Minutemen poems on Hello Poetry

Yenson Dec 2018

Listen you nice genteel ladies out there
We know you'll adore a charming, intelligent
smart, humourous, caring, loving and sensitive
charismatic man

We know you'll absolutely love a decent, wholesome
capable, balanced, brave, courageous Alpha male
we know you'll really like a versatile, poetic,
gentleman, able to do nearly everything and do it well
Even animals and children love him too

We know you'll just melt for this man who is an amazing lover
Wonderfully equipped, experienced, unselfish, rhythmic
hard yet gentle, graceful motion in hot ocean
Slow hands and arousingly hot touches, a great lover
who just adores women

Well forget it Ladies
We do not like this Elitist, well rounded intelligent lovely man
He is banned, banned, banned banned
How can we rogues, coarse, uncouth, insensitive semi-illiterates
compete with Mr Wonderful, who leaves ladies buckling in
rampant throes of multiple *******
Who makes love to your fine senses as well as your bodies

How can we, under endowed minutemen
with no grace, style or starmina, much less a romantic nuance
compete with our Mr Amazing with the mostest

We are flat bottomed pale skinned, weedy looking lot
we have little manners, we can hardly hold intelligent conversation
we don't do charming and all that *******
We are not keen on personal hygiene, that's for poofs
Forget looking groomed and polished, that's for poofs too
when drunk and we can just about manage to get it up
It's slam, bang, no thank you ma'am, nothing
poor gals left unsatisfied, unappreciated, any wonder most are turning to each other these days
Us loutish men, just reach for another pint, see you later, get your *** out...

We are working-class dumbos and proud of it
we are pirates and Robin Hoods, we take from the Decent Upscales
we fight them and harass and hound them, torment their *****
we destroy their reputation, degrade them
we can't do better, why should they have an easy life
And all the fun of the ****** fair

Look at the toffee nosed Emmanuel Macron in France
Rich background, privileged, he gets into power and start
messing with the working people, we are now dealing with him
That's what they do if you give them room
They diss the ordinary people and tell us its living intelligently
while they wine and dine and make love in Champagne
Well, not anymore, they don't, we've got there numbers now

The same with our charismatic intelligent Mr Wonderful here
We are sorting him out good and proper, we are on his case
So any ladies go near him or seen befriending him
is a class traitor and would be dealt with accordingly
We have put a *** and relationship ban on Mr Amazing
Let him see what doing without means, lets see him suffer
deprivation and hunger and hopelessness, we have been for years

I dare any of you ladies go near him and see what will happen
we will shave all your hair and put you to public shame
like those collaborators ladies in France after the 2nd WW
We will ostracise you like we have Mr Wonderful
we will smear and degrade you and  your life will be made
impossible.

This is Class war and you Ladies have been WARNED
Can you imagine it, not only rich, privileged, brilliant, capable
confident, self-assured, smooth, suave, charming, articulate,
presentable, wise and balanced, He's also gifted with a big ****,
and from all accounts he really does know how to use it
Jezz...how ******* fortunate can an elitist get!

Well you ladies are sure missing a good thing going
but we don't mind cutting off our long noses to spite our faces
Granted some nice girl could found happiness and the most amazing man and both could do a lot of good in the society and bring happiness to others
but we don't think rationally, that's for the elitists

We are mindless yobbos, thugs, hooligans, no-good, immature,little dicked ruffians and malcontents
We are anarchist, tall and proud
We are crazies, sad and pathetic and we do not care

So you ladies stick with your class and make **** sure
it's a No dice to Mr Wonderful

NO NO NO it's a RESOUNDING NO from all working people
  ESPECIALLY YOU LADIES, just better know that YES from you
and it's the guillotine and not only your hair will be for the chop!

YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!!!
This is a PEOPLE'S ROYAL COMMAND

why can't I help always seeing the funny side of life. wake up laughing, go to bed laughing, life really can be so absurd, funny and interesting.

