"hooligans" poems
Timbeck Tyu, Timbeck Tyu
Great City Timbeck Tyu
Coloured Walls Nicely Painted
Arts and Drawing Everywhere
Artifacts on every crossing
People's representatives feel like king
Magnificient buildings here and there
Bridges and flyover everywhere
Toll tax booth here and there
Statues standing everywhere
Banners hanging here and there
Hoardings, posters everywhere
Malls and Hotels here and there
Dance Bars and Casinos everywhere
Citizens always in Crisis
Struggling with poverty
Economical condition bad
Politicians has gone mad
Nationalism in Slogans
Here and there hooligans
Real nationalist are renamed
They are called anti-nationals
Corruption is on the peak
You need license to speak
Crowd imposes censorship
System respects the crowd
Mouse catches the Crow
Everything on the show
Real news not covered
Real issues are untouched
Fake news are implanted
Press and Media on sale
Laws are being twisted
Burden of proof shifted
Culprits are honoured
Innocents are hanged
Farmers are in debts
Their families are starving
They can't even pay their loans
Neither Principal nor interest
They either commit suicide
or land in jail for not paying loans
Hospital competing with hotels
Doctors busy in making money
Patients treatment is on Sale
Get cured only if you pay
Stray Animals on the rise
What you can do if you cry?
Black money in circulation
White money is called pollution
Rapes, Murders and theft on rise
Law and order is on the papers
Lawyers are with Politicians
Politicians are with Criminals
Criminals are with the Police
Police is with the Capitalists
Only the God is with the victims
That too only, if he really exists
Population almost exploding
Environment full of pollution
Fights and quarrels here and there
Religion and faith always on stake
Caste and Classes everywhere
Race and Religion everywhere
Common people struggling for food
Saints consuming wine and drugs
Rallies and protests uprising
The system has turned deaf
Goddess of law weeping and bleeding
Judges busy in process law and rules
Timbeck Tyu, Timbeck Tyu
Such a great city Timbeck Tyu
Have you liked Timbeck Tyu?
Want to live in Timbeck Tyu?
If you liked, Timbeck Tyu
Want to live in Timbeck Tyu
First apply for passport in your country
Then apply for visa from Timbeck Tyu
Hurry Up, Hurry Up, don't be late
Visa's are limited so take care
May 16, 2019
May 16, 2019 at 6:28 AM UTC
Me be 'avin a good time enjoyin' me boombastic trailer park home.
Den a tornado of Reggae come rollin' down da road.
Reggae Kids with a Reggae attitude.
Hooligans with a passion. My passion.
Reggae
Da flurry of rastafarianism be tearin' up the houses.
Destroyin' mailboxes as dey 'proach me home.
Den, like lightnin' they be in front of me.
We like you, Reggae Reggie
They say
But we be as poor as a washed up Island Boy
I fear for my safety
So we gonna have to rob you
Me pull out a gun n shoot the kids.
Fuck'n chumps tink dey can rob me.
No way Jose.
**** You, bad boys*
Life went on.
Dec 2, 2014
Dec 2, 2014 at 10:07 AM UTC
My auspicious and audacious assault augments the annoyance of aged accomplices.
My bodacious broadside of boffolas berates and buffaloes bros beneficently.
A classy crusade Clownishly chiseling and criticizing childishness.
A devilish ********** of dillydallying dullards; devoutly denying dimwits the dulcet dream of defiance.
Excessive, exuberant edification, ebulliently eliminating education-evictees.
A fair-weather frolic in flippancy with furious fools floundering in flawed foppishness.
Gregariously grating glum guys gleefully, growing grander garnishes of gripping gallantry gaily.
Heckling hooligans highlights my heavenly humor.
Irreverently irking irritable, iniquitous idiots in inestimably infuriating and incredible instances.
A jolly, jocular **** joking with jerks.
A kreiger kicking kleptomaniacs in the karyotype. (Cut me some slack, this is 'k', after all.)
