This feeling I’ll match it - with a match lighting this torn cigarette.
I feel evil caress the stress imploding my chest
With no one to impress I rip apart my dress
Naked I confess, take a breath and cover my mouth with mesh…

Yes, mesh, I guess I’m scared to be deprived completely of air,
A bit here and there, taking it as I declare
I’m comfortably bare beside my ***** ******* chair
Prepared to spare my body physically impaired
I glare with despair; Life is not fair
I’m too late to repair, how dare someone not care…

Not care, to act blind and deaf to me cry like a dying swine
Denied. That’s fine. The destruction returns with black clouds in the sky.
Empty time combined with the drought of your hasty good bye,
My pounding, bound mind can’t find words to describe.
With tear-filled eyes I lie and line my body with it’s design,
Blissful hate, You can define me as a Divine Crime.

This divine crime procrastinated, not yet committed,
Still addicted to the sadistic ways of the wicked.
Twisted liquid drowned the fear unconstricted,
Thriving off the blade penetrating my skin’s system.
Transmitted blood puddling just as I’d written,
Delivering my limit as predicted, I just couldn’t have committed!

Not so much committing to him but more my life,
Uncertainties of my nature were as cold as ice.
Precisely entice yet deceive I’d slice and not think twice,
My heart is charcoal, as small as a grain of rice.
Love is dry and old, cannot be marked with a price,
So listen to my advice - I’m a toxic prosthetic device to ruin your life.

The Devil Inside.
**A Divine Crime.

Continue reading...

Jeff Gaines Mar 2018

Thee Longest Piece Ever Uploaded On Hello Poetry (As far as I know) ** I doubt you'll read it through **

OK Reader, I'm going to tell you a tale … with great trepidation. You see, this tale, well, it's kind of like telling someone that you've seen a UFO. They want to believe you, but … it's never really been proven scientifically. Not to mention the fact that most folks who believe in such things are often the tin-hat wearing types, written off as … lets be nice and call them “odd”. And, of course, the more you swear to it, the crazier you appear. It's an epic tale, spanning 30 years of my crazy life.

  But, It's a story I want to tell, because it happened to me. I can barely understand it myself, let alone explain it. So … I'm just going to launch into it and you take it any way you wish.

*  *
Where Can You Be?

Where can you be?
Where can you be, my love?
Oh, can't you see?
You're not with me!

I'll search with gazes and I'll search with cars,
I'll search the cities and I'll search the stars, well …
I'm gonna find you, oh, wherever you are,
I'm gonna find you baby …  near or far, but …

Where can you be?
Where can you be, my love?
Oh, can't you see?
You're not with me!

I thought I'd found ya, but she wasn't you,
that girl she left alone and blue, well …
I know that's something that you'd never do,
your love has always been strong and true, but …

Where can you be?
Where can you be, my love?
Oh, can't you see?
You're not with me!

If you must settle for some other man
and deviate from our immortal plan, well …
I hope you realize I will understand
and I'll try and do the best that I can, but …

Where will I be?
Where will I be, my love?
Hoping the next life sees …
our destiny!

Where can you be?
Where can you be, my love?
Oh, can't you see?
You're not with me!

~Wednesday, April 1st, 1987
10:30 P.M.

  I was singing in a band back in those days and, as it happened, this was the last song I'd ever write for it. Just after this, as it does, it all came crashing down and the band was finished. But in those last days, they pondered this song, with great puzzlement. You see, it was unlike anything I'd brought them before. It wasn't rock … It wasn't a ballad … it wasn't even structured like a “normal” 80's rock song.

  No bridge, no solo, no loud grinding guitars, etc. It even had bits where I hummed, yes hummed, the melody, like a lullaby. As they read the lyrics and I described how it went, they all looked at me like I had three heads and asked where this had come from. It was nothing like anything I'd written before. I could only tell them when and where I'd written it, but had no explanation of what inspired it. It had just came to me, so I wrote it down. They didn't know what to make of it, or even what to do with it.

  One of them said it sounded like a late 70's or early 80's adult contemporary song or even in the vein of The Eagles. Another asked if it was about reincarnation … And I honestly, until that moment, hadn't thought of it that way, I didn't think like that at 24 … but then, one of them said it was “Haunting” …

  “Haunting”?

  “Wow”, I thought, I'd never had anything I'd written described as that before. When I asked him what he meant by that, he told me that it was haunting to think that this poor guy is desperately seeking a girl, that may or may not even know that he exists … in a world with billions of people in it. To top that off, he fears that she may off and marry someone else if he doesn't find her in time.

  This, along with the suggestion of it being about reincarnation made me rethink and rewrite the song. Well, a few lines in the last verse and chorus anyways. It actually made the song flow better and seem more complete. In a way, it actually made the song make more sense … to me and them. Sadly, we never did anything with it. There wouldn't be time. Ha … Time … how ironic. Over 10 years later, came this …

For Someone I've Never Met

Please save a place for me,
deep inside your heart.
Always know that I think of you,
as we both practice our arts.

Our worlds are full of temptations,
so very hard to resist …
and the good Lord knows
we're both far from,
sixteen and never been kissed.

Wealthy men with jaws divine …
Temptresses with looks so fine …
Paths that lead our hearts away …
Paths that surely lead astray …

They'll lead us there every time.
They'll leave us there … so  unkind.
Our hearts must shine,
night and day.
Through any darkness … they'll light our way.

If you never touch my face …
If I never look into your eyes …
We'll always have the comfort of sharing
the same
big, blue sky.

If I never smell your hair …
If you never kiss my lips …
Always know the search for your smile
has launched a thousand ships.

So, I hope you save a place for me
in your heart so sweet and kind.
Please, save a place for me …
Heaven knows you've one in mine.

~Thursday, September 9th, 1999
9 A.M.

“For Someone I've Never Met ” poured out of me in the midst of another breakup from the second, and last, girl that I wanted to marry. That emotion, never found me again. I looked at it on my computer screen and smiled, seeing “Where Can You Be”, in my mind, on my tattered old note pad that I called my “Song Book”. The memory of me writing it while sitting in my Z-28, looking out over the Gulf of Mexico as a beautiful heat lighting storm sent bolts across the sky, came flooding back; as did the debate of reincarnation I'd had with my pals in the rehearsal room all those years before. Here I was, again, writing about “someone” that I sensed, for lack of a better term, was out there … somewhere.

