"loots" poems
…*in every visible character man differs less from the higher apes,
than these do from the lower members of the same order of Primates*.
Charles Darwin, 1871
The Other claims descent from apes
then acts like a violent monkey.
It pillages, it loots and rapes
performing as Satan’s flunkey.
Its actions bear the mark of Cain;
brandishing cameras, smashing things.
We feel its proto-human pain
yet dread the urban woe it brings.
It tries to justify, with words
its primal carnage, childish rage.
With anthropoid designs deferred
it struts the Darwinian stage.
The higher primate government
rewards them well in ripe bananas
for wrecking their environment
(jungle as well as savannas).
Their mate selection (naturally):
a semi-simian solution:
intercoursing sexually,
to hasten their evolution.
The wombs enlarge—they drop their young
then text their friends while getting high.
They swing from tree-tops, fling their dung,
while down below the humans sigh.
Sep 17, 2015
Sep 17, 2015 at 7:00 PM UTC
There was once a small, dying flower
Her beauty was dim
Thoughts trapped her from deep below
The roots that held her down made it hard to grow
She lived a life of solitude
No other flowers blossomed beside her
Her sweet aroma nobody smelt
In the lonely landscape in which she dwelt
But then there came a day when something happened
The piercing blue sky changed into oyster silver
And as the flower proceeded to slowly die in pain
The miracle came. Rain.
The rain fell from the sky like liquid jewels
Each drop nourished the flower
Although the rain didn’t realize at first
It had helped the flower overcome the worst
Through the air the rain and flower shared silent whispers
The rain understood the flower’s dying condition
The flower was relieved that someone else knew
Of the deep trauma that everyday grew
For many weeks the rain showered on
To help the flower continue to be strong
But the rain didn’t know of the flower’s underground roots
The rain wanted to know but the flower kept them as emotional loots
One day another accompanied the rain
A being called sunshine, a beaming white light
Though slight droppings of rain spluttered down from the sky
The flower was inevitably starting to die
The flower didn’t want the rain to know
How dependent she was of her nurturing
The flower stood while its immunity could run
As the rain started to fade into the sun
The flower should be glad that the rain started to calm
For the rain carried pain and distress from far above
So the flower carried the trauma and rejection
Into the roots where she was bullied by her reflection
The sun was kindhearted, pure and bright
It shone optimism and grace to all in its range
It was actually a key to the flower’s survival
But neglect and jealously made her the rival
The flower started to push the rain away
She didn’t want to hold the rain back from serenity
So the rain dripped off the darkening petals
As the flower wishes, the rain cools and settles
The rain disappeared in the light of the sun
Creating a spectrum of colours bleeding across the sky
The flower sighed in relief of the petrichor
As the flower died, and became no more.
Apr 25, 2015
Apr 25, 2015 at 11:23 PM UTC
I am the Lorax, who once spoke for the trees
In the hope of bringing progress to its knees
But now I have grown somewhat older and tired,
My outlook and thought process being rewired
(Sometimes to see forest, you must clear the trees.)
Examine the case of the Brown Bar-ba-loots
Whose interests for so long I worked in cahoots.
Could such timid beasts truly thrive in the wild
So innocent, trusting, submissive, and mild?
(My former assertions I strongly refute.)
Why, see how they frolic and scamper in zoos;
How can one watch them and steadfastly refuse
To see how much better their lot is today
As joy for our children as opposed to prey
(A happy condition where no one can lose.)
Ah, scoff the nihilists, *but Truffula Trees,
Those havens for birds and those homes for the bees.
Why, what do you say now that they are all gone,
Removed to make way for some suburban lawn?*
(These angry young men—O Lord, take them all please!)
I gently remind them it’s just nature’s way,
That some species go while other ones stay,
The carrier pigeon’s no longer alive
Yet somehow we manage to live—indeed, thrive!
(In the face of brute logic, they’ve little to say.)
So don’t be dismayed or frightened or leery
Of doomsday projections outlined by theory
Suggesting that our time on this earth may be done;
Consider the caged Bar-ba-loot having fun
(And we hear fish do quite well in Lake Erie.)