A ludicrous, laughing lambaste of lollygagging lunatics, loftily loosing luscious lunacy on lucky losers.
A magnificent masterpiece of malfeasance, a monstrous, malevolent mission of massive misfortune for the minor minors missing no malicious missive.
A noxious, narcissistic niggling of nitwits, niftily nixing the noisome naivete of niggardly nobs.
An offhand, off-color outburst of outlandish observations to outclass the obnoxious overtures of obsequious offal.
A pragmatic prediction of possible platitudes or platypi, a placid parley of pyrotechnic pleasantries provoking Pyrrhic protections by prurient prats.
A quixotic quibble quarreling with a queer quarry.
Ribald ribbing, ruining the robust reality of the repreachful, repugnant, and rapacious with risque ridiculousness.
A silly, slighting slander of sluglike slavishness, succinctly sinking sloppy simpletons sourly.
Tracing the titillating talent of towing tyranny to towering terrors to tactless, togless, terrapins of the times.
Jan 7, 2012
Jan 7, 2012 at 11:25 PM UTC
Rascals, ruffians and rogues alike.
Slumming the alleys with their slurs,
And sewage rats.
Across the streets, just beyond the performers.
The dames of paradise carrying flowered parasols.
*A ***** she is. Stupid Alessandra!* one said.
The hooligans hugged each other with glee,
As the women struck each other,
With their spiteful words.
Filthy, is the life of the cleaner souls,
And rich, is the life of the poorest minds.
Alas, the weirdest of them all is God.
Jul 14, 2013
Jul 14, 2013 at 4:48 AM UTC
Harried, Harassed, Hassled and Hounded-
These are the H-words I work by.
Harpies and Henchmen, Harridans and Heathens-
These are the H-folk I work with.
Hubbub and Hokum and Hurly-burly-
These are the places I do it.
Hoodlums and Hooligans, loaded with Hubris-
These are the clients I deal with.
Heartless and Horrible, Hateful and Hurtful
These are the attitudes around me.
Hopeless and Hapless, Haggard and Helpless-
This is the way I usually feel.
What happened to Happy, and Hopeful and Harmony-
These are the H-words I search for.
Hinder and Hobble, Heckle and Hamper-
These are the Hamstrings that trip me.
Heaven and Harmony, Humor and Honor-
These are the things that I strive for.
Havoc and Hades, Hurt, Hate and Hauteur-
These are the H’s that I have to conquer.
Hope, Help, and Herculean effort-
Is How I will finally get myself Home.
ljm
Feb 25, 2017
Feb 25, 2017 at 12:30 AM UTC
Brackets
Your mum picked you up in daddy’s BMW,
we had to wait an hour while they scrubbed the brains of another son off the roof of the 125
(Why they built a multi storey car park on top of the bus station is a mystery to me.)
You carefully colour coordinated your files and scrutinized your revision schedules,
we watched nicked CCTV footage of two blokes smoking crack and burning down the bowling pavilion next door
(the old boys never did raise enough to repair it.)
You snubbed each other because of different tastes in jumpers,
we watched acid casualties talk politics with football hooligans
(a hastily rolled joint bridged the obvious gap.)
You lounged in the common room in your study periods,
our lesson got cancelled because John had been smashed in the face with a fire extinguisher
(and our tutor used to be a lifeguard.)
You worried about fashion and discussed the injustice of last night’s X Factor result,
we watched Neil’s head crash into his keyboard after he’d scoffed all his methadone in one go
(again.)
