"patrol" poems
It seemed the space between us became torn and
Profoundly distanced....................
Jamming bony knuckles and spread eagled fingers,
Lying their mapped out journey.....direction on point patrol....
Adorned by silver decoration, delighting in their skinned habitat
Shafted, deceit punching the recipient of the poison digits
Prodding and pushing their intent....dare you contradict
The intended carved out dose of punishment, Risk and
Safety......not yours and never would be; stooped
Down under the assailing bony palmed attachements
That delivered penetrating power, cupped around
Your arm til it became discoloured, pressure points
Backed you into a corner, up against the grain of the
Brick wall, cold and damp, the odour reaching
And scolding your nostrils with its stale internal vows
Refuse, stretching and protruding its foul remnents
An earlier life, when you were not under threat fades
Your very existance in jeopardy, your eyes pleaded for
Normality, willing someone to hear your silence, grip you
Tightly, not with malice, but with bravery and valour
Right now you need that shining knight, that white
Horse galloping down the blind alleyway, yet you
Know that won't happen for you're already sinking
To the floor, the blow comes sharp and stings, warmth
Exudes and trickles a path downwards, leaving your
Body, finding the cold concrete beneath you, travelling
Outwards................
Sep 3, 2012
Sep 3, 2012 at 7:58 AM UTC
I am but willing prey to the wiles of the full grown moon.
She guards the night sky...
While I patrol these grounds...
Grieving over the seconds that have gone too soon.
I am a vessel... all emptied and barren.
what once was full,
now echoes faint
the glories of yesteryears.
Afloat still, adrift upon the currents... aimless and sullen.
I am a ghost... haunting no one but my own.
Immortalised...
Anchored...
to a body of mist and haze...
Occupying this space where worthy wind had once blown...
I am a beggar offering nothing but my open palms.
Hope etched tight
into my knackered knuckles
and calloused digits.
Please... take them in yours...
soothe them...
grant me your touch, your coveted balm.
Jul 13, 2015
Jul 13, 2015 at 10:28 AM UTC
I remember a night patrol,
we were sweeping some streets
& we happened upon a basketball game
being watched on an ancient television.
It was the Chicago Bulls vs. the Pistons,
none of the locals watching it
paid us a bit of attention,
their eyes never left the picture.
Basketball seemed more
important than
this War on Terror.
That was just another time
that the ludicrousy
(or fruitlessness)
of our mission
seemed apparent.
**** it,
Go Bulls!
Apr 30, 2015
Apr 30, 2015 at 6:32 PM UTC
Canned latte, water, fruit punch Rip-It
Gulp it, down it, chug it, sip it
In the gunner's sling, sway side to side
240B in the cradle, M4 right side
Talk of ***
Talk of food
It's all allowed
Nothing's too crude
Sometimes you talk
Sometimes you listen
Don't talk later 'bout what's said on mission
Check alleyways, balconies, traffic, rooftops
At five miles-an-hour, this convoy never stops
Red Bull, Gatorade, citrus Rip-It
Gulp it, down it, chug it, sip it
In the gunner's sling, sway side to side
240B in the cradle, shotgun left side
In the distance, flashes of white light
Watch them bloom throughout the green night
Was it dust lightning? Was it a bomb?
