"goons" poems
May we live in and see interesting times, the old saying goes
another offers that when the mind is blind, the eyes cannot see
for me my days are interesting and the laughter readily and often comes
for the grapes of wrath brings forth mirth filled grapes on grapevine tendrils
As lemmings and sheep enact bellyaching absurdities, as the ridiculous does
Veracity on sojourn and falsehood in residence with doors firmly closed
Hamlet re-enacts hapless role, with Red Robin Hood and vigilantes to a tee
eager audiences, participatory scenes in towns and cities, leaving empty homes
come all and vent your spleen and satiate your prejudices without paying a fee
This land belongs to us, it is our birthright and we will send Hamlet to the catacombs
Nothing is private anymore, rights and freedom nailed, anywhere we roam
Ophelia not only went to Italy, she went to Hull, Turnpike Lane and even Essex
but a joke here, if all these were good, why did she come to me, you simple gnomes
perchance unlike you common goons, she knows distinction has no comparison to thee
Your vacuous hate filled mind cannot see that difference in a Prince, that regally looms
Act two, dim, fooled actors in their Beggars Opera, screaming, 'we oppose' with glee
so called republicans, laughable in their ardent favor, ignorant of their lobotomy botches
we will do Hamlet's head in, totally unaware theirs been done in, for the brains of fleas
in a civilisation, our conscious and stable populace, roots for vigilante and mob rule, yeah
for a man of distinction is a threat reminding you of your insignificance and lack of tomes
Come friends, lets see how the home of Democracy, hounds a citizen for us all and we
lets know that Robin Hood is alive and taxing, and 'Windrush' is still active in dispatches
indigenous people power, meets criminal gang stalking, meets racism and we all drink tea
and in true cowardly fashion, its all done by insidious, indictable, nefarious, malcontents and psychopathic crazies
It is our proud duty that we should all ruin Hamlet, for mediocrity has no distinction for aspiration et excellence
Copyright LaurenceA. JUNE 2018.All rights reserved.
Jul 25, 2018
Jul 25, 2018 at 8:00 PM UTC
Drop Drop into the deep end,
new faces daily right up to the weekend,
the realization of your current situation yet to set in.
some are looking for retribution,
others caught in eternal confusion,
thinking they see the end of the path but it's just a delusion,
hardly any one making moves,
many of them are just goons,
blue baboons.
there's only a righteous few,
making daily moves,
which they can prove,
as they get out the shelters,
into a new home quite soon.
so look towards the new moon,
get into the groove,
for you have yet to bloom,
don't let the place consume you.
© Try
Dec 8, 2018
Dec 8, 2018 at 2:40 PM UTC
Plastic bags are my super villain
and no I am not Aqua Man
I am Michael a normal male civilian
of some young-adult age,
whom is still willing to inconvenience himself.
Not so old, where holding multiple objects
sounds like an obstacle too acrobatic for the limbs to handle.
One can too many knock's off the balance of the elderly
and cast them off the trapeze of a sidewalk
into a net of asphalt, where being caught is a broken hip.
No that is not me, although it does remind me
of my grandma, because to her plastic bags are her life-savers.
It is a struggle to convince my grandma that I am a great trapezist
so we can leave these bags to their solitude
and finally defeat this enemy.
Although with plastic bags it is never so easy
they have plenty of goons who are willing to do the ***** work
forcing themselves upon us at any opportunity,
even those that don't make any sense, even for my grandma.
I Went to Best Buy and bought a brand new movie,"Unfriended"
and I got it for my grandma to watch, since she's a bit technophobic.
This movie will haunt her; for ghosts **** people through the internet.
What will haunt me is Destiny, the worker, handing me a plastic bag:
with a 13-ounce, smaller than a piece of paper Blu-Ray inside
...without even asking if I wanted a plastic bag.
Sep 30, 2015
Sep 30, 2015 at 6:34 AM UTC
homeland security
on these nuts
home land security
in your butts
home land security
look but don't touch
it's too much
for 'em to understand
***** jacker
**** in hand
hatin' big wacker
on tha attacker
i like 'em blacker
she's a ***** packer
don't like 'em battered
spell bound brain washed
what's tha matter?
