"marauders" poems
Saying “Women of the Night”
Might be alright
As a description for some girls,
They stream eastward
Along the bank,
Checking for marauders and adjusting curls.
Yet courtesans are different;
They came as swiftly as they went,
Called on by important men.
From house and hotel they are borne,
In carriages, and in finery worn,
For those who have a yen.
Yet others still elude one name,
Of condemnation or fame.
They do not wander at men’s whims.
They deliver terms to him or him.
And live in dwellings finer still,
Until the payer has had his fill.
But with the latter does he ever
Tire of the source of pleasure?
For some the need outlasts his want,
And he becomes the supplicant!
Then woman’s wit becomes the master,
While her body wields a whip.
The sinner’s desire speeds still faster,
As she the body’s scale does tip.
Sep 5, 2017
Sep 5, 2017 at 11:49 AM UTC
Their lies are prompted
from teleprompters
and executed flaw-fully
from taxpayer's helicopters.
They say we're protecting
foreign daughters
while filtering profits
to desert clad marauders.
Blank faced public
fear conversing religion and politics
while passively electing
lunatics with trigger switches.
Arm the rebels
they bite the hand that feeds
the middle east burns
while America ******* bleeds.
The white, blue and red
camo helmets on their heads
farm fed frat boys
equipped with jackets of lead.
We watched Saddam crumble
his statue beaten with shoes
but the same war we already fought
the puppets now will choose.
Fight the good fight
support the troops.
Drone strikes by twilight
**** the troops.
An Army of one
Sempter Fi
Do or Die
I won't shed a single tear when you come back in a casket
covered in a flag you valued more than your life.
Our heroes are our welfare
stop blaming single mothers
plastic bags tied around throats
water boarding dissent, it smothers.
**** the Medal of Honor
I'm tearing up your portrait Obama.
How many can benefit from free tuition?
But we give it to those trained to slaughter.
Our priority is the police state
Nazis pretending to tote freedom.
We sip our Americanos
And retain nothing from the newspaper we are reading.
**By Evan Ponter
@evanponter**
Sep 17, 2014
Sep 17, 2014 at 11:34 PM UTC
There he sat
All dark unsaddled
Brains quite addled
From the blow
Brigands laughing
All about him
There to clout him
Should he run
From his good eye
Squinting sneaky
Peeking out
From swollen brow
Primrose Pete
Considered options
Acquiesce
Or fight or flee
Counting up
The five marauders
Such close quarters
Peter smiled
In a wink
The first two fell
Hellbound from
Pete's shining blade
One was cut
From prow-to-keel
Didn't feel
The lightening slash
Two was dead but
Still a-stagger
From Pete's dagger
Through the throat
Pete then turned
His one good eye
Upon the three
Left standing there
"Knock ME from
My gentle ride!"
He chided them
And took a step
In a flash
The third man died
His manhood hung
From Peter's blade
Number four
Jumped up in-close
They danced a rosy
Final step
"One last waltz"
Said Primrose Pete
And short and sweet
The blood ran hot
Last of all
The Highwaymen
The fifth of five
The last alive
A tall man
Taller quite than most
With ghostly eyes
And hammer hands
A man who felt
That pain was fun
This one-on-one
Was just a tryst
So they stood there
Eying up
While trying not
To give a tell
Of their planned
Last brave attack
While Pete held back
To catch a breath
All at once
The fight was on
That bloodied lawn
Would find no peace
Both men fought
With all their might
From Noon til Night
On into dark
No Moon sang
The stars shone mute
A suit of cloud
Hung o'er the fray
Blood and dark
With ought a sound
Save the pounding
Steel on steel
Come the Sun
There on that field
Without yield
For Honor's sake
Cut for cut
Both men held true
And on into
A second night
A third then
Into a fourth
A fifth of course
They battled on
It's said that
Both men died that day
T'was slay for slay
Though neither fell
He fights on
Old Primrose Pete
His ghosted feet
Still dancing true
With his blade
Of shadow pure
Against a worried
******* dark
And it's said
On summer nights
When the wind
Is right and odd
One can hear
Old Pete's mare
Out there braying
On the moor
And beneath
The old hag's whinny
If you skinny
Up your ear
You can catch
Old Primrose Pete
Sweetly dancing
With his sword.
