"piracy" poems
Love trusts, lust twists
Love rains, lust drains
Love reaches, lust catches
Love couples, lust combines
Love retains, lust detains
Love relies, lust relays
Love cares, lust caresses
Love binds, lust blinds
Love floats, lust flees
Love belongs, lust longs
Love ascends, lust descends
Love fames, lust defames
Love creates, lust recreates
Love commands, lust demands
Love chooses, lust chases
Love boosts, lust boasts
Love at heart
Lust in mind
Love in lust is good
Lust in love is better
Love likes privacy
Lust looks for piracy
Love opens lust
Lust closes love
Love is slow, lust is fast
Love is steady and stable
Lust is mobile and fragile
Love is reliable, lust is liable
Love is long, lust is short
Love is homogeneous
Lust is heterogeneous
Love is defensive
Lust is offensive
Love is precious
Lust is pernicious
Love is supportive
Lust is supplementary
Love is refined
Lust is defined
Love betters life
Lust batters it.
Love has character
Lust has conduct
Love wins over
Lust weans out
Love combines
Lust divides
Love is cool
Lust is crazy
Love is peaceful
Lust is pleasant
Love is wholesome
Lust is piecemeal
Lust comes first
Love becomes best
Love is progressive
Lust is aggressive
Lust laminates
Love illuminates
Love is slow n steady
Lust is hasty n nasty
Love is dense, lust is tense
Lust is conditioned,
Love is air-conditioned
Lust is lovely to begin with
Love is lustrous to end up
Love heals, lust wounds
Love owns, lust disowns
Love is onus, lust is onerous
Love is basic, lust is allowance
Love conforms, lust confuses
Love binds, lust blinds
Be aware of love
Beware of lust
That comes like
wolf in sheep’s clothing
Let the fair blend
of love and lust
rule the roost
Feb 4, 2015
Feb 4, 2015 at 5:15 AM UTC
Gunboats ahoy there’s pirates about
Speeding from Somali’s shore,
A fast flimsy boat and some black skinny men
With grenade launchers, cannon and more.
They’re coming to capture the tankers
They’re coming to capture the crew
They’re coming to take you hostage
Because fat cats will pay cash for you.
It’s happening more every day now
Ships are held to ransom for gold,
This contagion is out of hand now
The Somalian pirates are becoming so bold.
Hard men in the west prepare crackdowns
Gunboats sail for the Gulf as we speak,
With instructions to shoot to **** now
And make eradication of pirates complete!
But you ask, why is this happening?
Why does a man, a pirate become?
What instigates this crazy morphosis
From fisherman to pirate with gun?
Somalia has no Government to speak of,
It collapsed and went long ago.
No law or army in place here,
Life is dangerous, chaotic and low.
Some fat cats made use of the vacuum
They ditched toxic waste in the sea
They irradiated the coastline region
Making this a poisoned place to be.
The coast folk were dying in thousands
Sick mothers lost babies and kids
Black illness spread madly in villages
Then blind panic and pain hit the skids.
Some fat cats made use of the vacuum
They trawled the coastline clean
Somalia’s fishermen were destitute
The catch went from vast to lean.
The villagers were starving and hopeless
And what was pain became death.
The leaders appealed for salvation
But those with the means, had turned deaf.
Who would take this problem on now?
Who would make these ******** pay?
Most turned around and shunned them,
The world had turned and looked away.
So hit transgressors where they’re vulnerable.
Strike in sea lanes where it’s free.
Hit them near the Horn of Africa.
Attack with blades of piracy.
Hooray for the small man’s justice.
Hooray for his skinny, black shanks,
Please God help their quest for deliverance
For the West has arrived with their tanks.
Now I ask you, in all fairness
To stand back and view the scene,
Where the richest and most powerful
are doing something that's obscene
For not only are they poisoning
The most vulnerable race on earth
But compounding it with genocide,
And I add, for what it's worth,
The West, in righteous arrogance,
are crushing poorest fellow man
In his struggle for survival
Against their mammoth, global hand.
