Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
"nypd" poems
Yo soy ***** **** immigration and the racist white tèjanõs, please tell me how the hell would they ever know what I know, shout out to my Mexicans Hondurans and black Cubanos shut the border down call it the no fly zone. Adios Americanos me and my amigos are stealing ya women and playin em like pianos, vocal terrorist this lyrical revolt should be your primary interest. Public enemy number one the domestic hectic terrorist I'm influencing your white son, right to bear these nuts I'm taking the tea parties guns stealing your freedom from right up under you, all your jobs, and way of life, your point of view. I'm the original black power ranger hide your right winged minds if not I swear they'll be in danger. I am the broken brick the stone left unturned the rhythm of the wind the willingness to learn and the desire to fight and get what you earn. I am the individual placed on the no fly list with my hand balled into a fist cause my turbin is too tight and my beards to thick. I am the man choked to death by nypd for selling cigarettes now I'm rioting with my words doing lyrical pirouettes. Yo soy ***** spitting jive like lingo I want a Pam Grier keep your Marilyn Monroe, from the 6th borough buckin like bronco they said finish em I'm educated and black had to hit em with the combo. I'm non fictions Huey Freeman battling congress and their demons catch me flexing on the law lookin like the black He-Man Standing up for what I believe in writing in my notepad I stay steady schemin with my head up in the clouds I stay steady dreamin. Yo soy ***** freeze em like sub zero not concerned with dolores or the dinero yen or bills yo, I'm still waiting for marvel to make a Mexican superhero.
0
Dec 25, 2014
Dec 25, 2014 at 11:05 AM UTC
*****
Yo soy ***** **** immigration and the racist white tèjanõs, please tell me how the hell would they ever know what I know, shout out to my Mexicans Hondurans and black Cubanos shut the border down call it the no fly zone. Adios Americanos me and my amigos are stealing ya women and playin em like pianos, vocal terrorist this lyrical revolt should be your primary interest. Public enemy number one the domestic hectic terrorist I'm influencing your white son, right to bear these nuts I'm taking the tea parties guns stealing your freedom from right up under you, all your jobs, and way of life, your point of view. I'm the original black power ranger hide your right winged minds if not I swear they'll be in danger. I am the broken brick the stone left unturned the rhythm of the wind the willingness to learn and the desire to fight and get what you earn. I am the individual placed on the no fly list with my hand balled into a fist cause my turbin is too tight and my beards to thick. I am the man choked to death by nypd for selling cigarettes now I'm rioting with my words doing lyrical pirouettes. Yo soy ***** spitting jive like lingo I want a Pam Grier keep your Marilyn Monroe, from the 6th borough buckin like bronco they said finish em I'm educated and black had to hit em with the combo. I'm non fictions Huey Freeman battling congress and their demons catch me flexing on the law lookin like the black He-Man Standing up for what I believe in writing in my notepad I stay steady schemin with my head up in the clouds I stay steady dreamin. Yo soy ***** freeze em like sub zero not concerned with dolores or the dinero yen or bills yo, I'm still waiting for marvel to make a Mexican superhero.
Continue reading...