Poemasabi Feb 2015

Minutemen

Standing in the dewy grass
I hope and pray that they will pass
But they may not
'stead come to stay

I know not
If I die this day

The Redcoats come a thousand strong
their battle line is wide and long
What's ordained
I can not say

I know not
If I die this day

We stand apart but look across
to the other line and toss
a look of nervousness
then pray

I know not
If I die this day

Commanders yell, Commanders bark
their orders all along the park
but then a shot rings out and in
the confusion, it begins

Standing 'cross an open field
neither of our lines will yield
one line of blue
the other gray

I know not
if I die this day

Often seems we've fought in vain
and 'long the march have caused much pain
I've left good comrades
along the way

I know not
If I die this day

My brother serves 'neath Mile's Flag
I serve beneath a diff'rent rag
and if I **** him
what's to say

I know not
If we'll die this day

Commanders bark, Commanders yell
and call us to the gates of hell
then all at once morn's silence splits
as men are shredded, torn to bits

My craft rocks gently through the sea
and towards the beach on which I'll be
to face a wall
and see Death play

I do think
I may die this day

"Keep your heads down" Sergeants call
as on us squalls of lead rain fall
some will succumb
and fall away

I do think
I may die this day

As we close on norman sand
to bear the brunt of Swastic hand
around me tough men
kneel and pray

I think that
I may die this day

Commanders shout, Commanders scream
and seconds turn to awful dream
then a bump and ramp unfolds
for many luck no longer holds

Desert sand fills hair and ears
It seems I've been at this for years
It's over now fore
Death holds sway

I know that
I will die this day

The day was normal as it could
we took precautions as we should
but life's one
IED away

I know that
I will die this day

Soon I'll be with others who
have given up their own lives too
for keeping our
home country's way

I know that
I will die this day

And through these fading eyes of mine
I see generations who've crossed that line
and as colors
fade to gray

I know that
I will die this day

All I feel are grains of sand
that arid winds wash 'cross my hands
what happens next
who's to say

I know now that
I die this day.

I wrote Minuteman in 2012. Recently I was approached to give permission for parts of it to be used in a play. The re-reading and discussions of that poem prompted this expanded version to be written.

Carlo C Gomez Nov 2019

Minutemen

Ole ye fast & faithful fighters
Of well-planned strategy,
Thy weapon ready,
And not a moment to waste,
In many ways revolutionary,
A credit to rapid deployment
In the clutch,
Lauded by thy colonies,
Thy wives?
Not so much...

#tongueincheek #humor #funny #soldier #american #revolution #history

Wade Redfearn Mar 2018

Minutemen

in silos in
the dead of winter
North Dakota
Nebraska
nuclear fire wells beneath our toes

you want it to be over and you don’t
normalcy hugs like a father, strong
stronger and taller than you
whatever this is, it holds you
like a sobbing lover
all ungentle tears and
no future

Does it speak? Can we learn something from it?
Like the best enigmas it says nothing
until you feel foolish for screaming.

You want the dead back
so you can grab them by wispy collars or weak wrists
and ask them “what the ****?”

Somewhere in there is a lesson
about trusting a bad year.

Korich Fischer Feb 2013

On Their Eyes

Align shoulders and hips
Musty anamotronics
Can't comprehend
But a clockwork of connected strings makes them
Line up tight and stay
A laboratory basement for lustrous structures,
Watch watching,
Minutemen

Turning back on their eyes
Their rusted shadows rallying
Assembled consciousness
Headed single-file toward their end

Turned back
On their eyes

I've been told that this one is too short and I would love to know if you think that it needs more or not. Thanks!

Dustin A Owens Mar 2016

I Wanna Witness...

I wanna witness...

The energetic synergy within the city limits
Pulsing with adrenaline as yesmen do business
With mysterious gentlemen in worn and weathered tenements
Indifferent of the minutemen surrounding the premises.