Jun 9, 2011
Jun 9, 2011 at 12:30 PM UTC
You and I are going to settle this score
Now that you've abandoned your special snowflake campaign
And overcome your Stockholm Syndrome
A dynasty has been created
The snowball's chance begins to take effect
The short order cook has taken a tall order
A citrus feast for a ship of marauders
To prevent scurvy
The maitre d' disarmed them at the door
And allowed them to infiltrate the dining hall
The captain sat and twiddled his thumbs while his crew cut loose
The first mate drank fire water and shot it out of his nose
The quarter master ordered some fiddlesticks served on door glass
The boatswain ordered the insemination of a cow so he could eat the cow and all of its offspring
It was his first day eating meat again
He remembered his vegan salad days
The carpenter and ****** constructed a shrine of after dinner mints
And conducted a seance to talk to their old crew mate, Black eyed Ollie
He squandered his life searching the sea for a doctor to restore his sight
They planned to revive him and allow his spirit to possess one of them
And sure enough Black eyed Ollie entered the seaman's body and they took turns controlling the fleshy vessel
Black eyed Ollie got every day of the week that ended in "Y" and the seaman got the rest
The filching crew of blighters finished their meal and went on their way
They left quite a tip
"Actions speak louder than words and money talks too
Yet talk is cheap
But time is money
So every burning second counts
Then let's freeze time
Take action and buy all the talk at whole sale price
And sell it at retail price"
So pay up man, I told you working here would be interesting
Jan 25, 2015
Jan 25, 2015 at 4:56 PM UTC
No vices, no difference
I have some things to do tomorrow,
I think I’ll just take the wagon
I’m just waiting for something to happen
to help me make up my mind
I always imagine tragic
someone dies and they’re so close
I don’t believe in fairy tales or souls,
but I don’t even want to write their names
for fear I’ll have a hand in why they lost life’s duel
or maybe we’re all just an election away from
anarchic warring states,
where I must defend my beans and cucumbers
from slugs and marauders
If we hold it together, red China could invade
so would I rather be a prisoner or dead?
Perhaps, I’ll just meet some girl,
where I’ll feel “some” as a description does her deep injustice,
because the love will be enormous
Now, I’m courting a chickadee that’s never dull,
but her name doesn’t quite roll off the tongue
Her name is Adventure and she rolls like hills and mountains,
and speed popping truckers with their eyes and ecstatic smiles
If I’m still seeing her, I might be a gat slinging ******* out west
bumming around San Jose or Cambodiay
Hearing all that talk, I think I just want to leave,
and I guess the pay is better anyway
My mind is made up
it’s not something real
It is, was, and is still fluffed up with schooling and the words of persuasive people
their confidence in what their saying is like a lightning bolt ******* into my stem
they jammed us into waiting rooms for something called progress
they even separate the sick people
I closed my eyes to see what was real,
and saw nothing
There is no waiting room at all
Dec 14, 2013
Dec 14, 2013 at 11:46 PM UTC
the murderer is a man who
makes a living doing what
everyone jokes about but
who deep down in their so
simple minds refuse to do
the deed for fear of some
shadow conjured up as a
means to control them in
their weakest moments
the murderer lives in our
brain but lives in the hands
of very few
so few of you are killers
so few of you are people
who’ve escaped the fear
the killers are the people
who refuse to die without
a fight/the killers are the
people who refuse to keep
living without having things
their way
the murderers are killers
but the killers are creators
creators of terror, fear, and
anger, but also anguish, and
tears in volume of the ocean
the murderers
the musketeers
the marauders
the generals
the corporals
the soldiers
the butchers
the land developers
the tree planters
the kid sitting there
eating an apple
they’re all killers
all the killers are
all of them and
all of them are
all of us
Mar 9, 2011
Mar 9, 2011 at 5:49 AM UTC
My face blue
I race through
A misplaced zoo
Where disgrace grew
Into a mistake stew
Like the River Styx
Where people mix
Into a wall of bricks
That makes me sick
They steal my serenity
But when I look ahead of me
I see that I'll need them
To experience freedom
So I amass suitors
But I don't see them as sons or daughters
I see them as polluters
I see them as pirates and marauders
They see love as a doorway
To their own complacency
In order to see me more days
They take away my agency
Instead of aiding me
They start grading me
No longer elating me
They start deflating me
I shoot a missile
Of dismissal
Into the barricade
Of the bed I made
And keep sailing on
By flailing on
The floor
Begging for more
More people
More walls
Another sequel
