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"riffraff" poems
The breath in my chest Scraped against my esophagus As the preacher read his Introductory scripture and a Mourning loved one doubled over In grief and despair as she Struggled to bid adieu; The hairs on the back of my neck Stood horizontally and Perpendicular to my concrete floor As I heard the sweetest soul I know Choke on her sobs on the Other end of the receiver, As she struggled to understand The onset of pain and finality She was forced to swallow; My stomach hollowed and Acidic anger bubbled and carved out my insides When I read my best friend's texts, A series of words That seemed too cruel to be true, A riffraff of interrogatories and Unsettled punctuation, Summarizing the momentary suspension Of her resiliency As she processed the Breaking of her heart; And now I lay motionless On my mattress, Hot tears masquerading behind my Tightened eyelids as I writhe in Empathy, Alone in my incapability To end the pains and the woes of Those around me, As my body thus must then grieve For me.
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Aug 24, 2015
Aug 24, 2015 at 12:13 AM UTC
Reactionary
Like God amassing gifts of gold and frankincense and myrrh, vain potentates, possessed by pride that riches will confer, depleted pillaged villages in pagan days of old… With *********** privileges, their fortunes were foretold. In feudal times, chaste clerics, cloaked, wrapped rings around the mind with hymns of magic, mystic myths and figurines enshrined, while blessing bayonet-like blades that mutilate and maim… With *********** privileges, believers bore no blame. In search of caramel colonies, some sailors set their sails to conquer puppet provinces, for sovereignty prevails, purloining wicked treasure troves which others claimed their own… With *********** privileges, such sins sustained the throne. Well, nowadays the quest proceeds, this time for ebon oil, so peoples once again are caught within the serpent’s coil and, pierced by fangs of greed and lust, death yields benign escape… With *********** privileges, you’re free to rip and **** We wave the flags and beat the drums and often kneel to pray to glorify our victories, bold, that happen far away; but none salute the severed souls impaled upon a pike… With *********** privileges, the riffraff look alike. One day the moguls won’t agree on how to slice the pie; they’ll spit and spat and, tit-for-tat, atomic barbs will fly - but when the button’s finally pressed, they too will grace the heap… With *********** privileges, the hole that’s hewn is deep.
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Apr 20, 2021
Apr 20, 2021 at 5:13 PM UTC
*********** Privileges
Raindrops pelted the earth in fiery spill Clouds drove away the submissive daylight Warmth tamely surrendered to chill It was then those eyes came into my sight! A bare bodied riffraff hardly into his teen He looked an absurd picture in a silent film Standing there exposed in streaming skin One shivering model playing rain’s victim! But this wasn’t the way I thought like then Myself a kid returning from school Rain-coated and knowing no pain Living secured under parental rule! I just felt then something was not right He shouldn’t have been left in such a state A cold or a rain fever catch he might The kid who could have been my mate! Your mom and dad, I asked, where’re they Leaving you in the rain to roam Should have been indoors on such a day And not stray off from home! The boy it seemed couldn’t surmise For long deprived of kindness Filled up his eyes in sheer surprise But soon grew saddened his face! *No dad no mom I’ve never known them Known only to play in the rain Live in the street without a name Orphaned too long for any pain!*
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Oct 15, 2013
Oct 15, 2013 at 8:20 AM UTC
Playing in the Rain
To fake a smile To make things seem worth while To force a laugh To blend with the riffraff To act so tough To bluff To be carefree To seem happy To motivate To hold on and wait To fight To shed some light To put on a mask To remove the casque To keep this act going To keep on moving To hold back the tears To face the fears To leap To dive deep To wander To let things squander To get lost To prevent an emotional exhaust To put aside the memories that we shared To add more words To keep acting like a third ARE ALL SO EASY Than... To accept And To forget... That you and I USED to be a we
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May 3, 2015
May 3, 2015 at 1:44 PM UTC
TO
I am a riffraff-er A child and a ******* angry as a soldier, yet silent. A quack, making no progress and refusing to ever confess arrogant and stuck in my ways My brain aches from all my dilemmas and my heart screams with a passion, without a subject. I have wandered and I have waited I have tried and I have failed. I've hated and shunned Judged and mocked All around me an illusion crumbled Naked, I had been standing Blazed by the sun's light and taunted by the day's wind. Silent still I stand. An observer, distant and impartial. I never participate unseen and unfelt, I linger Barely beyond the borders. I am a quack, glorifying my dreams and turning my back to the scenes. My world crashes My form falters My mind surrenders But my pen still tingles and my desire still crackles. Behind my words I hide My mind's eye, I blind Thinking I must never give in Thinking my star has risen Struggling with the void, I have grown learning nothing, keeping nothing and helping no one. Crazed by an ego that's crying for help. It will not rest until it is appeased its hunger sated and its thirst quenched. And my brain will continue refusing to focus or concentrate until I rest. What am I talking about here ? Does it have a purpose ? or is it just more mindless blabbering ? Pen abuse ? No, no coke for me brother, I do ink now.
