"snipes" poems
.simone biles (the gymnast)...
miles davis (the trumpet guy)...
must be black privilege;
wasn't there a movie...
starring
woody harrelson
and wesley snipes?
you sure?
i thought it was
called: white men can't jump...
sure as **** ****** can
sing church gospel!
how's that for
privilege?
if you're going to
culturally box, and repeatedly
punch below the belt...
you're quiet likely going
to get a reaction...
i have an acne wart growing
on my *** the size
of a cauliflower,
it's itchy my brain,
it's differentiating between
agitate and: lying back...
i guess the excess of...
look... you may have
the excess melanin...
i have lactose tolerance...
we're even?!
no?
so how come some smurf,
some European hobbit
shackle your N.B.A.
Goliath(s)?!
explain that one to me...
if these people were so
cock-unsure...
how they **** did they
tame the Zulu Apache Goliath
bodybuilders?!
what the ****
i already said, and it was proven...
IQ...
i don't like it...
but i'm pretty sure that
the whites **** more people
in terrorist attacks than...
camel-jockeys...
it took 3 or over three...
to perform the Bataclan Massacre...
three... the third of the IQ
that required a Breivik...
130 in France...
dissociated among 3 attackers
that gorged on testicles after the spree...
fun, fun fun fun...
like: you're trying to say that without
irony...
and how many in Norway?
77...
i only look at the IQ of killers...
so... what's the ratio?
77 / 1
130 / 3 = 43...
like i said... low IQ...
you really want your little
racial insurrection?
you'll have it, don't worry..
i'll just the narrative...
must be black privy...
if you can mash up a jazz compos.,
right?
crackers read from
a prepared script...
you ******* just, "improvise"...
rapping contra talking...
**** come to think of it...
******* boys took it too far from
your Oreos...
like... too much drums...
not enough wind, or strings...
too much drumming...
pulverizing the ears
with drum & bass and what not...
if i wasn't deaf prior,
i'm deaf by now;
******* boy to Oreo woo-oo-oops
boy;
same **** different cover.
Nov 2, 2018
Nov 2, 2018 at 9:42 PM UTC
She ******* constantly about
cigarette smoke.
Of course, when she’s drunk, she
smokes all mine.
And while she’s complaining
she’s taking snipes that
I wake up at six in the
morning to dig out of
ashtrays—walking miles to get.
It’s laughable.
She sits there with a
***** **** hanging
loosely from her hand and
says,
“I don’t like my
apartment smelling like
cigarettes.”
I say,
“Then don’t smoke.”
She says,
“Why don’t you buy some
real cigarettes—I’ll show
you what real
cigarettes taste like.”
Then she storms
off, all *** and hair flying.
She comes back with a
pack of smokes and a
cigar box.
“I paid two dollars for this, you can
put all your ***** butts in here.”
It’s actually beautiful.
It’s made of cedar and
would look great with
a cactus in it.
There are wood shavings at
the bottom, her
money would have been
better spent on
a dollar pack of rolling papers.
I’m field stripping the
snow embossed butts and using
cut up pieces of the
yellow pages to roll
cigarettes that I’m able to smoke.
She doesn’t have
a clue.
She only smokes when
she’s drinking.
Mar 1, 2023
Mar 1, 2023 at 7:19 AM UTC
SANDMAN
Can you see them?-lookin' for me to be them,
lookin' for my warmth to breath life to them,
the hollow men,yes men,fallow men,come follow men,
no heart no mind-mindsick and eyeblind,
sheep talkin' like wolves that I find,
most despicable-Dis-gusting unpredictable,
following the wind as it blows on their wick they're all
candles in the strong wind gutterin',
snipes from a distance yeah they're all utterin'
Great threats from great hollow chests,
that up close-don't stand inspection,
empty vessels-makin great noise,
hard men behind keyboards hands -poised,
with the poisoned pen ready to dip in the deep well,
of hatred they bring from deep hell's,
inside,a void,avoid if you can please employ-
aversion tactics needed,don't need it,
vampyres that need pyres,yellow they bleed it
Yellow right down to the backbone believe it...
CHORUS
*the hollow men,yes men,fallow men,come follow men,
Yes men Hollow men come follow men
Yes Men-Shallow men come follow men, the hollow men,
The hollow men,yes men,fallow men,come follow men,
Yes men Fallow men come follow men
Yes Men-Shallow men come follow then
while I tell you bout the Hollow men*
JAY
Yeah, **** right I can see them.
Trolls in holes. I'm willin' to bleed 'em.
Society's detritis,
..delighted by the slightest sign of weakness.
Bleakness of their lives underlined by the lies they employ..