Jan 3, 2017
Jan 3, 2017 at 2:33 PM UTC
Kickin' all the way the Live Coolio
deep in ya Culo/
it's that Boy Yosef comin' with major Flavas/
with so Many Styles more than a Hair Doo Voodoo/
got ya eyes on ya know Who?/
so many ****** wanna Smoke me
Cuz im the New Joint/
puttin' sparks to ya Head ****** Red/
if u thinkin' about Frontin'' Me/
ill make u Crossover like EPMD/
Rap Fanatic since i was Swimmin' in the Nut Sack the Mack Attack/
hittin' all your perspectives
im takin' out all the Primitives/
in the Rap Game Shoot ya Stick
try again my- Flows erected as a ****
in between ***** *****
so take Chance it ya Want/
Watch the gun taunt
in ya Face a sad Disgrace/
Slappin' a new taste
in ya Mouth i Dropped it
my Style can't be Competed
you Obsoleted
i'm Makin Profits the Funk Baby!!!!
Many Emcees sweet as a KitKats
so cut the Chit Chat/
cuz im bout to Splatter their careers into pieces
Gotthem Envisionin' Doubles
like Noah i Told ya
the Tru Soldier Rollin' Dogia/
marchin' to the Beat with my Vocal
a Tru Loco/
when i'm sippin E & J **** an Airplay pinin' Indo/
playin' suckas close like who's holdin' the most/
weight? Pushin' rhymes like weights
Loots stay Connected like freight Train Crates/i Dominate from all states
that's why they Call Me All-State/
but ya Ain't in Good Hands
-tryna Step to the Big Man
keep u heated galore like Afghanistan gettin' in that *** like Sand/
so take Stand and a Bow cuz im the Prowl/
for that Number One Slot
ya rhymes loose as Jar Jelly
**** what the critics tell me
"Mr Big Stuff" girls call me "Heavy D"
From then shaft that lays between me
the Funk Baby!!!
Oct 8, 2016
Oct 8, 2016 at 10:36 AM UTC
There are those who
despise tight spaces
who hate confinement
at least in their own basement
There's some truth
I concur
I need room
not some gloomy tomb
still there are some
who are confined
by the dust below
and the clouds above
they desire
the width of the equator
and claim
the height to the stars
but in the end
with all man as a subject
with majestic skyscrapers
and treasuries filled to the brim
their death creates borders
implodes skyscrapers
and loots the coffers
alas, as they started
in incubators
they remain claustrophobic
in coffins
the world is not enough
because we are not enough
Apr 9, 2015
Apr 9, 2015 at 2:57 PM UTC
*Is out there on our own lovely streets
In the souls of those the world mistreats
In the roughing waves threatening to wash us all
In the despondence of the **** victim's unanswered call
It's that long journey without a clear destination
It's the desperate cries in the broken heart of every nation
The heartbreak caused with no intention
It's the one without an answer,I mean the question
War is that desperate pregnant teenager attempting abortion
It's the *** slave in a foreign country up for auction
It's the slum child fighting with the bursting river banks
It's in the mind of the soldiers riding tanks
Doing what they can to rise up the ranks
And evade taking more innocent lives in mega chunks
It's the hopeless immigrants drowning on the mediteranean
It's the nuclear threatened Iraqees and Iranians
It's a *** hole forcing the driver to swerve and lose control
It's the tears of the fishermen catching nothing for days in their trawl
It's the worries in that littl'un fearing darkness
The priest's daily prayer,battling temptation, human weakness
War is another name for the famine eating the tribes in the arid north
It's the thought of a refugee mother whose child's got stunted growth
It isn't the opposite but the total absence of peace
It's a robber who loots everything, including bliss
It's a nightmare to the leader stuck in a seat
And the zealous opposition unaware of his inner heat
It's a hustle by the team which can't admit defeat
It's the struggle of an accident victim trying to regain his feet
It's in the believer's hope to see Jesus return tomorrow
Right before the entire globe sinks in ****** sorrow
It's the worries of a father who's spent his entire adult life unemployed
The uncertainty for a recruit in a war zone,just deployed
War is the puzzled gambler pondering suicide when he loses the little he borrows
It's the pastor wondering wether or not to dive in and save the drowning morals
War is that person perturbed, wondering why the hell he was created
War is all the choices you made and regretted
War is a three letter word,with a long meaning
Which some say is the only reason the globe is spinning*
Jun 5, 2015
Jun 5, 2015 at 12:22 PM UTC
your beauty put nations into dispute
trying to benefit from the rewards of your youth
for every treasure there's nothing to spare
they used you, abused you, then left you in despair
you've welcomed other nations to experience your land
but your slaughter is what they've plotted that's what they've planned
never have you ever became selfish of your beauty
but you failed to discern the hands of the greedy
your pillars they shattered into pieces
your temples they burned down to ashes
you called for gods but it is the gods who are the roots
one even turned his back after gaining from your loots
you offered so much but they left you nothing but scars
you gave them beauty they gave you famine and farce
should you have invited Eris?