Mar 7, 2013
Mar 7, 2013 at 4:56 PM UTC
When weak people tease
You see as people go about every day life, they push people around a lot and also another thing they do as well, you see mate is try and tease in a way to make people jitter and even if they might not look like they don't know how to tease, they are teasing they are trying to bring all their friends together and tease them, and they are trying to tease the little shy boy, even if that they are little shy boys anyway, because at least I have a life and I want to be rich and famous, while people are trying to tease in so many ways, like one way they are prepared to say shut up **** every time he says something and when he goes on the computer, he can hear his dad saying be a little teasie, because his dad said that he us shy and some young hooligans said we'll kidnap him to tease him, even if they are trying to make him jitter, even if they are as weak as ****** **** you see people should do volunteer work and do are had write poems and be cool, while my dad is saying your still either a kid or a lady and my new mate is teasing me with his friends, first he invites me over, so he can be helped by me and then he invitesj some other mentally ill people over and started to tease me with his friends because he is saying that your still a little shy boy, and he will say that he ain't shy to complain about work and remain poor, just as
Long as he has his fun teasing, and he says that that you are still a defensive little **** and you know you need to realise that I ain't shy to tease you buddy, I will drink alcohol over you and then I will go to pub and have a few alcoholic beverages avd say that you are still getting teased even if it makes him look like a ****** geek, and only geeks tease like that anyway, because they try to tease in so many ways and even if they are little geeky kids, they try and avoid being treated like a geek by saying that they are a teasing but the thing is whether they are teasing or not, they are still a pack of geeks and they will all die long and painfull deaths, and they aren't really cool but they will say that they are teasing to avoid getting teased themselves, they are all a pack of shy ***** who really aren't coping with life very well, so they try and tesse, and that is the end of another instalment
Aug 5, 2015
Aug 5, 2015 at 10:43 PM UTC
The Wall Walker
and smooth talker
he, being a ticked off ****** with a knife,
is mostly mole faced
but with an incredible grasp on spacial relations
mysterious mister stalking the barfly's and time flys
endangering a species just for ***** and giggles
the great google hooligans pace rapidly
back and
frothy beer
drowned down by the river kawaii
Oct 15, 2013
Oct 15, 2013 at 9:36 AM UTC
MY NEICE IS A AN OLD ROCK AND ROLL SINGER OF THE PAST
YOU SEE MY NIECE CAITLIN IS A ROCK SINGER
JUST LIKE MY BROTHER IS
THERE COULD BE PREVIOUS LIVES STORIES HERE
LIKE SHE COULD BE ROY ORBISON OR RICKY MAY
OR SOMEONE BETTER, CAUSE MY NIECE CATLIN
IS SO PERFECT AT SINGERS, IT GOES FURTHER THAN GENES
IF MY MATE PAUL BERENYI DIED IN 1995 LIKE A ****** TOLD ME
HE COULD BE CAITLIN, BUT YOU CAN’T TRUST OTHER PEOPLE
BETTER JUST TRUST THE NEWS
AND NO MATTER WHO CAITLIN WAS IN HER PREVIOUS LIFE
SHE SHOULD ****** CHOOSE, WHAT IS A HER CHARACTER
I AM JUST CRONUS THE POWERFUL GOD
I CAN TELL IF I HAVE THE INTERNET FACTS
I CAN FIND PREVIOUS LIFE PATTERNS
BY, WORKING OUT WHEN PEOPLE DIE
AND HOW MANY YEARS, AND NORMALLY IF THEY YELL
THEY WERE EITHER, KIDNAPPERS, OF OLD HOOLIGANS OF THE PAST
BUT CAITLIN IS A GREAT SINGER, AND SHE HAS SOME PREVIOUS LIFE PATTERN
I KNOW MY BROTHER IS A SINGER TOO, BUT THERE IS MORE THAN THAT I KNOW
