"mugging" poems
November is the cruelest month
Reminiscence forced of things far gone and
Bitter foreshadowing of what is to come
The leaves have lived up to their name
The trees, a shell of what they once were
The grass clings to its last hope
The temperature makes its empty threats
The beauty of Autumn deteriorates
She is haughty and cruel
We were strung along for so long
But like all good things
Her presence is too fleeting
We try to rationalize her departure
We didn’t need her anyway
Her sister is far more beautiful
Autumn was never committed
We will look for someone else
What luck!
Her sister is coming
Her name is winter!
But alas, how could we love
Someone so bitter and cold?
November is the cruelest month
Joy is attacked in a dark alley
Melancholia does the mugging
Bitterness steals the Hope
November tears apart the heart
With a ruthlessness unseen
In any other month.
The days are soon so short and cold
The landscape is so barren
There is a hint of snow
But it is more like rain
It is so unfortunate to see
Nature’s beauty going all to waste
The thirtieth is here
Judgement Day has arrived
It is only possible to conclude
July was great if too hot indeed
January hard but nearer the end
September its usual lovely self
One month stands alone in its horror
November is the cruelest month
Oct 20, 2014
Oct 20, 2014 at 11:08 AM UTC
Features, my reflection—
subtle hints stare back offering wordless reply,
their evidence a betrayal of age.
A wrinkle looking deeper,
mane of face, of head—hairs
fresh lacking pigment.
Vain attempts made to mend heart,
to sooth soul's dread.
Testimony of experience
of wisdom, persistence, perception,
an impotent contraceptive, the argument
aberrant.
Regret to cloud memory, my youth
seeming a flesh and blood cliche.
Tiny footnotes heavy with prose,
words in bold
to distract mind's eye—a demand of attention.
Edging out tomb's more beautiful weight
of love and heartache
of passion's attempt failing,
to try again, sinking before succeeding.
An era's dusk and dawn anew, life's advent
unpredictable—without cause changing.
Notion hanging lingering, poisoning future,
the venom of defeat an insidious invasion.
This new age creeping toward night
in this stage my life's sun less bright.
Maturity's introduced responsibility,
some enjoyable while others to own hostility.
A brigand mugging freedom—time for leisure.
Spurring combat for what remains of youth,
fingers wrapping air in futile seizure.
The inevitable to command subservience,
presuming ownership of life, though the mature
demonstrate the defiance of the immature.
Objects, activities, music assaulting ear,
their manner,
symbols of strict adherence to who once was—
a spiteful surrender refusal.
A piece of me defining me until no more,
years holding power—threatening
to change who I am at very core.
Canvas construction the colour of murre,
rubber toe caps the shade of pure.
Design worn since youth, dead and resurrected;
a million mile shoe of valorous resistance—insurrection,
a Converse rebellion.
In torment of age's scars,
I'll never be too old to wear my All Stars.