behold, you're the victim of war between these deities
whoever obtains this apple is the fairest
whoever consumes you will be the greatest
war is the immortals' way to argue
they saw your beauty but they never saw you
one bribed you to rule other nations
another bribed you to be the warrior of your fictions
then one bribed you with your weakness, your ambitions
oh my land, you fell. let me ask you my greatest questions.
who are you?
have you forgotten your identity?
why are you allowing yourself be defined by the words of these false deities
why do you still call your oppressor a hero
until when are you going to stay on this limbo
you are Thetis and Peleus not inviting Eris to avoid strife
but you also are the golden apple causing the immortals seek for your life
you are Paris being promised of your dreams
but you also are Helen the most beautiful woman in the history of regimes
you are the war itself, oh my land
your destiny resides on your hand
you are every character of this myth
of your own sword you are the smith
Sep 22, 2018
Sep 22, 2018 at 7:15 AM UTC
If black is a curse and white the Cause;
Then blank is the page of rationality in a God that’s white.
If a pest fixed pies in the past;
Then its taste lists lies in the cast.
If the bulk lifts a tool and dies;
Then luck befits a pool of dice.
If a kith licks his kins like a broth;
Then the mouse clicks and nibbles like a crook.
If a thief runs away with the loots;
Then our chief grunts with harps and lutes.
Then our land wakes up with hopes and heals;
If the lost takes all the dope on his heels;
And if the thief never comes back to steal our wealth;
Then the land ever in bliss rests from the West.
amazon.com/author/odosimonagbo; for more of similar poetry.
Jul 13, 2012
Jul 13, 2012 at 6:01 AM UTC
Earth is a pretty
Messed up equation
Of quite hastily
Made up solution.
We are but numbers
Of different values
Every sign matters
In this set of issues.
Many were born real
Physiques built evenly
Few quite look odd and
Imaginary.
Some are but factors
Serving evil's loots
Denominators
Of ungodly roots.
There are radicals
Who've got point of view
So are rationals
To speak a word or two.
We're discriminant
To other religions
Differential rant
To other opinions.
Can't we simplify
This complex squirm
And instead unify
To a common term?
We're just variables
Merely dependent
On the valuables
Of our environment.
We were given one
To be shared by all
Equality's gone
And this is our call.
Sep 23, 2013
Sep 23, 2013 at 6:50 PM UTC
With his false air of supremacy
man just manages to ride a wave
and claims to tame the sea.
Climbing the mountains with all his might
by merely hoisting a flag at the pinnacle
man thinks owning the height is his right
Crouching behind a bush, smeared with ink
he kills the beast with some fancy toy
and assumes he has overthrown the jungle king
Not satiated still, he stoops so low
disregarding her beauty, digs the earth
and loots all the treasures below.
After all this, when he bows to thee
tries to please by his hypocritical words
then how holy can the holy be.
Jun 19, 2015
Jun 19, 2015 at 5:36 AM UTC
the pain rampant to my emptied faith,
showered upon a cautious bed of weeping lilies,
loots a once blissful child
whom begs to **** the relic sun...
