"laundering" poems
talkshows and the yellow press
get excited in excess
over his shenanigans
that delight his faithful fans
rumors of these *** affairs
strong words for all macho players
in the game of social thrones
texts with threatening undertones
for minorities and women
treating immigrants like demons
neither fans nor his opponents
seem to notice the components
of the white house strategy
throw them bones
fodder for the yellow press
and while they fight
clandestinely out of sight
works the Trumpian policy
money laundering blatant lies
scolding allies breaking ties
adoring foes praising those
usurpers of democracies
experts in atrocities
slowly yet persistently
undermine civility
with foul language
fill all courts with servile judges
court the aristocracies
of oil sheikdoms in the East
praising communist dictators
who have helped him build his towers
step by step he‘s leading US
from the groups of international powers
to an isolation desert
at the margins of the world
slogans we have rarely heard
over decades
now re-nourished
twittered with presidential flourish
make America small again
warning voices call in vain
no wonder the statue of liberty
is hiding her face in misery (*)
Jul 26, 2018
Jul 26, 2018 at 5:24 PM UTC
---
On February 15
a congressman
went out for to ski
never did return that day
he died "hitting a tree"
There was much
blunt force trauma
to the front of his head
elect of California legislature
now Sonny Bono's DEAD
- CHORUS -
Who murdered Sonny Bono?
How did that man die?
Was it all a "ski accident"
or is that just a lie?
Did he have information
of government high ups?
Laundering money for
drugs and guns
doin' things corrupt?
There is an old story
and you know it's true
The Kennedy's were
conspired against
and now Sonny, too.
---
Blunt force trauma
to the skull
but no broken ribs or knees
and no counter coup
to the brain
you don't need an MD
No coroner to tell you
somethin's fishy there
and the back of Sonny's jacket
**had a tell tale tear**
- CHORUS -
You won't see this on TV
It won't be in the news
all the links have been shut down
They have too much to loose
There's only one who's
brave enough
to convey this, you see
and he has had
attempts on his life
for telling you and me
- CHORUS -
Jun 25, 2015
Jun 25, 2015 at 6:51 PM UTC
Believe or not
Falsehood, suspicion, anger
Anger, bully, dispute
Unjust, pride, jealousy
Envy, deceit, backbiting
Abusing, exploitation, loot
Adultery, robbery, usury
****** curruption, treachery
Fraud, laundering and bribery
Eat up human virtues
Bring terrible ruins
Devour all faith
Lead to fall
And at the end
Push you into the hell.
..........BOOM............!
******************
20-07-2013
Jul 22, 2013
Jul 22, 2013 at 2:35 AM UTC
*feathers or snowflakes
nighttime,
unimportantly,
cannot differentiate
on the 16th floor
balcony
each an individualized n-vite
fall downy into down
of snow blankets of
freezing releasing cold comfort,
ice cream for the body entire
oh yes,
a sad one penned,
the nullity of his
throbbing everything,
sore tempted for quenching
by the soft permanence of white,
most tempting,
soft offering a laundering downy state
they say
see the good stuff
do,
but I* feel *the bad stuff
with heartbeat regularity,
temple pounding repetitive asking
what's the next best
and other naming questions
the way in is not
way out...
this hole I dug dark,
no hand holds, dank, elongated
this time
happy you,
brevity suits
for the downy fall
fleeting floating abrupt and
suggesting
wonderfully right-sided answers
to questions his names asks
where is the humble path,
where is shelter at long last..*.
Jan 31, 2015
Jan 31, 2015 at 10:06 AM UTC
we was in the bando,
trappin, we were trapped..
cook named Orlando,
moved across the track..
used to be my neighbor, now hes got the paper,
owns a couple barbershops, got myself a taper,
owns a deli too, couple cleaners down the main street,
not long ago we were sitting in the same seat..
back when,
we was in the bando,
trappin, we were trapped..
kitchen hot too handle,
Found ourselves a rat..
polices, driving by increases...
Orlando had a thesis,
Moved in with his nieces..
He says...