  Well Reader, do you believe in reincarnation? I was never really certain, but, as you can see, I had twice written pieces to someone I wasn't completely sure existed. I had always “sensed” someone out there beginning with the period after I wrote “Where Can You Be?” and thereafter. So, there they were, each written after losing someone I was deeply in love with. Each came out of nowhere, as they usually do. By the time I was in my 40's, I began to think I was either imagining it all (a side effect of being a hopeless romantic) or that I had just somehow missed this person and our “moment”.

  And then …

Epiphany

There was a place.
There was a time …
There, I stood … still unknowing
and everything seemed fine.

But there in that place …
at that moment in time …
the moment I saw the eyes,
I'd never believed I'd find.

Well, what could I say?
What could I do?
In a world filled with billions …
and there … was a you.

I'd always known you were out there …
even written of something amiss.
I never, ever stopped looking for you …
because my heart always said you exist.

My breezy Fall became harshest Winter.
My crazy life left my health running out.
I'd resigned myself that our moment had passed …
but this moment … it removed all doubt.

Well, what could I say?
Tell me, what could I do?
There we stood, staring … alone … in a city of millions …
yes, there … there was a you.

Oh, that mistress fate, she is just so cruel.
Frustration, a curse to be mine.
   I'd searched for you my entire life …
but now … my clock … knows a limit of time.

You see, I would never venture a love with you,
while knowing I'd have to leave you … hurt and alone.
I could only admire from afar … stoic and aloof …
while turning my heart into stone.

Nothing I could ever say and nothing I could ever do …
But now, at long last … at least I finally knew.

There, you stood … green seas, gazing up … into skies of blue.
My long-awaited revelation … become sorrow-laced realization.
There really is … a you.

~August 12th, 2009

  Typical of my life-long Charlie Brown syndrome … After being told in 2005 that I had “the lungs of an eighty-year-old man” and that I had “Six to Ten years” to live, I made a conscious decision in that Doctor's parking lot that I could never have another girlfriend and that I must face this alone. I don't see woman as objects. They are glorious creatures that are here to be our partners and friends and to make our lives amazing. I could never, ever knowingly let a woman fall in love with me, all the while knowing I was going to die and leave her. It's not in me to do such a thing, lonely or not.

  Yes, I'm still alive, I'm stubborn like that. But, some days are better than others and my new doctors say that they don't give people “time limits” anymore … because of people like me. I can't afford the lung transplant. So, as Bono so aptly put in one of his songs: “The rich stay healthy, while the sick stay poor”. It is what it is … and like the energizer bunny, I'm still going. Good for me.

  In the moment that I met her, the morning that followed, and the amazing speed of our nexus over the next several months combined with a string of synchronicities (Coincidences? Did I mention that she too, was a poet and writer?) that not only came after I met her on the sidewalk in front of the publisher we shared, but in those pieces I had written before and in several after; I was pretty much convinced I had actually found her. I have NEVER experienced anything like this, or her, in my entire life.

  So, after all this time, here she was … and there wasn't a **** thing that I could do about it. Besides, she was much younger than I and it probably would never have worked anyways. ****, the universe is rotten sometimes, huh? Maybe, if I'm lucky, things will balance out better in the next life. I can only hope. But I'm reminded, worryingly so, of the **** The Alarm song: “Collide”:

“All of these thoughts pounding in my head …
with the words I've wrote, in the letters I've never sent.
The distance in our lives may change …
Times that you can never erase …
But will our worlds collide?
Will our worlds collide, the next time?”

  Only time will tell.

  “Colors”, and a few others, were written about/for her. But, I could never show them to her. I would never endanger my friendship with her. I just wanted to keep her in my life. That, and that alone, was the only motive I'd ever had with her. I looked forward to seeing her marry, hearing her stories of her three kid's adventures; Hubby, all greasy, working on the car in the driveway, rabbits in her garden at night, eating her precious organic veggies or even about her new curtains. Just to know that she was alive, happy and doing well. I found a solace in her voice I could never describe and I was completely content to just have her in my life and watch hers unfold. Only I could end up in this odd position.

  I feared that she might get weird-ed out because I'd never displayed any romantic inklings toward her, so, to suddenly read these might make her feel a bit, lets say: uncomfortable. Actually, I didn't write them with any romantic intentions, per se; I just did what I always do … write what comes out. Still, there's no denying that they come across romantic. Again, so, so Charlie Brown. (long sigh)

  It is what it is. I also have to ponder the fact that maybe all those Charlie Brown moments in my life were preparing me for this one big, painful one. That does makes sense … ******' Universe.

Colors

Well when you're Green, I'll be your Brown.
Like the earth that loves the flowers,
I'll will be your solid ground.

And I'll be your Azure, when you are Verdigris.
We'll be thee most beautiful ocean
that eyes have ever seen.

And when you're Black, I'll be your White.
Mixing all of the colors … I'll make everything alright.

Now when you're Blue, I'll be you're Red.
If something should make you wanna cry,
I will feel your pain instead.

And I'll be your Orange, whenever you are Pink.
We'll be thee most amazing sunset,
that the sky could ever ink.

And when you're Black, I'll be your White.
I'll mix all of your colors … and make everything alright.

Should you be Violet, I will be your Beige.
Like a sleepy moonlit desert,
pasteled in dunes and sage.

And when you're Grey, I will be your Rainbow.
We'll be thee most soothing rainstorm
the world has ever known.

And when you're Black, I'll be your White.
I'll mix all of your colors … yes, I'll make everything alright.

With love on my palette, painting a glorious sunrise …
I'll color all your mornings with a smile and brighten up your skies.
If you should find yourself in sorrow from someones hate or lies …
I'll take the stars down from the heavens … and paint them in your eyes.

So whenever you are Black, I will always be your White.
I'll mix all your colors with a promise … everything will be alright.

Yes, I'll mix all of your colors with a promise … Everything's gonna be alright.

