"mugger" poems
Space and dread and the dark--
Over a livid stretch of sky
Cloud-monsters crawling, like a funeral train
Of huge, primeval presences
Stooping beneath the weight
Of some enormous, rudimentary grief;
While in the haunting loneliness
The far sea waits and wanders with a sound
As of the trailing skirts of Destiny,
Passing unseen
To some immitigable end
With her grey henchman, Death.
What larve, what spectre is this
Thrilling the wilderness to life
As with the ****** shape of Fear?
What but a desperate sense,
A strong foreboding of those dim
Interminable continents, forlorn
And many-silenced, in a dusk
Inviolable utterly, and dead
As the poor dead it huddles and swarms and styes
In hugger-mugger through eternity?
Life--life--let there be life!
Better a thousand times the roaring hours
When wave and wind,
Like the Arch-Murderer in flight
From the Avenger at his heel,
Storm through the desolate fastnesses
And wild waste places of the world!
Life--give me life until the end,
That at the very top of being,
The battle-spirit shouting in my blood,
Out of the reddest hell of the fight
I may be snatched and flung
Into the everlasting lull,
The immortal, incommunicable dream.
4.7k
I bought myself a gun today.
I’ll give you a moment to process the mental paper work.
Is he serious?
Is this guy for real?
Is this a metaphor? Is it loaded?
Are these questions
you might ask?
Isn’t this supposed to be a poem?
I said I bought myself a gun today.
Do you feel better?
Safer?
Do I
seem more dangerous?
Are my words more weighted now--
with violence?
with virility?
with ***********
Are you looking at my crotch
for an extra bulge?
How do you feel
about me now
knowing that I’m packing?
I bought myself a gun today,
And just like that
I’m a gangsta upholding the second amendment.
I’m a citizen of the constitution
holding up my right
to bear arms,
and raise my hand in a fist--
a fist, that’s gripped in tension
a fist that’s an extension
of man and invention
and I really should mention
I can blow your ******* head off
without the slightest intention.
I bought myself a gun today,
Are you scared:
that I don’t know how to use it?
That it might want to use me?
That I might become
overwrought with emotions,
and respond to an argument
“Arnold” style with, an,
“I’ll be back?”--
that I might settle things
once and for all
with my noisy neighbor
in a language he might finally understand?
Are you scared?
I bought myself a gun today.
Does that make you worry?
You know what the statistics say,
That I have a better chance of shooting
myself,
than some intruder,
or mugger, or ******
or therapist even.
Are you worried about my self-destruction?
that I might I might accidentally
have an
accident?
Or, maybe, you may think,
that it might be on purpose?
that I might be singing
the, “Barrel-in-the-mouth blues?”--
not just fantasizing
about ‘em,
but singing ‘em with a with my mouth wide open,
and feeling them for real for real:
feeling the cold steel ‘cross
my tongue,
choking
on the taste of cordite,
really singing, “I can’t breathe,”
and how much
this ***** and having
the means to put and end to it all--
Are you worried about that?
If you are
then don’t,
‘cause I’m not thinking about that at all.
I bought myself a gun today.
Wouldn’t it be great
if we all could say:
I bought myself a gun today.
Jul 31, 2016
Jul 31, 2016 at 11:04 PM UTC
no. 1, pop perfect record. The energy of dialing wars- each canvas has its temples splintered. Put down the smoking, and you can beat them with nerves. Your new revolution!
My father was your father until you had him shot while he was sleeping under his bed. Now you make popcorn and read the funny papers alone.
even. You bought me that cheap cologne from the mall. Thanks little brother.
[] True [] Love [] Story []
You hugger-mugger, slubberdegullion, crapulous lumming. Then enecate and banjax.
You have always been the logomachous one.
Apr 26, 2014
Apr 26, 2014 at 5:03 AM UTC
PLEASE NOTE: DIALOGUE MUST BE READ IN A BRITISH ACCENT.
and she, in dismay, said to him
"Benjamin, just who do you think you are sitting there with your **** out like that?!"
Annabella knew right away that what said wasn't valid.
"aww come on Beli, you know what a cheater smells like now dont you?"
"thats enough! go straight to your bedroom!"
"Im sorry bub, but we are still in this chariot, got a few more streets and alleys to be wobblin on."
"why dont you just **** my **** you french kissin mugger. I never want to see the northern lights with you."
"go on then ya **** off with your head"
Oct 10, 2012
Oct 10, 2012 at 6:04 PM UTC
Dear Mugger,
I hope you are doing well
and that amount you withdrew from my card
is being utilized to your benefit.
