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"sorties" poems
Now, I'm here to tell a story Bout some lessons learned shawty I got me a tough crew, know what um sayin We played da diss game, slaydum Not one a da crew, brought da game shame First, I dubbed myself Kang I'm good, true! But didn't mean a thang Then coughed ma gural Sumpim She got da club thumpin Put her own style in da game, bra We still thuggin? Na! She first coughed a little gural princess Kicked in the castle, copped the Queen's dress Took the crown, made her own success Her rhymes get the heart pumpim Much respect to me gural Somthin Next, little siss picked up the mike Jumped on the tandem, started peddlin the bike Shawty's rhymes hit dem in da face She rhymed like a **** dresses in satin an lace Mad props out  to my siss, Madison grace I was alone,  like a stand  a timber **** Forest on fire with Diein Ember Laid down rhymes so tight He'd have my back in any fight I gotta thank ma boyyy Gangstan whichu was a flippin joy Otta nowhere swaggs a tru Gansta chick Bustin rhymes en droppin dimes like she was Slick Rick Wedyan be da real trick! Thanks gural slick Finally, swooped the dark Raven Rollin on 22's gatz a blazzin Loyall to da shawtys Flyin like a bomber on sorties Droppin posers to der knees Makin succaass  beg, brotha please To all ya all I got ta tell ya Would I do it again, hell ya Um movin on to a new gig Pull off my crown, plop on a wig To ya readers out dare got some advice Giv it a spit, it's Gangsta's Paradise!!!
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Jan 23, 2013
Jan 23, 2013 at 10:44 PM UTC
Gangsta Poet III Thank You
Poet daubed the corporal on the wings of carney Wanderer dilettante soul lusted au wild routes Counted each the millimiles covered Upside , unstrained , Unflaggingly. Yon the valleys , epitome meadows and Hillsides Beated around the alcoves amok Ridges passed the marooned trails Agape the flinged self flew spirited madrigals Slowly rooted the tints into wilderness True entity got superimposed to sylvan instincts The obsolute shadow rigged the shooner By dimension lengthier the time but shorter by grace Grazed through and some toxic airs exhaled then pulled Blinked all the roof to rugs Remembrance of concrete boxes and intimate sidekicks Cheap conflict wins to hit the ring If body wins wanderlust looses thereby path ends Simultaneous call by consciousness and objection by eternal shadow Only the body grazed the maps with pointers Though insatiably leveed Kept retention the coursing shadow Yet remained damp , savaged the sylvan traits Life was near but the abstainer failed Wilderness abysm rejected the unfortunate physique There appeared Scorched canopies along wilted flora Container flogged the shadow to a stultifying death Physique deceived self the core truth Existence thereafter without knowing the chance with eterna Several followed the imperishable conflict trail Roll of honour diminished by fourth dimension Marked victories of featherbrains over pappus chambers Only few sticked upto xanthic flowers Raise up , were the victories thristled down? Many knocked and still keep on knocking incarnations Fine array of fossilized saturnine inhibitions Callous attritions over altruism of succinct shadows Flip sorties pariance spurts "The stanchion to revet my sky" voiced the shadow
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Aug 2, 2016
Aug 2, 2016 at 2:09 AM UTC
Forlorn Xanthic Flowers
Poet daubed the corporal on the wings of carney Wanderer dilettante soul lusted au wild routes Counted each the millimiles covered Upside , unstrained , Unflaggingly. Yon the valleys , epitome meadows and Hillsides Beated around the alcoves amok Ridges passed the marooned trails Agape the flinged self flew spirited madrigals Slowly rooted the tints into wilderness True entity got superimposed to sylvan instincts The obsolute shadow rigged the shooner By dimension lengthier the time but shorter by grace Grazed through and some toxic airs exhaled then pulled Blinked all the roof to rugs Remembrance of concrete boxes and intimate sidekicks Cheap conflict wins to hit the ring If body wins wanderlust looses thereby path ends Simultaneous call by consciousness and objection by eternal shadow Only the body grazed the maps with pointers Though insatiably leveed Kept retention the coursing shadow Yet remained damp , savaged the sylvan traits Life was near but the abstainer failed Wilderness abysm rejected the unfortunate physique There appeared Scorched canopies along wilted flora Container flogged the shadow to a stultifying death Physique deceived self the core truth Existence thereafter without knowing the chance with eterna Several followed the imperishable conflict trail Roll of honour diminished by fourth dimension Marked victories of featherbrains over pappus chambers Only few sticked upto xanthic flowers Raise up , were the victories thristled down? Many knocked and still keep on knocking incarnations Fine array of fossilized saturnine inhibitions Callous attritions over altruism of succinct shadows Flip sorties pariance spurts "The stanchion to revet my sky" voiced the shadow