Don't matter to us, this mission carries on
Two hours to dawn, eight hours 'til we're done
Check balconies, traffic, alleyways, rooftops
At five miles-an-hour, this convoy never stops
Sep 21, 2013
Sep 21, 2013 at 3:12 PM UTC
There is no moral code
When time is an icy road
Where you cannot stop
Or you'll be stuck in the cold ground
When the temperature drops
Snow collects in my frosty frown
And starts to linger
On my frostbite fingers
While I keep sliding
On the line we're riding
I see icy roads
Leading to icy modes
Of acting
Impacting
The way we treat each other
The same way we beat each other
To the finish line
Of our frigid time
Time isn't nice
When it's ice
But it's all we know
Time continually goes
The challenges grow
Buried in snow
Trying to go uphill is a nasty nope
Sliding downhill is a slippery slope
If you momentarily lose your control
You're pulled over by the cops on patrol
Everything is covered in snow
Even the cars being towed
Their owners gave away their agency
And are at the tow truck driver's mercy
They rely on him to get them to safety
So they cunningly wear his jersey
There are things we want
Acquired by tease and taunt
We drive on top of bodies
To gain traction on the street
We do what is naughty
To have enough to eat
I careen through time
Without seeing a dime
Everything looks so plain
In this frozen rain
When the ordinary life
Is within my sight
I look for something more
Only to see a frozen door
There is ice on the road
There is ice in my heart
I can't handle the load
In the back of my cart
Until I decide
To abide
By the slide
And glide
On the edge of control and freedom
There are other cars and I'll lead them
Jan 17, 2018
Jan 17, 2018 at 2:03 AM UTC
I'm your personal superhero
Who fights crime each day
I patrol outside and watch the house
While you are away
I'll cheer you up when the day is grey
Get you up, and out to play
When days get mundane, lonely too
I'll be there to be with you
I may not wear a cape or tights
But I will still help fight your fights
If you're in trouble and lose you way
I'm made to guide, to wait, to stay
Then when the sun has gone down
I'll make sure you never frown
'cuz I'm your personal superhero ---
Your ever fluffy, one of a kind,
loyal and tail wagging dog
2010
Jul 10, 2012
Jul 10, 2012 at 5:06 PM UTC
I wish you’d think about me tomorrow, when you’re closer than before,
Sometimes I start to wonder what border patrol does it for
If there were fences, I would climb them, if there were trenches I would brave them,
But there isn’t anything like that stopping us so darling, why create them?
Aug 4, 2014
Aug 4, 2014 at 2:35 AM UTC
I failed to save another soul today.
On my high patrol, I heard their last gasps leave their lips,
and I let their salvation get away
slipping through my super-powered fingertips.
If I can write assurance to a thousand souls lost, humorous and witty
"If I muster all the words that I know," I thought, "Surely I can save this city."
But life can't be measured by honeyed words, and it's agony to see
the souls' salvations that I'm missing beneath my red-caped nobility.
Even if I flew higher still, with my cape waving proud and free,
no great power I could bring to bear could match my responsibility.
For every orphan girl I save, there's another not too far afield.
For every chain broken, for every freed slave, there are chains that will not yield.
I'd fly around the world and turn back time, but I know t'would be in vain.
What's a single Superman to do, when the whole world cries to be saved?
Jan 6, 2015
Jan 6, 2015 at 8:08 PM UTC
The Cornish shore …
Where golden sand lies next
To dappled grey granite rock,
Where the sea breeze sweeps
And the mussels flock,
Where the rock pools gather
And the small ***** patrol,
Where the white foam curls
And the breakers roll,
Where the sea birds call
And the salt spray stings,
Where the seaweed sunbathes
And the limpet clings,
Where a stream’s course meanders,
And reflects the azure sky,
Where a starfish gazes skywards
And white clouds go scudding by.
By all means take treasured memories,
But please take nothing more,
And leave nothing but your footprints
On this sacred Cornish shore …
May 8, 2021
May 8, 2021 at 1:08 AM UTC
1.
Such vehemence
For immigrants
Border patrol
Vigilance
I never knew
A human being
Could be illegal
2.
A child should never be taught to hate
And human beings must never be insulated
Or inoculated against the horrors of war
3.
There is no liberation in this economy
Debt is a slower and slightly grayer
Variation of slavery
No more cotton fields but prison labor
Tell me where is our great modern emancipator?