Marshalg
@theGate
Mangere Bridge
25 April 2009
Jan 19, 2010
Jan 19, 2010 at 7:33 PM UTC
liquor
be
liquid literacy
explicit irony
illicit hide and seek
subsistent courage
submissive piracy
with a great
disregard
for privacy
or it
might just
be me
with this
cold
glass of whiskey
Aug 18, 2011
Aug 18, 2011 at 11:40 PM UTC
someone out in cyber-land
might just be
copying a poem which they'll
attribute to their own tee
unscrupulous replicators
have no qualms
on flagrantly stealing the lines
from genuine arms
when they take a fancy
to your brilliance of verse
they'll naff off with all or part of it
and stow it within their purse
piracy is rife around
online writing dales and dells
it's the pilfering of an authentic
author's heart and soul bells
they say that imitation
is the sincerest form of flattery
but an alternate opinion
would say plagiarists are bereft
of an original wordage battery
Aug 2, 2018
Aug 2, 2018 at 8:15 PM UTC
i saw the greater part of creation succumb to the piracy of numbness-
the nimbus rage of torpedo cigars blowing blue-grey smoke into the dark lashes of love-struck little *****
thirsty angels with tangled curls of hair bashing their heads against bathroom walls
screaming under their breath, not enough.
i saw the green plastic- and her orange eyes
and the soap-bubbles on the sidewalk
and the soap frothing all over the sidewalk
and the glass that took off like pristine bullets in every direction
and-
blood running over the cum-covered lip of the curb, flowing into the street-
down to the drain, dripping into the hungry orifices of the big metal grate
into sewer pipe salvation-
destination unhindered by your humanity.
god, this must be insanity
and not even the good kind.
but
let's go watch the fire-works up on the roof-
crawl out the attic window
i let you go first to watch the electric calico
trickle down your legs like a promise.
i like the birds that fly in and out of your hair-
the handkerchief at your hip,
i like the crazy and the cool-
the too cute for comfort
and the fake angsty danger of your darkside.
like morphine-
the band or the drug?
you're ironically detached
with your semi-satanic languidity-
and overdue serenity
[i got a few overdue books at the library.]
[they closed the library a long time ago.]
i like to play catch with your presence-
our eyes with the back-and-forth,
the half-sent glances when we think the other isn't looking.
but we were always looking-
or at least i was always looking at you.
i could see half inside of you.
you were always half-naked-
in the scanty rags of the latest fashion.
when you breathed it was like nectarine noises-
and muffled yelps of love.
i watched your shirt move up and down on your chest
and told you about "never knows best"
it seems
i've seen the greater part of creation succumb to the supreme softness
and the best laid plans of motorcycles and mini-vans fall to pieces in my palms.
and you were the greatest creation i saw on the roof that day.
don't bat another pretty little eyelash at those tiny flashing pieces that go past like ricochets
it's just one more night of strangeness
and then you can be free again.
Jul 11, 2012
Jul 11, 2012 at 1:34 AM UTC
I came of age
as one of the
many young
knights who would
mature and become
Pirates.
Our kingdom
stretched from
the end of
the world along
the cliff
lined Pacific.
To the
low side of
Alma.
The sprawling
wild canyons
of 6th street,
to the railroad
tracks along
the waterfront.
Daring as we were
we drank straight
from the
bottle while
constantly
losing ourselves
beneath the
shadow of the
Owl.
Our friendship
was a brotherhood
and a hand shake
meant a hell
of alot more
than a greeting.
Black eyes and
stab wounds
worn like
medals earned
in battle.
The ******* was
white as bone
and the girls
were still as
fresh as the
Tangerines we
picked from
our neighbors
yards
in the summer.
The young Pirates
of those days took
all this Town
had to
give.
And even when
beaten down and
hungover.
The need to
experience still
fought on for
more.
The Armor
I wore in
those early
days was
youth.
And that armor
with stood
it all.
Youth can and will
endure many
things.
Almost all things.
All things
that
is but
time.