2
There’s a lot to be said for this place. A near-perfect pitch for diversity, Diversity: a neurolinguistic term; A quaint way to say: miscegenation. No, just kidding; I meant the melting *** A fine blend of Anglo, Hispanic & Indian blood— That’s Pueblo & Plains Indian blood-- Not that **** masala, chapati & dal Indian blood. My apologies to "Who's the White Guy?" Bobby Jindal. New Mexico: “The Land of Enchantment.” Where 310 sunny days per annum, Are like money in the bank, earning Double-plus compound interest for those Suffering with seasonal affective disorders. A land of sunshine without the orange juice, But substitute chili, red or green? An equitable offset to be sure. 310 days of sunshine: Even the white people are brown here. Which does a lot for my self-esteem. Back east—New York, Chicago & Philadelphia e.g.— People that look like me, i.e., People with dark brown hair, eyes and skin, Get stopped/ass-cheek spread/& frisked, routinely. Stop & Frisk: NYPD’s spectator sport for decades. Stop & Frisk: Mayor Bloomberg-defended Crime-stopping Godsend, Getting guns off the streets. Getting homicides down. Everything’s cool until some slick race baiter, Starts yelling: RACIAL PROFILING. Forget for a moment that people that look like me, People like me with dark hair, eyes & skin, Commit 78% of the crime in most cities. “It’s not racially driven profiling,” Said Newark’s police director recently Referring to stops carried out by his officers. “IT’S CRIME-DRIVEN PROFILING!” But, again, political-correctness trumps common sense: August 2013: Judge Rules NYPD Stop-and-Frisk Unconstitutional. Well I’ll be a monkey’s *** ****** I moved to New Mexico to blend in. My complexion a shoe-in for The Witness Protection Program or Any other public or private, Domestic or international rendition site. But I digress. New Mexico: no passport necessary, Babaloo! New Mexico: be you white or black, Hispanic or Indian, Or even Roswell extraterrestrial, The cops here will beat the **** out of you. Or shoot you dead, Kemosabe.
0
Feb 7, 2015
Feb 7, 2015 at 1:44 PM UTC
"Let Me Hip You to the Land of Enchantment"
There’s a lot to be said for this place. A near-perfect pitch for diversity, Diversity: a neurolinguistic term; A quaint way to say: miscegenation. No, just kidding; I meant the melting *** A fine blend of Anglo, Hispanic & Indian blood— That’s Pueblo & Plains Indian blood-- Not that **** masala, chapati & dal Indian blood. My apologies to "Who's the White Guy?" Bobby Jindal. New Mexico: “The Land of Enchantment.” Where 310 sunny days per annum, Are like money in the bank, earning Double-plus compound interest for those Suffering with seasonal affective disorders. A land of sunshine without the orange juice, But substitute chili, red or green? An equitable offset to be sure. 310 days of sunshine: Even the white people are brown here. Which does a lot for my self-esteem. Back east—New York, Chicago & Philadelphia e.g.— People that look like me, i.e., People with dark brown hair, eyes and skin, Get stopped/ass-cheek spread/& frisked, routinely. Stop & Frisk: NYPD’s spectator sport for decades. Stop & Frisk: Mayor Bloomberg-defended Crime-stopping Godsend, Getting guns off the streets. Getting homicides down. Everything’s cool until some slick race baiter, Starts yelling: RACIAL PROFILING. Forget for a moment that people that look like me, People like me with dark hair, eyes & skin, Commit 78% of the crime in most cities. “It’s not racially driven profiling,” Said Newark’s police director recently Referring to stops carried out by his officers. “IT’S CRIME-DRIVEN PROFILING!” But, again, political-correctness trumps common sense: August 2013: Judge Rules NYPD Stop-and-Frisk Unconstitutional. Well I’ll be a monkey’s *** ****** I moved to New Mexico to blend in. My complexion a shoe-in for The Witness Protection Program or Any other public or private, Domestic or international rendition site. But I digress. New Mexico: no passport necessary, Babaloo! New Mexico: be you white or black, Hispanic or Indian, Or even Roswell extraterrestrial, The cops here will beat the **** out of you. Or shoot you dead, Kemosabe.
Continue reading...