A genesis and exodus of textbook corruption
Eruptions of Congressmen abruptly interrupting
The voice of the denizens; citizens distrusting
The integrity of every legislation made in history

And the mystery surrounding all those slimy politicians
Discussing their envisionments and policies like madmen
Disgusting in their ways, protecting church and state,
In the government we pray: Amen.

#anarchy #government #corruption #mutiny #tyranny #authoritarianism

Jeff Dingler Jan 2015

End of Times

Did you hear?
The preacher met the mendicant who’s
proselytizing the end of the world Saturday.
They sat and had it out
on the steps in front of the old
  Baptist church on Main St., each idolizing
their poison with the wild green
all around, the preacher high
   on the holy steps
looking so divine above
the hobo in multicolored rags,
who scams and scams the plentiful
   from a gutter-pipe and who began
the conversation like this:

[snort]: “Go on father! Out with it,
what’d you call me out here for?”

“I hear you’re preaching the end of the world, Charlie—”
     he said putting a stick of gum to his lips,
     suddenly conscious of his stinking breath.
“Well, you’re scaring some of the lambs from my flock, they’re
       frightened beyond their wits—and I’m sorry but this is outrageous
I demand to know why, exactly why!
Because it’s interfering with my plans,
for Saturday I am preaching the End of Times.”

“Well… I believe it for a number of reasons,” said
  the hobo shouldering his heavy sign of doom.
“I mean things just keep getting worse,
no one gives to the needy anymore,
the poor are many, the golden skyscrapers high,
                            those huddling in the streets from gloom
     are praying to die—not to be saved,
   and their numbers just keep growing—
    the most double blessing that a
    man can get used to anything….
So I thought why not take advantage of my situation—
      I gotta make a meal!—
so I blew the crooked horn and said
that all ye minutemen of sin
                   and tradition are just killing
by rules that no one believes in….”

        Just then a fat green fly went buzzing by,
reminding Charlie of an old poem
“But tell me father, why do you
      believe in the End of
Times…?”

And the preacher in his dress took a deep sigh
wondering why it was everything had to die by Saturday:
“Well…. there are a number of signs.
         But mostly I think it’s morals—
nobody has any respect
    anymore, they open up
your door for you and say:
‘Excuse you!
        That’ll be five dollars.’
    How freewill
             turns and twists minds.
The youthful
          free, starving wanting-to-be artists—
       they won’t tithe in my church anymore,
they just throw me their books and say
with a blithe look that it’s not about
money anymore…
But what are they saying?
         Meanwhile they put a ****** hex
on all that is holy, have ***
     on all that’s white and pure.
Say that I’m an old man
            in a dress and that we’re all
blessed when really
     none of us are blessed—
say that the light is muddy
and the dark is clear, when really
I’m as clean as I can be, no foul
    smelling intentions in me!
         And that is how the End of Times will be!”

  And before the stench of death
could escape his breath, he put another
stick of gum to his lips.

   “Agreed.” said the hobo hastily….
     “But father, it doesn’t seem like
our lambs are really that different,
    it seems more to me that we’ve
been shepherding from the same flock
    and what we ought to do is take advantage
             of this unique situation.
                 Let’s put up a big round shining tent
                       on Main St. for Saturday
   and we’ll hold a dual End of Times—
       our lambs together, don’t you see?
      We’ll draw in twice the crowd
        twice the lot
twice the loud, crying fervor
believing in the burning streets.”

“Yes….. yes!” said the preacher with a corvine grin
and a turning coin in his eyes.
      “I get what you’re saying now. Yes, it’s genius—our preaching
together, one way or another, we’ll rake it in—and after the ending,
      when it’s all through….
Uh… [ahem] tell me, just one more thing—you do believe in the End of Times?”

“Sure, brother, sure…
        don’t you?”