Homeland Security Act
homeland security
tryin' ta scare
why can't tha government care?
socialist ideals
not tryin' to hear
hippie gal tryin' ta spread peace
until the cognizance cease
down with tha ****
come in your hair
tryin' ta do me long
they can't take it down
ya know they messin' around
neo-con trick
tryin' ta make brunette sick
don't they like the way i hold my ****
maybe i wanna take a lick
lyin' bitchin' wichin' cryin'
like a man's supposed to be dyin'
look at 'em fryin'.
sorcery zap to the court-ordered goofs
snitchin'
doin' bad things
mad federal schemes
they all occultic fiends
with yo mama church
as the ball swings
** **** on me
mother **** the holy see
what ya tryin' to be
....holy?
goons, screws, pigs and spooks
sayin cognizance aint to use
poor court ordered goofs so-abused
papists vowed in their delusions of grandeur
all you supposed ta think
...is white cop
expendable masses they say aint allowed ta know
while they call the pope pop
guardian protectors of tha white bred
they wanna make tha people brain dead
feds frivolous threats
tha number on your badge says zero
what you tryin' to be?
A super hero?
Feb 4, 2015
Feb 4, 2015 at 5:52 PM UTC
Behold the One with the Aries, the Ward of Santa Muerte
Our 16th President voted by 16 million Filipinos this 2016
The 1st President from Mindanao from being Mayor of Davao…Duterte!
He is One with MiJoRdGr (Miriam, Jojo, Rody, Grace)
The 4 Opposition Presidentiables who defeated Mar Roxas
And brought Liberal Party its great disgrace!
The One with the Aries from the Land with War
The Land of Promise – feared by typhoons, but filled with goons
So from her came a Liberator among MiJoRdGr!
That this One should war with our nation’s greatest horrors
-Drug Lords, Liberals, Treasoners, Criminals & Terrorists-
These powerful entities to our history are desecrators!
So by being one with lawmakers, law enforcers & lawful people
By the overwhelming power of the Supermajority
Our country’s greatest terrors…Du30 shall conquer them all!
But first, he must defeat his detractors – Leila, Leni & Trillanes
These triple crooks who want to topple the government
Are also said to be conspiring with EU, UN & US!
Yet with Trump’s triumph, US is no longer an enemy
Our American hatred weakened, our Chinese friendship strengthened
As it established great friendship with Pres. Du30!
Do not emulate the girl power of those Liberal crooks
We got an Olympic medalist Heidilyn & Ms. International 2016
But Leila & Leni?...Can only ruin our country…like blasted nukes!
Do not worry for we have Pacquiao as still winner & role model
Alongwith Gen. Bato, a victim of yellow washing machine
But these Pro-Du30 men…to criminals tough, to innocents gentle!
May God allow this True Change to take place with continuity
Let Pres. Duterte lead us for many more years to come
For the Supermajority, for you & me… for our country!
-12/30/2016
(Dumarao)
*Our Golden Times During PDu30
Sep 28, 2019
Sep 28, 2019 at 9:19 PM UTC
Two uncivilized platoons
fighting each other like wild goons,
just for a small oval ball.
I feel like giving each one a ball
to settle the dispute once and for all.
Dec 3, 2014
Dec 3, 2014 at 9:22 PM UTC
Born in nineteen thirty five
To reside at "Tick Tock park"
A whole life marred by damaged lungs
Yet, gracious was his heart
Known to his friends as Ginger
This man of arduous health
He possessed an ever-cheery smile
Wit and intellect his wealth
Passionate was he for art
Racehorses, jazz, the Goons
And chrysanthemum had more value
Than mankind racing for the moon
With his water colour paintings
He tried to leave his mark
But alas his dreams were halted
For no mercy has the dark
Of the protagonist of this ode
I shall say only this
My father was a brilliant man
Who I shall always miss
Jul 31, 2012
Jul 31, 2012 at 6:07 PM UTC
A dozen fellows draped in threadbare tread densely,
Profligating goons in obsidian gowns
gathered under rainbow
moonshine shaking bronze hands,
howling and ****** in the shambles of the moon,
rap'n and nod'n to the notes of midnight.
The mellow marines mourned over malice,
lionizing over lost ones,
many howled venerated, exalted in wonder
in favor of their thrilling grace, and delight,
and brilliance, and might!
but some neighboring sticklers,
behaved haughty and in disdain,
of the crowdy Cavaliers bellowing echoes
signaling out
to the seers of the sea,
singing to the wands overwatching the wedding,
and ravens listened,
roving like noble patrolsmen.