Jan 11, 2014
Jan 11, 2014 at 7:13 AM UTC
all the **** from your mouth that you thought was inspiring
slowly broke me down until my hope was expiring
never opened my mouth to come back with inquiries
just kept my head down and wrote my thoughts in a diary
and you read it, pathetic,
invading my privacy
called me out for feigning sadness and my ‘bogus’ anxiety
cause “im a better dad than mine so shut up and be quiet kid”
“you’re lucky im the head of this dysfunctional dynasty”
well congratulations dad, you’ve earned notoriety
for forcing my respect in the form of compliancy
and disbelieving science and the facts of psychiatry
so i ran away from home to join the freaks of society
where else could i escape from your emotional piracy?
Aug 13, 2021
Aug 13, 2021 at 9:58 AM UTC
The darkest hour
Is just before dawn
Maybe thats why
The rums always gone
A lush in the day
& a fiend at night
I just can't seem
To get it right
So yo ** **
& a bottle of ***
I think this poets time
Has come
As I drift off humming
A sailors tune
I'll be back tomorrow
& none too soon
May 31, 2014
May 31, 2014 at 1:14 AM UTC
When in the pasture
They don't offend;
We avert disaster,
When they're penned.
But that crusted crap
Is everywhere;
If not aware,
We step right in.
We'll scrape the pooh
To no avail,
The smell's
Stuck to our shoes.
We can't quell
The **** we're in.
There's one steaming
On my walk,
Leading to my door.
Leave your keys
When you leave,
That patty leads
To court.
The Internet's beset
With bullish threats;
Hard to miss
The patties here;
Our lives and much
That we hold dear,
Is shared and smeared
For all to read,
Milking us of privacy;
An abattoir,
It's piracy.
It's utterly insane.
They entice us,
Then enlist us,
Like leading
Cash cows
Down the lane;
Then tap
For one drop more.
Friends may offer
Cow pies
With an aromaticfluence;
They pressure you to choose:
Step right or left,
Then smear you with
Their cocksure ********
What enemy
Could do less?
Shopped pixelled patties
Are reprehensible,
Making one
So susceptible:
You *****
Then starve,
Then lose your hair
Until one day
You disappear.
We get caught up
In the flash,
Of all the stars
And fast cash,
But they have patties
Underfoot,
They slip and slide,
Get clean,
Then smirk.
We can smell'em
On those jerks.
There's a patty
At your boyfriend's place;
You're deep in it
If you're late.
There's a patty
At your girlfriend's place,
And you're deep in it
If she's late.
Some patties
Are so well disguised
In the colours
Of lover's eyes.
Intoned in lover's lures.
But step in it,
They call you *****
Some patties
Are good
At getting you high,
But one mis-step,
And you may die.
There's hidden patties
Lying within,
Crusted beneath
Veneered skin:
They waft with doubt,
Fear and longing;
Side-step that mass
At all costs.
Don't crack the surface.
You're better than
You think.
Sep 16, 2014
Sep 16, 2014 at 10:07 PM UTC
Venice was a place for sudden ******
a stiletto plunged in velvet
vengeance tied in a knot of silk
piracy on any dark canal
robbery under quiet bridges.
Water laps the crumbling walls
salt hunger creeps up
seeps between stones
worms its way through cedar
settles in the sagging shelves
where old books bound in leather
edged in gold, embossed with crests
are best left well alone.
In these libraries of the lagoon
chapters and paragraphs
sentences and phrases fragment
nouns lay down with their verbs
creating images from metaphors
startling and sublime, but hidden
kept in these word-chambers
they slide away in time.
Each passing month, each day
restless and uneasy
festering in this state of decay
Venice is still
the place of death.
© M.L.Emmett
Nov 24, 2015
Nov 24, 2015 at 8:09 AM UTC
We are born not of flesh
carved from the visage of mother and father,
We are born of nebulae,
of a symphony in the snow and
the seeking of knowledge we never acquire.
We are birthed for
good.
We are grown in
evil.
Our lives nothing more
than the squealing of wheels
as they spin in our
sempiternal filth,
a footprint in the dust since God said
"Let there be fear and malice".
Faces of dead, liquored men,
shovels in our piracy
digging for hidden treasure in the graveyard.