~  Winter 2012

  I wrote this after she had rang me up one afternoon lamenting about her life at the moment, troubled that her latest novel hadn't done as well as she'd hoped and now she had to be waitressing to make ends meet. I tried my best to cheer her up and assured her that she was strong enough to handle anything and that she must keep chasing her dreams. I wrote it as a poem, but I can't help but notice it looks like a song, though I've never heard music for it. Those repeated verses look just like choruses to me.

  Earlier in the day, I had been looking at a booklet of paint swatches. I guess, up there on my roof looking at the Manhattan skyline, her sadness and me looking at all those colors melted together somehow and, as happens, out came this piece. Even this, became another synchronicity as she would name her next novel “Show Me All Your Colors”. I remember seeing it in the bookstore and looking straight up … shaking my head at the sky. Was this the universe telling me to show and tell her all this?

  Well, if it was, I stuck with my gut and kept it to myself. My God, if you only knew how many of these synchronicities there were between her and I. It simply boggles my mind. I wanted to call them “coincidences”, but there were just so **** many of them … Each so unique, they just couldn't be called that. I don't want to tell them all here, because like I said, the more you swear to it, the crazier you sound. And I'm sure your questioning my sanity by now, aren't you? (Smirk)

  OK, OK … this one is definitely romantic. I wrote it one night, drunk to the bejeezus. I'd done what we called “The Crosstown Crawl” with my pal Tristan and a gaggle of assorted waitresses we knew. This involved starting at Brass Monkey on the west side highway in the Gansevoort District and ending at my favorite hookah bar, Karma, on the Lower East Side … Drinking in, and often being “asked to leave” (Read: Kicked out of) every bar that took our interest as we walked (Read: staggered) west to east, staying below 14th St.

  On my way home from the city on the J train, I thought about all the phone conversations we'd had while I was on this train crossing the Williamsburg Bridge. Being drunk, I guess, I caught a bout of sadness that I'd never get to tell her any of this or even how I felt about it all. Before I hit my elevator, this piece was swimming in my head. It's about as mushy a piece as I've ever written … if not thee most! Not the norm for me, but this is, after all, a lot to keep pent up inside you. I wouldn't wish this predicament on anyone.

For My Little Red-Haired Girl …

You …

My Love.
My Queen.
This Shining Light in my eyes.

My Laughs.
My Dreams.
My Soft, Contented Sighs.

My *****.
My Lavender.
My Dew Covered Rose.

My Smile.
My Cinnamon.
The Joy in my heart … ever inspiring my prose.

My Best Friend.
My Co-Star.
My Fearless Partner in Crime.

My Breath.
My Cohort.
My Side-kick throughout time.

My Snow-capped Mountain.
The Wind caressing my face.
My Vast Green Field.

The Ivy Covered Wall
that harbors my soul … ever refusing to yield.

In a different time ...

You … would have been my Life.

You … would have been my World.

You … would have been my Everything

and I will always love you for my own special reasons.

It is just a shame … and I'm so, so sorry … that you … must never, ever know.

Maybe next time.

~Charlie Brown

   When I came-to in the morning and read what I had wrote, I had to laugh a bit. It is borderline corny, very beautiful, very telling and very sad … all at once. I shook my head, laughing and told myself :

  “*******, Sam … yer losin' it. Get your **** together, will ya?”

I guess in my stupor, I was imagining what it would have been like to write something for her. I don't know … There it was and I was stuck with it. I almost deleted it, but, my finger wouldn't press the key. As I told you before … I'd NEVER show this to her. She'd probably never speak to me again.

   As a sadder epilogue, that eventually happened. I still don't know why, but we haven't spoken in years. Maybe she sensed this emotion in me and ran away. Or maybe, just maybe … she thought I'd pushed her away somehow … but for whatever reason, we drifted apart. I guess I'll never know.  As you can see by reading this, that was never my intention. But, like I keep reiterating … It is what it is.

  One day, I called her number to catch up and shoot the breeze. I hadn't spoken to her in a few months as she'd been busy promoting her new novel and I didn't want to pester her. But … it was disconnected … I checked my emails … nothing. I'd never been so confused, she just closed me out. I didn't want to bother her. I was sure she had her reasons and if she wanted to reach out to me again, she would. She had my email and my phone number. But, for now … she was gone … and that was that.

  So, what do you think, Reader? Do I get the Tin hat … or a Badge of courage? Am I bat-**** crazy … or just eccentric? I'll leave it up to you to decide, because as I said, this all happened to me and there isn't a thing I can do about any of it. I just had to get it off of my chest. Thanks for letting me vent.

  Wherever she is … she will always mean the world to me. I can see her green eyes if I close my mine and look for them. Sometimes, on occasion, her face haunts my sleep. Still, I like to picture her, kids playing in a sprinkler behind her, digging in her garden, wearing gloves too big for her hands and a smudge of fresh dirt on her cheek … it makes me smile.

-Sam Webster
Brooklyn, New York
2013

OK, you can stop scratching your head. I'm sorry if you feel like I tricked you or was playing a prank … That was not my intention. This piece is experimental writing, of sorts. If you are wondering, it's titled “Somewhere … Out There”. But I didn't want to put a title at the head of the page, as that might have clued you in too early.

I also confess that “Sam” the narrator is, on no uncertain terms, based loosely on myself. But hey, what better way to string you along? Besides, as Stephen King said, you “Write what you know”. As far as I 'm aware, using poetry within a short story like this, or in this manner, has never been done before. Welcome to the future!

It really belongs in my “From Thee Edge” Collection with the rest of my Twilight-Zone-esque short stories. (You can now read some of these fiction short stories here, posted in my "NoPo@HePo" posts, along with some non-fiction essays. I hope you enjoy them.) But, because I pieced together several of my poems to not only tell the story, but as a vehicle to carry it along as part of it; I wanted to put it here on Hello Poetry just to see if I could convince you long enough to get you through the story … while having you believe it was me speaking to you and that it was all very real to me. Thus, making it feel real to you as you read it.

Was I having you along right up until it was signed by someone else? Or, at least until the narrator addressed himself as “Sam”?