Traveleres and trainees at sea
humble and bright
niave, and frieghtened
in traverse,
volatile and toiling,
tireless,
Lunatics, (laughing, laughing, laughhing,)
Rumaging through rain,
fireciely,
rallying and rableroused,
through towering halls of mohogony,
hefty and wholesome were their hearts
though, beast of the woodsy edifice
were foul and benumb
scowling with contempt,
haste to devide and devised to hindrance.
Hence the heroes heed
to the valleys of rose, and violet,
and strawberry fields of forever,
seeking Saint Nicholas,
in the bustling Byzantium,
in the murky shadows of doubt.
Sep 18, 2018
Sep 18, 2018 at 10:08 AM UTC
In this trouble torn. Grief stricken world
Only music embalm my aching soul
When corruption and bribery are the order of the day
Goons and rowdies show me the real way
Even the judges succumb to dishonesty
Morals and ethics have lost their identity
The veena, the flute, the clarinet, the drums
And the guitar make a soothing effect to my ears
When there is incredible symphony
The distinction between East
And west is totally lost
Only peace and harmony forever last
Music is more intoxicating than vine
It is undoubtedly divine
There is music in the blowing wind,
Flowing stream, chirping of birds,
The hissing of snakes,
The bleating of a goat
And the beating of a heart
And the passing of blood to each human part
But understanding the synchronization is a difficult art
Jun 22, 2012
Jun 22, 2012 at 10:59 PM UTC
when words are few,
or stuck in dictionaries
unused or unknown
like
compassion,
tyrants and wife-beaters
scream
with iron fists,
silencing fluent lips
in clotting streams of blood
...and machetes,
severing lucid limbs
from able bodies
in active states of articulation
...and guns,
the kryptonite of cowards
and buffoons,
the callow voice of philistines
and goons,
blasting cogent words
and vocal women
into oblivion
....and laboratories
where forensics of
fingerprint and dna
scream loudest,
sending tyrants and wife-beaters away
to sleep with the devil
in a shallow cell
on earth
or
hell below...
~ P (#Pablo#OTAWB)
(8/11/2013)
Aug 11, 2013
Aug 11, 2013 at 1:05 PM UTC
Goons and goblins fill the streets
All looking for some tasty sweets,
Still, they keep an eye out for a frightening surprise,
As snickering laughs fill the night time sky.
Could it be a creature lurking between the bushes and leaves?
Or worse, a sour, old dentist screaming "Brush your teeth!"
Either way these sugar crazed kids travel out once more,
Ringing door after door
till their knees collapse to the floor.
Their eyes are alive, with child hood innocence.
As my innocence seems to barely survive
Halloween makes me wish I was five.
Oct 30, 2013
Oct 30, 2013 at 9:42 PM UTC
scratched walls,
horrifying screams,
of dreams,
electric chair stupor,
in the boudoir,
breathing lunar air,
it’s a psychotic affair.
dilated pupil,
the brain was being a cupel,
men in white coats,
injecting drugs,
in bodies like slugs.
soaked bodies in bath tub,
gazing on the ceiling reading what’s written up.
loonies conspiring against the medic,
through the power of psychedelic.
eyeing each doctor from the corner of their eye,
sitting on their chairs high.
burning with desire,
cold as a wire.
the breakout began at noon,
headed by a loon.
followed by a goon,
in the end of june.
the loons,
wanted to escape to the desert dunes,
running away from the chemical fumes,
dodging exhume.
electrocuted,
injected,
infected,
discarded and rejected.
the loons had taken over,
the goons had won.
they were stun.
terrible turn of events,
it was all in their mind tents,
still sulking on the beds and their wheel chairs,
dreaming of the answers of their prayers.