I just want to thank you
for putting me through the ******** on a Friday night,
at 12:35am.
I want you to know that
I had no idea my anger can reach such great heights,
or even such a caliber.
Adding to that, my voice wow my screeching voice
made the rats rattle in the sewers of the city
I hope that pink wallet treats you well
along with all its memories
that might seem like just paper to you
I hope they crawl out of that rectangular purse
and paper cut their way to your throat
I hope they leave a mark on your skin
just like they have on my life
I hope every moment
engraved on a piece of paper
in that wallet
cuts you so deep so your heart feels it too
just like mine
I hope my family pictures
burn marks on your chest
so you can feel how much warmth
they give me when I am alone
I hope my sister’s lucky charm bracelet
embraces your wrist so tightly
that it clots your blood
and hey it wouldn’t fall off
I hope the note my grandma wrote me in 2005
rests on your face
covering it, protecting you from evil
like it did for me
and in the process
suffocates you with all its love and might
I hope my ID cards
melt in your hands
so you can feel the burn of my presence
the impact that I have when
I
AM
AROUND
I hope my bank card
slits your cheeks
so you know that smile I have
at the beginning of every month
I hope
I hope, dear thief
that my wallet gives you a taste
of life,
the life I have
and poison you with how much
I am
blessed and you
are not
****
you!
Dec 7, 2015
Dec 7, 2015 at 8:03 AM UTC
I walked a lonely street
I heard the church bells chime
I felt out of rhythm
I felt out of rhyme
Then all of a sudden
a purse thief ran by me!
He took my slender purse!
All my money for the week!
Then as I walked farther
by a puddle lying there
a semi rushed right thru it!
Water everywhere!
Then as I continued
walking up the way
a mugger came up to me
wanting me to pay!
I had zero money
as the thief had snatched my purse
I thought, this is horrible!
It couldn't get much worse!
But, my friends, it did.
The mugger was enraged!
That I had no money
thought to put me in the grave!
So he up and shot me!
Yes, I tell you true.
He shot me in the chest
so a crimson flower bloomed.
The people all around me
would not help a whit!
Didn't want to be involved
so I had to sit
With blood flowing everywhere!
Then a man he happened by.
He heard my desperation
and listened to my cries.
He had little money
but what little he had did give
that I could find a taxi.
That I at last could live!
I was so very grateful
for his help that day
I asked him his name
and told him I would pray.
For he was a homeless man
I'd seen him around.
Always bright and cheery
never with a frown
He said, "Pray not for me my sister,
for I am not in need.
You pray for the others
For their dishonesty and greed.
They need your prayers, my sister.
Yes, they surely do.
Not only will it help them out
It will comfort you.
I never saw the man again.
He came 'round no more.
He was never at his daily haunts
by the old church door.
I did as he suggested
It was release to pray
I believe he was an angel
and I found Love that day
SoulSurvivor
Catherine Jarvis
(C) September 27, 2014
Sep 28, 2014
Sep 28, 2014 at 1:29 AM UTC
Shoulders back,
chin up high,
I'm trying to look normal,
but this ID tells a lie,
and it is making me look
like a criminal.
This photo is ideal
with a serial number
on a mugger's profile,
on a database all alone.
My identity is distilled to this:
a stranger with a face of stone.
The camera captured everything
except my personality,
my smile, my kind eyes
and what makes me, me.
As my face became a moment,
falsified for bureaucracy.
©️Lizzie Bevis
May 25, 2025
May 25, 2025 at 4:38 AM UTC
No time to Shilly or to Shally.
No time to Dilly or to Dally.
If all you’ve got is Tittle-tattle
I’ll just up and go Skedaddle.
Got no time for Hugger-Mugger
Won’t put up with Argy-bargy
Rigamarole will have to go
Outside to eat yellow snow.
ljm
Jan 30, 2022
Jan 30, 2022 at 6:03 PM UTC
I am really good at jumping people. I could be a mugger if I weren't so honest. Seriously, I wait in the branches of my trees and land on unsuspecting victims walking below me :D It terrifies them when a sloth lands on them!!!
(Just adding to Ember Evanescent's series "Sinful Talents")
Nov 29, 2014
Nov 29, 2014 at 9:33 PM UTC
the mugger
sneaks up in the night
to burglarize my dreams
dash my hopes
shatter my faith
and leave wrinkles that crease
Oct 26, 2017
Oct 26, 2017 at 11:32 PM UTC
It happened several years ago
But it is a true story in the flow
A Senior Citizen woman being my Grandmother
She was a strong woman like no other
She worked as a Board Of Education Lunchroom Manager at P.S. 202 in Brooklyn, New York
As my Grandmother was leaving on a regular day, a Mugger was getting ready to pounce
It all happened on the busy street of Atlantic Avenue
My Grandmother was on her way to the Doctor
But when she got in the middle of the street, the mugger showed his attack mystique
However, the Mugger didn’t know he was in for a surprise
Yet my Grandmother showed that Mugger her realize
She literally knocked the mugger off his feet
The Mugger tried another attempt in attack being another retreat
Well my Grandmother showed that Mugger, this senior citizen was determined to not be beat
What do you think happened?
