"jame" poems
.
J o h n
Dillinger
"P retty Boy"
F l oyd "Baby
Face" Nelson
Al "Scarface"
Capone "Ma
c h i ne Gun"
Kelly Charles
"Lucky" Lucia
no B u g s y
Siegel Carlo
Gambino Jack
Diamond Tom
Devaney Jame
s Coonan D a
wood Ibrahcan Kray Brothers
Demetrius Flenory Joaquin Guzman
James Burke Meyer Lansky
Bonnie Clyde
Oct 20, 2014
Oct 20, 2014 at 1:06 PM UTC
.
James
Comey James
Comey James C
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mes Comey Jam
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Comey James C
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ey James Comey
James Comey Ja
mes Comey Jame
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James Comey
James Comey James Comey
James ComeyJam es Comey James
James Comey Jam es Comey Jame
James Comey James Comey
James Comey
May 20, 2017
May 20, 2017 at 9:26 AM UTC
Oon gallee um tonem eh
hallo caking elenta meh
oft alone on windy days
ellon ta ban um tonem eh
gallorn tello en triclon meh
eve in shadows with no sun
give an blem in toomel eh
argen jame oh blem tin meh
playing my mandolin on the moon.
Nov 3, 2013
Nov 3, 2013 at 9:49 PM UTC
Say, Elvis, say south.
Say, Little Richard, say south.
Say, Jerry Lee Lewis, say south.
Say, BB King, say south.
Say, David and Jimmy, Ruffin says south.
Heck most of the Classic Five was southern born.
The message is within the history of these southern born artists.
Where all mention above is still highly praised?
Alabama, Georgia, and Kentucky too created a feeling still bringing news.
Wilson Picket aka the Wicked one.
Jame Brown and Jean Terrell heritage are within the southern region.
If you don't know nothing comes from the south without gaining your attention.
Did I mention Dolly Parton"
Conway Twitty aka Harold Jenkins and Porter Waggoner.
Something within the spiritual birth.
Check the history of Chess Records blues artist.
By the way even Berry Gordy.
Oct 14, 2018
Oct 14, 2018 at 10:42 PM UTC
Sent you a letter
Saying just how I feel
Never knew anything more real
I've been telling you more
I've been telling you less
I've been getting depressed
Tears are useless
Nobody knows
Nobody understands
Nobody cares
Not even you
Nobody knows
Nobody understands
Nobody cares
Except Johnny Jack James
Jul 9, 2017
Jul 9, 2017 at 4:02 PM UTC
We lie there
on the grass
in the park
of St James
young Nima
and young me
both smoking
looking up
at the sky
you know what?
she utters
if I don't
get a fix
pretty soon
I'll dry out
be withered
like a nun's
******
you won't get
out of that
hospital
or get those
mind quacks off
of your case
if you get
more fixes
I tell her
I know that
my parents
tell me that
when they come
to visit
both doctors
of a kind
what about
having ***
are you up
for a ****
she says loud
disturbing
the wild ducks
near by us
and others
passing by
not right here
I tell her
of course not
some place else
what place else?
some hotel
some cheap joint
like we did
a month back
not today
getting late
you've to be
back in that
hospital
before long
I inform
she looks round
stares at me
can't go on
not like this
I'll go slit
my **** wrists
if I don't
get a fix
or a ****
she lies back
on the grass
cigarette
held aloft
like some young
movie star
in a role
I lie there
watching clouds
and birds fly
and thinking
of the ***
that we had
in that cheap
hotel room
on that bed
that made sounds
like migraine
in the head.
Mar 21, 2015
Mar 21, 2015 at 5:42 AM UTC
Evening chill in cloister,
moon in one corner of the garth,
stars sprinkled like dust,
what you do not see
and believe is faith
Augustine said,
I smelt the evening air,
sharp, chilling,
as I walked the cloister
from the novice room
to my cell Dom Jame's
voice in my ears,
words on plainsong,
Latin language,
study he said until it sticks,
and she had me
between her and within her
as a flower in a vase,
no one heals himself
by wounding another
Ambrose said,
I breathed the air as I stood,
a monk walked past
head down eyes
on the cloister floor,
I fingered the rosary
in the pocket
of my black jeans,
felt the silver plated Christ
with my thumb,
the clock tower
chimed a quarter,
echoed the area,
without love, deeds,
even the most brilliant,
Theresa said, count as nothing,
moon glow, stars as dust,
Dixit Dóminus Dómino meo,
bell tolled from bell tower,
orange bricks, seemly darker,
sede a dextris meis,
hold me she said
I felt her warm skin
against warm skin flower fresh,
arms about my body,
my ship in her harbour,
the French monk
placed flowers
by the Holy Virgin's feet
in the cloister
lit by moon's light,
I walked the stairs to my cell,
one step at a time,
Hugh walked past,
glum as a whore's ***
eyed me as he went,
in my cell the Crucified
is high on the wall,
aged by years,
I sign the sign of the cross,
I am at sea,
like one
in deep ocean's toss.
Dec 13, 2015
Dec 13, 2015 at 4:05 AM UTC
Nima lays on the green grass
in St James's Park
her head resting
on her hands,
her eyes following
puffy white clouds.
I lay beside her
relaxing after the jaunt
across the West End
before meeting her
by Trafalgar Square.
The Coltrane LP
by my side.
What's beyond
the horizon?
She asks.
Black space,
dead stars
and maybe planets.
But beyond them,
what's there?
God knows
and He isn't
letting on,
I say.
I'm lucky
to be here today;
the doctor said
he wasn’t happy
with me.
Why's that?
what have you
been up to?
She looks at me;
her eyes dull,
her hair untidy.
The drug issue
is not going so well.
I see her arms
are punctured anew.
I said I was seeing
my mother and she'd
bring me back,
but she won't of course,
Nima says,
looking away.
I can see you back
to the hospital.
No, I'll tell him
she dropped me off
and had to go off
some place else.
But that’s not true is it;
how do you expect
to get better
if you don't go along
with the doctor's regime?
Truth or untruth,
either side
of the same coin;
I’ll kick the habit
when I'm good
and ready.
I doubt it;
you will never
want to,
until too late.
Too late, too soon;
what's time
in this sad cocoon?
I want a fix
and I want a ****
She sits up
and shakes her head,
brushing grass
hanging loose.
Coffee will have to do,
I say,
and we get up
and walk slowly
away.
Jan 6, 2015
Jan 6, 2015 at 1:35 PM UTC