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Poet daubed the corporal on the wings of carney Wanderer dilettante soul lusted wild routes Counted each the millimiles covered Upside , unstrained , Unflaggingly. Yon the valleys , epitome meadows and Hillsides Beated around the alcoves amok Ridges passed the marooned trails Agape the flinged self flew spirited madrigals Slowly rooted the tints into wilderness True entity got superimposed to sylvan instincts The obsolute shadow rigged the shooner By dimension lengthier the time but shorter by grace Grazed through and some toxic airs exhaled then pulled Blinked all the roof to rugs Remembrance of concrete boxes and intimate sidekicks Cheap conflict wins to hit the ring If body wins, wanderlust looses thereby path ends Simultaneous call by consciousness and objection by eternal shadow Only the body grazed the maps with pointers Though insatiably leveed Kept retention the coursing shadow Yet remained damp , savaged the sylvan traits Life was near but the abstainer failed Wilderness abysm rejected the unfortunate physique There appeared Scorched canopies along wilted flora Container flogged the shadow to a stultifying death Physique deceived self the core truth Existence thereafter without knowing the chance with eterna Several followed the imperishable conflict trail Roll of honour diminished by fourth dimension Marked victories of featherbrains over pappus chambers Only few sticked upto xanthic flowers Raise up , were the victories thristled down? Many knocked and still keep on knocking incarnations Fine array of fossilized saturnine inhibitions Callous attritions over altruism of succinct shadow Flip sorties pariance spurts "The stanchion to revet my sky" voiced the shadow
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Aug 19, 2016
Aug 19, 2016 at 3:31 AM UTC
Xanthic Flowers
Poet daubed the corporal on the wings of carney Wanderer dilettante soul lusted wild routes Counted each the millimiles covered Upside , unstrained , Unflaggingly. Yon the valleys , epitome meadows and Hillsides Beated around the alcoves amok Ridges passed the marooned trails Agape the flinged self flew spirited madrigals Slowly rooted the tints into wilderness True entity got superimposed to sylvan instincts The obsolute shadow rigged the shooner By dimension lengthier the time but shorter by grace Grazed through and some toxic airs exhaled then pulled Blinked all the roof to rugs Remembrance of concrete boxes and intimate sidekicks Cheap conflict wins to hit the ring If body wins, wanderlust looses thereby path ends Simultaneous call by consciousness and objection by eternal shadow Only the body grazed the maps with pointers Though insatiably leveed Kept retention the coursing shadow Yet remained damp , savaged the sylvan traits Life was near but the abstainer failed Wilderness abysm rejected the unfortunate physique There appeared Scorched canopies along wilted flora Container flogged the shadow to a stultifying death Physique deceived self the core truth Existence thereafter without knowing the chance with eterna Several followed the imperishable conflict trail Roll of honour diminished by fourth dimension Marked victories of featherbrains over pappus chambers Only few sticked upto xanthic flowers Raise up , were the victories thristled down? Many knocked and still keep on knocking incarnations Fine array of fossilized saturnine inhibitions Callous attritions over altruism of succinct shadow Flip sorties pariance spurts "The stanchion to revet my sky" voiced the shadow
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leftover clementine peels and apple cores in the kitchen sink garbage disposal: haven for the rise of the lord of the fruit flies. this, my greatest adversary. i lay vinegar and wine traps, and, at various junctures, lead spray sorties where they congregate with all-purpose cleaner in hand --- even swat at them with my other free hand like King Kong did helicopters, whilst holding a screaming kicking Ann Darrow in her small little nighty, and i watch, haughtily   as they fall before mine victorious feet. and i beat my chest. then i suddenly feel horribly conflicted in the clutches of such a merciless slaughter. they never stood a chance.
