"poppi" poems
The scene was chaos almost like black friday at El Wallmarto.
people being pushed around by gringo's who didnt
even own a pair of spandex tights.
Or even know the glory of winning a no holds barred naked lumberjack
with a ***** splintter match.
The people needed a hero.
they screamed for the legends return please poppi
save us from the ordinary.
My amigo's were persecuted and i sat helpless traped across the boader do to a bogus lack of green card.
I must have left it in my other tights.
but once again like a old man on crystal **** and ****** the champion has returned to claim his crown.
And to shake his groove thing all over Hello once again.
With the strength of a small well shaved bear.
And the eye's of a low flying seagull I shall drop some splatters
of wisdom apon my fellow amigos.
Chips and salsa for everyone .
no longer heartbroken from my hellcat seniorita Drew
yes her bite marks i wear proudly in places I need to tan.
Let the little gringos sing like pretty little birdies
and senoiritas run through the fields like in thoose not
so fresh comercials.
Go tell amigos everywhere pour the cervesa
For El ******** Rides again.
Jan 18, 2011
Jan 18, 2011 at 6:57 PM UTC
"Baby Brianna was five months old when she died...she had multiple broken bones. Over thirty bite marks. She was beat to death..." "Susannah Martinez (campaign ad)
Doe eyed ghosts
Y los ninos mi corazon
Mall haired mamacita with the lined lips
505 madonna meant nothing to you
Bust that cap while she sleeps
Represent
And leave the little ones behind
Curled up against her cooling breast
Black blood and coffee grounds under their nails
It took them weeks to starve to death
Abuelitas they lament
Light the candles in Torreon
Would you buckle under the weight of tiny bones
Small hands that clutch the sky
Sightless eyes
Fragments of a smile stopped by a single shot
Gangstas gunning the wrong house
Little girl lost in poppi's arms
would her whispered breath against your neck
bring one tear
Baby Bartholemew in his car seat
choking to death in his own blood
Head lolling back crying for mommy
One last time
The sound...the stench forever resonant
Cuz teddy bears cant stop a bullet can they
Wrong place
Wrong time
Hand the grieving parents a tissue
And straighten her hair
For the cameras
This indignation will rise
Bile in your throat
for the next 40 minutes
Until you return to the blur
Of your regularly scheduled lives
We're so casual with our offspring
But Brianna, Bartholomew
and the ghosts in Torreon
they haunt these tears I cry
"It took us three years, but we fought to make it a death sentence. Baby Brianna's picture still hangs in my office." Susannah Martinez (campaign ad)
I will not forget....
TL Boehm
December 2010
Oct 7, 2014
Oct 7, 2014 at 2:44 PM UTC
how does one show his fun when all is dead like his mum he ***** her body lets make way for noddy he has no body he got hit by a lorry which was driven by poppi she is a ginger **** who likes the taste of *** and **** her *** and she screams yuuum
Mar 3, 2014
Mar 3, 2014 at 8:02 AM UTC
Superior to a needle.
The sweetest black tar.
A painless ***** you never supplied
in that a safer fix I find.
I Surrender.
To your rotten sugar, handsome poppi flower.
Oozing from your petals.
I Surrender.
Oct 5, 2017
Oct 5, 2017 at 5:44 PM UTC