"Theyll never catch me in here,
I live without fear,
only time i cry is with this tattoo tear"
A couple days later, cops broke the door in,
couple windows too, just to let more in,
they found a couple rifles, most of them foreign...
Cuffed Orlando, his niece, and his babymomma Lauryn...
multiple charges of distribution.
couple cases of ******
money laundering, and weapons, his attorney would murmur...
They say my writing ***** this is no place for this crap..
i dont do poetry, i just write reality rap..
and truthfully, nowadays reality lacks.
So i dedicated this to his daughter Natalie Max.
25 to life..
no chance of parole, bottle....
of hennessy,
just *** he was my role model..
They say how can you defend him, when i yell free Orlando..
*** i still remember when..
we was in the bando...
-afj
May 14, 2015
May 14, 2015 at 1:11 AM UTC
FROM off a hill whose concave womb reworded
A plaintful story from a sistering vale,
My spirits to attend this double voice accorded,
And down I laid to list the sad-tuned tale;
Ere long espied a fickle maid full pale,
Tearing of papers, breaking rings a-twain,
Storming her world with sorrow's wind and rain.
Upon her head a platted hive of straw,
Which fortified her visage from the sun,
Whereon the thought might think sometime it saw
The carcass of beauty spent and done:
Time had not scythed all that youth begun,
Nor youth all quit; but, spite of heaven's fell rage,
Some beauty peep'd through lattice of sear'd age.
Oft did she heave her napkin to her eyne,
Which on it had conceited characters,
Laundering the silken figures in the brine
That season'd woe had pelleted in tears,
And often reading what contents it bears;
As often shrieking undistinguish'd woe,
In clamours of all size, both high and low.
Mar 10, 2014
Mar 10, 2014 at 1:56 PM UTC
liturgies of lethargy
lull their sleepy tongues,
and run among my stumbling dreams
towards the visceral setting sun
keep the soldiers’ safeties off and order no retreat
you can’t afford to chip your teeth for the price of being numb
stay glassy eyed and leave your pride
behind the backs of bus seats
with notes, sharpie, and lies
these men are not what they seem
this world is a messed up dream
while the elite claim to delete the supposed deadbeats
as if they deplete the city’s concrete streets
i want to scream
they’re really the secret
to keeping the working class alive in the heat
to keep the coffee shops open on every street
to keeping the cheap soda purchased
at the indiscreetly laundering cover up convenience stores
you would only see when you’re walking pavement
breathing in the scent of cigarettes and pollen spores
Jun 29, 2013
Jun 29, 2013 at 5:50 AM UTC
Wow!
We deserve some...
THINGS, which are closely
to rise up like a changes
from the brain with purely
social thoughts in the kingdom
of alkebulans...
A bit change will landed, even
The names of some acts by us
will change, like...
Nigerian Corruption
Nigerian laundering
Nigerian cybercrime
Nigerian Boko Haram
Nigerian IPOB
Nigerian Niger-Delta Militants
Nigerian Kidnapping
Nigerian Political Violence
Nigerian Armed Robbery
Nigerian ISWAP
Nigerian OPC
Nigerian Afenifere
Nigerian Thugs
Nigerian Fraud
Nigerian etc.
To Beautiful U.A.R
May be our values
core will gain again
a golden sight from
the eye of the world
...
For my home country
Everything as a change to...
I welcome it
Jun 3, 2021
Jun 3, 2021 at 12:10 PM UTC
The World's Times chronicled
Crusades and Fatawas,
Jihads and Inquisitions,
Coups and Genocides.
Such resourcefulness
The Construct.
Another Cathedral rises
In a destitute country.
Do-able
We're told
From the leader's lips
We'll always have the poor.
Uh huh! The poor!
That's what was said.
We can always put them to work,
And there won't always be work.
They'll need membership cards,
And birthings and burials,
Like always.
See the pyramids along the Nile
You get up every morning from your alarm clock's warning
Another temple
Will grow from
Rice paddies;
A synagogue,
A mosque will
Cinch tiles
On the backs of peasants.