So we crawl in the holes and
cover each other up.
Insulting the demons who pull us through,
blessing them
with good tidings.
We go at our passing, to face the Devil.
God as our jury,
your hamartia plays witness.
I am driven only by my fantasy of tomorrow.
What a way to live.
What a way to die.
Oct 29, 2013
Oct 29, 2013 at 5:11 PM UTC
You three believe in creating scarcity,
NOT union.
You build HOV lanes for your luxury cars,
caring less how efficient they are.
They roll royce cross your game board,
fuming trails of money.
Bell Atlantic bought Madison Avenue,
you bought all the properties.
Now tenants can't avoid
the traffic or the noise
of an internet rolled in palms
and diced
spiraling
to speed limits
...
...
...
...
and red highways
...
...
...
...
and orange traffic cones that
block hybrid cars,
already swerving
to avoid bankruptcy.
We
STOP
the
STOP
people
STOP
moving,
our preamble crumbles to a
STOP,
becoming a eulogy —
an ideal dumb to power trippery,
after Time Warner and Comcast merged,
allies on opposite sides of the game board.
Verizon, Comcast, AT&T;
together you own pretty much
everyone but Fox and Disney,
(yet have invested in them heavily).
Verizon, Comcast, AT&T;
your oligarchy is
NBC, Universal, CNN, Warner Brothers,
and now FullScreen,
family-friendly nepotism
that inbreeds bearing
deaf drones bored of flying,
over
Why Beyonce is a Feminist.
or
Why Ferguson was racist,
media's offspring
just keep clicking,
the headline genocide victims
basking in concentrated lamps
for a sliver of attention.
Verizon, Comcast, AT&T;
Now you want the backend buffering,
bulging eyes and emptying pockets
of those Spocked into believing,
hyperspeed was ever necessary.
No choice when the exits are slow
and there are no backroads.
Verizon, Comcast, AT&T;,
offspring of the
Bell Atlantic Company,
we will not let your
****** populate the internet.
Call it Capitalism,
but your playing Monopoly,
yanking the carpet underneath
to the wood of Tyranny.
You shamed
Bell's invention
by stringing together
telephone
internet,
and
entertainment companies
until you could be lazy.
Monkeys who spent millions
to shriek at government parties
about the communication machine,
a system downloaded so slowly,
we
did
not
act
on
cons
piracy
theories,
when Amazon made online shopping so easy.
Dear Internet Service Providers,
so called ISP's,
WE ARE DONE playing Monopoly.
Our collective voice
will shout blasphemy
on your streets,
hashtagged
net neutrality,
till you're counting pennies.
So empty your Washington banks
cause it's 3 a.m. and
no ONE is winning.
Nov 6, 2014
Nov 6, 2014 at 3:09 PM UTC
If this world was a ship,
I don't want to be the captain.
I want to be the pirate.
Feb 17, 2019
Feb 17, 2019 at 5:46 PM UTC
In a sea of gin you sailed,
To conquer a future you dreamt of
In a hallucinogen induced haze
You exhaled smoke with every breath,
Fogging the world over with your intoxicated ideas
Sentencing rebel thoughts to death
You figured you were in an epic,
The ones where the hero stood against the world alone
But only you were against you and it was tragic
That battle was lost when you sold your heart for a bottle of poison disguised as magic
Aug 26, 2015
Aug 26, 2015 at 9:56 AM UTC
In New York Harbor, long ago,
The prison ships rode upon the tide.
Ten thousand Patriots crammed aboard,
Starved, abandoned, and left to die.
They sacrificed sweet life you see
So we might enjoy Liberty.
When the Philadelphia ran aground,
hard by the shores of Tripoli.
We sent Marines to fire the ship
That she not fall to piracy.
Again upon Saint Mary’s Heights
at Fredericksburg, a sight to see.
Ten Thousand Union casualties:
white men dying to set blacks free.
Can you recall the names of those
who did not want to live forever?
They died in France in the Great War,.
the one that would end wars forever.
From age to age, from Gen to Gen
From falling hands the torch is passed.
