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"enforcements" poems
From the warmth of her womb to a wooden coffin the cloth of her **** laid lifeless Gone to soon, gone too soon The pain was more than she could bare after losing her only son to the rough street of Chicago where the kingpin rules and the prosecutes parade the dark corridors in dark suits It's a mother worse nightmare, when the law enforcements, is train to **** and asked question after. In fear of their lives, however, two wrongs, cannot equal to right. Our judicial system defenses team toss them back to the mean street with only criminals intents on their minds another careless proceeding gone wrong. so, here I am back to the crime scene
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Mar 14, 2015
Mar 14, 2015 at 9:11 AM UTC
In Memories Of A Brother
Though you've barely had a ramble are no wayward canine daddy of note that brief encounter in our brambles has left the experts fearing a cancerous growth So we starve you of your pine nuts and bacon rinds so we can feed you anaesthetic and betray you to the thief of time only to make you, I imagine, feel pathetic And you often so full of life's exasperate scurry I worry will the shine stray from your eyes those hazel pools of so much of my feeling mature, just for pertaining to a creature's care  we all seem in too much of a hurry to stifle what little spirit that surrounds us to wear down on every minor aspect of childish delight in this silent sacrament of the aging process and with arguably years of your fatherhood left in the very ***** some dry eyed savant decides it correct we should tamper with Tomorrow I will snuggle you in favoured, bouncy eiderdowns that will blanket your unknowing and treat you as if you were an eastering child on cured hams and other saltiness after you awaken from those strangest enforcements of sleep and through our eyes we will trade more secrets to keep And we will hope, as we only can, that it was for the best For you, Yorkshire's son, or Sheringham's And consider with all of your exhuming breath That we meddled, stilling over life To cheat a slightly delayed death.
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Apr 11, 2017
Apr 11, 2017 at 5:29 PM UTC
Stilled Life
Since the age of fourteen I felt like I was someone else, Mom never got through me I broke the lamp in half, Satan was there I now know, Mom even said I had he’s eyes, Then the guitar broke It wasn’t much of a show, Oh how the world is filled with lies, I await for the day when the world dies, Then drugs and alcohol stank into my mind, I drove with him as fast as I can go, And I hit a tree and left some traces behind, I’m alive a miracle I should know, Still his voice was there saying hello-hello, And I painted his eye day to day, With a few skulls in grey shades, In his govern I was along his way, Oh how my soul did slowly fade, Then God came and showed me things, The voices now lesser than ever before, For his voice familiar I know what he brings, But still his prism and his eye shines evermore, For many blind man that breathes in ignorance, Surely it is not a bliss but merely catching enforcements, Oh how man drown in ambition, Don’t they know that this world is transient? Continue and die a fool, You are but merely a master puppet’s tool, Wake up man this world is not what you envision, It is not long till the eye would breathe , The world would shake in its own collision, There will come a day where all souls would leave.
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Mar 27, 2011
Mar 27, 2011 at 1:32 AM UTC
A Story For Man, A Reminder For Me
This armed America the one they told us would be a polite society when all carry weapons our cities they've become killing fields we as a people have become the worst of all animals officers taking lives claiming they fear for their own snipers now returning the favor as they fear the police it seems as the road towards that polite society has become paved with the dead merely bricks mortered in place with their blood will we see be fewer combatants as the body count rises or are the re-enforcements on their way
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Jul 8, 2016
Jul 8, 2016 at 8:10 AM UTC
The Battle Field has Come Home