Nov 18, 2014
Nov 18, 2014 at 10:18 PM UTC
Swirling a frosty straw
Stuck up like a victory flag in winter ground
With my lips wrapped around it
I stare into this empty canvas
of a vanilla malt
And project my cartoonish headaches
into it to devour it
Oh those Scooby Doo monsters
Shadows that lurk to cut my Tom & Jerry humor
Only to formulate semblances of evil
A Mojo JoJo caricature
I then project into my milkshake
His smirk haunts the smile of Tweety Bird
In my Hanna-Barbara mindfield
Colorful spirals of animated joys
Let me know slurp Elmer Fudd shotgun
That was mugging my creativity
And robbed me of my motive
Let me taste the refreshing winds
That flow through the deserts of Road Runner
Taking laps around my heart
With its true intentions in a love letter
I will never get
Soon slurped and eaten to take away the thoughts
And now I hope I can drink another
To rip out the rest of the pain that in my heart
Mar 29, 2015
Mar 29, 2015 at 4:49 PM UTC
At first I hear snarls, "Nice
jeans, ****** although I'm
sure they don't include any
punctuation when ragging
on my anorexic pants
as if my jeans have anything
to do with my sexuality as if
the color of skin had anything
to do with last week's mugging
as if Catholics didn't once
**** for religion.
Oct 24, 2013
Oct 24, 2013 at 12:00 AM UTC
Spt 5-- domestic dispute inv alcohol + firearms Hawkins Terr. area-- Spt 7-- burglary purses stolen from 3 cars Wipple St-- night of Spt 18-19-- vandals untied shoes of large statue Center Park-- Spt 20-- mugging homeless suspect young woman cheeseburger Rt 8--
Jan 9, 2012
Jan 9, 2012 at 11:36 PM UTC
Gettin’ sh!t on like I’m The Villian,
got this queasy feeling on the line reeling,
coming undone at the same time wound up and spun,
I’m done playing but stuck at the table with The Dealer still dealing,
want to throw myself up out of myself,
can escape every position except the one I’m in,
can’t escape yourself if knowledge is wealth,
then I’m loaded & still spending my winnings,
got Karma Credit but I’m morally cash poor,
because I just fckt my girlfriend as if she was a *****
and I feel terrible or rather horrible about it,
because i think I’m infected by what neglect did without a cure,
no one is pure,
at least I’m not that’s for sure,
I'm tainted with devils in my head painted with what I spilled I’m red,
sick with the sort of illness that can't easily be cured,
in fact got a bad case of the blues,
but instead of strumming a guitar I’m taking things too far,
cut her so bad with my fingernails,
that I fear it might leave a few scars,
tied her up so tight,
that her wrists turned purple,
see she’s attracted to bad boys,
and I warned her that that’s the type of attraction that can hurt you,
little girl shouldn’t be out past her curfew,
nothing good ever happens past midnight,
but we’re both running from something,
both stand outs in the in crowd still something doesn’t sit right,
I’m uncomfortable,
because I think maybe all humans are disgusting,
maybe we just cause each other pain and trash the earth’s surface,
maybe we deserve to feel guilty & that’s why we are all fcking distrusting,
maybe I’m gonna fckn **** myself,
but this is a card game so then again maybe I’m bluffing,
maybe everything’s going to be alright,
maybe I’m being uptight for nothing,
but I’ll tell you what I feel like the **** of my own joke,
but I don’t give a fck so instead of changing I’m just shrugging,
mean mugging every person I pass suspicious of every bloke,
because these days crime pays and everyone’s always up to something,
and I just want to get ghost,
but I can’t and I guess that’s the way it goes,
so I’m sittin’ in the uncomfortable position,
of being both a role model as well as a criminal,
Gettin’ sh!t on like I’m The Villian,
got this queasy feeling on the line reeling,
coming undone at the same time wound up and spun,
I’m done playing but stuck at the table with The Dealer still dealing…
∆ LaLux ∆
Sep 17, 2018
Sep 17, 2018 at 7:18 AM UTC
I turned on the news today,
And realized
*We live in a really ****** world*
Four robberies
A ****
A ******
Oh hey look;
There's someone supporting cancer
Oh wait;
It's because their baby died
More robberies
A mugging
Child abuse
And I learned all this,
Before the first commercial break
This is what the news teaches kids:
*We live in a really ****** world*
Yet we wonder
Why more kids are depressed
May 30, 2015
May 30, 2015 at 5:18 PM UTC
Why can't I disrespect her situation and utilize manipulation!!!?
****
(Agitation)
How can I make her lacerate
Leaving him to **********
While her and I gravitate
(Aggravation)
Am I wrong for trying to captivate?
To cause a tragedy
So that I can place her in my cavity
Count on their delinquency
So that I can hit the jackpot like treasury
I must put a result to their destiny
When I see their pictures
My jaws quiver
She needs to be hither
I'm thinking I should be sly
And slither
Or should I be blatant and invite her to dinner?