53
Composed wandering the Commons, quietly listening to the sounds of Childish Gambino Confused Looking for the sixteenth time for An escape from the Pru Sipping a glass of Sam Adams Boston Brick Red at a corner of WHISKEY'S on Boylston Stopped in at Ben & Jerry's on Park: Bought a cone of ™ Paid for it with my Bank of America® VISA® P L A T I N U M P L U S ® Checked in on foursquare and read the protest tweets on my verizonwireless® hTC® ThunderBolt™ with Google: @OccupyWallSt #NYPD collapses on #Sanctuary and begins arresting clergy and occupiers inside. #D17 #Re-Occupy #OWS \_Retweeted by Occupy Boston @HoraceBoothroyd @OccupyWallSt Links to sanctuary/clergy violations? Erst I wandered the sights and thought of thoughts Tweeted a picture of the “pro-corporate” march Pictured Headlines: Area Cop Arrests Area Man for Obeying Traffic Signal "Didn't anybody tell him that's not how its done round here?" Cell of Young Idealists with ties to Low-Level Terrorist Organization Busted & Detained: Found Plotting the Grassroots, Digitized, Non-Violent Overthrow of the Status Quo Op-ed: City upon a Hill: “Whose city?! Whose hill?!” #SOPA #NDAA #OCCUPYBOSTON ~D.B. Guy, 12/17/11
0
Nov 3, 2012
Nov 3, 2012 at 3:35 AM UTC
Another for #occupyboston
REPUBLICANS Former South Carolina GOP leader kills dog to please God Rob Beschizza GERMANY Germany's top domestic spy advised far right xenophobic political party on how to avoid being billed as "extremists" Cory Doctorow RUSSIA Guy who pretends to ****** people for a living named Russian Goodwill ambassador Seamus Bellamy   BUSINESS We're going to be eating bugs really soon now, again Cory Doctorow POLICE Surveillance camera shows off-duty NYPD cop dropping a weapon near man he shot in the face Rob Beschizza SCHOLARSHIP When should the press pay attention to trolls, lies and disinformation? Cory Doctoro CORRUPTION Wells Fargo: we stole houses and we're being investigated for ***** low-income housing credits Cory Doctorow LATE STAGE CAPITALISM How Jpay gouges prisoners' families for "digital postage stamps" Cory Doctorow ALEX JONES Alex Jones is suing the parents of a Sandy Hook victim for $100,000 Gina Loukareas *** :(
0
Aug 9, 2018
Aug 9, 2018 at 3:46 PM UTC
Nausea News
The Empire State Building is a giant middle finger Concrete is broken, NYPD, taxis racing, red light green light I enter the hand of the city through it's capillaries breaking mad concrete Warm gusts of **** grime, and transportation swallow me The city feeds off dreams and hope which we personally, willingly give up We all somehow learn to accept this fate  The passerby no longer human but broken mirror  The hand inundates my eyes from breezes of tomorrow The spacy apartment, and the affluent career and the acquantanceship Of the handful of New Yorkers that run the hand: all questionable plans today It's as if the hand's grasp, although sharp and brick, would venerate your intellect, guaranteed If that's the case, I see wizards of wisdom everyday snoozing on concrete and cardboard and plastic Bearded, black with dirt and skin, threads ripped by a world inferrior than the one in thier minds Empire "Middle Finger" State  of intellect, scrapping billion dollar clouds Sardine can subways, escalators, elevators, high on crack **** speed of sound The cash nerve system meltsdown into golden chips to feed the pigeons Glass and steel craft spaces for modernity to be sold like a Washington Heights ***** You can feel the growth of the hand at the end of your intestines It's a warm, uncomfortable vibration revealed in your ******** Foreign tongues buzz through the air, through your hair for 19.95 New York needs a haircut, some profound discipline so we wake up from this bizzare life of welcomed pain You once charmed me with hopes of culture, open minds, connections, real connections, love and laughter Yet, Today I am hungry in Murray hill I am cold in Chelsea I am broken in Union Square I ***** in SoHo I have fallen in the East River And I bleed on financial monoliths  Someone have mercy on my wills It is an intention trying to be fulfilled But failed when it became self-aware
0
Nov 4, 2010
Nov 4, 2010 at 11:44 PM UTC
The Empire State Building is a Giant Middle Finger
The Empire State Building is a giant middle finger Concrete is broken, NYPD, taxis racing, red light green light I enter the hand of the city through it's capillaries breaking mad concrete Warm gusts of **** grime, and transportation swallow me The city feeds off dreams and hope which we personally, willingly give up We all somehow learn to accept this fate  The passerby no longer human but broken mirror  The hand inundates my eyes from breezes of tomorrow The spacy apartment, and the affluent career and the acquantanceship Of the handful of New Yorkers that run the hand: all questionable plans today It's as if the hand's grasp, although sharp and brick, would venerate your intellect, guaranteed If that's the case, I see wizards of wisdom everyday snoozing on concrete and cardboard and plastic Bearded, black with dirt and skin, threads ripped by a world inferrior than the one in thier minds Empire "Middle Finger" State  of intellect, scrapping billion dollar clouds Sardine can subways, escalators, elevators, high on crack **** speed of sound The cash nerve system meltsdown into golden chips to feed the pigeons Glass and steel craft spaces for modernity to be sold like a Washington Heights ***** You can feel the growth of the hand at the end of your intestines It's a warm, uncomfortable vibration revealed in your ******** Foreign tongues buzz through the air, through your hair for 19.95 New York needs a haircut, some profound discipline so we wake up from this bizzare life of welcomed pain You once charmed me with hopes of culture, open minds, connections, real connections, love and laughter Yet, Today I am hungry in Murray hill I am cold in Chelsea I am broken in Union Square I ***** in SoHo I have fallen in the East River And I bleed on financial monoliths  Someone have mercy on my wills It is an intention trying to be fulfilled But failed when it became self-aware
Continue reading...