Nov 23, 2020
Nov 23, 2020 at 6:12 PM UTC
in a dead street
a cat owl bleeds
its mind effused
with images
of music
and the songs
that would alter
pocket thought
it hears the echo
of a buckled sculptor
a blue and chromed car
that loots its understanding
leaves it warped
while autonomous ideas
flow in prophetic vision
as it moves between
life and death
a volitional freedom
Feb 28, 2013
Feb 28, 2013 at 5:12 PM UTC
There are monsters in my head
And they plant poisonous seeds
That latch onto my inner core
Growing roots, so tight and unrelenting
And with every perishing breath I succumb to
The roots squeeze around my heart
As if their disgusting existence depended on
That evil task set before them
I have desperately turned to every source of happiness
I have ingested foreign substances in a
Pathetic attempt to banish these monsters
And their ****** poison seeds
But my options are rapidly crumbling
And the carcasses spite me as
The opposing force loots through
My once dominant empire
And in this moment I have realized
This infamous battle has taken sides with
The clenching roots, feeding them strength
So I raise my white flag and watch
As my insides are clawed at, ripped apart
And I suffer until my final breaths have
Promptly arrived and it is then and
Only then when these monsters peel their ungodly
Faces off that I come to find I am staring back into my own detached
Eyes, but it is too late to stop what I have done because my reality is
Slipping in and out of rationality
Until I am without a doubt vacant
And when the clock pronounces me finished
You will still smell my final moments
As I watch each and every mind replay
My descent with cold eyes and a
Gentle smile plastered with excuses like
The circumstances just weren’t right
It’s no one’s fault but hers
Nov 19, 2012
Nov 19, 2012 at 8:32 PM UTC
She took the swing, this fragile thing,
she took the shot and since then she's got
me jumping, got me running, hitting,
frantically searching, no time for sitting,
she's got me in this corner,
knowing all this time I'd have worn her
as a hat or red
cowboy boots.
Her being loots
my mind, my waking moment,
I want to hold, touch and kiss
engulf us both in bliss,
as we watch and comment
as we notice what the calm meant
when we finally found our seats.
Heartbeats chase us, take us
underground and up again,
shivering, trembling body parts,
these hearts, shaking, swinging,
without the need to plan,
keep my passion singing.
Mar 17, 2017
Mar 17, 2017 at 6:39 PM UTC
I'll change
Everything I am,
Everything I was.
And my turn has come
The armour is set
The orders are done
The "game" now is on !
The battles have begun
Jaaved'aani jaan'aejaan
Don't yawn back to sleep
Post Renaissance
Go !
No holding on to root
Which hinders that pursuit
No plunders, wars,or loots
No rapes and guns
No violence or those
Tease or Boo's or hoot !
Change !
Everything that's bad
All children who'r sad
All oldies ,goldies ,mad !
No touching, judging, ********
To the nuts who're simply glad
For
the time has come ,
The armours is set
And the orders are done
The "game" now is on
the battles have begun .
Change !
Change !
I'll change
Everything I am .
Everything I was !
Change .
-Gautam vasisth
Sep 18, 2017
Sep 18, 2017 at 6:45 AM UTC
Our lives crumble and fail,
East or west more losses, we avail.
Our foods turned life-sucking cocktail,
You got our revenues and livelihood to curtail.
We, the creators of the foodbanks,
Our lives now turned, mere votebanks,
You destroyed all our riverbanks,
Brought our lives to end with your loan banks.
Lived and cultivated happily, with self-reliance,
Demolished our self-reliance, with your idiotic brilliance,
Deliberately stole our self-reliant roots,
Through your money-minded ****** selfish loots.
Toiled ourselves to turn lands arable, through generations,
Your land acquisitions, put us under dictator oppressions,
Blood-sucking ********** gave us all fright & plight.
It’s time we rise and say Our Land is our right.
Deceived us with your developmental illusions,
Pushed us towards suicide, under incurable obsessions,
You commented our farming, old and backward.