It is now ours to hold on high
Let not the flame of Liberty die.
Tyranny and ignorance
And the darkest superstition
Oppose the light of Liberty
and would make this Earth a prison.
We must be ever vigilant,
despite the World's derision.
For if the light of Liberty dies,
Our faults won't be forgiven.
Oct 7, 2012
Oct 7, 2012 at 12:21 PM UTC
before you find the treasure long cursed.
Where x marked a spot,
the report said a decusstation occurred,
struck a nerve and lit a will to find an answer,
to a quest, with its ions gone.
In Piracy, as in any trade,
during the long, long winters of this era's
Sixteenth Century, -- base seamanship is primary,
being as we have but this one little boat to venture in,
bubble, if you insist, a bit of life's own breath, magi know,
in fact we can dive to the bottom of the sea, from the top,
and fight our fear of crushing death, until each who does, does.
And we others can imagine,
going down, no weight, self propelling porpois- ing assist fin,
plunging past the deepest ever,
once,
knowing only I am not the first to pass out before I know
what happens, so I imagined this,
free falling below our bouancy, deep
notice, no pressure,
notice, breathing, as though, we lived in a water balloon,
and we laughed bubbles,
and mom felt nauseous.
Billions and billions of bubbles. A we bit o' cosmic foam.
Aug 18, 2023
Aug 18, 2023 at 5:45 PM UTC
A writer of sobriety
A corner to turn
A wager to earn
A faithful gush in piracy
A mystical song
A wrong-doer doing wrong
A costly band of tyranny
A witch to be watched
A sack to be sotched
A mischief maker of irony
Cut down your rope
Send out your bloke
We'll see who wins your styranny
Apr 10, 2014
Apr 10, 2014 at 2:37 AM UTC
A day for the books
a Christmas gone by
one more dead turkey
one more pumpkin pie
Family and friends
comrades in arms
all the way to the end
no anger no harm
A day to remember
after everything's done
presents all opened
for each, every one
Blood's thicker than water
and forgiveness assured
for all of the trespass'
of what was endured
So once more we'll partake
of the wine and repast
for everyone's sake
silently lashed
to the mast
Dec 25, 2018
Dec 25, 2018 at 11:39 PM UTC
Please dip my hands in pools of blood
and forge my fingerprints to stamp your war;
Quote the unspoken, push comes to shove,
combat your backing who don’t own more
than enough wealth to prosper and flourish
on stolen oil and cargo to help bypass law.
Please use terror on terror; and perish
the thought that the feared foe can use more.
Fight fear with fear; shock and awe to
remove from my conscience crossfire victims.
Don’t anger the angry but step on the small
to earn the wealth to combat the cruel.
Yet when I attempt to reprint your culture
defend to the pen the rights of your sponsor.
May 27, 2014
May 27, 2014 at 4:53 PM UTC
If I saw a man casually walking down the street
I most likely wouldn’t consider his wants and needs
He probably doesn’t want to be bothered by a stranger anyway
But if he were visibly dying; bleeding, maimed, mortally wounded
I would feel inclined to help him
And he’d probably be grateful for my gesture
So when do I stop leaving him alone
And start helping him?
Where is the line between
Someone in need of help
And someone in need of privacy?
I used to think the line was physical trauma
It makes sense to try to help someone if they’re bleeding
But then I considered how painful emotional trauma can be
Then I thought everyone always needed help no matter what
But that seems like a platitude
I can’t help everyone all the time
Especially because people need to develop trust in me
In order to even want to receive my help
Maybe he’s bleeding
Because he’s believing
The end of his breathing
Will ultimately be relieving
Or maybe he’s maimed
With an attention aim
Of getting my name
Into his game
My dramatic yet pragmatic fear
Of my heart getting speared
Makes me stave off peers
Yet I crave them to be near
So which way do I steer?
This man on the street
Should I wash his feet?
Give him food to eat?
Pretend he’s a blank sheet
That can’t speak?
Is putting him on the shelf
A form of giving him help?
Or am I just worrying about myself?