The Mugger got sacred and ran off
Now my Grandmother 5’ 5’ being short, but I never said she was weak
Big things come in small packages
My Grandmother being the Biblical David and defeating Goliath being the Mugger
My Grandmother’s response being her slugger power
She reigned supreme and that Mugger knows what that means
This is a true story and I am being honest
Senior Citizen’s have more power than Social Security, and their strength being their unity.
Aug 11, 2015
Aug 11, 2015 at 7:06 PM UTC
By: Cedric McClester
Experience they say
Is the best teacher
Sometimes that's what it takes
For the message to reach us
But it's only gained
Through learning life's lessons
From infancy
Straight past adolescence
Thank God
For life's lessons
The struggles
And the blessings
All the things
He's enabled me to see
What I've taken from those lessons
Is what makes up the essence'
Of the person
That I chose to be
I could have been
A block hugger
Though I didn't chose to be
A murderer or a mugger
But neither one is me
I could have been most anything
That I chose to be
But it's life's lessons
That makes me what you see
Thank God
For life's lessons
The struggles
And the blessings
All the things
He's enabled me to see
What I've taken from those lessons
Is what makes up the essence'
Of the person
That I chose to be
There are ups and downs
That we all go through
Which impacts upon
The things we choose to do
But they're all a part
of life's many lessons
Illustrated by
Our struggles and our blessings
Cedric McClester, Copyright (c) 2016. All rights reserved.
Mar 1, 2016
Mar 1, 2016 at 7:33 AM UTC
By Arcassin Burnham
No toss and turn but sleep is lost,
I live to trust myself and the ones I love,
But you gotta learn to take a loss,
For everything in this world has a cost,
You know me from distant memory,
If you were my enemy I trust you less,
So not what you appear to be,
The epitome of vanity,
A lost hope to a broken dream,
Your mad at me but you ruined your life by parenting,
And even in the darkest days,
I still wanna have all the times of my life,
To look back and say I shouldn't stay,
I couldn't find the truth on the brightest day,
In knowing that would be okay,
I just headed for a lil delay,
Tough today , and then tough days ahead,
To sin and then be sinned on is hard to maintain,
Any day I could've just been dead,
Either by a random mugger or a racist fed,
And even in the darkest days,
I still wanna have all the times of my life,
I just wanna get away from here,
Not just here but out of this world as well,
See fear in every corner here..
There are no guns in where I wanna go.
Jun 5, 2017
Jun 5, 2017 at 10:49 AM UTC
Belgrano
Can you hear the curses? I hear them still
dead in the air rolling on the grey high seas,
fluttering, stuttering, up in the cold stony clouds,
frozen like kites in the middle of nowhere.
I hear the silence too, of the boys, the young young boy's
pressed against the bulwarks and the dead eyed iron,
sense their gun metal faces hidden inside the masks
of home spun green wool - skittering eyes peeping
through knitted balaclavas worn as cold comforters
dripping in Atlantic spume.
I can hear the whispers, the trembling pampas whispers
of near men, close men, light shaven, cropped near-to skull men,
some with dark, bull herding eyes , hearts full of Spanish guitar
and pampas whistles and beside them the rich city blond men,
quiet and bookish, alone with their poets and pebble black rosaries
running like the southern tides through their cold chapped fingers.
All hugger-mugger equaled by forced conscription, circling in silence
within their sea shrouded fears - crammed like live fish quivering in their ancient tin of old victories.
Yes I hear them still, calling out for a distant mother's arms, ripping
loose their little boy screams that are clear as over head seagulls
yet eight thousand miles away. I can hear their raw primitive panic,
ancient as the whelps of beaten camp fire dogs echoing back
from the steely grey clouds; I see them tearing at the
sea born mist, slicing the strings of their pampas kite curses
with broken bones and shattered skulls, loosing curses that rise to run
above the waves to our shores carrying the lost, little boy simpers
of clamour and death that found roost in our forgetful hearts.