Another fall
I have erected a maze
Where I've elected to graze
Deflecting their gaze
To enjoy wandering days
I experience happiness
Without their craftiness
But I begin to get lonely
My mouth starts foaming
I search to find ramparts
That can't part
Where landsharks
Eat the parked
Stuck searching
Perpetually perching
On the ledge
Of the wedge
Between myself and others
Looking for cover
I built protective walls
That became too tall
Jun 21, 2018
Jun 21, 2018 at 1:45 AM UTC
mischief and such wit
moony, wormtail, padfoot, prongs
they're the marauders
and when the job's done
wave your wand and just say this
'mischief managed!' done
cleverness present
but wasted on breaking rules
yet used for the fun
Aug 7, 2015
Aug 7, 2015 at 10:07 AM UTC
The peace of this small neighbourhood, is shattered as the door caves in
As masked marauders seek with guns, the criminals that hide within
But they find no deadly drug baron, Nor killer, or ****** animal
But a grey-haired lady, small and frail, in terror as she beholds them all
At gunpoint then her hands are tied, and her walking stick cast to the floor
As she is marched by mighty men, to the waiting van outside her door
Her heart skips wildly and her breath is tight, as she is bundled roughly inside
Her dignity and rights of law, are swept away and cruelly denied
And across the town there sits a girl, with kindly, smiling joyful eyes
A teen who spends her youthful zest, bringing hope and joy to other lives
But little does she know this day, that her future days are to dwell
Not in delight and dancing halls, but in a dark and lonely prison cell
And elsewhere stands a local hero, a man so honoured by decree
Acclaimed by peers and politicians, as a citizen of kindly deeds
Yet on this day, he is torn away, from his family who are left in tears
As this father and devoted husband, is imprisoned now for seven years
Who are these ones snatched by the state, and treated so unjustly
Held without cause or consideration, and despised so bitterly?
They obey all laws and pay their dues, and love their neighbours when they can
And share a hope of a future bright, even though their hope is banned
They are young and old, black and white, and gathered from diversity
They wage no wars, won't steal or lie, but treat all people with dignity
For their crime is not of violence, nor abuse, or fraud or robbery
But of being Christians and trying to show, Christ-like love to you and me
And what of those who terrorize them, the land where this grim drama is set
That mighty nation, so paranoid, that it considers them a threat
This pretender to the throne, bedecked in red and white and blue
Is a jealous king who hates the ones, who, to Christ their King are ever true
But as they languish in prison cells, awaiting justice from the King
The one whose commandments they obey, is smiling down and proud of them
For their hope is not in men of law, nor international decree
But their just and loving King, Christ Jesus, and in God- Jehovah's sovereignty
Dedicated to Jehovah's Witnesses imprisoned in Russia
Jun 26, 2021
Jun 26, 2021 at 7:26 AM UTC
The sun calms himself by setting,
As the sister arises.
Brightness slips away into the enigmatic encryption of the dark,
None can comprehend her beauty, her depth, her essence:
For she is the moon.
She rules by wishing, washing, the waves away.
Forever dancing, entranced by the allure of the luminous orb,
That pulls and tugs and holds tight as a comforting mother to us,
Her realm of encompassing shadow,
Oh sweet night, how we adore you.
Malevolent and menacing machinations of malcontent marauders.
And yet,
The sweetness of the lovers in bliss beneath you,
The palpable peace of the dreamers,
Forever balances with such sweet harmony.
Feb 24, 2016
Feb 24, 2016 at 9:03 PM UTC
Upon warm weather instinctively through metamorphosis
it's time to start flutter testing newly minted wings
then the orange covered trees coming alive
waiting to leave their transient homes
billions of orange wings drumming
they decend in sheer abundance
rocky mountains are aflame
orange on streams forest
over desolate houses
man-made dams
rivers and lakes
and swamped
to feast before
to onward journey
a valley of milkweeds
the horde of marauders
entwined confusion
reign on blurry
battle rages
each frenzier
than the other
trying to satisfy
to each a flower
then each a leaf
find to lay eggs
to being them
again be able
to rampage
again leave behind continue
no need to stare looking back nothing last in motion of unison
wings may drop to dust a new generation emerges to carry on.
Jun 5, 2018
Jun 5, 2018 at 4:12 AM UTC
Fleeting eyes of despotic marauders
desensitised clones bound to extremist orders
martyrs to a God non-existent, fake
pretending to liberate but instead they take
bone and flesh flying like bits of confetti
killing anything be it two or twenty
spreading their faith with blade and explosive
ideologies sickening, unjust and corrosive
unsung heroes, are we forever in their debt?