31
X-rays of the soul, Madame Chan proclaims, translucent we stand, visible out and inside before our creator, but only to that limitable being if only there were a machine such, on earth, as in heaven perhaps seventeen Frenchman, one hundred and forty five, mostly Pakistani children, or thirty five no longer alive, just barely mentioned, already forgotten, Yemeni young police cadets, two NYPD, might still be adjudged innocent by those who only see themselves in mirrors, blindly believing they are created in the image of God and knowledgeable in the execution of his will if human Justice is thus blinded, perhaps God is too? we need much betters cameras... more accurate selfies...
0
Jan 10, 2015
Jan 10, 2015 at 3:15 PM UTC
Röntgenphoto (X-rays of the soul)
a genuine photograph taken by a relation, of Wonder Woman commandeering a Manhattan avenue by aft. daylight, leading children of the neighborhood and their guardian angels, the NYPD, in a rousing calisthenics warmup routine, for it’s the day of witches, goblins, masquerading, and pre-internet, nice, sweet trolls no older than six years of age, Wonder Woman too, the rigors of an evening of search and recovery, collecting the well gotten treasure ***** found by early dusk’s s l o w l y disappearing light, amidst stunned, aimless wandering adults and miscellaneous grownups, All wonting & wondering: is innocence still a thing?
0
Jan 17, 2024
Jan 17, 2024 at 1:03 PM UTC
In my possess, innocence (trolls & *****
We screaming black lives matter But all they see is a bunch of disobedient slaves. They screaming all lives matter But what they meant to say is only white lives matter. Is it because only white lives in power? But nah **** that, it’s just cowards in power. The only thing that separates me from Rosa parks is a bus seat. In the back of the bus while they spittin some heat. Typical little black boy Thinking his only option is to rap or ball. His only plan is to rise to the top Never fall. But that white lady at the end of the hall, Trying to get some sleep, so she calls the police. NYPD, New York’s finest pigs.   They rang out 4 warning shots And now the little black boy dead. Fell Before he ever had a chance. But when will they realize? It’s time to end this 500 year genocide.