Dec 15, 2014
Dec 15, 2014 at 7:13 AM UTC
I patrol in my backyard
Cruising im my pedal car
I can see the Joker
Well, it's really a toy clown
Locked safely away in the toy shed
I am looking for Two Face
A teddybear that my dog ripped
So my Mum sewed up his face
But now he is out there, free
I must track him down
I search for him in the kitchen
There I spot the Scarecrow
It is a puppet, long and thin
I must stop in my search now
So I can tackle with my foe
I put the Scarecrow behind bars
My search continues, relentless
I see Two Face hiding in the lounge
I now creep up, slowly behind him
I pounce, the battle is long, but I win
That scarred teddybear is put away
Where he won't harm anymore toys
My Batcave awaits, up in my bedroom
I am sleepy, my eyes are feeling tired
I am Batman, even I must sleep
Jul 4, 2010
Jul 4, 2010 at 5:53 AM UTC
I am up
Awake
Before the sun
It's arrival
Heralded by
Colors creeping
Out against
The retreating night sky
Do not mistake me
For a morning person
I do not relish this
Nor do I mourn
For sleep
lost
It could be
found
But this
is necessary
Not without joy
Not without sacrifice
Without a word
It simply is
A ride
My Fortress
of Solitude
For a mind
Besieged
By thought
At war with
Itself
Do not
retreat
Into the past
A ruthless place
A heckling pace
That tells you
You cannot
Hang on
Give no portage
To fate
For you cannot grasp
What the future holds
Just
Keep moving
Focus
This ride
It is the only ride
That matters
I wrap myself
In its tight fabric
It's sounds
Clicking and clacking
Racing thoughts
Shifting
Centrifugal forces
Sifting
As I order
Myself
Ride
As long
as I pedal
I am
Present
Jul 14, 2016
Jul 14, 2016 at 6:49 AM UTC
we have inner peace. it helps to keep us calm
makes us feel so safe whenever we feel harm
it is there inside. there to call upon
when we need it most it helps us carry on.
there inside your body in your heart and soul
there to give you peace always on patrol.
everybody has its there inside of you
inner peace is there watching over you
Aug 12, 2014
Aug 12, 2014 at 9:24 AM UTC
we have inner peace. it helps to keep us calm
makes us feel so safe when ever we feel harm.
it is there inside. there to call upon
when we need it most it helps us carry on.
there inside your body in your heart and soul
there to give you peace always on patrol.
everybody has its there inside of you
inner peace is there and will pull you through
Dec 28, 2014
Dec 28, 2014 at 1:57 PM UTC
The neighborhood,
was quite good,
until the neighbors saw,
but I promise you it was just a humble fluke
that sadly my neighbors saw..
behind the hedges I had to puke,
and sadly the neighbors saw,
I hit their dog,
due to some fog,
and the neighbors saw,
and then our cat,
made a ****
and sadly the neighbors saw,
and then my son,
****** their daughters tongue,
and sadly the neighbors saw,
and then are snake
ended up in there lake,
and sadly the neighbors saw,
and the one time our dog,
ate Mrs. Millers clog,
and sadly the neighbors saw,
and sometimes at night,
my husband and I fight,
and sadly the neighbors saw,
and my kid screams why,
and begins to cry,
and sadly the neighbors saw,
and our neighbors husband was on patrol,
and he saw me stole,
and sadly the neighbors saw,
one time I borrowed a book,
but instead I took.
and sadly the neighbors saw.
I began to sing,
and scared Mr. King,
and sadly the neighbors saw,
and I know I'm bad,
and a little mad,
and sadly the neighbors never saw,
that I was watching
and kind of stalking,
and sadly I saw...