If so, then I accomplished my mission. I'd love to hear your comments on it. If you've been reading any of my other posts, I'm sure you've figured out that I like to run wildly outside of the box sometimes. This was just, as I said, an experiment in a different way to tell a story … fiction or otherwise. As always, I hope that I took you on a journey and, more importantly, that you enjoyed it.

~Jeff Gaines
L.A.
(Lower Alabama)
2015

#riencarnation #shortstory #poetryinashortstory #experimental #experimentalwriting #fiction

Continue reading...

silli Aug 2013

Partner in Crime

What if I asked you to run with me
and be my partner in crime
away from everything we hold daily
to live under the roof of the stars
would you think I was crazy if I packed my bags
and ran to the highest point
if I asked you to take my hand and go on this journey
would you say no
we could explore the in's and out's of this world
no one to hold us back
we could make greatness
we would find what we are meant for
I could show you I'm more than what they told you
we could make the dreams they told us where just dreams
a reality
we don't have the car or money or job
but so help me if we don't make it
we will conquer everything and everyone
who said you cant
the mist of the night will hold us
as our bedroom windows are the escape
so would you run with me
if I asked you to do this

Continue reading...

Charles Bukowski

Be Kind

we are always asked
to understand the other person's
viewpoint
no matter how
out-dated
foolish or
obnoxious.
one is asked
to view
their total error
their life-waste
with
kindliness,
especially if they are
aged.
but age is the total of
our doing.
they have aged
badly
because they have
lived
out of focus,
they have refused to
see.
not their fault?
whose fault?
mine?
I am asked to hide
my viewpoint
from them
for fear of their
fear.
age is no crime
but the shame
of a deliberately
wasted
life
among so many
deliberately
wasted
lives
is.

Continue reading...

Devin Ortiz Nov 2016

To Be Black in America

Is to be told all the ways you don't matter
It is to be angry and afraid
It is to watch people walk on the opposite side of the street to avoid you
It is to be told to get over slavery
It is to be told that I'm not racist I have black friends
It is to be told the definition of racism like you don't already know
It is to be told hey what about reverse racism
It is to have a white terrorist group dedicated to your elimination
It is to be more worried about threats in your own country and those abroad
It is to wonder daily if your family will be safe, if they will get to come home
It is to called a **** for speaking out against the hate
It is to be called lazy when you work full time to provide for your family
It is to walk past folks and watch as the clench their purse or pockets
It is to be to have people fear you, when you feel more threatened then they ever could
It is to be told that privilege doesn't exist
It is to be told you are equal, except you know that in the courtroom, in the eyes of the law, the job market, the housing market, in the classroom, it is a ****** lie
It is to be live in a world where 1 in 3 black men are in prison
It is to know that they have sentences longer than white counterparts
It is to know they use prison labor to exploit them, slavery living on
It is to know that the police which are a relief for some, are a nightmare for you
It is to know that you can do everything right and be killed by someone sworn to protect you
It is to know that you will be blamed for your death inspite of this
It is to have the life choked out of you and a man telling you, **** your breathe
It is to hear what about black on black crime, even though every race commuts crime against their own kind the most
It is to remember white flight and the repercussions of it
It is to have family who have seen the bloodiness of the covil rights movement
It is to be taught in school how great this country is while ignoring the evil its done
It is to be taught in school how little you meant
It is to wake up every 2 weeks to another hashtag of some poor black fella to be forgot in a week
It is to want to simply be acknowledged that things arent right, and being ignored to this day
It is to be villianized in the media
It is to see that flag everyone holds dear and remember that pain it caused you
It is to fight and die for a country that still doesn't care about you
It is to be told to go back to Africa as if this wasnt stolen land
It is to be told I dont see you as black, you're just the same to me
It is to be told well you don't count as black, you don't act black
It is to have your culture stolen
It is to have value placed on your mysic and style and not your skin
It is to hear what would MLK think about these protest
It is to remember that people celebrated his assassination
It is to remember the slurs and the hate he recieved
It is to have people know they don't want to be treated the way you are
It is to want whats always been denied, the privilege of walking in your own skin without fear of persecution
It is to see family, friends and peers celebrate and share racist ideas and beleifs
It is being reassured they still value you
It is to know but not enough to matter

Being black in America is a lot of things, and I love the country all the same.

But I hope and pray for the day, that we can be treated the same.

#poetry #anger #pain #change #black #america #to #slavery #racism #african

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Leonard Green Aug 2016

Partners in Crime

The Partners…
Dynamic duo smitten with one another ever since the premier
nurturing one’s feebleness thru candor and trust with no fear
to honor and respect individuality tempered in unselfish deed
with the rewards embodied by unwavering and dedicated feed
to feel endearing moments shared with a soulfully kindred spirit
shouting the blessing for the affiliation so the world can hear it

The Crime…
Living the scenes in a life captured with highs and lows
like the waves in a pond swayed by someone’s toes
not to be confused with the acts of those who are sinister
but instead the special time spent with one who ministers
the mind, body, heart and soul with true nourishment
of something far more tangible than some talisman

Partners in crime, two move inside the moments of time
Partners in crime, time has new flavor as an aging wine.

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TearastewartLocke Mar 2017

partners and crime

when you know u gotta solve  a crime  but you just found a dime .

Then u figured  out it was a lie after time after several crys .

but your sitting there  trying to figure out why the  crime  was  on the other  of 4 ducks that had a great life .
when you realize that moment  was a waste of your time .

when your walking  and you  try not to cry and you  see a dog who's near by to solve  a crime. with a company  named partners and crime.

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Mydriasis Aletheia May 2013

"The Hacker Manifesto"

Another one got caught today, it's all over the papers. "Teenager Arrested in Computer Crime Scandal", "Hacker Arrested after Bank Tampering"...

**** kids. They're all alike.

But did you, in your three-piece psychology and 1950's technobrain, ever take a look behind the eyes of the hacker? Did you ever wonder what made him tick, what forces shaped him, what may have molded him?

I am a hacker, enter my world...

Mine is a world that begins with school... I'm smarter than most of the other kids, this crap they teach us bores me...

**** underachiever. They're all alike.

I'm in junior high or high school. I've listened to teachers explain for the fifteenth time how to reduce a fraction. I understand it. "No, Ms. Smith, I didn't show my work. I did it in my head..."