0
Mar 30, 2017
Mar 30, 2017 at 4:01 PM UTC
Genocide
If you’re looking for yuletide cynicism here, you’re shopping in the wrong place. This is New York City’s time of year. It’s stood the test of time and it fairly sparkles, proving that the ordinary can be extraordinary. With the right lighting. Lisa’s (parent’s) apartment glitters like our promised heaven on high. When we left at Thanksgiving, Michael (Lisa’s dad) had the concierge service stressed, toting boxes of decorations up from their storage area. When I waved my goodbyes, he appeared to be wrestling an octopus of cool-white fairy lights into submission. Now everything glitters pyrite bright. Our holiday time is limited—and this is our chance to unwind—so we’re selective about what we decide to embrace. For instance, there was a sale at Michael Kors where, no big deal, I got a pair of brogue, black leather wingtips that’ll be straight fire with a little black dress. The bargains were so good that I decided the store must be a drug front. Not that I’m complaining. Do I ever complain? Nope, I’m stoic. Like Eric Adams, the mayor of New York, Lisa and I’ve been “testing the product” of Manhattan's club scene. We’re searching diligently for the new and unfamiliar. When it comes to picking which clubs we want to visit, Charles, our driver and escort (a retired NYPD cop), has gone as far as to suggest, we’re “out of our depth,” and refused to let us even try one or two DJ’d, pop-up clubs in Queens that were getting a lot of heat and likes. “Roosevelt Avenue is the new 42nd Street,” he’d said. What does that even mean?? Indignant silence Anyway, I hope Christmas finds you all merry and bright and that your holidays—whichever you celebrate— are carnivals of food, music, friendship and love—for those are the luxuries that count the most. Merry Christmas! Happy Hanukkah! Merry Kwanzaa, Happy Festivus! . . Songs for this: Absolutely Everybody by Vanessa Amorosi Rock With You by Traincha . . A Christmas Playlist—because there's 4 days til Christmas https://daweb.us/xmas/Christmas_28.mp3
0
Dec 21, 2024
Dec 21, 2024 at 8:11 AM UTC
yuletide cynicism
If you’re looking for yuletide cynicism here, you’re shopping in the wrong place. This is New York City’s time of year. It’s stood the test of time and it fairly sparkles, proving that the ordinary can be extraordinary. With the right lighting. Lisa’s (parent’s) apartment glitters like our promised heaven on high. When we left at Thanksgiving, Michael (Lisa’s dad) had the concierge service stressed, toting boxes of decorations up from their storage area. When I waved my goodbyes, he appeared to be wrestling an octopus of cool-white fairy lights into submission. Now everything glitters pyrite bright. Our holiday time is limited—and this is our chance to unwind—so we’re selective about what we decide to embrace. For instance, there was a sale at Michael Kors where, no big deal, I got a pair of brogue, black leather wingtips that’ll be straight fire with a little black dress. The bargains were so good that I decided the store must be a drug front. Not that I’m complaining. Do I ever complain? Nope, I’m stoic. Like Eric Adams, the mayor of New York, Lisa and I’ve been “testing the product” of Manhattan's club scene. We’re searching diligently for the new and unfamiliar. When it comes to picking which clubs we want to visit, Charles, our driver and escort (a retired NYPD cop), has gone as far as to suggest, we’re “out of our depth,” and refused to let us even try one or two DJ’d, pop-up clubs in Queens that were getting a lot of heat and likes. “Roosevelt Avenue is the new 42nd Street,” he’d said. What does that even mean?? Indignant silence Anyway, I hope Christmas finds you all merry and bright and that your holidays—whichever you celebrate— are carnivals of food, music, friendship and love—for those are the luxuries that count the most. Merry Christmas! Happy Hanukkah! Merry Kwanzaa, Happy Festivus! . . Songs for this: Absolutely Everybody by Vanessa Amorosi Rock With You by Traincha . . A Christmas Playlist—because there's 4 days til Christmas https://daweb.us/xmas/Christmas_28.mp3
Continue reading...
40
Another Sabbath day, another sinful neighbor and her husband Trying to keep it holy: over there at number 1 Sea view Road For so many years those two folks kept on trying: faith works with patience He kept on asking this the same old question wasn't it time for me to make some changes in my life When are you going to church"? **Mandela frequently deflected accolades by saying, “I’m no saint—that is, unless you think a saint is a sinner who keeps on trying. “Quote** While the sounds of the siren, startles the restless babies A full Breakfast consists of fried eggs and crackers A pitcher filled with coffee……and this poem Anxiously waits to submit… The sounds of the sirens, breakfast consist of eggs and dry ******* Dangerous heat wave is reported in this part of the country The loud music of the selfish neighbor, boom box It’s time for carnival. It’s time for the carnival. And added plus to the sound of the loud siren Wakes us up in the morning to NYPD  helicopter circling Its Brooklyn, it’s the ghetto, Its Ludacris, it is selfish, it's the Sabbath
0
May 20, 2017
May 20, 2017 at 9:22 AM UTC
Thinking About Life