Yes I still hear the screams, the sea drowned, salt soaked screams,
a cold southern ocean full of drowning young Argentine boy dreams
(pronounced men before their time), those fire soaked screams and I remember how we the civilized danced on their sad lonely deaths in our distant dry victory soaked streets of triumphant,disregard and screamed ;
"Gotcha".
Dec 25, 2014
Dec 25, 2014 at 1:54 PM UTC
silence silohuetted in the heart
3a.m.
...................new york city
central park is almost deserted now
(a mugger or 2 and some freaks)
I CAN "HEAR" YOU........
..............NOW!
.............
.......................
..............................(blissfully)
....................
my...............
............................god!
.............
i really DO
........................love everyone!
...............
in the silohuettes that shadows make
i see you!
getting ready
getting ready
getting ready
Aug 10, 2010
Aug 10, 2010 at 12:29 PM UTC
I've never been to the city,
but I've spent a million nights
lost beneath the starlight.
I used to dream of subway stations,
lively streets and crowded bars,
but after wandering through forgotten towns,
and sleeping under starlanced
trees,
I could never live in the city.
I've never felt peace
like I have at the shores
of a perfectly still creek.
I wouldn't find that there,
not between the mugger's,
and people yelling in the streets.
I thought I wanted it,
but after traveling across the country,
I know what makes my soul happy.
I want sunrises after 12 hours of driving,
with no direction,
but towards the setting sun.
I want nothing,
but the security of me and you
moving along with the current
of our nomadic souls.
Jul 21, 2017
Jul 21, 2017 at 4:16 PM UTC
See the owl in swift silent flight,
Surfing the darkness of the night,
In control of its black domain,
Its prey killed quick, no time for pain.
Don’t be outraged when its victim dies;
The owl’s not a mugger of the skies,
No malice shown when it hunts for meat,
It leaves alone what it cannot eat!
Aug 18, 2017
Aug 18, 2017 at 2:43 PM UTC
The spatial rend, the roar of time,
The pain of a mother, the infant's whine
The correlation, the linkage
A part of a mugger, a part of a sage
Is the deep and pure Soul,
Enriches the body and the mind
Makes us living beings whole
Ever ours, ever thine
An array of generations travelled, as eons passed
Experienced all the emotions, being loved and harassed
Our talents and affinities, it is the source
So don't fret and worry, and certainly have no remorse
For it is all a process, designed by a much higher power,
Our spiritual aura, our opportunity to soak the droplets from the evolutionary shower,
Is the evolution of the Soul, our destiny and our guide,
So what are you waiting for? Accept yourself for who you are, you now never will have to hide.
Oct 23, 2017
Oct 23, 2017 at 11:32 AM UTC
Ah, so she’s
Got that mincemeat
Mumbo jumbo
Going on
The Biloxi banality
That girl knows the proper way to get toasted
I’ve seen those types tapping their toes
In blues house ho-downs
But this little Mississippi mugger
She must have made off proper
Skinned to the bone
I got no money no more
Cash strapped and wallet gone
****** if I didn’t get taken
By a Podunk prom queen
You gotta watch for them mudslingers
***** sly and mean
Dec 4, 2015
Dec 4, 2015 at 2:21 PM UTC
Something created. Does the creator think ahead
or spill a storm. Rain happens. We supply the
reasons. Evaporation of water collecting over
huge expanses, condensed and pushed as clouds
over the land. We say it makes us sad or depressed.
We want to cry.
You describe the America you know and if you
are ashamed of yourself for what you see, you lie.
Or don't look. Loud noises of automobiles and
fumes. Today in Riverside Park, leaning on a rail,
the dead leaves and snow reminded me how far
from nature and life I am. The snow blew
in from the west. People passed in a smooth
slow line in front of me. Dogs trailing one
another. People hiding until crises bring them
out. Their dog smells another dog between the legs.
The master runs over to stop him. Maybe he
thinks they're going to fight. Doesn't want his
big German shepherd to hurt her dachshund.
Guy runs past in gray sweats on his tip-toes.
Glances at me. Another passes in blue sweats. Looks
longer. They think I'm a mugger. They are not
sexually attracted. I'm an opponent. I want something
they have. I look surly. Why aren't I out
running, disciplining myself, making myself healthy,
doing something. What brings you out here. You're not
doing anything but watching us and staring at the ground.
Walking down Broadway I realized I've never lived here and still don't. Two women window shopping is strange to me. They talk about the clothes. They are friends. I slow down, I don't feel so cold. Stroll, looking at people is like a sunny day and it's a carnival.
Rainy nights are good. Cold rainy nights. Bars filled and warm. Streets empty and cold. People pass and look as members of a fraternity. They need someone and don't hide it. They will try anyone out for one night. They have tea together. They go for a drink in some neutral place. They go straight to bed in the dark. They can't see the face.