**** kid. Probably copied it. They're all alike.

I made a discovery today. I found a computer. Wait a second, this is cool. It does what I want it to. If it makes a mistake, it's because I ******* it up. Not because it doesn't like me... Or feels threatened by me.. Or thinks I'm a smart ***.. Or doesn't like teaching and shouldn't be here...

**** kid. All he does is play games. They're all alike.

And then it happened... a door opened to a world... rushing through the phone line like ****** through an addict's veins, an electronic pulse is sent out, a refuge from the day-to-day incompetencies is sought... a board is found. "This is it... this is where I belong..." I know everyone here... even if I've never met them, never talked to them, may never hear from them again... I know you all...

**** kid. Tying up the phone line again. They're all alike...

You bet your *** we're all alike... we've been spoon-fed baby food at school when we hungered for steak... the bits of meat that you did let slip through were pre-chewed and tasteless. We've been dominated by sadists, or ignored by the apathetic. The few that had something to teach found us willing pupils, but those few are like drops of water in the desert.

This is our world now... the world of the electron and the switch, the beauty of the baud. We make use of a service already existing without paying for what could be dirt-cheap if it wasn't run by profiteering gluttons, and you call us criminals. We explore... and you call us criminals. We seek after knowledge... and you call us criminals. We exist without skin color, without nationality, without religious bias... and you call us criminals. You build atomic bombs, you wage wars, you ******, cheat, and lie to us and try to make us believe it's for our own good, yet we're the criminals.

Yes, I am a criminal. My crime is that of curiosity. My crime is that of judging people by what they say and think, not what they look like. My crime is that of outsmarting you, something that you will never forgive me for.

I am a hacker, and this is my manifesto. You may stop this individual, but you can't stop us all... after all, we're all alike.

by
+++The Mentor+++
Written January 8, 1986

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Alexander K Opicho Dec 2013

Nelson Mandella is dead

NELSON MANDELA, NUMBER 46664 IS DEAD; EULOGICALLY ELEGIZING DIRGE FOR SON OF AFRICA, HOPE OF HUMANITY AND PERMANENT FLAME OF DEMOCRACY

Alexander K Opicho
(Eldoret, Kenya; aopicho@yahoo.com)

Nelson Mandela, South Africa's anti-apartheid beacon, has died
One of the best-known political prisoners of his generation,
South Africa's first black president, He was 95.
His struggle against apartheid and racial segregation
Lead to the vision of South Africa as a rainbow nation
In which all folks were to be treated equally regardless of color
Speaking in 1990 on his release from Pollsmoor Prison
After 27 years behind bars, Mandela posited;
I have fought against white ******* and
I have fought against black *******
I have cherished the idea of a democratic
And a free society in which all persons live together
In harmony and with equal opportunity
It is an ideal which I hope to live for and to achieve
But if need be, it is an ideal for which I am prepared to die,

Fortunately, he was never called upon
To make such a sacrifice
And the anti-apartheid campaign did produce results
A ban on mixed marriages between whites and folks of color,
This was designed to enforce total racial segregation
Was lifted in 1985
Mandela was born on July 18, 1918
His father Gadla named him "Rolihlahla,"
Meaning “troublemaker” in the Xhosa language
Perhaps parental premonitions of his ability to foment change.
Madiba, as he is affectionately known
By many South Africans,
Was born to Gadla Henry Mphakanyiswa,
a chief, and his third wife Nosekeni *****
He grew up with two sisters
In the small rural village of Qunu
In South Africa's Eastern Cape Province.
Unlike other boys his age,
Madiba had the privilege of attending university
Where he studied law
He became a ringleader of student protest
And then moved to Johannesburg to escape an arranged marriage
It was there he became involved in politics.
In 1944 he joined the African National Congress (ANC),
Four years before the National Party,
Which institutionalized racial segregation, came to power
.
Racial segregation triggered mass protests
And civil disobedience campaigns,
In which Mandela played a central role
After the ANC was banned in 1961
Mandela founded its military wing Umkhonto we Sizwe
The Spear of the Nation
As its commander-in-chief,
He led underground guerrilla attacks
Against state institutions.
He secretly went abroad in 1962
To drum up financial support
And organize military training for ANC cadres
On his return, he was arrested
And sentenced to prison
Mandela served 17 years
On the notorious Roben Island, off Cape Town,
Mandela was elected as South Africa's first black president
On May 10, 1994
Cell number five, where he was incarcerated,
Is now a tourist attraction
From 1988 onwards, Mandela was slowly prepared
For his release from prison
Just three years earlier he had rejected a pardon
This was conditional
On the ANC renouncing violence
On 11 February 1990,
After nearly three decades in prison,
Mandela, the South African freedom beacon was released
He continued his struggle
For the abolition of racial segregation
In April 1994,
South Africa held its first free election.
On May 10,
Nelson Mandela became South Africa's first elected black president,
Mandela jointly won
The Nobel Peace Prize
With Frederik de Clerk in 1993
On taking office
Mandela focused on reconciliation
Between ethnic groups
And together with Archbishop Desmond Tutu,
He set up the South African Truth and Reconciliation Commission (TRC)
To help the country
Come to terms
With the crimes committed under apartheid
After his retirement
From active politics in 1999,
Madiba dedicated himself
To social causes,
Helping children and ***-AIDS patients,
His second son
Makgatho died of ***-AIDS
In 2005 at the age of 54,
South Africans have fought
a noble struggle against the apartheid
But today they face a far greater threat
Mandela he posited in a reference to the ***-AIDS pandemic,
His successor
Thabo Mbeki
The ANC slogan of 1994; A better life for all
Was fulfilled only
For a small portion of the black elite
Growing corruption,
Crime and lack of job prospects
Continue to threaten the Rainbow Nation,
On the international stage
Mandela acted as a mediator
In the Burundi civil war
And also joined criticism
Of the Iraq policy
Of the United States and Great Britain
He won the Nobel Prize in 1993
And played a decisive role
Into bringing the first FIFA World Cup to Africa,
His beloved great-granddaughter
Zenani Mandela died tragically
On the eve of the competition
And he withdrew from the public life
With the death of Nelson Mandela
The world loses a great freedom-struggleer
And heroic statesman
His native South Africa loses
At the very least a commanding presence
Even if the grandfather of nine grandchildren
Was scarcely seen in public in recent year

Media and politicians are vying
To outdo one another with their tributes
To Nelson Mandela, who himself disliked
The personality cult
That's one of the things
That made him unique,
Nelson Mandela was no saint,
Even though that is how the media
Are now portraying him
Every headline makes him appear more superhuman
And much of the admiration is close to idolatry
Some of the folks who met him
Say they felt a special Mandela karma
In his presence.
Madiba magic was invoked
Whenever South Africa needed a miracle,

Mandela himself was embarrassed
By the personality cult
Only reluctantly did he agree to have streets
Schools and institutes named after him
To allow bronze statues and Mandela museums
To be built
A trend that will continue to grow.