Jan 27, 2015
Jan 27, 2015 at 8:39 AM UTC
ivories that are made of letters
grey skin, blackred hair, word babies
gigantic mirror, blackly glowing
psychedelic nature like 1968
apartment in the projects
hallways full of dust and spiders
uncle is smoking the daylight away
his walls covered with bulletholes
red and tired eyes, no smiling
uncle's wife killed in a car crash
dead goons are torturing him now
the memory of her dead body, stuck
past encounters like smoke in the air
red frost covers uncle's body, glaciers
a button to turn back time, fantasies
melting hours for god's sacrifices
Jul 10, 2020
Jul 10, 2020 at 9:58 AM UTC
Flits of crepuscular longing across the simoom in the night. For with samiel at the helm, all hell will take us for sloth. Firstly, a schism overtakes the wind, backsliding the doorstep of Lucifer’s kin. Keep an eye on the door’s of ewes. The child angered by sky will surely lust for the hedonists imbue. Then the rattle shakes, pelting trunks of lye, chafing the goons of the dawn and choking from the ***** in our young. Aristotle bakes yore, and relief takes the pen, until the quietness of the impala becomes transfixed by our brethren. Then sores take the skin by trial. Eagerly rushing towards the venomous trails, and only then does the bandit bemoan the pain. Only then will the hungered and hungry peel back their fingers for fare, there where the flocks lay in wait and in pairs. Here where the melancholy of revenge, fills our quivers with children’s tears. Only then do we make haste for the shade, otherwise the sun will cook our hides to the colors of the day, then we will lay quiet too. Maybe then we’ll be overtaken by the Xombie Moon.
Jul 11, 2018
Jul 11, 2018 at 8:33 AM UTC
orange smoke fills the air, like mist
goons and traitors occupy all tables
a small bar, downtown, silent quarter
whole ones and racks, bagged, airtight
the zippers of the bottega shine golden
24 k, 24/7, creatures of the night who
are made of struggle, gore and greed
deception and loyalty: the brotherhood
hour of the thieves, year of white marble
350 million a year, a neeeedy enterprise
sick profit, blank sheets floating loosely
shark collar and tattoos, loaded ********
sounds of the past in an air breeze, secretly
old butch is swallowing a paper message
leave no traces, mind dem ears and eyes
wild roses and escalades, the night glows
Oct 12, 2020
Oct 12, 2020 at 2:40 AM UTC
when intellectuals keep quiet
the goons resort to nasty fight
silence is the most dreadful
Jan 14, 2011
Jan 14, 2011 at 3:53 PM UTC
The Supreme Reacher
was a watcher of dreams.
The Supreme Reacher
was an inclination.
The Supreme Reacher
was the instantaneous
and the forgettable.
The Supreme Reacher
could recede into the shadows of a thought,
only to emerge from its triangles
clean as a remembrance.
The Supreme Reacher
had veins for hands
and could reach across the mind
like lightning.
The Supreme Reacher is not
a person,
place,
thing,
or God.
The Supreme Reacher
had thighs black with feathers
and shoulderblades
hairy with time.
The Supreme Reacher
could talk and talk for days.
Lazing on dreamt-up
park benches,
green in their concrete holes
with algae,
and become green
as well.
The Supreme Reacher
could lay her heart on your
heart
and
place her lungs
in your palms.
The Supreme Reacher
could never be reached,
but only dreamt of and felt
like heavy fog on a tongue.
If ever there was a time for the Supreme Reacher,
to be Supreme,
this was the time,
the time of limes
and wicker minds,
of transposition
and aberration,
the time of larks
and loons
and goons,
of thugs in power suits
and kings in jumpers
and dreads,
of revolutions gone stale
in their infancy,
crunchy and pale
even to their cores.
The Supreme Reacher,
could not be reached,
but it could reach out itself
with lightning hands
firing up the whole earth of minds.
Feb 21, 2012
Feb 21, 2012 at 2:53 AM UTC
Shroomers
silly goons
why are they around-
sketchy friends to have
these foes
smoking out in public
not a care
he carries switchblades
openly cries
makes all uncomfortable
but he sells the stuff
right?
They're nice
to his face
and he's nice
to all he meets
but deep down
all can tell
this guy is trouble:
either we'll get in jail
or he'll get killed.
Inevitable
poor guy
so sweet,
who's to believe
his stories
been through hell
maybe
or maybe he's an actor
a pastor
wanting followers
ending up
alone
because none want to be associated
with one so
wrong.