I've had enough
Laundering by recluse
Single mothers,
By crooks posing as shepherds,
And Holy Wars
*so oxymoronic
cleanses too*
Any Divines
Benefitting from
Our labour and wages;
Our drachma, denarius and shegel,
Aren't worth the worship.
Yet the lenders are good
At getting their pound.
*Don't drop a coin
In a wishing well,
Pay cash for a mass
Where they'll ring your bell.
Choose a charity,
There's so many,
That need a
Pauper's Penny.*
Sep 3, 2014
Sep 3, 2014 at 8:18 AM UTC
My best thoughts arrive when
I wait for my towels to be cleaned.
Leaning over the sturdy white machine,
contemplating life's intricacies
and delving into quixotic thoughts only suitable
for my delicates in their spin cycle,
that's when it happens.
Suddenly, as the bumps and whirrs of a laundry room
fill my headspace, I am
Socrates, I am Plato,
one finger heaven-oriented as my clothes spin,
spin, spin.
I can only imagine if Phaedo was
conceived in the throes of laundering.
As slaving women with their washboards
worked tirelessly on his thinking linens,
that's when Plato must have done his
best philosophizing,
when Napoleon felt his tallest.
Sep 29, 2011
Sep 29, 2011 at 5:32 PM UTC
I used to press my shirts
bleach out stains and dirt
laundering can hurt
when it's all you ever do
When I was a kid
that's all I ever did
behind the lines I hid
the sterile and the new
****** mismatch the dress
let go the loneliness
settle for nothing less
Than the beauty of the mess
Aug 2, 2010
Aug 2, 2010 at 2:20 PM UTC
If I could bask today in the ignorance of the sun, would I let it burn my skin?
Because tomorrow could bring a cancerous wave that just might **** the curiosity.
If I could wash and wade in the oblivion of the ocean, would I let it pull me in?
For tomorrow could bring a laundering wave that just might save the day.
Or tomorrow could bring a compelling wave that just might **** the curiosity.
If I could be sedated by the serenade of the thunder, would I gently fall asleep?
Or would I have find 10,000 ways to laugh myself to sleep?
Would I have to face 10,000 ways to intentionally **** the curiosity?
Jul 19, 2012
Jul 19, 2012 at 5:15 PM UTC
#Fake news indeed:
Is this a fox in the hen-house or a hoax in the fun-house ?
It’s news to them that it’s views from us. Weaning ourselves tit-for-tat while we wet-nurse the networks net-worth, they pull the wool over their own press-cards, spinning yarns fit to knit a seamless weave of tailored narrative (free alterations post-laundering, free press with dry-cleaning). Ironing out the irony, the ship of state suddenly mixes metaphors: a freak gyre of Greek fire, leak-proof talking points for caulking joints on a sinking vessel, a showboat floating fake liars, gloating, into lakes of fire. Let us light a naked fuse to the faked news until their networks ignite like an information overload. Fake news indeed. News to me…
now watch them form a phalanx as we farm the faux links.
Dec 5, 2016
Dec 5, 2016 at 9:47 PM UTC
My best thoughts arrive when
I wait for my towels to be cleaned.
Leaning over the sturdy white machine,
contemplating life's intricacies
and delving into quixotic thoughts only suitable
for my delicates in their spin cycle,
that's when it happens.
Suddenly, as the bumps and whirrs of a laundry room
fill my headspace, I am
Socrates, I am Plato,
one finger heaven-oriented as my clothes spin,
spin, spin.
I can only imagine that Phaedo was
conceived in the throes of ancient laundering.
As slaving women with their washboards
worked tirelessly on his thinking linens,
that's when Plato must have done his
best philosophizing,
when Napoleon felt his tallest.
Sep 29, 2011
Sep 29, 2011 at 5:32 PM UTC
Respect a fool to avoid noise.
Clever people die fast but fools live long.
Elders said short cut's are dangerous
Indeed its true.
Poverty will never be ended
Only poor can be chopped a little.
Risking life for rhino horn is not a solution.
God need to be thanked for what he gave you not what you choose to have.
Digging up your own grave before God prepare you a nice place to rest.
Remember every cent you have is a thanks to God .