.. in their contrived..
..cyber sphere.
Scavengin' on carrion.
Peckin' at the carcass. Behind the veil of anonymity.
Sit in darkness as they hammer out calamity.
No nobility or amity. Cyber-highway poison.
I got the remedy.
Hollow husks skulk and lust..
..for coat-tails to ride on. Soon turn to dust.
Rusting hulks their disgusting bulk decaying on the shore.
Soon to be forgotten.
The Yes Men, the Hollow Men, the fallow men.
The everything is borrowed men.
The no tomorrow men.
The follow slowly to the gallows men.
*The Hollow Men, Yes men, fallow men, come follow men.
Yes men, shallow men, come follow men.
Yes men, Hollow Men.
Never follow them. The Hollow Men.
The Hollow Men, Yes men, fallow men, come follow men.
Yes men, shallow men, deal in sorrow men.
Yes men. Don't ever follow them.
A fool strolls to the gallows man.*
Mar 27, 2016
Mar 27, 2016 at 2:15 PM UTC
blekk, this ******* ragoon man
crab paste yuck
my stomach is festering in wounds of American Chinese
they put poison in my foods and I indulge and this is the result
final laid down rest
it feels
as
if
blekkk
the white rice is nice and the lo mein, don't even get me started
i Love it
noodles and rice covered in grease
spied on from a box of spare ribs
they saturate in Sat Fat, check the label 781 SAT FATS PER SERVING
Looper was good, and I was stuffed through all of it
grease traps, formed from my age of 5, filled to their brim this evening
starting a day with number 10 from Macdoe's: poor choice
smoke some grass and write a bit
that settles the swoosh of pirates fighting in my intestines
i give bloating a 75% definitive yes
25% maybe
reality is
I poisoned myself
don't do take out
don't eat what is not from its own country and made the same way
you know those ************* who make it are not eating the same **** thing
point is, I feel like Wesley Snipes and Sylvester Stallone are DEMOLISHing within.
Feb 25, 2013
Feb 25, 2013 at 11:30 PM UTC
He spoke about Mike far from the Jackson but more like the color Brown.
As if whites love to see white since the lightest part of his body was in the air before his demise.
I think you should cut that dread off you know the one for Mike Brown since you weren't there. Far from a activist I honestly don't give a **** Far from an activist you're just adding fuel to extinguishing flames. You know how words spread like aids. People saw what they saw, so they say. You're no Martin you're no Malcom you're more like Powell.
This is when I knew I was a racist since all lives don't matter so you say.
If I was to die today in the hands of a white man. You wouldn't care since I'm light right.
Spanish boy on the mic.
Like if my daddy wasn't black as Wesley Snipes. But you know how the ***** daddy story goes.
Never home.
Left mama with a belly on her own.
They don't want to be the fathers but sure in hell they want to hit the daughters.
I prayed one day you'll walk through that door without the bottle. That's my only memory.
A dream.
So if I was to die today you wouldn't care or maybe for half
I mean my dad left me slung
Guess that changes the fact the left me hug like a pair Jays on the electrical line
Never to come by.
Never to teach how to ride a bike.
Never to teach me how to fight.
This is when I knew I was a racist.
Because I hate people, I hate crowded places.
I hate 34th street I hate 42nd.
I hate the city life
I should be somewhere in the country side.
But back to the matter tell me would you care if I die today in the hands of a white man.
What if I got killed by my enemy since minority violence is not a hate crime to society.
You see Tito got popped by Jahim
And Jahim lights went off in the middle of the night by Piddy
But these life's don't matter right
Is just minority violence
Is not the same media feed.
So for all you rappers, poets and activist whose saw Mikes hands up round of applause.
You're just like the media feeding in to what your eyes didn't see.
Is not about the truth anymore ******* but the ratings.
So to the special guest of honor poet I must tell you I'm a racist
I have 6 dead Spanish friends killed by all hands
Black, white and of time
Don't speak to me about justice
This wasn't Gardner or Bell
And if there's beef let me know I always keep a glock close.
My life won't matter to you like to yours won't matter to me.
But if that's what makes me a racist,
Mother ****** what are you?
Jun 24, 2015
Jun 24, 2015 at 7:38 PM UTC
Her job's detecting errors God has made
Designing Summer Street: this busted curb,
These tattered feathers, wrappers, dented cans.
Forever stopping, stooping, in pale charade
Of chores her mother's set her to, deferred
By rapt attention to detail, she scans
Detritus, bark, branches, torn wings of seeds,
Thin husks that stalked or shaded summer's grass --
Then sighs brief prayers for lives she never knew.