LIKE, I WAS ISABELLA OF FRANCE, I WAS THEIR FAMILIES ENTERTAINER
I KNOW SCOTT MCDONALD WANTED TO TEASE ME
SO HE DIED AND BECAME TWO CATS, LUCKY THE CAT WHO WILL TEASE DAD
WHEN IT RAINS, AND MUSCLES WAS TO SAY ONLY ANIMALS DO WHAT I DID BACK THEN
THAT IS WHY THE GUYS TEASED ME
IF PAUL DID DIE, IN 1995, HE COULD BE MY NIECE CAITLIN
BECAUSE NOW I MENTION IT, IT COULD’VE BEEN BEFORE 1995 WHEN I SAW HIM
AT TUGGERANONG WITH ANTHONY COSTA WATCHING BASKETBALL
BUT I KNOW DAD IS IN THE ****** OF LISA CAMPBELL, WITH ROBIN WILLIAMS
WHAT I AM TRYING TO DO, IS BRING MY FAMILY HAPPINESS
CAITLIN COULD BE PAUL BERENYI, OR COULD BE ROY ORBISON
AND NO MATTER WHO SHE IS, SHE IS MY NIECE, AND SUSAN IS MY OTHER NIECE
AND I LOVE THEM BOTH TO BITS
AND NOW, THE RAIN IS COMING CAUSED BY PAUL BERENYI
SAYING NO MATTER WHO I AM, CRONUS SHOULD KEEP IT DOWN
GO TO BED USA, AS THERE IS A BIG SURFING TOURNAMENT IN MERCURY
ORGANISED BY THE TERRORISTS, TO CALM THE HEAT, AND NOT **** THEIR HOOLIGAN
BUT CRONUS TELLS DAD, TO KEEP THEM STRAPPED IN THE SUN
WHERE NO WATER CAN SAVE THEM, THEY’LL SUFFER
Jan 10, 2015
Jan 10, 2015 at 1:55 AM UTC
There is rutabaga, and ratatouille, gotta love alliteration
Then Albuquerque and Tallahassee, are somewhere in our nation
And Saskatoon, Saskatchewan found in Canada, my dear
In old colloquial, there were hooligans and shenanigans, I fear
At school I use a dongle it connects me to my work
I hope I didn't bumfuzzle you, didn't mean to be a ****
Just one more word on my short list and to see what it can do
Find the one you love and in sweet soft voice just turn and utter "pooh"
Dec 16, 2015
Dec 16, 2015 at 9:30 AM UTC
Antsy aardvarks all
accept ants accordingly
as an addiction
Bamboo bayonets
bought by barbaric, beastly
barons bite beatniks
Cloistered cobblers can
color candy-cane conches
concealing crooners
Daffodils doodle
daydreams down, debauchery
demons deafening
Every eon each
electric elephant eats
eleven elk eggs
For fun fantasies
file films filosophic'ly
filling filaments
Go get greens
Get grass grayer gal
goonie ghoul
Hello high hammock
how hooligans heave haddocks
heathenly hecklers
Igloos ixist in
icy islands interning
internationally
Jello jam jizzy
Jacks jostling jewels juney
jump jump joop jail
Dec 27, 2009
Dec 27, 2009 at 9:11 PM UTC
Nigeria 🇳🇬
A lot has happened to you since 62
You're a year older, and still most of your kin hates you
They forget how they may not exist without you
Yes! You are on the brink of hell,
To say your name has been marred with gutter
An act from most of your children
You have suffered the injustices of men
We hear cries of your children in the North
Thousands of hooligans in the South-West
There is so much bad blood in the East
The Middle Belt doesn't know her role or who to follow
Your name has been berated all over the world
Your currency, at the brink of death with the stock market
Stolen funds for those who can grasp it
Banditry for the suffering Masses
Illegal mining, yet no one is talking about it
You have suffered bickerings from people who want to _Japa_
A fluctuating forex makes it no easier
They blame you for their atrocious behaviour
They sometimes forget how fertile you are.
Nigeria!
From East-West and North-South, you have suffered injustices
For decades, you have been subject to malicious governance
Battling all levels of inflation, subjecting your people to abject poverty
Yet the rich get richer, and the poor? More Jejune if you ask.
At 63, I want to fight. For your children and kinship
Fight for your soil and regain your strength
Battle with these injustices and insecurity
Bring down inflation and take back your crown
Debunk all forms of evil committed with your name
And fight for a better 64.