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Apr 18, 2016
Apr 18, 2016 at 4:16 PM UTC
usurper to the throne
Our way is the right way Just like ****** has shown. We will carry automatic weapons And you must leave us alone. Keep your liberal mouths shut Give KKK politicians a pass. If you don’t our President will Okay thugs to kick your *** You had your own way too long With jerks like that FDR guy was. We have taken over everything now. Haven’t you heard the buzz? We don’t care about equal rights And **** and blacks and Jews. We have plenty of Republicans And Fascists we can use. We’re going to beat you up We’re going to **** your kids We’re going to blow you up ’Til you agree with what we said. Our way is the right way Yours is a piece of crap. We will walk all over your rights And give The Constitution a slap! We can take those stupid laws down That tell us to agree with you Or hear you or behave ourselves. Any time we don’t want to. So quit all your sickening whining About the things we have done Like rioting against you wimps. Your day is over, we have won. We won because most of you Like the Germans of the forties Let spread our righteous hatred In murderous, cleansing sorties. So don’t look for magic tricks Played by a powerful evil elf. Everything that is happening now You can only blame yourself. We’re going to beat you up We’re going to **** your kids We’re going to blow you up ’Til you agree with what we said. Our way is the right way Yours is a piece of crap. We will walk all over your rights And give The Constitution a slap!
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Aug 19, 2017
Aug 19, 2017 at 2:39 PM UTC
THE ALT-RIGHT
Daybreak on the River Daybreak rippled sounds And silver morning flow, Cool the ire of the beaten night. Such beautiful disturbance, A surface shimmer gleam. The river greets the end of the greylight And passes by colour streaked, Endless and resurgent, Under the firmament aglow. An eventual sun That breaks the horizon, With teasing rays. The best of times, The dawn of days. And let the water breath Kiss the sallow mists. A final caress. Vanquished to daylight. Whispering willows talk, Shadow borne on dappled waters, Bank bowed swaying dance. Weep willow, weep now, For the day has begun. Joy sapped, seeping From trunk and branch. Where the breeze wakes To stir the nest dwellers. Safe haven for birdsong That is carried Upon each gentling ripple. A new day! they sing And the river ripples its applause In the first swish of fishtail And dragonfly sorties. Oh glorious dawn, The day begins!
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Aug 1, 2019
Aug 1, 2019 at 6:30 PM UTC
Daybreak on the River
In preparation for an invasion A military force makes sorties To their opponent’s barriers And prods to spark response In the responses Defensive elements are exposed Defenders are never sure What constitutes a **** Or the tsunami of attack When the big push comes There are shocks and surprises There is resolve and bravery There is fear There is capitulation There is desolation and loss These shadows play similarly for us The world prods us into middle age Leaves us unsure with each surprise Is this one just a little challenge Is this the thin edge of the wedge of catastrophe We, our weaknesses exposed We, our defences to redouble We, oh joyous recipients of a moment’s respite Can regroup and recite unto ourselves Henry’s Saint Crispin’s day speech Before another sun rises Yes, others shall think themselves accursed That they were not here in my shoes To have overcome that hellish Tuesday traffic To have resolved the late-night call from elderly parents To have dried the hard-fought tears Of a beleaguered friend Who found their last and final reserves were too thin too little too depleted to cope.
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Apr 18, 2017
Apr 18, 2017 at 10:58 PM UTC
Battles Hardfought
Diminutive inherent, lost to all cost where thine bloodless are apparent. Individualist, laryngitis to spread the lasses pantomime mind in pallid peal revertists!!!!! Guillotine's to cut dreams where the wearer's don't do their jobs, No guideline's, His his nor hers, Just the impatient of informal mobs!!!!! Nuptial contracts, Some go forward, Others move back for their dreamists of Escapist's, Slavists, To ordainists!!!! What a morn to waken to, Ourselves are now, tomorrow's Now, yesterdays you!!! Periscopes swoped of pervading snippets, Gas to wettened grass, Cool it's to gas-leaked whipits!! Sorties of emotional spate, Youngest of lovers split, I still haven't a date!!!!!! Terrestrial angelic one, for where art thou sanhedrin prints? Where heavenly carpets line your drive........ Where thine words are frankincense , Where your satisfying to high drug mind!!! Thoroughfare to GOD , Where's thine throttled chariot? Where glider's art heavensent, And undaunted soldiers do protect you.....
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May 13, 2015
May 13, 2015 at 6:33 PM UTC
thouroughfare to god.....