May 25, 2016
May 25, 2016 at 2:32 PM UTC
the air was thick and heavy
the sun was heating up the sky
And somewhere in the jungle
more men were gonna die
The streets were full of people
Feral dogs were running free
The haze was thick and murky
The sun you couldn't see
It's a Saigon Sunday Morning
Ten more men were going home
To a flag tri-corner folded
And a marker of white stone
The men were all assembled
To load them up with care
It was a Saigon Sunday Morning
with ten men no longer there
The jungle was a minefield
The trees were blocking out the light
It was ***** trapped like crazy
And it seemed like it was night
A patrol went hunting "Charlie"
But, they were found out first
It only took twelve seconds
And it turned out for the worst
The city never noticed
The 'copters flying overhead
Whether bringing in supplies
Or taking out the dead
It was a Saigon Sunday Morning
It never changed one little bit
The air was always heavy
And the alleys smelled like ****
Back home the news delivered
The families destroyed
They were waiting for their loved ones
A short time were deployed
Ribbons tied around the Oak Tree
to support those coming back
On a Saigon Sunday Morning
With twenty bullets in their back
A transport with the bodies
Drops fifty more to play the game
It's a vicious, endless, circle
The procedure's all the same
It's a Saigon Sunday Morning
Ten more men were going home
To a flag tri-corner folded
And a marker of white stone
Jul 20, 2016
Jul 20, 2016 at 11:07 AM UTC
I hadn’t spoken for so long
a tiny spider had moved in
at the corner of my mouth
eating my words
my tongue laying limp like a
slain dragon at the bottom of the cave
like a king who passed away right there
on his throne having given the last order
my arms almost as still as uncontested borders
only palms carry out maneuvers
and fingers patrol the manifestation of expressions
commanded by thought fibers
like puppet soldiers
and the lines in the sand are words
born of themselves
telltale heartstrings stalking now the realm
just outside the eye orbit
May 6, 2018
May 6, 2018 at 7:09 AM UTC
Latin love to be called ******* we pick fruits and vegetables for a living.
We latins love cleaning toilets and floors and being maids in rich households.
Latins steal what ever ain't tied or sealed to something in rich homes we work as maids in.
Latins are mainly janitors or mechanics.
Latins got a natural instinct to run when we don't have a a green card from the border patrol.
Latins love being migrant workers.
Latins dance and have *** all day.
Latins don't believe in birth control and our population is growing faster than one of my other cultures asians.
We latins think our skin is not brown we closer to white and bleach our hair blonde.
We latins love mooch off all and not pay back what we borrow.
We love drugs and make them and sell them in our ghettos.
We live in small houses with hundreds of family and other latins living in only one room.
Latins favorite foods are tacos not like ones taco bell makes.
Latins are lazy.
Latins come to America to get welfare and make their babies legal immigrants.
My latin uncles cell fruit on the freeway off ramp when they aint out doing drugs and scamming money off someone.
Latins come to America love working as day laborers to get a day of pay then don't got back to work cause they lazy.
Dec 26, 2013
Dec 26, 2013 at 8:15 AM UTC
Instant mischief
They call me the beat chief
Making you all chant
Even well you got no breath you pant
Now what's next
Gonna make you feel my inner context
It's what's inside
That makes my heart burst with pride
It's how I've learned to flow
Turned me from intense to mellow
And now that I've gained control
I'm up here on patrol
The dance floors filling with bass
I promise you you'll feel it in your face!
Your feet going so crazy
There's no way you'll feel lazy
This is the roll call
All is present I've got them all
Never leavenin
Cause I'm a fiendin
For the evenin
The bass is my meanin
Let go of it all out of me to you
You may think I'm a fool
But I just love
To make you feel like your floating above
A beautiful cloud
Vibrating aloud
Apr 14, 2014
Apr 14, 2014 at 9:21 PM UTC
in the catalpa tree
beautiful daddy flits
and flutters by
plane jane mama sits
in the branches
on patrol
spring storms savage
this little winged family
Lily cat's restless prowl
anticipates the promise of eggs
nothing
is ever guaranteed
Apr 10, 2015
Apr 10, 2015 at 3:10 PM UTC
.. .. .. . . Me..~~.
the )
board
water
gravity
4:00 am
peel on the
suit...just the
******** are out
and the sharks to boot.