Because deep down privately
I want to give him privacy
To avoid the possible piracy
His violent virus breeds
Does he want my company
Or is he actually hunting me?
I can’t tell at first glance
Giving me the worst chance
He’ll reject my cursed dance
With an arcane church stance
Or a negative mentality
Or a lack of personality
I can’t fathom the totality
Of all the possible modalities
That’ll lead to my fatality
So why should I even try?
Should I just let him die?
Nov 14, 2018
Nov 14, 2018 at 9:55 PM UTC
I'd take a bullet
For any and all of you,
Not that it matters,
You knew this already.
For some of you,
I've gone the distance;
For others,
I've practically
And,
In some cases,
Emotionally
Killed myself already.
I've brainwashed myself
That any of you
Would do the same;
An obvious lie.
In all of this,
I've done everything
Just for love
Just for kisses
Just for hugs
Just for the idea
That I exist for a reason,
Just to have you sail away
Like ships.
None of it makes a difference.
I love you all too much
To resort to piracy.
If I were to hijack you,
Send the signal,
Drop the anchor;
It won't change a thing.
You'll still
Disrespect
And Disregard.
I'll just be painted the villain.
Aug 10, 2010
Aug 10, 2010 at 6:09 PM UTC
Thats right, I took it!
Take it back if you want to,
I'll wait as you try.
Feb 25, 2013
Feb 25, 2013 at 2:58 PM UTC
I'm waterproof positive:
This may be John Hawkins's ship
But I've no idea why that matters.
This is disease infested waters,
And piracy is highly contagious,
I should know.
I grew up on the same street as money,
But he migrated to Los Angeles,
Where there was greater curb appeal.
This life is a house of stairs,
And no one walks
The plank better than me.
But all too soon
This old vessel is firewood
And tread board.
It might be the new world,
But the pilgrims are covered
In Spanish moss,
Mixed warning signs on their hats.
We pirates are forgetful escapists,
Doing high wire acts at sea,
To harbor regret is to mutiny
In thy heart,
I should know.
But I don't.
Seems my mind has gone
And given me the slip,
Meet me for a pint
At the Crooked Wig
And we'll talk shop...
Maybe.
Jun 21, 2023
Jun 21, 2023 at 1:57 PM UTC
I mourn for me
because mourning is all I feel.
I mourn the souls forgone
lost brethren denied the dawn of a new day
I mourn the aborted children
lights of the world shinning
only in the beyond.
I mourn for the breast that never gave suckle
to a child
and the child that never ****** breast.
I mourn for broken homes
The genesis of a rotten society.
I mourn for children and graduates
on the streets chasing vehicles
and turning to our own Usain Bolt.
I mourn youths basking
in the decadence of morality.
I mourn the ideology
that everyone MUST go to school.
Creativity lies dead
and a certificate is the only aim in our head.
I mourn because of what I see on TV
Vixens displaying **** bodies like CV
I mourn for my sisters, aunties cousins nieces;
Victims of domestic violence.
I mourn because they agonize in silence
I mourn for inmates in cells,
Cells worse than hell;
I mourn for those innocent crimes
those locked up for a little fine.
I mourn for creative minds
discouraged by the webbed hands of piracy.
I mourn for the Fallen Giant, NIGERIA,
chained hands and feet,
Master of corruption
and slaves of procrastination.
I mourn the incessant fuel scarcity,
half baked graduates
from the substandard oven
of our varsities.
I mourn 'cause we have lost the way.
These are what I mourn for,
I mourn for this and more..........
when will yonder future
glue back dreams with suture?
shattered dreams is what I mourn for
being amidst sorrows that hollow our fellow.
I mourn for war victims
in Gaza, Syria and Nigeria
that wakes not with joy.
look at that girl and boy
their bloods spilled on our soil.
I mourn for you, my queen and Roy.
with piety I pray thee sweet eternity.
I mourn for forgotten souls
What does yonder holds for us?
I mourn lost heroes;
those that sleeps with saddened pillows.
I mourn
I mourn,
how many wake
to see the dawn?
Jul 13, 2015
Jul 13, 2015 at 8:06 AM UTC