Taught us land-killing cultivation, very awkward,
In the form of food, we harvest poisons,
With our life costing mistakes, learnt worthy lessons.
We don’t get our deserving price,
Unheard and Weakened is our voice,
To the rulers, we are just a useless choice,
For them, our deadly weeps are just a noise.
We sold our crops to middlemen,
Rulers sold our seeds to corporates,
We sold our lives, for a permanent solution.
For media, we are just a hype.
To the nature’s wrath, our crops became unripe.
For livelihood, we are compelled to get loans,
To repay you, push us to reloans,
Lose our lives, helpless and incapable to pay our loans,
Leaving our families helplessly to moan and groan.
It’s time we raise a warning.
To you we won’t keep serving,
You will realize our value,
To the corporates, when you lose your revenue.
It’s an alarm, it’s an alarm,
To the businessmen we lose our farm,
To the corporates our ownership is vested,
From owners we have turned rented.
Your life would be on danger,
Then corporates would play with your hunger,
You can’t even own a burger,
To them your lives too would turn meager.
Let’s rise and fight,
Exclaim our land is our identity and right,
Let’s correct, where we lack,
To the natural farming, let’s get back.
Let us raise,
Let us determine our price,
If we become selfish and vice,
You will lose all your slice and rice.
Oct 11, 2018
Oct 11, 2018 at 2:10 AM UTC
Time reigns
it smacks you in the face and it scrambles up your brains
until you think you've had enough but you need a little more
so you hang on to the second hand
as it sweeps across the pool hall floor
and the hour glass is halfway full
so you pull a face
but that's no good, you can't see the forest for the wood
and you can't cut it down.
Time laughs and laughs at you,
the clown
and the clock spins on in the Circus
reminds us
we're mortal
but made of more than flesh and bone
that gave a home to the time invader
the raider that loots the hours from our day.
One day he'll pay
but not before we do.
we who
are stuck in the seconds that turn and bump in the minutes
and bring us to a final conclusion
where time being fused
in the time we have used
and any time we had left
we had no time for that.
I put on a coat and an old trilby hat
pretend I'm a spy
but time has his eye on me
time stands and spies on me
what
irony.
May 9, 2013
May 9, 2013 at 5:52 AM UTC
ALVARADO Old friend, admit,
You have not crossed this river Styx before,
But I and that long-suffering soldier have,
And seen such sights to make your codstones crawl:
I mean the hell of human sacrifice.
When trumpets howl, and myrrh infects the air,
A wall-broad drum resounds a thundering knell,
To call the cultists to their grisly pyramid.
A drum is heard, repeating at intervals.
One victim strains across the clammy slab,
A ghoul down-wrenching at each tortured limb,
To keep the spinal shambles tautly arched;
To see the black, satanic hangman leer,
With clotted snarls of hair, and clawlike nails,
Lifting the cutlery to tremble skyward,
And to this brittle bird cage plunge the flint;
He loots the poor chest of its jewel. The heart,
Exhumed, hot from the plundered cavity,
Reluctant to desist its wonted pulse,
Still shudders in the fiend’s vampiric gripe,
Which he uprears to slake the smoldering sun.
Unearthly, braying like a beast possessed,
And, wielding disarticulated joints-
The fleshless femurs of a ****** maid-
Or, glaring through a mask of patchwork flesh,
The druid forges down the crannied steps,
Cascading with a rill of molten marrow.
He kicks the corpse to tumble in the throng,
Who spring to ****** his gobbets for their dish,
And chant (the word goes) “Now our gods are coming . . .”
They exit.
Oct 18, 2016
Oct 18, 2016 at 12:04 PM UTC
4 thru 12
in the midst of Detroit suburbia
hot burn the 67 nights and fear
shot thru my night for I but a young
one naive saw the elders, saw through them the need for fright-
and saw pictures of fire and infernal desire
that burnt my inside skulls hide
and made me to this day run and hide
close they showed on 6 o'clock news
were souls from hell the dour days
they burnt they neighbors and brought the guard to put them stoutly into place
and shot shoots hot into my very soul
unknown to me ,I was a young naive boy,
was the reason man turns against man in
fire then loots souls mercilessly lost in me,
confused and no believing excuses or religion,
when man turned against man, and fire reigns, was for me the time for a new coalition. An absolution that once burnt my brain I would understand.