Ky Philbilly Apr 2015

Patriot's Day

This day in history
240 years ago
Subjects to a king
Finally to him said "No!"

A shot rang out
A shot that was heard worldwide
As worlds old and new
Did violently collide

Much blood was shed
Many lives were lost
But America won indepenence
Learning liberty's true cost

Fast forward to today
Tyranny once again rears it's head
In the form of a government
A nanny state from birth 'til we're dead

Overstepping it's authority
The Constitution to ignore
Trampling the freedoms and libertys
Many of us claim to adore

It takes the blood of tyrants and patriots
To water liberty's tree
That was a word advice
From one of the founders, to you and me

I hope that's not the case
But history, truly does repeat
But like the minutemen of old
We must be ready to rise up on our feet

To protect and defend
That which we hold dear
To stand against tyranny
Facing death without fear

We've been given a gift
That came with great cost
And it is solely up to us
If that gift is kept or is lost

It was only III%
That did it back then
A determined III% of us now
Could do it again

What is freedom worth?
What in exchange for liberty will we take?
My friends that's a decision
We all must make

"Give me liberty, or give me death"
Was 240 years ago the cry
I was born a free man
And a free man I am determined to die.

Shin Nov 2018

Hallelujah Child

Hello little Jack staring at the wall,
wandering amongst dustmites as they fall.

Hello little Janie jumping downstream,
waiting for mother's panic-stricken scream.

Children of days and nights and days again,
dance in the sunlight my sweet minutemen.

Enjoy the color before she's swept grey.
Oh my darling please just live for today.

Because there's no way that this can go on
before the cogs entrap you in their con

#childhood #play #fun #adulthood #work #boredom #slavery

sandra wyllie Mar 2020

I went to Lexington

to walk the paths of the
minutemen. When they were
marching with musket in hand

they didn’t have to worry about the
distance between themselves. The enemy
has become the men in your tribe. I tried

to keep the six-foot wide rule that no one else
was adhering to. But in order to do this
I ended up in the forest. It was so dense with

overgrowth that I began to choke. As I
meandered out to see a mix of people trialing
only two feet width someone shouted “that forest

has Tics.” So now I’m worried of getting sick
with of all things, Lyme disease! All for
avoiding the present company!

TJ Struska Apr 2020

Agony Of The Sun

Black horses breaking red gates,
Horse steam and whips,
A thousand hoofs on the ground,
A dream building
In a thousand cellos rising
In the agony of the sun.
And ten thousand daffodils
And a million lilacs
In the Phoenix sun of 1956.
As ancient maps unfold
On long tables,
And hydrogen bombs
Explode off Fiji.
I wander this distant sphere
In a pink flamingo summer,
Chewing ice bones and Juju
And John The Conqueror Root.
The Saints and Minutemen forgotten,
As Grandma's ghost Haunts
These dusty shadows.
I ply my hand to the wheel, this manifold nocturnal dream,
And I serenade the silence,
I scream and shout about.
This dark charm in a low watt play.
I search for interlude,
Pause,
How do we let go the light,
Yet not lose illumination?
Salt to the ground,
Water to the sky,
I see you curled behind a cloud,
I dream of swing sets,
A wheel turning in moonlight
As my shadow falls beneath it
It's brokenness taken to the ground.
A flight of fancy for a boy
Poor with math but good with writing,
A strange and sad boy,
I didn't get it, but I do.
I finally woke at the way station,
Between this dream and the other,
Passing time in megahertz and pixels.
And slow but sure I travail
Blue vistas,
And night dredges a thousand dark stars,
And phantoms of blue horses
Seep through the valley of midnight,
As their hoofs chase
A thousand fleeing shadows.

This is one of my best poems. I DON'T UNDERSTAND WHY I GET NI RESPONSES ANYMORE. IS IT ME,IS IT YOU, OR IS IT THIS WEBSITE? PLEASE SOMEONE RESPOND...TJ STRUSKA

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