Money have no garden so don't try to cultivate it.
Those who have million wish to have billions and those who have hundreds wish to have thousands.
Stop money laundering.
Stop rhino horn poaching.
Drop that call is killing our ears.
Life is not for sale.
Live once die once..
We were born with nothing we will die and baried with nothing
In life we need to accept what we have.
Jun 24, 2016
Jun 24, 2016 at 1:45 PM UTC
The hunky lad passed me smiling.
I sat and wondered what he was into.
I spent the next short time whiling.
Did he like the same things I like to do?
Was it possible he’d find me beguiling?
Or was I just a romantic Ford Pinto;
A bit of data barely suitable for filing?
Not worth a kiss let alone a good *****
Thus run the silent mental maunderings
Of a fool with little else but fanciful wishes
As he went about his chores like laundering
Dusting, vacuuming and washing dishes.
Dreams like those of a damsel in a castle
Drug me away from the drudgery of the day.
And helped me not see life as a hassle;
Instead it made my mind a place to play.
If fortune could send a lucky handyman
To fix something I didn’t know was broken
I could think it was a very dandy plan
And that God was sending me a token.
Almost like a voice was whispering to me
Everything is gonna be okay, my child.
So go ahead and celebrate giddily.
Your life is will soon go from mild to wild.
Oh yes, I would sing and dance in joy
Around my tiny rent-controlled home.
God was going to send a perfect boy
So he would never again need to roam.
He could stop here in his **** travels
And I would make him so glad that he did.
He could stop pounding the gravel;
Just stay with me, almost on the skids.
I’d serve him chicken from the Colonel
I have lots of coupons I’ve set aside.
Maybe he’d like something from McDonalds.
I would set the table with great pride.
And I would make sure there was wine
By the lovely gallon, here for him to drink.
If he wanted a more inexpensive kind
He wouldn’t really even have to blink.
Yes I would make a lower-class heaven
With our modest Rent-a-Center stuff.
I’d do the scutwork twenty-four seven.
I do it all now, it is nothing that tough.
He would only have to love me madly.
Life would be a fairy tale for both of us.
He’d consent to stay forever gladly;
Life would be simply, totally marvelous.
Dec 19, 2016
Dec 19, 2016 at 12:56 PM UTC
There’s too much you in the world
Capitalistic ****
Running around
Buying and stealing
Material possessions full of transgression
But I digress because this isn’t really anything
But a test for the best to accomplish
The end result is said to have some underlying meaning
But the end result has been fabricated greatly
Deep in some office shed
We shed the light away from our prying eyes
Always keeping silent
The new discoveries that take away from the almighty dollar
And keep the fat cats in Washington wealthy
Keep laundering their ***** misdeeds
But the suits keep getting more expensive
And the poor get pensive
Wondering what they’re doing wrong
Trying to make ends meet
And put food on the table for a growing family
Of twelve or more
Of twelve or more
The way the holocaust looked
With dead and starving
Pilled high as Buffalo Mountains
And the TV is switched to the news
But there’s nothing new to hear
Here is always what’s pre-approved and sugarcoated censorship
Prove to be abundant in thousands of tentacles
From the octopus of government and social media
You are a trend that is replaceable
And if you stand against their collective
You will cease to have ever existed
Sep 18, 2011
Sep 18, 2011 at 9:36 AM UTC
I spend a lot of time thinking,
so I've had some time to make up my mind.
But you spend a lot of time drinking,
leaving your morals and reasoning behind.
I spend a lot of time reading,
because I crave the escape of a fictional fantasy life.
But you spend a lot of time bleeding,
because you crave an escape only found through a knife.
I spend a lot of time worrying,
because I fear you'll never make it out of this town alive.
But you spend a lot of time hurrying;
dismissing everything that matters to stay busy,
just to survive.
I spend a lot of time laundering
your ***** clothes with stains of blood
that just won't seem wash out.
But you spend a lot of time wandering;
always searching,
but never finding what love is really about.
I spend a lot of time thinking,
so I've had some time to make up my mind.
You can carry on your drinking,
I've decided it's time to leave you behind.