Right in the face of her mister
Excuse me ma'am
Have you ever seen otters afloat the waters?
When I see it in my studies
I always get cuddly
I have a California king with only blankets to cover me
I have no buddy
I have friends
But no ones lovely
Can we hover the lake
Holding hands so that we won't
Drift away
You will be cute as the otters
I don't know why would I even bother
No groom; I'm all scruffy
I look ok alone
But you gone make me look ugly
Or
Come here
Hug me
Is this your hubby?
That's why his shoulders is shrugging?
And his face is mugging?
He know if you escape his disgrace and come to my cubby
He'll be in the hole
Ain't that right man? (Directed to him)
What's your name?
Stan?
Hey how are you doing Stanley
I'm digging your girl like my last name is Yelnats
And I'm trying not to disrespect
But it's testing
You have the great big book of everything
And a queen who can be on the cover of King because she's ****
But look at you
How'd you do it?
Here you go take my number down and dial whenever he's around so he can know where you're about to go
See you later
Which approach is better?
I like both
Should I be smooth or rude?
I have to make up my mind soon so that I can make my move
Sep 21, 2013
Sep 21, 2013 at 10:39 PM UTC
Speak of the devil and see who appears in the mirrors
Who knows better than you all your fears and what brings you to tears?
The voice that escapes through clenched teeth, grinding like gears
Is exactly the same as the voice saying the things nobody hears
Most all of the verbal abuse does not funnel in through the ears
It stays internal, verbal and mental commingle to create brutal elixirs
Constructing, seemingly out of nothing, life altering barriers
A senseless mugging in broad daylight and no one interferes
Just like no one hears my prayers
The real me almost disappears from years of hiding behind makeshift veneers
Hanging on by a meer thread, I think the puppeteers have switched careers
©2024
Jan 3, 2024
Jan 3, 2024 at 3:31 PM UTC
The music was good
I asked the DJ if he had my song
No
But the music was good
There was a shapely bartender with a shaved head
And a long flannel shirt that made it sometimes look as if she
Wasn't wearing any pants
And she wasn't
She was wearing shorts
I asked the DJ if maybe he had a certain other song
No
But the music was still good
There was a smaller room where you could smoke indoors
And a foreign guy with a shaved head
Foreign guy with a shaved head: Hey let me know if I'm in your space or something.
Me: Huh?
Foreign guy with a shaved head: You bumped into me so if I'm in your space or something...
let me know
It is not my space
I don't own the bar
It is the bar's space
Or perhaps it is the government's space
Or god's space
Or like an alien supercomputer's space
But it is not mine
Or his
I think about picking a fight with this guy
Or letting him kick my *** more likely
So we could share the space
More effectively
I ask the DJ if maybe possibly he had a certain song by chance
No
But the music was still pretty good
There was a girl with a pretty dress and a head full of ****
I patted her head to watch her hair go up and down
She noticed and we got to talking
About musical theatre
A song came on and she said she would meet me on the dance floor
The song came and went and she did neither
I asked the DJ if he had a song I knew he'd have
Yes
The music wasn't so good because it was a boring song
That I had heard many many times before
I danced with a friend
And a sweaty man danced between us
Reeling and mugging for his audience of friends
He picked up my friend and put him down again
To the crowd's delight
I stole his hat
Right off his head
And my friend and I left the bar
We got in the car laughing
And drove away
And the music was good
Sep 16, 2013
Sep 16, 2013 at 3:58 PM UTC
Rode the dog. From podunk to new.york
My introdutory mugging was all that I dreamed of and more.
32 stitches and a mild concussion
Bright lites big city goin to my head.
Got a job running #s and a rap sheet too
What's a guy going to handle when his rent is due
Bright lights big city going to my head
I don't care cause you don't. Care
Jun 5, 2013
Jun 5, 2013 at 12:55 AM UTC
Yellow Brick Road
Land of OZ
Lion scared
Scarecrow crazy
TinMan struggling
Wizard gizmo mugging.