He repeatedly pointed
To the collective achievements
Of the resistance movement
To figures who preceded him
In the struggle against injustice
And to fellow campaigners
Such as Mahatma Gandhi, Albert Luthuli
Or his friend and companion in arms
Oliver Tambo who today stands in Mandela's shadow,
Tambo helped create the Mandela legend
Which conquered the world
A tale in which every upright man
And woman could see him
Or herself reflected,
When Prisoner Number 46664 was released
After 27 years behind bars
He had become a brand
A worldwide idol
The target of projected hopes
And wishes that no human being
Could fulfill alone,
Who would dare scratch?
The shining surface of such a man
List his youthful misdemeanors
His illegitimate children
Who would mention his weakness for women?
For models
Pop starlets
And female journalists
With whom he flirted
In a politically incorrect way
When already a respected elder statesman?
Who would speak out critically?
Against the attacks
He planned when he headed the ANC
Armed wing Umkhonto we Sizwe
And who would criticize the way
He would often explode in anger
Or dismiss any opinions other than his own?
His record as head of government
Is also not above reproach
Those years were marked by pragmatism
And political reticence
Overdue decisions were not taken
Day to day matters were left to others
When choosing his political friends
His judgment was not always perfect
A Mandela grandchild is named
After Colonel Muammar Gaddaffi
Seen from today's perspective
Not everything fits
The generally accepted
Picture of visionary and genius,
But Mandela can be excused
These lapses
Because despite everything
He achieved more than ordinary human beings
His long period of imprisonment
Played a significant role here
It did not break him, it formed him
Robben Island
Had been a university of life for Mandela once posited
He learned discipline there
In dialogue with his guards
He learnt humility, patience and tolerance
His youthful anger dissolved
He mellowed and acquired
The wisdom of age
When he was at last released
Mandela was no longer
Burning with rage,
He was now a humanized revolutionary
Mandela wanted reconciliation
At almost any price
His own transformation
Was his greatest strength
The ability to break free
From ideological utopia
And to be able to see the greater whole
The realization
That those who think differently
Are not necessarily enemies
The ability to listen,
To spread the message of reconciliation
To the point of betraying what he believed in,
Only in this way could he
Serve as a role model
To both black and white humanity
, communists and entrepreneurs,
Catholics and Muslims.
He became a visional missionary,
An ecclesiast of brotherly love
And compassion
Wherever he was, each humanity was equal
He had respect for musicians and presidents
Monarchs and cleaning ladies
He remembered names
And would ask about relatives
He gave each humanity his full attention
With a smile, a joke, a well aimed remark,
He won over every audience
His aura enveloped each humanity,
Even his political enemies,
That did not qualify him
For the status of demi-god
But he was idolized and rightly so
He must be named in the same breath
As Mahatma Gandhi, the Dalai Lama
Or Martin Luther King
Mandela wrote a chapter of world history
Even Barack Obama posited
He would not have become
President of the United States
Without Mandela as a role model,

And so it is not so important
That Mandela is now portrayed
Larger than life
The fact that not everything
He did in politics succeeded is a minor matter
His achievement is to have lived
A life credibly characterized
By humanism, tolerance and non-violence,
When Mandela was released
From prison in 1990,
The old world order of the Cold War era
Was collapsing
Mandela stood at the crossroads and set off in the right direction
How easily he could have played with fire, sought revenge,
Or simply failed; He could have withdrawn from public life or,
Like other companions in arms, earned millions,
Two marriages failed because of the political circumstances
His sons died tragically long before him
It was only when he was 80 and met his third wife,
Graca Machel,
That he again found warmth,
Partnership and private happiness,
Setbacks did not leave him bitter
Because he regarded his own life
As being less important
Than the cause he believed in
He served the community humbly,
With a sense of responsibility
Of duty and willingness to make sacrifices
Qualities that are today only rarely encountered,

How small and pathetic his successors now seem
Their battles for power will probably now be fought
Even more unscrupulously than in the past
How embarrassing are his own relatives
Who argued over his legacy at his hospital bed
Mandela was no saint
But a man with strengths and weaknesses,
Shaped by his environment
It will be hard to find a greater person
Just a little bit more Mandela every day
Would achieve a great deal
Not only in Africa
But in the bestridden geographies
Epochs and diversities of man,

In my post dirge I will ever echo words of Mandella
He shone on the crepuscular darkness of the Swedish
Academy, where cometh the Nobel glory;
Development and peace are indivisible
Without peace and international security
Nations cannot focus
On the upliftment
Of the most underprivileged of their citizens.

Continue reading...

Elizabeth Squires Nov 2013

Gruesome Was The Crime

twas a most disturbing scene
in a kitchen at Aberdeen
the details are too horrific
to disclose
let's say this
and this alone
the forensic team
had to ladle some bone
bits of dermis
were scattered around
the kitchen compound

the wife had done the deed
she'd disposed of her husband
who was a bad seed

he'd been thumping and slapping
her around
knocking her with force
to the ground
she'd contended
with his rough house treatment
for far too long
so she decided
to right his wrong

she's in prison
doing time
but it is her husband
who now tows the line

domestic violence
did him no favors

a woman was pushed
one too many times
in a kitchen at Aberdeen
gruesome was the crime

This poem is based on a true story.