Sep 13, 2012
Sep 13, 2012 at 11:19 PM UTC
the joker hid the river's whispering
under a blanket of girls, imprint faces
in a forgotten manner, joker smiled
a joker can put on a thief's smile
iceblue talk, straight from the dead
in a time lapse, joker dealt the cards
underworld creatures were filling the bar
they bowlering, deeply engaged in themselves
in a time lapse, goons ordered whisky
hollerings of massive gold bracelets
a crow, a rack or a bible, choose
in a forgotten manner, they did business
Sep 24, 2020
Sep 24, 2020 at 4:55 PM UTC
The day I met you I was drunk
The house was breathing with life and memories being made
And I heard someone mumble something about someone being here
And nearly panicked at the possibilities of whom it could've been
But then you spoke
The room died down for a few seconds,
As if everyone there knew how important you were
And how important you would be
Then exploded into laughter
And you vanished into the crowd leaving a canary yellow glass slipper behind as a calling card
The first Wu-Tang song we listened to together was C.R.E.A.M
I didn't know you were a fan until it came on
And suddenly I remembered that slipper
And as time went on, I'd slowly begin to understand the level of your royalty
I'd see you fight back invisible armies in the name of love
I'd see you take command and charge the world with fire in your eyes
And eventually I realized that, around you
I was invincible
(Or felt like it at least)
And now, here you lay
Empress of Goons and Wu-Tang
Goddess of the very moon and stars that speak through your eyes each time you smile
Queen of the Hood Rats
Princess, and keeper of the key to my heart
And as I watch you laugh and enjoy yourself
I'll clutch the glass slipper behind my back
And wonder when the right time to present it to you is
And I'll pray that one day
You'll allow me to call you mine
Aug 19, 2020
Aug 19, 2020 at 9:49 AM UTC
They gate crashed to our home in the late morning,
Dressed in the red-shirts, wielding clubs and machetes,
Howling loudly that they are national party officers
Protecting peace and development, that is never seen,
Our country already is crushed to forlorn state
Under the heavy lord of anti-human leadership,
They shamelessly extorted money from my poor father
Which they called compulsory party fees, for what?
A political party whose name is as horrifying as leprosy,
My father hadn’t enough money, they took away in addition
Our only one red cockerel which was learning to crow,
It worked as our family clock on its crowing in the morning,
We had too earmarked it for the next **** fight fete.
Our family hopes for money hinged on its wining the prize
The Proceeds with which hopped to succor ourselves
By funding our mother’s cancer treatment bills.
May 9, 2014
May 9, 2014 at 10:59 AM UTC
My world is crumbling, falling apart life is meaningless and that's just the start,
Only because he broke my heart,
He used to be my everything,
But now he is my nothing,
How could he do this to me?
He just threw my heart into the sea,
Left me alone with no-one to love,
Just me and my turtle dove,
He was a cheater,
And to think I loved Peter,
Now I am very suicidal because of what he did,
But he didn't care he just ran away and hid,
My wrists are covered in scars,
And I have started smoking cigars,
My parents are very worried,
Now I'm starting to get bullied,
No-one knows what to do,
Not even my best friend Andrew,
I have tried suicide many times before,
But I don't think my parents would be very happy to see a corps hanging in the bathroom when they open the door,
My parents are afraid that I will do it for real sometime soon,
Only because of those goons,
I just wish they would stop.
Sep 27, 2012
Sep 27, 2012 at 12:36 AM UTC
we done played it close to the vest
we thought about "tomorrow"
we went to schools and became dumb
as s--t
we tired so very tired
--
every now an then
we went out on a tuesday
on a tuesday
on a tuesday every now an then
we went and voted!!!!!
--
we tired so very
tired a bein good
good little
.......................fools
--
it aint your world
ya creeps ya thugs ya goons!
it aint your world
pig thieves and con men!
we so tired a bein good!
we are here today
your money buys tomorrow!
we don't live "tomorrow!"
come dance
come dance
rasta man!
Oct 14, 2010
Oct 14, 2010 at 1:47 PM UTC
'Where are all the rough men?'
Said the codger to the son
'For it's time we were home again
And daylight's almost done
For though this park is fair
To look upon in light
The shadows truly fill the air
With goons who long to fight
Where are all the rough men
Who used to walk this park?
For it's time we were home again
Before it grows to dark
They're gone, i tell you lad,
And we'll never get them back
And you should be remorseful
And mournful for our lack
For now we're watched by half-men
They're eunuchs one and all
How can these skinny jeans stand
When the blows begin to fall?
Show me the thugs of yester-year,
Those bold and brawny men
Who'd hear the war drums pounding
And come running glen to glen
Bring me back my brothers,
And these villains one and all
Would run back to their mothers
And seek no other brawl
But my eyesight now forsakes me
And my hand forgets its wrench
And my legs will not allow me
To go far beyond this bench
Were that i was sprier
And still retained my brawn
But now I simply tire
And the last rough man is gone'
Mar 2, 2013
Mar 2, 2013 at 1:54 PM UTC