Homeless man
Traveling man
Nomadic man
Had to go.
Left more in Kansas
Than he brought
******* feelings
Totally out of control.
All that searching
Never ever knew
Garden of Eden
Mona Lisa dancing
Lake Wilson trancing
Nomad confused
Gone distracted.
4 years drifting
Always on the road
Never realizing
Never knowing
Never analyzing
Never caring
For what did he know.
TinMan found his heart
TinMan lost his heart
Nomad down
******* Yellow Brick Road.
Jul 24, 2015
Jul 24, 2015 at 12:06 PM UTC
I see two fire trucks pass each other
going opposite directions.
As I’m trying to think of a clever metaphor
for poor planning
I remind myself that at least one family
is standing in a thigh high pile of fine ash
that was their home
just an hour ago.
Maybe two families.
These thoughts and others haunt me when I’m pulled from my duck footed sidewalk reverie
by a lottery ticket stuck in the riff-raff that separates
Gateway Ave from the parking lot of the Nervous Hospital.
It is laid bare like a mugging victim;
crumpled up and inches from the gutter.
That was someone’s dream
just a day ago.
Think I’ll cross the street-
give that homeless vet a dollar.
It’s my last one.
My house has fleas, but
it ain’t on fire.
Feb 29, 2016
Feb 29, 2016 at 11:28 AM UTC
My wit was stolen
in the shattered morning --
darkness robbed me of meaning
with its long, empty knives.
I search my pockets
for its incandessence,
turning out only absence
and a deep crushing sigh.
In the distance I see
others laughing, tossing
wit back and forth
like a shuttle **** at a garden party
sparkling, forceful, levity, bright.
I brush myself off
and walk towards them.
Dec 8, 2011
Dec 8, 2011 at 11:45 AM UTC
I’m watching you
In the dark alleyways, where I gaze on as a mugging occurs
And standing on that gloomy, silent street corner, the little red light of my cigarette glowing
And from the roof of the echoing parking garage next to a lone car
And as I rest my back against the cold stone of a crypt in a graveyard
I’m watching you
In the dimly lit, empty café, where I sip a cup of loneliness
And as I dance in the smoky, sweating aliveness of the nightclubs
And as I stare at the waves on the deserted, moonlit boardwalk
I’m watching you
Seated atop the Sphinx of Giza in the freezing Egyptian night
And in the very back row of an empty baseball stadium
And in a prison cell, where a death row inmate sleeps fitfully
I'm watching you
Right behind you, but you don't know I'm there
I'm watching you
Always watching
In the night
Jan 2, 2011
Jan 2, 2011 at 10:51 AM UTC
little children are abondoned by thier parents, left to raise each other on their own, learn to survive in the streets, forced to live under the influence of drugs and earn a living from mugging. Mothers forced to labour with children on thier backs, they rather sleep with empty stomachs sacrifising only for their children. Man begging for food,they nolonger know how to give. They wear shreaded clothes and survive from the tiny bread crumps thrown into trash cans. They sleep under the fierce weathers, the wind cutting through thier skin and all that keep them warm is plastic bags. What ever happened to my country is surely brutal South Africa can never be the same again unless we change it.
Apr 12, 2015
Apr 12, 2015 at 5:08 PM UTC
Sadness comes in all flavours and hits harder some days than others.
It makes a sky darker and the sun further away like long lost brothers.
Sadness can make your very soul tremble at the break of dawn
it can make your heart burn when you know that she is gone.
Sadness plays no favorites, it gives no special odds or choice
it jumps up at a moment's notice and screams with a bitter voice.
Sadness is what we try to avoid, what we all try to escape
like a corner mugging or a vicious painful ****
It's out there, lurking in the darkness, calling out our name
pretending that its happiness and trying to be the same.
No warning is sufficient no alarm gives us enough time
there is no chance to skirt the pain or miss the crime.
Sadness is the anxiety that kills our soul and heart
now we wait to see just when the old car rolls in to start.