Nigeria is great, Nigeria will be great
Nigeria is our father's land.
Happy Independence Day, Nigeria 🇳🇬
Bellah.
Oct 1, 2023
Oct 1, 2023 at 3:59 AM UTC
Raindrops, accompanied by morning coffee’s aroma
Ice cubes and cola, that galaxy on the surface of the fizzing soda
The smell of old books, while reading as you sat on a sofa
Simple joys, euphoria, now free your mind from the entire enigma
Rasasvada, the taste of bliss in the absence of all thought
Maybe the mental state in which your mind experiences drought
People watching, people praying, people playing,
people like droids
Over the course of history, we’ve discovered hundreds of thousands of asteroids
The first one is Ceres; now ask yourself, “Do I exist”?
Are you suffocated by the alienating effect of urban life;
which you still can’t resist?
Inside the neon-soaked metropolis, transgression,
and the ignorance of youth
Truth realizes itself; and that is the truth
Dusk falls, starry night, the slumbering dark will rise
What made you think that you are wise and that you’d never compromise?
It is only while the city sleeps that you can understand its heaviness
Of what? The weight of your consciousness
It was once said that the smallest thing that you’d see is human kindness
And if not, what else will explain mankind and his varied emptiness
Death defies and completely violates the laws of the universe
The prophets did not write their words on papers, in a verse
They are engraved inside the minds of street hooligans and space vagabonds
Wars don’t end wars, trivial things, and worshiping new gods with brands
Humanity, please keep your sanity.
Regress towards simplicity and put away your vanity
People watching, people praying, people playing,
people who forgot what it means to ‘be’
The ebb and flow of life are as strange as
the creases on your sweater
You, a slave of order, creature of magnificent wonder
A being who seeks purpose and solace, in your thoughts you dwell
So long, tonight I hope you sleep well
Oct 18, 2017
Oct 18, 2017 at 3:24 PM UTC
Your generation is defined by definitions.
'This generation', this new-fangled bunch of hooligans
Cut out and put in the oven,
Lives pre-formed, based on premonitions,
Put into the system and cranked out
Made up of numbers and tests that really define who you are.
'This generation' that you have given a set of rules
A set of molds to fit into
To pour their lives out and 'better the world'
Shaped with your all-knowing tools
Scissors that cut funding to the parts that maybe,
Perhaps, might make them an individual.
Because here, no, here we don't have room for individuality
But we sure have room for this assembly
Your freedom of religion, speech, and freedom to assemble
No room for that, for fear of immorality
We don't have time for originals, we don't have time for strays
I'm sorry that you've got ideas, Generation Y
But this is the generation of time constraints.
We've got technology to innovate, an ozone to fit
Communities to build and lives put at risk
But that's not as important as what's in the now
No, not as important as these tucks and nips
We've got to put you under the needle
Even after we swore, 'first do no harm',
But this isn't going to hurt, I swear
Well, maybe not on the outside.
Look here, Y, you'd be better off compliant
To fix our computers and drive our trucks
To turn off your TVs and just trust us
To read the chapter and finish the assignment
Because to us, you all learn the same,
To us you are still just a number
Even if you think you're out when you graduate.
So what, you graduated the system,
And it's done it's work on you
Have your daddy pick the college and your mama pick the sheets
Pack your bags, you're ready for the big world
And that's exactly what we made you think.
Generation Y, you are fitting into the molds we gave you
We tried to crank you out in groups of 300
And we did
You were never allowed to be original
And you weren't.
Generation Y, this cookie-cutter, uniform
'Glued to technology', uninterested
Group of 'stupid' teenagers
You were forced to unify
And forced into corrals, thereby,
Forced into lives we've blessed you with.
I swear, by my very intelligence
That we're good by you, good by the world
In evaluating what we need
Where we need people
Hopefully creating a society less-gnarled
Generation Y, you may hate the population
But you are the population
And you are what we told you to be.