Mar 28, 2014
Mar 28, 2014 at 5:28 PM UTC
I know a day
Mother may i yes you may
Wait in January and May
Changing time delay
Financial gain repay
Washing with GAIN spray
Water beaches waves
Money grow on tree branch break
Taking a break from life decay
Maybe just stolen fish on bait
Men mastery **********
Mason and teplars template
Money laundering contemplate
Some words can relate
Relationships replace
Playing chess checkmate
Success i will regenerate
All along make a clean slate
The year 1776 to1778
My path clear and straight
I will eat because u already ate
Knowingly frustrating designate
This design is precious simulate
Simulating grids no hesitate
Motherboard and pannel fate
tHe 13th and 9HT gate
Souls and destined key to soulmates
The road 66 or 69 navigate
Mr and Mrs contract negotiate
Go with your gut or go with faith
Coins and diamonds a future await
Jul 2, 2017
Jul 2, 2017 at 3:00 PM UTC
The headline told a lie, hiding the scratches of a failed government
We crave for redemption yet we are the sin committed
A suffocating truth carved against our egos and pride
Awoken from the slumber we are forced to dine in, to seek a light
Before you raise your flag in the street
Not a wish nor a prayer but a request that
Flashes of unattended promises from the manifesto blinds your path
Capitalized lies which stood the taste of corruption and laundering caress your choice
Millions of death pools stealing our guts, leaving us with sealed lips tend our wounds
Do you still want to raise it?
Before you raise your flag in the street
Not a question but a simple reminder that
The pay you received stole your pride
Taxes climbed the mountains touching the helm of hunger
You sit with unanswered questions begging for sleep
Void fills your heart, hope is lost
You made the choice
Rethink do you still have a truth?
Before you raise your flag in the street
Hang tight with the answers you gave your mind
Kisses of impotent words will slap your cheeks
Promises will pat your back and money will grace your pocket
Instead of dining with the moment to impoverish the future
Do not raise your flag
But before you raise your flag in the street
Death never tastes good until it is felt
Another needs to live.
Oct 15, 2018
Oct 15, 2018 at 1:10 PM UTC
Inside out
Collar frayed
Ragged at the hem
Stitches showing through the thin spots
The cloak of civiliztion needs a laundering.
Buttons missing
Flapping in the wind
Dragging in the rainy mud
Sliding off stooped shoulders
The coat of civility needs a skillful tailor.
Hands disappearing
Sleeves way too long
Holes in all the pockets
Faded plaid in last years colors
The jacket of humanity is now on sale at Goodwill.
Jan 20, 2017
Jan 20, 2017 at 11:43 AM UTC
Beautiful paradise draping in wanton vain
Men and women visage in pain
Storming the Homeland with sorrow's wind and rain
Laundering the beauty of morning's eyne.
The carcass of Country men blown by the wind- identity.
The Clamour of torment soul of Fellow man to despair- scythed the sanity.
Tears in woe as thy'd watch the Homeland in ash
Threaded in enduring the shrieking of Homeland.
Jan 24, 2019
Jan 24, 2019 at 2:24 AM UTC
March came by, swiftly
As if an arrangement
Has been penned down
And a deed has being
Procured with curious secrecy
I used to ink down
My thoughts and fantasies
Come January, February
Spreading them seductively
On a neat whited sheets
Aligning them in stanzas
And meters and patterns and rhythms
But March,!!!
March was peculiar
She came running fast and wild
Wandering my melancholy lane
Into a path of timid hallucinations
I wrote less, and thought more
Her hair stood braided
In losed negligence
Her carcass of beauty
Spent in dismay
My Words were conceited into ghost characters
Laundering the silky figure
Of a whited sheet
Proclaimed by my careless
Hand of pride
Inspite of heaven's fair rage
Some characters peeped through
Letters of saddened thoughts
Wandering what content it bears
Apr 4, 2014
Apr 4, 2014 at 4:52 AM UTC
Washing tons of money -
laundering gets funny.
Feb 22, 2017
Feb 22, 2017 at 10:14 AM UTC