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Jun 9, 2010
Jun 9, 2010 at 3:55 AM UTC
Riffraff-er
Soaked him a shower From the roadside balcony For him the day’s better hour Turned bitter agony! I told you earlier too You need some homework to do Else prove yourself the fool By others’ rule! To brim to full his misery’s cup The man next to him was looking up Just in time moved away Never believed in the look straight say! Adding salt to his injury The riffraff looking carefree Grinned just in time, Your shirt is stained with grime! He looked up too but too late A born loser since the first failed date Then stood stunned a while On her lips played the wickedest smile! The woman smiling without the slightest regret With no hint of apology for causing him this fate Not one consoling sorry for marring his day But saying on his face you came on the way!
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Feb 18, 2014
Feb 18, 2014 at 4:22 AM UTC
Born Loser
Psychoactive, More active than your passive hashtags I'm acting like passion's lacking in these masses No more than attractive caskets Really just static traffic, molasses, Fashion classes? You're wearing classic ashes. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust This ***** Unstuck, this one's luck has run amok, Adjust our distrust to highlight this unjustice. I'm just one among us. Us and them. Red and blue. White and black. We're all dead, just lay me on the mat. There's chitchat tryin' to get at where I'm at And why I'm there. It's riffraff. I'm just kicking back.
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Jan 26, 2017
Jan 26, 2017 at 3:00 AM UTC
Untitled
Do you ever look at the sea? Thinking to yourself where on Earth you could be? Looking at seashells and conches, Take a deep breath from your conscious. Hearing laughter from the turquoise waves, Wondering where the dolphins might bay. Take in the maiden's dainty splash, Creating scenery like that of endless riffraff. Perhaps it's a bit of a bore. Well the beach always has a lot in store. If it's too much for you on the floats, Don't mind joining the others on sailboats.
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Dec 4, 2019
Dec 4, 2019 at 1:14 PM UTC
Playful Tides
The reverberations of Sergeant Sargent’s rat-a-tat ring in my head. Listen up, ding dongs! Any jibber-jabber is a no-no! This ain’t no ticky-tacky, artsy-fartsy, wishy-washy wingding! You ragtag riffraff are gettin’ tip-top! So cut the flimflam, quit the chit-chat, and gimme super-duper! No namby-pamby hanky-panky, and everything will be hunky-dory. Now chop-chop!
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May 28, 2025
May 28, 2025 at 5:11 PM UTC
Listen up, ding dongs!
A failure to pursue The very basic things in life Shall lead to entanglements Promulgating strife. Shall lead insinuation, In a flexing of the call... That entitlements are really Not entitlements, at all. Assuming that the black man Has blood as red as thine, But thee are as lilly white As a floret on a vine? Assuming our assumptions here Are sootier than sin Then the rationale offered, Is ridiculously thin. Then you who have loved Wear black hate in your heart For they who aspire To intrude from the dark, All they, who conspire To trespass your day To sift carnally, perhaps, Your lover away. Who would argue, then, The precipitous tone That configures your honesty When caught out alone. Infidelity lost In the mire of a lie.... Which, expediently, slipped From your sweet lips, to fly? Where now the mercy, Where now the grace, Of the insidious smirk That smears your face... Having eaten the turkey, Savoured the wine With those War torn Ghazan's Starving, brutally, in grime? The curse is all around us The Woke, Effete and Prim, The Holy and the Righteous All wear that specious thing, An Entitlement to Elevate, A Right to Wear the Crown A place just to the left of God Which keeps the riffraff down. Irrespective of the nation, All languages and hue Through strata of society This malady is YOU! This spectre of entitlement In the self imposed Elite Is now the key to immolation In humanity's defeat. [email protected] 30 December 2023
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Dec 30, 2023
Dec 30, 2023 at 4:32 AM UTC
Assumptions of Entitlement
*Could someone please reach up an unscrew the moon Hush the curs and the coyotes , the 'werewolves' and the loons  ..                                                                                                             Blackout the neighbors , the katydids and wildcats , the rabble and the riffraff Will you please hide the bulb and let a poor man nap* ...
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Nov 30, 2017
Nov 30, 2017 at 10:45 PM UTC
Nighttime Lunacy ...
If I was my own man I’d be out not in I’d be bad not good I’d eat goose not food I’d be loose not leashed I’d be first not least I’d be chaser not chased I’d be stud not chaste I’d be wolf not woof I’d be riffraff not poofed I’d be beast not boy that is... until dinnertime. Okay Mummy?
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May 26, 2019
May 26, 2019 at 10:33 AM UTC
A Dog’s Dog