Your lives were pre-formed from day one,
So, please,
Sit down, shut up, finish your definitions,
And stop asking why.
Nov 2, 2014
Nov 2, 2014 at 3:24 PM UTC
Lawrence Hall
[email protected]
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
Beowulf and the Danish Passport Officer
From a recently discovered manuscript
The clapped-out Boeing wheezed to the gate
The ground crew jumped name-tags rattling
And swiftly moored the shining ocean-bird
Behind his plastic shield a Danish official watched
The travelers approach their passports raised
He stood peeking down at the naughty selfie
His girlfriend sent to his bold smart-phone
Shaking his rubber stamp he spoke:
“What is the purpose of your visit?
Business, or pleasure? Hwaet! I’ve stood
At this same gate longer than you know
Keeping our gift shops free from British footer hooligans
No commoner carries such fine matching luggage
Unless his Rolex and his boyish good looks
Are lies You! Tell me your name
And your home address and your email!
The quicker the better I’m off-duty in ten minutes.”
Beowulf answered him Unlocking his smart-phone:
“We are the Geats the mighty, mighty Geats!
Men who follow Malmo FF Malmo FF the great!
And we have come seeking Parken Stadium
Greatest of all stadia Its shining seats polished
By cheering generations of fat-full footer fans
We have come to cheer Malmo FF
While they whup up on Dansk Boldspil Union
Instruct us, watchman Where is the stadium
But first, where is the beer?”
The worthy officer
Answered him boldly:
“A true fan knows
The difference between fighting on the field
And puking in the stands and keeps that knowledge clear
In his beery brain I believe your babbling
Go forward, credit cards and all on into Denmark
Spend your money! Our exchange rate is generous!
And then go home bearing our love while we bear your money.”
(Stamp, stamp, stamp) “Tram stop to the left
Taxis to the right”
(Scholars everywhere will regret that here the burnt and torn manuscript breaks off.)
Oct 4, 2021
Oct 4, 2021 at 9:10 AM UTC
Maybe we’ve moved past
The jazz dancing nights
Baby brownie bites into freedom
Now
A pathology of pathologically pathetic patterns
Day in, day out
Wax on, wax off
One of these days:
I’ll learn the piano
Beethoven, bach, ben folds
One of these days
Handstands, happiness, hope
Will string through the summer loving
Hooligans
One of these days
We robo-people will wind down,
Slow,
Stop,
Need oil for our rusted bits
Head, shoulders, knees, and even toes
But, mr. tin man, what if Dorothy
Never comes along?
We won’t blink for centuries
And maybe the world will finally come alive
Feb 19, 2010
Feb 19, 2010 at 8:01 PM UTC
in a city that breeds hooligans
ingrates and indecencies,
where the architecture of a lost era
crumbles into brothels and madhouses,
where shootings peak
with the heat of summer,
where new windows are boarded up daily
and we chop down trees like fanatics,
in the city I call home,
in the city I love,
destroyed by its ignorance,
I am condemned to silent pleas
and empty stares.
Apr 16, 2013
Apr 16, 2013 at 10:07 AM UTC
The walk to the 'Brain Hole'
was shorter than expected,
but the muffled screams
from behind locked doors
I knew would be here,
so they were of no concern,
and besides,
the fix was in place.
These hooligans
had no idea who they
we're messin' with.
You don't just sign up
for the Moonstone Project,
you get selected.
Galactic insurrection
is a serious business
with serious consequences.
And besides,
I still had the pink pill
hidden in a safe dark place.
What, me worry
about a few brain ******* machines?
Not me.
This was going to be fun.
Jun 30, 2015
Jun 30, 2015 at 5:55 AM UTC
Yeah those wild hooligans, those mini hell raisers
What was their motive? to be trail blazers?
They're smoking squares, and sneaking out
Facing alota scares, but never cry a shout
They're simply cool, calm and destructive
Shoutin out obscenities, and being abruptive
Yeah the boys remain true, to themselves and their crew
Simply bein themselves, and askin who are you?