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Big Virge Oct 2014

"A Fine Line" ... A Poem written by Big Virge 21/7/2006

Folks It Is A ... " Fine Line " ... !!!
That ... CLEARLY DEFINES ...
The Road That I Walk ...
With Words That I Rhyme ...

Cos' Words That I Talk May See Me In Court ... !!!
WITHOUT Sean Or ... " Just Cause " ... !!!

Because of YES THEM Those In Governments ...
And Those Who They Send ...
To Enforce ... POOR Judgements ... !!!!!

But Of Course They'll Contend ...
That My Wordplay ... OFFENDS ...
And May Well STIR UP TROUBLE ...
And Cause .... " VIOLENCE " .... !!!!!

But It's Okay For THEM To Say What They Like ... !???!
And Declare Their War Fights As Forms of Defence ...
When Plans They Design Keep Causing PROBLEMS ... !!?!!

Well It Doesn't Seem Like Their Actions Are Right ... !?!
When Every News Night The Things In Our Sight ...
KEEP Showing Us VISIONS of People Who ... DIE ... !!!!!

Now That's A Fine Line I Have Re-Designed ...
From Princes' Great Song The ... " Sign 'o' The Times " ... !!!

So Don't Get Me Wrong My Lines Are Refined ...
And Clearly BELONG Where Fine Lines RECLINE ... !!!

Each Line That I Write Proves My Mind Is Inclined ...
To Write About Crimes Affecting Our lives ....

And It Is A Fine Line That Helps Me To FIND ...
A Way To  Express My Anger And Stress ...
About How We TRY To Do What Is RIGHT ... !!!!

But What Does This Mean ... ?!?
In A World So ... UNCLEAN ... !!!!!

What Do We Stand For ... ?
When Going To ... WAR ... !?!

We Should Take A .................
.............................................

...... Pause ..............

And THINK of Our Cause ...
Is Making Blood POUR ....
What We're Really Here For ... ?!!!?

If You're Thinking ... YES ...
Are You .... REALLY SURE .... ???

How Would You Feel ... ?
If The Blood Poured Was ... YOURS ... !!!

Or Someone YOU LOVED ... !!!
And REALLY ... CARED FOR ... !!!!!!

Well As These Lines State ...

It Is A Thin Line Between YES ...
...... " Love and Hate " ......

But Hating For REAL ...
WON'T Help Us ... Relate ... !!!

These Days It's Quite CLEAR The Dangers of FEAR ... !!!!!
But That's Nothing New The Past's Given Clues ...
of How IGNORANCE Fuels Individuals To USE ...
Torture And Abuse Through Crews Filled With FOOLS ...
Who THINK ... Hatred IS COOL ... !!!!?!!!!

Well Hatred Profiled ...
Does NOT Lead To Smiles ...

It Leads To A Place ...
That's NOT Quite So Great ...
And Leads Us Through Leaders ...
Who Like To .... DICTATE ....

Like Those Around NOW .... !!!
Who Want To CLAMP DOWN ...
On People Like Me ....
Whose Wordplay's So Neat ...

That .... Our Poetry ....
Gives Policemen A Beat ...
That Makes Them ... RETREAT ... !!!!!

See What I Mean ... !!!

My Poetry Seams Are Suitably Clean ...
And Walk A Fine Line of Quality Rhymes ...
That ... BYPASS Extremes ... !!!

Because They're Inclined To UNIFY Minds ....
See That's How I'd Like My Wordplay DEFINED ... !!!

Speaking Your Mind Should NOT BE A Crime ... !!!
UNLESS What You Say Divides And Spreads HATE ... !!!

I'd Rather Spread LOVE ...
Through Kisses And Hugs ... !!!
While Most Now Indulge ...
In Acting Like THUGS ...
And Taking HARD DRUGS ...
When They've Had Quite ENOUGH ... !!!!!

People Like THESE ...
Make Me Want To CUSS ... !!!!!!!

But These Days I'm TRYING ...
To ... Rise uP ABOVE ....
These ... Wannabee Thugs ... !!!

Who Spread Talk of Dying ...
Cos' Their Words NEED ... !!!

....... " REFINING " ....... !!!!!!

Things You Put Out ...
Come Back Son DON'T DOUBT ... !!!!!

Now That's A ... FINE LINE ...
That's Got ... LOTS of CLOUT ... !!!
So Think CAREFULLY ... !!!
BEFORE ... Running Your Mouth ... !!!!!

Fine Lines That I Write of Upsetting Designs ...
Are NOT To Start Fights So REMEMBER That Line ... !!!

They May Cause Offence ...
And May Cause Arguments ...
But USE .... COMMON SENSE ...
And REJECT ... VIOLENCE ... !!!

Keep A Cool Head ...
Like Des Dekker Said ... !!!!!

Then Pick Up A PEN ...
Rather Than Make Attempts ...
To Bring Me DISTRESS .... !!!!!!!
Cos' You Want To SUPPRESS
A View I've Expressed ...
That's Left You ... UPSET ... !!!!!

THAT Message Is SENT ...
To Those ... JEALOUS Gents ...
Who Think They're The BEST ...
At Writing Fine Lines ...
With Words That They Rhyme ... !!!

Well CLEARLY They're BLIND ... !!!
And ... OUT of Their Mind ... !!!!!!
To Think That Their Rhymes ...
Are ... BETTER Than MINE ...  ?!?

Those Causing Us STRESS ...
Are Those In GOVERNMENTS ... !!!

They PLAN To DIVIDE ...
NOT See Us ... " UNITE " ... !!!!!

THINK About That ...
Before Starting FIGHTS ... !!!!!

Black On Black Crime ...
Has Been ... LONG DESIGNED ...

Don't You  Think It's Time ...  ?!?
We Start To Fight THEM ... ?!?!?
And Their BOGUS Systems ... !!!

That's Where I Will END This Simple Poem ...

Cos' ...

Words In Those Lines ...
May Cause Me PROBLEMS ... !!!!!

Even Though Their JUST Rhymes
That Flow And DEFINE ...
How The Words I Transcribe ...

REALLY WALK ...

.... " A Fine Line " ....