Mar 6, 2015
Mar 6, 2015 at 12:16 AM UTC
barely it was swaying terrifically in cotton wind of sharp niggling wafers that flummox specially the growling infant sea, this lake, where i am by and satting with my soft particular femme who's metal slithers from her very roundest nostrils glinting rather unobtrusive and stubbornly silver. and jousting by in meager dollops college children blatantly. a basic scent of nonsense huddles on the 2's and 3's (or mayhaps more) they slant upon the dappled lazy soil reticent and uncouthly tread upon with flats little souls. their heads are fat with gullible churning knowledge. they farted from the dusted books. that stately chord of mugging music. that lays in bricks and mortared sighs. on the hillest of tops over looking the cordial bay.
Mar 5, 2011
Mar 5, 2011 at 12:33 PM UTC
I strolled among lavendills
in the pithy piney plodding hills
bearing the brunt of burdensome ********
as I garnished grins of whippoorwills.
On a plateau-ish plain of prickly peet
I felt the bog beneath my feet
tickling my toes with ****** tainted thorns,
I remembered gnarling days, and stood forlorn.
Pickled poesy pomagroups
foretold of future ladle scoops
in caligrating loop the loops in styles
reminding me of marching troops.
In shifting shylock shapes of time
with ripping radishes of rhyme
I began my daring dew descent
to the lowly muppet mugging climes.
When, on sordid stony steppes I stood,
amid the brash and boorish wood,
wenting where I was, I brought
a hinting hackle pang of good.
Jan 18, 2016
Jan 18, 2016 at 3:53 PM UTC
Mugging
Heart thumping at a rapid beat,
***** running down to my feet.
Getting mugged, gun in face,
the one **** day, I left home my mace.
He wants my money or my life,
wishing I had some kind of knife.
Slowly going for my wallet,
tears dripping like a leaky faucet.
Getting anxious, he ***** his gun,
should I submit or should I run.
Then I kicked him in the *****
watching him as he slowly falls.
Grabbed the gun from his hand,
asked for his money, as he started to stand.
He said please mister, I'm out of work,
I said who cares you stupid ****
He showed me his wallet, which was bare,
I could smell his **** in his underwear.
I told him to turn around and walk away,
he said till I get your money, I must stay.
Had no choice but to shoot him dead,
two bullets in his brainless head.
From the gun, wiped off my prints,
limped home like I had shin splints.
Went home and took a shower,
felt kinda bad as my soul became sour.
Closed my eyes and only saw red,
maybe I should have forced him to run instead.
I hate living in a state of misery,
from that day on, I felt kinda jittery.
Both of us at one point begged for mercy,
just a typical day in north New Jersey.
Nov 14, 2013
Nov 14, 2013 at 11:21 AM UTC
Old dilemma swooping down from the rafters and attacking me.
I've got a word of interesting news for you, you mugging beast.
You're the stain of a shadow on the wall facing a setting sun.
A disintegrating shaking hand in spasm reaching up the rungs.
You'll never catch my ankles.
A bird has told me this today.
A bird who's warming your same corner.
Wing blasting halcyon gusts you'll never know.
Say
what you want to say:
Days have taken of mine what even dreams cannot completely give.
I'll never really notice or control this wind.
I'll never grasp how fantastically we live.
Since you say, then I'll say:
No.
Emotional geosynchronous goddess pulling puppet strings.
Each time the world shrinks you're saving me from being meat.
Casual human casualty falling down dead in cyber war.
Sinking in depression's constantly connected disconnected *****
I'll never catch your disease.
The earth has told me this today.
Earth who's your eternal mourner.
Keeping for you forever seeds you won't sow.
You'll never catch my ankles.
A bird has told me this today.
A bird who's warming your same corner.
Wing blasting halcyon gusts you'll never know.
Say
what you want to say.
You're free to say so and since you say so
I'll say what I want,
say,
No.
Maybe you were close, but not nearly close enough.