Their sordid acts spilling blood, tears and sweat -
tell me Radical, does God really give a sh*t
whether the bullet from your gun misses or hits?
They care for no one but themselves and their kind
stomping upon our future and leaving destruction behind -
watch out my friend, any stranger could be one of them
for its not a matter of 'if' but a matter of when.
Aug 14, 2016
Aug 14, 2016 at 1:56 PM UTC
bakers dozen
on the horizon near the playa
where apocalyptic marauders skate,
following a verde raw fruit shake,
beneath fade red chakra shawls
billowing from the desert winds.
a touch of gypsy, an ounce of saint
distant, unattainable, supremely created beings.
dusty weathered skins, they survive on magic,
gifted to them
alone.
May 20, 2014
May 20, 2014 at 3:08 AM UTC
Winged messengers
of the brain
ever in motion
never in chain
bombarding marauders
of the night
sneaking invaders
of the quiet
Aug 9, 2017
Aug 9, 2017 at 9:22 AM UTC
Some robots sip
Coca Cola and
Send each other text messages
The fog of shadowalking on the daily
Hangs a bit heavy but the
Diamond filter for stimulation makes
Life shine, though it's a hard one
Memories have become marauders
Stashing treasure in a hidden sand they won't know
I celebrate you
Secretly
Or escape from you;
I watch the cloud of the runaway noise pain
Clotting into grim ghosts
They do not listen to the gouhways
Why do they fear life
As much as death
When they split the faces
Of an endless coin(?)
In the dark pocket jingling away
Metallic music to somewhere
Sep 27, 2012
Sep 27, 2012 at 5:18 PM UTC
There are thieves, collectors, repo men,
bandits and marauders in the night
trying to take your life away from you
to sell it for a pittance.
You must fight them off with your fiercest guns!
You must ***** the hearts right out of their chests!
The shrieks right out of their throats!
Send them scrambling back into their own darkness!
If something comes to take your life
****** it back with equal terror.
You must stay up, vigilant, keeping a sharp eye
on all you have until the morning
can come again.
Mar 6, 2014
Mar 6, 2014 at 11:33 AM UTC
As the rain persisted the waters soon rose
never so much fallen before.
No records showed that much flowed
penetrating the deep caverns.
Disturbing what should be left in the dark
the outcome would be stark!
*********** of the deepest levels went critical
awakening creatures from sleep.
Pressure pushing them into the underground rivers
guiding them ever upwards.
Wakening from their long forced hibernation
this deeply buried alien creation!
Fearsome! ****** into our world by the floods
able to swim to catch their prey!
The torrential rains causing such destruction
would be facing a new predator!
But for the rain would not have been freed
allowing the slaughter to proceed!
What would be discovered in the coming days
they were robotic beings!
Indestructible an advanced force that crashed
into deep caverns millenniums ago!
Their functions disengaged until the floods came
reactivated our destruction their aim!
Decimated by natures fury resistance was zero
those not drowned or starved.
Were obliterated by these mechanical marauders
their civilisation no longer existed.
They were the last of their immense soulless kind
our fates to the end entwined!
That day the rain and floods came!
The Foureyed Poet.
Jul 1, 2012
Jul 1, 2012 at 12:02 AM UTC
Don't name drop ______, they wanna hear your name drop
I know you're ****** off, but that won't make the pain stop
Your friends are in battles too, thats why they pop,
Rethink this, this isn't something you should adopt
They say fight fire with fire, but if life so cold
Where do you find it to inspire and fight the new with the old
Drown out the night
But I can't drown out the knight
In ****** armor on the mic
Mi amor that I spite
Sippin on *** 'n monster hoping I don't go bonkers
Yonkers playing in the background as I ponder
and let my mind wander
Wonder why I'm squandering the time,
I could be making money and conquer
But my psyche doesn't concur, because life is somber
And I stay up thinking I can make the next Midnight Marauders
It's 4 am and I'm wishing life was longer
Eyes set on the calendar because our time is numbered
Thundering white Walter, water drips from the ceiling of my bunker
Bombs bombard it, I'm surprised I'm not drunker off this alter
I'm on a pedistal and my perception has altered
Now my personality has a septum, a couple I can use as fodder
Hopefully I can find a mentor to call me his grasshopper
Much needed like a jumper for this one-dimensional dunker
Drumming up my sadness like it's not like any other
You can throw shade, but I can make your day brighter
I'm a lot of things, but mostly a warhawk with synesthesia.