Oct 24, 2011
Oct 24, 2011 at 2:33 PM UTC
i’m not getting teased, cause i’m a hooligan
you see i remember getting teased by all the families
and it drove me pretty mad, i hated it,
and the only way to rid this evil teasing
is to be evilly myself, by saying, you are still
a family person and i am a hooligan
and if you don’t stop teasing me, i will slit your throat
you see you are a loser, a total and utter loser
i told them, i will come and grab you, and grab the other teasing young dudes
and then i say, i will say, i am a hooligan and you are a family person
my mate and i are planning to grab you
and throw you in the bin, and i will go ha ha ha ha
you have been trapped by us hooligans
you are going to suffer for teasing me, cool boy
i am going to show you, if you tease me, i will **** you
and get rid of your corpse, in the sea
make your body all itchy, and us hooligans
will tie you teasing boys up and i will say ha ha ha
you see you will never escape from me, ever
you say i am shy, but if you keep calling me shy, i will come
and tie you up and say i am a hooligan and i will **** you, right now
and then i will sit down and play cool for you, because you are a family person
and i am a hooligan and i will **** you and play cool for you and every family person on earth
and when any teaser teases me i will go ha ha ha and lay a knife right to their head
you see i will **** the guy who nicked my lunch because he treated me like a queer different person
and as soon as i met my mate, i kept myself hidden with the hooligans ready to pune on him
saying,you are going to die, you are going to die, because i am a hooligan and you are a family person
and you are getting played cool for, with your crazy trying to be a young dude
and i will sit there saying ha ha ha, you family people are going to be a part of my little gang
where i will play cool for you and terrorise you
you see you will never escape from me, you cool boy, you will n ever escape from me anymore cool boy
i will throw cricket stumps on you and you will be scared of me, you little cool boy
i will go out and have some fun, putting you cool boys into the lockup and i will feed you dead rats and spiders
and if the spider bites your inners, i will yell ha ha ha ha saying i am the hooligan, keeping the family people under wraps
and i will attempt to **** you all if you don’t fucken leave me alone, ********
you see i am getting sick of you, teasing me, and every time i touch you you go crazy
but i expect that from a family person such as yourself
i will **** you, i will **** you i will **** you, you will be dead from us, forever
and in 3 weeks all the family people are dead and us hooligans are playing cool for future family people
to make sure the cool boys who tease don’t exist anymore
i said, i am not getting teased, i am a hooligan
Nov 24, 2015
Nov 24, 2015 at 5:47 PM UTC
In a derby and suit, riding tall in the saddle,
A stranger paraded one day.
He rode through the street of a town in Nebraska,
Astride a magnificent Bay.
Though stately and proud he was oddly attired,
Where cowboys and outlaws abide.
And the gun that he wore, of an uncommon bore,
Hung uncomfortably high on his side
The attention he drew from the unseemly crew
Of misfits (an unsavory lot)
Was cause to give rise to a keen viewer's eyes
Trouble might be more likely than not.
Thugs are known to have fun by the threat of a gun
To a stranger perceived as a dude.
They often get rough and hostile and tuff;
By their nature they're rowdy and rude.
So it weren't no surprise when there came an up-rise
Of cat-calls and whistles that day.
While others just smiled, some were getting quite riled,
As the stranger dismounted the Bay.
He seemed not to care, ignored every dare,
As he entered a bar called "The Shed."
He called for a brew, then changed it to two;
Said,"Take one over there to Big Fred."
Now everyone knew that Big Fred was the worst
of hooligans staying in town.
In Sidney, Nebraska there weren't any faster
When it came to shooting men down.
The bar keeper trembled and shook as he ambled,
Across the floor toting the beer.
The mug was half empty when he finally reached Fred,
Who now gazed at the dude with a sneer.
The bar room grew still and the tension seemed loud.