Her older brother hauls dead leaves and feeds
The hose its coil, then snipes at her, who'd pass
Her hours in gawking, still so much to do...
She scrapes the lawn a bit, a guiltless thief
Who leans to pocket gold: one perfect leaf.
Feb 6, 2012
Feb 6, 2012 at 12:26 PM UTC
when the kettle shrieks, for soothing green tea -
and the autumnal hum of the orange-yellow leaves of a sycamore
skedaddle in rust sparks across brown lawns with pink flamingos
lobbing their profiles through the Iris of blank stares...
like a field of poppies screaming anthems to ******
down a drain pipe...
when the kettle snipes at the supremacy of an eventual Silence -
that comes after the snow has hushed the rabies of our hustling tribes.
when it barks in the glint before attention span is wide enough to grasp it... when it's lodged in your throat
way back, behind the winds of your vexation... There !
breathing-in the Last Thing to ever make sense
and squandering the calm before a storm
for the lightning strike of a fresh ****
of an old
Lie.
be the very first to listen to your tea.
Sep 21, 2016
Sep 21, 2016 at 6:30 PM UTC
its the rip comin' up
with much reps i keeps my eyes on the prize
g'yeah i improvised on a uprise
cuttin' all the dead weight competition
my ammunition keep suckas in suspension
or lock down when i come around i clown
with the homies and the homettes
got the wet wet to get my brain set
for a drive-by suckas slippin' 40 sippin' 4 dippin' hittin'
multiple switches laughin' at these
punk sons of ******* unload my clips
throw there bodies in the ditches
cut off they ***** n leave it in they mouth
so they know the south
aint no joke loc cuz we smoke
suckas til they wesley snipes color brothers
like me bound for the penitentiary
its a gang were all the low-lifes hang
but things don't ever change
im trapped inside a maze with much blunder
i could've have been successful maybe
if the hood didn't take me under!!!
so many after me cuz we enticed to the same
epitome rap is mind my mind is rap
can't shake the flaks
see my homie in the caddy rollin' with tha **** daddy
gangsta mack kickin' drag to all the hoes with big *****
skipped hardknock classes
went straight to hoods college gainin' knowledge
graduated with honors
from the big timers tellin' me how to make a move
and don't get caught up in the groove
u gots to play it smooth
and be vigilant on ya closest friends
cuz they'll pretend to be ya homies but after ya dividends
thinkin' this bank roll they gone spend? but i lends
my lue to no one only a gun
up in ya grill piece thats the only peace
i see you laying and becomin' one with death
heartbeats slow no hards breath
when i commence to ****** know ya never heard of
me cuz i strike unexpectedly im makin' money
by the ton thats on the one son
ull catch me rollin' in a pimped out 97 honda
maybe id be better off dead if the hood
wouldn't take me under!!!
Aug 24, 2015
Aug 24, 2015 at 6:57 PM UTC
When I was a child
they let me run wild
but soon chores
and schoolwork
and clothing
were piled
and lest I forget
parental laws set
my freedom
the ruler
and routine
defiled.
Take all my blues
and send me away
"Your time is coming",
she said, " one fine day"
Inside I'd be singing
that simple refrain:
"and I'll never be back here,
EVER AGAIN!"
If somebody told me
I'd wind up back home
I'd reckon them crazy
and slam down the phone.
Got a couple of years
now to pay of this loan
and a couple beers
down I'd sit and I'd moan
in spite of my troubles
in spite of my own
in spite of the fact
that I'm thin as a bone
In time I will harvest
the seeds that I've sown
I am not goin' back there
So LEAVE ME ALONE!
But one day back here
I did surely arrive
my kit and caboodle
five-oh Barton Drive
reluctantly settled
back into the hive
for no other way
I could see to survive...
Well to be sure
this is just how it goes
tonight I caught Dad
folding up all my clothes
He makes sure I have eaten
and socks on my toes
And of course all my business
everyone knows!
I've ransacked the bedroom
and clogged up the pipes
Let down my hair
aired all my gripes
Reliving my teens
never one of those types
and finally come clean
that I LOVE Wesley Snipes.
Thanks Mom and Dad
for all your direction
you hold up the fort
and offer correction
I've not always taken
your timely advice
Resented the hair cut
in the midst of the lice.
You know me quite well
I'm one bitter pill
but I love you now
and so I always will
and when the door opens
and I take my leave
on me arm I'll be wearing
a damp snotty sleeve.
I thank you both
for taking my crap
for all of your years,
never seen such a sap
once sense and stability
I can regain
I'll never be back here
EVER AGAIN!
Sep 24, 2013
Sep 24, 2013 at 12:38 AM UTC
Kevin saw a Flash light
That bore a Lex-Shan moment. He called out for Joe
Who was running after Mimi
In a sound Paaz played when
Don danced off to the Asha tune.