Jun 4, 2014
Jun 4, 2014 at 10:53 AM UTC
All I've seen
are legs
of the bloke
upstairs
believe me,
they are snappable
I've knocked
his door
he doesn't
answer
loots
my calm
with his
bass enhancer
Look,
I'm an affable
kind of guy,
but ..
this ******
is testing my
patience
I want him
to die
Not so he rots
in a puddle of snot
-I still claim a frisson of feeling-
plus I don't want the hell
of that festering smell
or the pain of repainting
the ceiling...
I don't try
to be mean,
to stir-up a scene
but the grinning is
hard to pretend,
so I'll sit on my hands
and mutter those plans
for that thin ************
to end.
Oct 21, 2023
Oct 21, 2023 at 5:00 PM UTC
Walking
Alone
Into the pain
Into my home
Made of bricks
And bones
With a ghost
On my arms
And a ghost
Of a smile
Etched deep inside.
Misery
Drinks me in
But pain
Is a drug
And hate
Is a rug
I cannot sleep without
Pleasure floods
But I hear them shout
Don’t do it
But I rip my skin
Gaining relief
In the sin.
*********
I was
And *********
I’ll remain
My screams
Fire me
My dreams
Lift me
I’ve fallen
Into the abyss
Of pain
And more pain
But for the pleasure
That shoots
And the pleasure
That loots
My senses
I would do it
All over
again.
‘Cause I know
Pleasure is just a pretence
Pain is the essence.
Mar 17, 2018
Mar 17, 2018 at 4:17 AM UTC
Just because I can't sew my own shadow back on
doesn't mean that I have failed
For where the soap I use won't tack on
there's room for it to be nailed.
For one day I will be a being
that pillages and loots and harms
the hearts of many young girls that I'll be seeing
And my shadow will run from their arms.
May 26, 2016
May 26, 2016 at 2:38 PM UTC
It breaks my Heart
To see you chose
The door over me...
It breaks my heart
to see you happier
after you dishes me
It breaks my heart
When I see you often in my dream
More like my nightmare...
It hurts more
cos I ask you to stay
But you choose to leave.
Guess you think you won
but No
I won ...
And you know why?
Not long when you realized
You made a mistake,
crawling back
Like my pet cat..
Who wants more milk
With loots wrapped with you tears
And now that I told you
To get lost...
You keep showing up at my door step.
Apr 5, 2014
Apr 5, 2014 at 11:28 AM UTC
#*Don’t it always seem to go
That you don’t know what you’ve got till it’s gone
They paved paradise and put up a parking lot*…
Joni Mitchell
Fighting their wars in business suits
Blowing up peasant villages
Lying, While the Pentagon loots
Our failing empire pillages.
The wonder boys from Ivy Leagues
Look good on paper, making war
Their covert actions and intrigues
Exhibit what they tax us for.
Patriot boogey-man ** Chi Minh
Was armed by US in forty-five;
Then made the foe as we sent in
Our troops. And some returned alive.
The Dulles brothers, with their spooks
Testing strategies, had a ball
Dropping ****** on the *****
Earth turned into a shopping mall.
And now, some puppet in Ukraine
(a Chinese laundry for their cash),
Requests more arms. So please explain
Before Crimea burns to ash.
That’s all. Their only long-term vision:
Body-counts— first bomb, then Starbucks.
Spectacles on television;
Do not question Daddy Warbucks.
Apr 12, 2023
Apr 12, 2023 at 2:34 PM UTC
When the bird sang sweet tunes,
And the trees sweeter fruits,
Alas! tormentors now glory in their loots,
And The People of State lay die upon hot sand dunes.
Oct 19, 2018
Oct 19, 2018 at 7:25 AM UTC