Aug 8, 2015
Aug 8, 2015 at 1:10 PM UTC
There be no more a white chapel
at Whitechapel
nor a blind beggar to see that
I saw,
they've built up a city of concrete and steel,
unreal for the real and there ain't
nothing more.
Bishopsgate waits for the next Bishop to come
St. Paul is a mugger and carries a gun
the crutched friars were tried and found guilty of heresy and at the bank where blasphemy rules
they've fooled us all
except for St Paul
who makes a strategic withdrawal.
Apr 10, 2017
Apr 10, 2017 at 12:58 PM UTC
I'm watching dreams coming true,
Hoping I might get struck by the lightning,
Or make a deal with the perfect timing,
But here I am standing in a downpour,
And my feet are getting muddied to the sidelines,
Walking backward to avoid the spotlights,
A ghosted smile to applaud,
The mugger of my drafted thought,
Making a home out of recycled art,
Afraid of the finish line, afraid of the start,
Watching dreams coming true,
Rockets launching out of the blue,
And all I speak is rewind,
Cassette tapes losing their minds,
Saying oh I could easily be that,
With lazy arms and folded hands,
Oh I'm so sick of sitting back,
Watching dreams coming true,
That every shooting star feels like a back stab,
Lost in the preproduction of a daydream,
This paper is my stage, the spotlight is the moonbeam,
Till one hand slips open the handle,
My door being open to the world is more than I could handle,
Every word is shaky, every feeling more like a scandal,
As if the world is about to end the next day,
I try to grab everything that comes my way,
As if I could balance two minds in one,
Open the next page before the last is done,
Juggling too many identities in one person,
Nothing is enough, haven't yet found the best version,
But they're fagments that don't match,
Maybe I should start from scratch..
I'm watching dreams coming true,
Hoping I might get struck by the lightning,
But it seems like there's no perfect timing.
Mar 1, 2017
Mar 1, 2017 at 4:47 AM UTC
Don't talk to me about rules of Engagement
What's knowledge, wisdom and Truth
nothing but a tag on a Robert Grahame shirt
What do you mean decency, fair-play and Justice
was your God fair and just when he landed me in Goebbels
and give me to that drunkard thief and his street gal wife
Oh no, I don't deserve a silver spoon and a dad in Stockbroker belt
yeh, no Private School, no allowance, no frigging ski trips in Gstaad
Bollinger sounds like a gun, pink gins and cucumber wedges foreign
Don't talk living harmoniously with all classes and races
I live my way and make my rules as I go along
the first law is do it to them before they do it to you
education is **** if God wanted me to have a mind he forgot
what he gave was a gob full of **** and a Doctorate in telling lies
in our world telling the truth means you're blind, slow and stupid
I ain't a mug but a mugger, I ain't a fool,I only live to fool the fools
Am a hater and proud of it, why was I assigned to the Losers section
What made God decide my gob is not good enough for a Silver spoon
Don't you dare give me that glib 'That's Life' shit'
keep your philosophizing to your bleeding self
we ain't buying claptrap anymore, it's war now, revolution
it's them and Us. no quarter given, everything taking from the rich
what gives you the right to live better than me. Mr High an Mighty
who brooker your deal with God for all the privileges you enjoy
swanning around thinking you're better than me in your Ivory gaff
hate burns relentlessly, my frustration unabashed I join satan's lot
Yes, it's not a frigging fair world so don't talk to about Justice an love
Apr 2, 2019
Apr 2, 2019 at 3:39 PM UTC
No fun
Till the work's done
Working tirelessly
For a place in university
Work again
Non-stop
'Loner'
'Mugger'
But that's fine
As long as
I get out with a degree
Work
Eat
Sleep
Same thing
Every day
Never really dated
No time for that now
Need to get married
Before 30
Having kids
The cycle repeats
Had no idea
Life was planned out
Before birth
Jan 20, 2018
Jan 20, 2018 at 11:02 PM UTC
Sun explores my horizon
rays invest the air
from within, a corpus breathes
sails an ever expanding sphere
the halo emerges
the guile invites in the foe
the mirror delivers energy, now low
shadows lengthen
chill spreading its wings
no mere reflection
a reflection no more
the swarm is complete
the gluttony thaws
the wain is eternal
and full is the earth
with no return
a line is drawn
appears the resolve
arrives the science
decides the witan
let grief be our revival
strengthen our defiance
chase out the mugging form
stand
and let humanity flow
May 6, 2020
May 6, 2020 at 2:50 PM UTC