An early foray into rhyming, that delves into a number of interesting subjects ......

#politics #people #life #writing #bigvirge #art #society

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Kiprotich vinny Jul 2018

In Crime

I am always in the other side of law,
Crime is part of me,
I don't care even a bit,
I was born in the slums, where crime is a daily chore,
Perhaps that is why I am who I am

My thoughts are all about pushing someone to the wall,
All because I am a victim of destiny
I wonna get there 'dead' or alive,
Destiny which has been tempered with,

In crime hypocrites masterminds my downfall,
I know them pretty well,
Involved in almost every kind of sin, I have learned a thing
Though in crime, change is another hard story
My performance in it's inner sanctum has never been in doubt,

Continue reading...

Sean Banks Apr 2014

Brother In Crime

“Listen here kid, have a seat.
Let me tell you about
The family.”*

You can choose your friends
But you can’t choose
Your family….

…and apparently you can’t choose
your career either.

This is dedicated to
my brother in crime
The younger brother
With stronger
Morals and values
Than mine.

The family is broken,
And your older brother is broke
And in the eyes of a distant father
You know we are both jokes

We are not prodigies
We are not straight A students
We are small town oddities
And some would say we are ruined

We were born into this life.
We were born into financial comfort
Bathed in upper middle class stability
Taught racism is acceptable as long
As we keep it to ourselves, and laugh
As if we are not serious.

We learned that as we grow up, dreams become schemes

We were raised believing we would succeed.
And success is defined by money.

The monetary system is god.
I will be the doctor
You will be the lawyer
And because the system isn’t flawed
We are.

Money is not good, money is god.
I’ve spent a lot of god on beer.

So when we watch our bloodline bicker
Like bad kids in sandboxes,
When we watch adults undermine
Each other’s “parenting skills”
Remember,

You did not chose this
You were born into this.

And as the age old argument
Of genetic versus environment
Rages on like arguments
Over furniture and kitchenware
Remind yourself
It’s not an argument.
Its your environment.

Today my little brother’s heart was broken
And his dreams were shattered like a
Malicious marriage
Divorced, and separated,
By god.

My little brother will not be an RCMP officer
And if he doesn’t know it yet,
This is the best thing to ever happen to him.

Just because your eyes aren’t apparently good enough
They have never stopped you from seeing right from wrong
They are wrong.
You are more then alright.

Cops are more crooked than the criminals they can’t catch
So whatever you do, don’t catch flack
For not having a backup plan
You turn 17 tomorrow, man…
Kid.
Be one.
For a kid can be anything.

You can race san dunes in the desert.
You can rebuild muscle cars and motorbikes.
You can make unique one of a kind furniture.
You can open a restaurant, even a bar.
You can be the next big sensation in Country music, or rap.
Or both.
You will live. You will smile
And you will make other do the same.

Brother, we can do anything.
Hell, when our parents die,
Miserable and alone,
We will inherit their throne
all of their god.

And we can take their god,
Design ourselves some superhero outfits
Break laws in order to fix them
We can grow and sell dope by donation
And make the difference
That neither our parents
Or the police
Are able to do.

I’m proud to share blood with you.
We are superheroes.
We are gods.
We are brothers in crime.

Continue reading...

Corina Oct 2014

Lydia

Is it a crime
to ****?

Is it a crime to ****
an idea?

Is it a crime to ****
an imaginary friend?

But i didn't **** you
He did

But he didn't **** you
you just ceased to exist

Is it a crime to **** your daughter before she is born?
Is it a crime to break her mother's heart?

Is it a crime
to change the future
and make it all
just a dream?

Continue reading...

Jacob Daniel Ellinger Oct 2014

Speak the truth told as lies

Pardon me for being so crass
but speaking God’s word is not a crime last I asked.

People hatin’ gays is wrong
you won’t hear hate of gays in any hymn song.
And yet I feel like the world believes that it’s so,
that they hate what I say but don’t really know.
Hell even the government keeps prayer
from the rooms that they preach in.
while they tell me how I should think
and what I should say’s sin.

Maybe the world has come to a place in time
where being a christian is seen as a crime in mind,
So how long will it be before it’s a crime to be me?
and the world that I thought was a way that could be
just fine with the words that I pray on my knees,
makes it a crime
to say what’s in mind

that I love every person that ever had ***
with the same kind of gender that at first they where set.
That while I hate all the sin they live in there lives,
that it’s this and not the person I despise,
but the fact that they actively seek to attack
the beliefs that I hold in my heart, that they lack.

That if you’d accept the gift of Christ of forgiveness for your sin,
you might see a way for a knew life to begin.

But instead I’m told I’m a hater and ignorant,
while everyone missus the truth of the argument.
That it’s not the man or the women I hate
but the lust in their life by themselves they can’t sate.

So if what’s seen in my heart is spoken as truth
and seen by the government and most of the youth
as being a hate speech or some sort of lie,
as if I had said I’d wish they would die.

Well thank God it’s not a crime to rhyme,
Thank God the reward is mine.
I pray to God it’s close to the time.
I’m tired of living with the blind.

#god #christian #jesus #christ

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I'm Not Worth Your Time Jul 2015

The Perfect Crime

The perfect crime
Is rather easy to commit
Each person's limit is one time
There are no victims in this
Because the victim and perpetrator
Can never be the same person
Everything is a controlled factor
And there's nothing to hold you on
No loose ends left untied
You can leave evidence all you want
Your actions go unjustified
Can't send you to jail for such a stunt
And though it is illegal
You won't have to run and hide
The perfect crime for all
Is simply suicide

#suicide #crime #illegal

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David Nelson Sep 2011

Crime & Punishment

Crime & Punishment

you know the old saying about the price
the cost of pleasure is like the roll of the dice
words of caution, if you can't do the time,
if the cost is too much, then don't do the crime

when you are trying to correct an error
wanting to keep a love from fading away
committing continuous foolish blunders
is surely not the perfect way

when you make someone a promise
to respect the feelings in their heart,
you cant seccumb to your desires
if you truly want to remain a part

dam the fool who will not listen
who's selfish ways cause this love be spent
self inflicted wounds may bleed forever
for every crime, there is punishment

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— The End —