Then Kent installed a Leby app
While Zalin blushed over the Toto belly ***
Which trimmed Noreen into a model
Phillip managed to fish out Jackie
And Tom yet discovered
Snipes arrested
After a blackout in Amos’ custody
As Kay and the rest Hihid.
Jun 11, 2015
Jun 11, 2015 at 1:56 PM UTC
Read a poem about anti bullying online
Noted the writer wanted to be impartial
Pointing out those that continued their assault would be dealt with
by 'serious' threats all of their own
*When called out they disappeared....
All. On. Their. Own.*
Met a couple of Daily plagiaristic personas
It was a shock to see two in a row
One disappeared with little to no fuss
(It is nice when the trash takes itself out)
The other continually claims what they don't own...
Deleting comments but hopefully suffering guilt, no doubt!
There's been a few snipes, some gripes,
some snaps and grabs of other sites
But you have to be quick with them!
They disappear quicker then what's
acceptable as a modest lady's hem...
Overall?
There has been fantastic poetry
Some marvellous writes
A great deal of Awesome
you can take to bed at night
So much to read and to ponder,
to listen to and contemplate
I'm going to give HP
a 9 out of 10 this week
It's the best I can rate!
Feb 25, 2016
Feb 25, 2016 at 5:54 AM UTC
Friday night in 1995
Waiting for the Red Rocket to Pull in
Drop in with speed
land underneath the tree
Then this night is gonna get started
In a zip and whizz
the eagle has landed
Hop into the front seat
Rolling Joints as we go
First stop
The Milner street pad
who will be there ?
four hip and high cats
puffing on snipes
with guitars on the floor
and doodles on the wall
this is a far out spot
where we will wonder and ponder the existence of small town life
pass around blunts
and talk some more..
minutes flow like a psychedelic waterfall
with intertwining colours churning into everlasting hours
Memories made that I carry to this day
There will be no talk of sport or the last fight
cause over here we dont roll with testosterone
But with hungry minds
Cassettes play the tunes of the hour
Heavy riffs and indie trips
have carried these few youths away
once again we broken free from this small town living
become larger than life in this tiny room
were the social outcasts come to play...
Jun 12, 2017
Jun 12, 2017 at 12:02 AM UTC
I met that Bo on the way to Bangor Last Spring
He was a man blown outta glass
Just released from the Big House
Most said that he was a Bindlestiff
But there aint no truth In that
He looked at me and called me an Angelina
Just another inexperienced kid
Who wanted to hit the rail and travel
He sat me down by the fire and told me about
Bad roads and accommodation cars
and how to flip and evade the Bulls
also how to spot the easy marks
Bindlestiks and California Blankets
We sat eating bullets and gumps
Smoking snipes into the night.
With the moon as our cover
Safe in the Jungle
No buzzards around that night
The following day we would be padding the hoof along the main drag
Looking for a train to grab on the fly
and see were destiny would take us
Jun 11, 2017
Jun 11, 2017 at 2:00 PM UTC
A fire in my belly roars
****** cringe for dinner
If I finish
all the dishes
am I still a sinner?
Can’t pick your poison
In a usurper’s market
You’re scrolling
through the trolling
of the disregarded
Climbing down
from this energy
to make you a final appeal..
Can you hear
the sound of rebellion?
One in a million
Drowning in the distance
Take my hand
before it’s too late to carry on
and we’re off to oblivion
Tonight’s our last dance
...
‘Become anti-fragile!’
The new prophet says
When you type
‘wanna die’
on the internet
Strip till your soul is naked!
Why’s no one listening??
There’s no purpose
to this service
that’s on offering
Climbing down
from this energy
to make you a final appeal..
Can you hear
the sound of rebellion?
One in a million
Drowning in the distance
Take my hand
before it’s too late to carry on
and we’re off to oblivion
Tonight’s our last dance
...
Underneath,
Lost inside a sea of darkness
Finally,
I might be seeing a ray of sunshine
I’m reaching out
Amidst all the background
So..
Burn the book of faces
Hunt the little blue birds
Break the lenses
of the senseless
little micro cult
Taste the steel and stone
Past the trigger warnings
Past the snipes
and the swipes
of mock-up darlings
Climbing down
from this energy
to make you a final appeal..
Can you hear
the sound of rebellion?
One in a million
Drowning in the distance
Take my hand
before it’s too late to carry on
and we’re off to oblivion
Tonight’s our last dance
Our last chance.
-x-
Sep 30, 2023
Sep 30, 2023 at 3:02 PM UTC