You could feel with a god-awful dread
That a message was meant in the beer that was sent
By the strangely dressed dude To Big Fred.
"So it's you," uttered Fred. "Thought by now you'd be bound,
To a Deadwood strike, off mining gold.
I had thought you'd forget memories I now regret;
I hoped that trail would finally grow cold."
"It's the Masterson code and the gambler's creed
To even all scores with a rat."
And by those word every Sidney buckaroo knew
That the stranger who spoke them was Bat.
Fred reached for his iron with a lightning fast draw
That never quite cleared the leather
And no one even saw Bat Masterson's draw
That silence Big Fred forever.
Jul 28, 2011
Jul 28, 2011 at 9:34 PM UTC
The air is clear tonight
I am relaxed
overeager hooligans
are shooting fireworks
into the face of the muggy
night sky
The light summer breeze
smells like her
my head
is swimming with words
the right one always on the tip
of my tongue
the right one always out of reach
a family on the sidewalk
out front of their house
the women fat and weathered
the men unkempt and wiry
small children running around
laughing
and a disabled man sitting in the open door
of a car which blares bluegrass
and I am yet to walk the hills
where does this trail lead?
or better yet,
what does any of this mean?
blah blah blah
yaddah yaddah yaddah
tonight,
none of that matters
Jul 9, 2014
Jul 9, 2014 at 12:07 PM UTC
I hate being a hooligan
So ****** much
Don't treat me like a hooligan
Because really u find that hard
I don.'t want hooligans mucking
With me because they are losers
Ya see so won't ya leave me alone
Ya fucken hooligan
I am not a hooligan I am a writer
And artist and YouTube entertained
And in that I have a heap of fun
Please leave me alone ya fucken hooligan
I prefer to be around happy family chatter rather than being around
People who punch the seat if people
**** him off
You see I am not a hooligan cause I don't **** people off, I am reformed
From all that nonsense of the past
Please don't treat me like a hooligan
I am a family person
Always have been always will be
A family person everyone likes
Dad would say to Patrick
Look he's eating junk food treating me like a normal person
Sent from my iPhone
Jul 29, 2015
Jul 29, 2015 at 3:16 AM UTC
A city made from music and gas
-a humor of golden mass in the boiler room
phosphoric eyes launching up;
heroes come slower now, fearful, decadent
as if engorged by war for too long
changed;
within the soil
looking up from the street with malleable bones
like antennae sending up endless prayers
expressing nothing
if not heard
a city, a dome, a breast
cannibals small, eating freely
‘a passing rebuttal’
a glance in the ride – which smiles back
and the world followed will
and the earth gladly sipped
cooks cooking better asleep;
poems, gas, meat, hunger
locked in horn
knowing they’re the wrong type
of poem free
to do whatever
they ever wish
even the energy of old worms has sense
and the concrete knows the distance from where they have come
from the earth-helping
them back, by natural pull, or passerby
before the parade comes
and the hooligans still have rage and bayonet
colliding inside faces
like metered bodies
unable
to learn dance
helixing
around you
their song-
neither taking
or meaning
anything
to your own;
the west-coast train leaves
the power station to my right
opening its three pounding mouths
to the quiet drone of the fog and sky
a sandwich and a coach full of drunks
-communing
-inside
-memory
and hail hits the window
solidifying rapid water
cocktails;
nearing a station and familiar fields
office, and tired sun
letting your face know she only jokes
when her tongue radiates
later on
when her body
finally breaks;
soaking the last dust
a home within scent
calling out to everything else;
calling it
a liar.
Jun 5, 2013
Jun 5, 2013 at 9:13 AM UTC
The beat down, down trodden
Beatific, angelic hooligans
On the page, on the road
Driving down in search of
It
The place where it is at
In that jazz rhythm
And bebop that began
With a big bang and
May end in a whimper
But I don't think so
No, I don't thinks so
May 9, 2011
May 9, 2011 at 2:09 PM UTC