"racketeers" poems
A tavern built on misdeeds and insurrection,
House of rascals, whisky and imperfection
A hideaway for rebels and racketeers,
Where drinks are served to outlaws and mutineers,
Where the pianist plays for pirates and privateers,
Where the wicked and the wayward can be served,
And are respected however undeserved.
It’s a rag-tag bunch of outlaws and anarchists,
A cavalcade of rough revolutionists,
So come on in my dear insurrectionist,
Welcome to our lawless little band,
Welcome to the Tavern of the ******
Come and join our banished battalion,
Join our cause, oh revered rapscallion,
So calling out to nature’s abominations,
We’ve got bourbon, bombshells and indignation,
Come and wait for imminent and sure damnation,
No matter what your deviance may be,
Come and join the drunken reverie.
It’s a monument to lost souls and deviants,
A shrine to every small disobedience,
A riotous, cathartic experience,
Where radicals are safe from reprimand,
Welcome to the Tavern of the ******
Welcome back, my worshipped renegade,
To the place where freedom’s sweet as lemonade,
Where skanks and outlaws, sing so intoxicated,
The anthem of the unkempt and agitated,
The mantra of the evil and of the hated,
Laughing as they sing their merry tune,
Unified by their impending doom.
It’s a testament to chaos and anarchy,
A haven for the worst of humanity,
A house of lawlessness and profanity,
Welcome to our lawless little band,
Welcome to the Tavern of the ******
Aug 19, 2020
Aug 19, 2020 at 6:59 PM UTC
Through all his days
And through all his years
He caused so much pain
And forced so many tears
So no one sheds them for him
Not even his peers
And no one stands with him
As he faces his fears
What was once his mark on the world
Rubs off and smears
He stands alone
In these unknown frontiers
He tells her he loves her
And he knows she hears
But instead of relieving him
She lets him lay on the spears
While he’s crushed by the burden
Of these planetary spheres
With the flame of love
His flesh just sears
While holding up the world
His skin adheres
For all his deeds
His karma arrears
Him and his mind
Love’s racketeers
Him and his mind
The game’s pioneers
His heart and his mind
Now mutineers
As they betray him
He looks up and sneers
She ends his punishment
Because she interferes
She says I love you too
And everything clears
From his shoulders
The world disappears
Scars are left
As souvenirs
They’re reminders
In case who he was
Suddenly reappears
Jun 12, 2010
Jun 12, 2010 at 2:10 AM UTC
I do not know what it is about a bed that compels us to longevity,
to slumber eternity in our wildest of dreams.
Might it be the warmth of its sheets that invites us to prolong our stay.
The wholesome tenderness that hugs us tight in its cover.
Tucked into our safety net, a mother's arm to a child,
where we only live to love and let die.
May it be our sheer will to live the day that chains us to our bedside,
a slave to time, a ***** to work.
We are but men comprised of exhaustion and sacrifice.
A time set aside to pamper ourselves for a while more.
A longing to heal a little further, to rejuvenate our spirits a little greater.
To fix the dark parts in our lives with black sunsets underneath our eyes,
hollowed willow trees in late night dreams carved into our flesh.
May it be for a better life, one less bitter and sour,
sheltered from the chaos upon us these years.
Tyrannies upon our souls, bomb brigades and racketeers.
A shelter, a feeding frenzy of tranquility that keeps us grasping onto life.
Is my bed but a place where my monsters hide underneath,
maybe we sweep our pain underneath the covers
and rest shame and guilt on our pillows
hoping to bring a rest to our demons of the dark
when the sun rises the next day,
soldiers forlorn to leave our post till day breaks.
Or is our answer, E “all of the above”.
Our will beaten till death pulls us apart in our night gowns
and whispers “sleep thy will, eternity”.
And temptation rages beyond our control
with a red flag glued to our hearts
tired of the ******** life charges at us.
Jan 10, 2017
Jan 10, 2017 at 1:09 PM UTC
Junction
I shelved you one morning
when the racketeers came for me
for the tangerine aubergine sky
for the olive garden
and toying with his dying myth he rose-
roses became thorns-
he arrived at his junction of terror
with nothing left inside
and no sky left to hold.
Feb 28, 2017
Feb 28, 2017 at 7:41 PM UTC
Shut up, ridiculed,
recycled,
we're pools in the mud.
Nothing good ever comes from
the bullets of guns and the ballots or
ballads of racketeers,
three cheers for the man who uncovered
the plan to cover up this deaf man's ears.
I try to imagine a green screen where the scene playing out is not one seen before, but I fail.
The lies are rewound and we're back ******* the ground while the fat and the rich fly high but when the earthquake comes it's back to the bullets of guns and nothing good ever comes from that.
So it's shut up or put up and come out fighting
the war isn't over yet,
one battle is lost,
more than a skirmish to come,
if you get up and run now you're done now and somehow the bullets fly back into the gun.
May 8, 2015
May 8, 2015 at 6:25 AM UTC
Our Protection Money Racketeers
was refused the extortion money demanded
OK, me and mi young daughter are game
just bring the ***** and a little gift for a good time
that's crazy said I, no thank you
ah..you think you better than us, all ladida
they subsequently burgled us
vandalized our car and stole the four radial wheels
off the poor car
then told us in broad daylight
" We will ruin your life, hound you and make your life a misery"
I laughed, imagine a known area Crook who's just robbed you
saying that to you. To me this was a joke! a big big joke eh! haha
"You're laughing!" Mama Crook says with hateful eyes
"We are going to sling mud at you, you'd wish you're dead"
I laughed even more
Hey Al Capone, I thought
I'm blameless here, my reputation is pristine, no skeleton hidden
no crime ever. Never wronged anyone, always kind, friendly
and respectful to all..all round sound guy, this crook is deluded.
Anyway people can easily see the truth here, I confidently assumed
Yeah! more fool me...
Go to hell, you you nasty crook...say I,... imagine the cheek!
Well people
sad to report, how was I to know Mama Al capone was right
They had the connections, the nefarious know-how of these things
and they know their demography. they know their people! .
Mud slinging worked a treat...People believed everything,
every slander, defamation, fabrication, lies, everything
They delivered on their promises and then some
They told a fantastic story to their Socialist and Anachist connection, even those were fooled
Arrogant, the Big I Am, hidden riches, wife beater, domineering
et pompous, thinks he's high and mighty, the very opposite of me!
wow people...the heat is on
I became radioactive in one swift move..
For the first time in my life
I discovered real evil exist, not paper stuff
Now I know why there are never any witnesses in Inner city
Estates and a code of Omerta or Ali-baba or whatever its called
exists
why some witnesses never reveal their faces or give their names,
when they talk to the media about some crimes or some faces
they recognized
and why thieves threateningly utter this infamous line
" I KNOW WHERE YOU LIVE"
Nov 6, 2019
Nov 6, 2019 at 3:49 PM UTC