Nov 30, 2013
Nov 30, 2013 at 6:21 AM UTC
Here I am
another Saturday
I've woken up
with a smokers cough
heaving
at my lungs
like a slow roasting
fire
I've been
smoking
more cigars
lately
Usually seven
would last me
about a week.
Now that many can
only hold it down for
three days
maybe four
I drag myself out of bed
fumble around searching
for my glasses and of course
the phone
I manage to
slug myself to
the bathroom
pop an
Adderall
make my way
out to the porch
I light up a smoke
the cold wind
strikes my
exposed body parts
giving me the chills
**** Texas weather
it's either too hot
or too cold
kind of like me
Still
it doesn't stop
my routine of
having a few hits
my will power
is a slave
to the
rituals.
As I sit there
mean mugging
the cloudy but
still bright sky
I feel the Adderall
kick in
I'm ready to
tackle
the list of chores
With a toothbrush
and some foam cleaner
I scrub
at the bathroom sink
each little blob of
tooth paste spit
gets focused on
and scrutinized
just as I do
with my insecurities
Tossing a foaming
cleanser bomb
in the toilet
it volcanoes up to the brim
kinda like my emotions
have been
these past
few weeks
I scrub at that for a while
living with two boys
can cause **** to go
and get
in
to
everything
I hand wash all of
my black stockings
in the tub
rinse and
wring them out
and hang them
one by one
on the shower pole
There
as they drip
getting ready
to be worn
through the
work week
I sit on the
edge of the tub
and write this poem
despite all the ****
it was still a good Saturday morning
Apr 5, 2025
Apr 5, 2025 at 6:00 PM UTC
HE. IS:
A whirlwind of absolute rage and apathy
Cruising through life like a pitfall
Without a place to land.
All these problems, all these horrors,
Mugging, ****** ****** genocide,
Making people pay to live,
Making people believe money is the root of all evil.
When I met you, I wanted to dominate you.
And you wanted that. Is that really right?
Because now all I want is to show you affection.
We would take each other as ******
We must take each other as we are.
I love you for every single thing you ****** up.
I love you for every single thing you did right.
I love you for understanding I am a child.
And so are you.
We are children, wandering and wondering
What is it we're going to do?
"I can't take care of myself!"
Neither can I! But I can take care of you.
Let's eat.
Let's enjoy it.
Let's not feel disgusting.
Because we're beautiful.
And putridity is wondrous.
I wanted you to hit me so hard.
I wanted your lips to break in mine.
Your teeth are wise, your tongue is buzzing and fluttering.
Your eyes, red and itching,
Burning and running black down your cheeks
Your pupils so large,
Your irises glowing
The whites were just water
Water and salt
And pain
And agony
For him
For you
For me
For our parents and that girl I met when I was ONLY NINE
And alcohol and war and self-loathing
And lack of confidence.
We will cry for everyone we can not fix
And it will be the best thing in the world
Because when we're fixed, we're going to be real adults.
Geniuses.
I hope you don't have to leave.
Because you are strong enough to do this yourself.
And no matter where we go...
No matter what God is watching
(if there is one), I love you.
And ****** I love myself.
Jan 2, 2011
Jan 2, 2011 at 11:06 AM UTC
He's the cigarette that makes me want to take up smoking.
Because he'd be so good with a cup of coffee on a lazy Saturday morning.
He's every line I've crossed out trying to put to words how I'd like to breathe his poison
Over and over again.
Until he's nothing but a pile of embers and my lungs are black with ash.
He's two strong arms hovering around the waists of girls who already know they're beautiful,
Cause he doesn't have time for girls who don't realize it.
He's a tall, strong whiskey on the rocks.
Sharp as a knife in a New York City mugging,
Cool as the Los Angeles breeze,
Deadly as the Arizona summer.
All I want is to inhale deeply and let him slowly
Stop my breath.
Jun 25, 2014
Jun 25, 2014 at 1:06 PM UTC