The sight of my enemies dropping is like symphonies, analgesia.
No mother, no father, your little boy isn't going through schizophrenia
That's just what's needed for me reach euforia
If I cut it up, rinse my face and change it to not seem displaced
I can cut a deal with my friend and maybe get me something laced
Wait, this isn't the time and place, don't be your own disgrace
Grace was your safeguard, no need to kick up the pace
Pacemakers for the worried, just incase
Peacemaker at heart, man I try to embrace
Sep 1, 2015
Sep 1, 2015 at 2:01 AM UTC
Wild eyes
hands-to-cheeks
mouth wide open—
we know the look
it's so cliché
those fuckin' marauders
in Hollywood stole it
from the realm of
authentic expression—
yet there she stood
as if rehearsing for
a midday melodrama
patiently awaiting
the studio lighting,
the face powder,
the camera, the action...
but no set crew was coming
there was no show
nor lines to rehearse...
there was only a frozen moment
in which the life she knew
and the life she could not
have foreseen existed at once,
bound together by an
over-played expression of horror.
Jan 19, 2022
Jan 19, 2022 at 10:28 AM UTC
The weather was starting to worry me,
The days were hot and the nights like ice,
The winds were gusting and hailstones
Were battering down on the roof, like rice.
Marie was listless and wandered about
She wouldn’t get dressed until way past noon,
She’d toss and turn in her sleep, and shout:
‘The man with the beard will be coming soon!’
I didn’t know what she had meant by that
I couldn’t be bothered to ask her why,
She said she soon had a sense of doom
The way of the world was passing by.
We stood outside on a starless night
And she pointed up to a cloud on high,
‘I saw a hand in the dawning light
That plucked each star from the morning sky!’
I slept but fitfully after that
My dreams were troubled by what she’d said,
They’d taken the blue from the morning sky
Had withered and rolled up the garden bed.
He’d come to ruin the countryside
Put all the trees in a cardboard box,
Took all the daisies and all the weeds
And ripped them out with the hollyhocks.
While strange marauders wandered the land
And one-eyed women disturbed my head,
They bred like rabbits and grains of sand,
‘We’re here to do what our masters said!’
The seas were suddenly drained and gone
All was that was left was a dusty plain
‘The earth is finished,’ a voice then said,
All I could see was a Moon terrain.
Then lightning crackled over our heads
And thunder rolled like a toll of doom,
I lay awake in my narrow bed
And watched Marie, who stood in the gloom.
‘A new Dark Age has begun tonight,
He said that he’d given us all he had,
Would try again when the time was right,
But packed the Moon in his travelling bag.’
David Lewis Paget
Oct 21, 2013
Oct 21, 2013 at 2:28 PM UTC
Two midnight marauders howling at the moon
As I lay on my back tonight hope you give me a chance
to count each and every star in the sky.
Please wait a while before you arrive…
Putting up a fight cause I love to let you win,
I love to let you in..
You put this pressure on my insides that
make me buckle at the knees.
This pressure fills me literally& spiritually.
Even with all my tension ,somehow
you manage to put me at ease.
& As you ease in I’m relieved
Then you pick up the speed &
I’m screaming for God
You’re so blessed at the waist.
As you continue to pick up the pace ,I
Can feel my spirit elevate
I think I’m closer to the stars..
Sep 30, 2014
Sep 30, 2014 at 12:53 AM UTC
Is it truly human nature
This fear of the unknown?
We see aliens among us
And we'd rather be alone
Not look inside their homeless void
To seas of stars they drift across
From planets now destroyed
Systems rendered lifeless
By battle droids we have deployed
And Death-star machinations
Despot warlord tractor beams
Cause anti-gravitations
Of resource, culture, sovereignty
Drained into the mothership
Warp-drives of Lady Liberty's
Distortion of democracy
To us their eyes are oil
Their tongues are suicide
Their offspring are jihadists
That we have crucified
The future of their species
Ethnic cleansed and slaughtered
Galactic-level genocide
By humanoid marauders
Reducing sentient creatures
To ion-cannon fodders
Then activate the forcefields
Preventing the invasion
Of refugees we've added
To the anti-life equation
As worm holes of our hatred grow
Infinitely to all we know
Different in appearance
But of the same design
If we'd but open universal
Borders of the mind
Dec 6, 2016
Dec 6, 2016 at 1:58 AM UTC