Paddle out in between sets ...it's a bit chilly, ain't ready yet............
gotta warm up, so I **** in the suit...
Here we go ready for flight..
Let the first roller cruise
right on by,.....the next one's breaking perfectly..10 feet high.
Tip the board on 180 and cup my hands....one two three strokes.... all the way to the sand....
cuz that's how we roll,
the dawn patrol band.
Sep 14, 2018
Sep 14, 2018 at 7:07 AM UTC
Hollowed in cheek bones hollowed out skull
drugs will make your brain go dull
hollowed in cheek bones hollowed out skull
all other feelings but euphoria are null
that's until the high wears thin
then I need more in my skin
less of a person more of a drone,
less of a person more skin and bone
can't get out the bugs
can't sweat out the drugs
Hollowed in cheeks hollowed out bones
My skin and heart are full of holes
I'm still a person beneath the monster
But what if it one day consumes me?
Hollowed in cheek bones hollowed out skull
childhood is what i stole
i used to have children
now i have child support
and i can't even support my addiction
hollowed in cheek bones hollowed out skull
how long till the drugs take toll
dance with the devil
flirt with the monster
incarceration
clean for a moment
then it calls to me again
come back to me
come back my friend
want so badly to stay clean
but my friend the monster
needs me
hollowed in cheek bones hollowed out skull
the monster has devoured me whole
hollowed in cheek bones hollowed out skull
is there salvation for my soul?
i'm in prison
or a slave
is it in my veins today?
hollowed in cheek bones hollowed out skull
out of prison on parole
hollowed in cheek bones hollowed out skull
how much longer can i control
my veins ache with the memory
i need that constant reverie
just a little couldn't hurt
one more time
one little flirt
hollowed in cheek bones hollowed out skull
now im on the patrol
need to find more
need more cash
find another stash
empty stomach is no concern
need to **** this aching urge
when will more emerge
how long till my teeth fall out
how much longer on this route
went out one day for a stroll
and fell right down the rabbit hole.
Jan 26, 2015
Jan 26, 2015 at 3:13 AM UTC
I , Frank Wilson , would be lawyer , represent myself in this attack upon my honor ! For I am a studious , God fearing man ! I bow before no Judge , Lawyer or Constable ! Your court dwells beneath moral turpitude , a jury of my peers will soon know the truth !
I do not recognize that woman and child , I'll not pay the stipend your foreman has read out loud ! Your verdict means little in my hardened eyes , one that I refuse to recognize !
Bailiff ! Send for the State Patrol , summon the officer before this Court ! Take this man directly to jail ! I want him in Reidsville by five p.m. !
Oct 12, 2015
Oct 12, 2015 at 3:46 PM UTC
We revere our ancestors
Becoming their protectors
Because they're remembered
With a golden scepter
Yet they're only infectors
Through outdated lectures
If you examine history
It doesn't take too long
To unravel the mystery
Our ancestors were wrong
They sing a siren's song
Of tradition
As redundant repetition
They sing a tribal hymn
Of societal sin
That fools fall in
Until we're walled in
If you want to meet our ancestors
Go to North Sentinel Island
They'll turn you into a rejector
Or **** you where you stand
The last island of savages
It's barely inhabited
Due to its low population
And the fact that its inhabitants are barely people
There's further obfuscation
When they can't differentiate between good and evil
Two fishermen drifted toward the village
Not to ****** and pillage
They had haphazardly fallen asleep
And temporarily lost control
They couldn't hear their worried fleet
Or the natives on patrol
They were turned into the dearly departed
Because these savages are basically ********
No justice was found for those men
They were killed by a protected people
Why are we protecting them then
If mere contact will always be lethal?
We love our ancestors so much we let them ****** us
Yet these are the same people that have inserted us
Into this cycle of violence
And now they're dead
The only relief is their silence
Their ideas we must shed
Feb 21, 2018
Feb 21, 2018 at 3:54 AM UTC