A holiday in Rome, said she. Deep in the land of mystery. Around the Coliseum, feel the pain of past lives lingering in the air. The fountain of coins, it's inviting you in. Sunlight sprinkles sparkle, in reflection of the coins intent. Coins thrown in, wishes spent. Kisses of the Italian romeo, well and truly meant. At the time. Wish he were mine. Tall dark and handsome please, says the winsome one. Parties and sorties at the Campo de' Fiori. Piazza Navona of music and dancers, poets and passion. Ms Hepburn, I trust you enjoyed. I must go myself I so need  to see, the feeling, the history the  desire, the calling, Take me please soon, to Italy. (c) Livvi
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Jan 19, 2015
Jan 19, 2015 at 5:17 AM UTC
ROMAN HOLIDAY
What a War! Invisible weapons Sudden surprises Brash and bold Suicidal  sorties Nasty and naughty Into our status quo Graphic gaudy gifts Given any time of any day To anyone in any place Random acts of unkindness They make us imagine The worst that could happen! We're standing On the edge of a cliff, Wondering if the ground beneath Will suddenly disappear And lift our stomach to our ears Exotic hot tourist spots? I think not! Now flying in a plane Is only for the brave Or the criminally insane Here come our bold bedouin consequences Of our modern day econo-crusades Our karmic boomerang We tunneled in their soil And planted puppet royals Now they tunnel in our soil What a price we pay for oil Sean Hunt, Windermere 2015
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Dec 1, 2015
Dec 1, 2015 at 9:01 AM UTC
What a War!
There are many beautiful things here On earth.  Places and persons we may Visit, never going far from home.  It Is our choice.  In nature there are what Is called  "Acts of God"that we have no Choice about but must get thru them As best we can.  But for much of life We go to places we would not by an Act of choice.  To be fair there are to Be sure reasons: to prepare against an Evil foreseen; to learn from- so to avoid A next time.  We go to war to defend The peace-afraid to do otherwise would Be cowardly and invite aggression. There Is no end of rationales for our sorties near To the bad place we would not go-whole Segment of our society and many of our "Finest"have it in their job description, Are duty bind to look deeply into hell. Is there something wrong with this? Almost certainly.  Should we rather be Like ostriches burying our heads in The sand.  Be liked the three monkeys That see no evil; hear no evil; speak no Evil.  We should at least be allowed to Doubt bad news-Knowing Satan is a Liar.  We should doubt the benefit of Being warned about evil as it so often Lead to self fulfilling prophecies and Errors of judgement repugnant to our Conscience.  It is a morass.  A world we Would not and it is all too much for us. Our world is not as we would have it.  If It is the truth we say unto our God: Let it Not be so.   I give up; it is up to you to make It better.  For my part let me do my best To contemplate your Grandeur-Oh and Thank you God for all the dappled things. Acknowledging my debt to Gerard Manley. Hopkins and his two famous poems
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Sep 26, 2018
Sep 26, 2018 at 12:48 PM UTC
God"s Grandeur
There are many beautiful things here On earth.  Places and persons we may Visit, never going far from home.  It Is our choice.  In nature there are what Is called  "Acts of God"that we have no Choice about but must get thru them As best we can.  But for much of life We go to places we would not by an Act of choice.  To be fair there are to Be sure reasons: to prepare against an Evil foreseen; to learn from- so to avoid A next time.  We go to war to defend The peace-afraid to do otherwise would Be cowardly and invite aggression. There Is no end of rationales for our sorties near To the bad place we would not go-whole Segment of our society and many of our "Finest"have it in their job description, Are duty bind to look deeply into hell. Is there something wrong with this? Almost certainly.  Should we rather be Like ostriches burying our heads in The sand.  Be liked the three monkeys That see no evil; hear no evil; speak no Evil.  We should at least be allowed to Doubt bad news-Knowing Satan is a Liar.  We should doubt the benefit of Being warned about evil as it so often Lead to self fulfilling prophecies and Errors of judgement repugnant to our Conscience.  It is a morass.  A world we Would not and it is all too much for us. Our world is not as we would have it.  If It is the truth we say unto our God: Let it Not be so.   I give up; it is up to you to make It better.  For my part let me do my best To contemplate your Grandeur-Oh and Thank you God for all the dappled things. Acknowledging my debt to Gerard Manley. Hopkins and his two famous poems
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Steel verses steam water's strain odes dissolve the waves to ship, humanity barely buries the slain in consciousness blood left drip. Battles we enter as pathos seize enemies seen with false minions, warships hunt in distant degrees as we battle currents of opinions. Muse off upon sorties with guns poetic rhymes left below to sink, shattered bodies blood left runs lives staring at foam in the drink. Creativity of world will dwindle as the sweep of sand and waves, blasted back by a cordite spindle where was that peace all craves?
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Jan 8, 2019
Jan 8, 2019 at 4:31 AM UTC
Iron waves
Here, in the depths of winter, when the earth is bare and brown, You will notice, if you look carefully, depressions in the ground. My guide told me that here there are about one hundred men who served beneath the Stars and Bars and gave their lives for them. The Union line was well entrenched up there upon the hill. Hard shot and double canister rained down on the Rebs at will. If Ewell had thought it practical, on the first day of the fight, results might have been different had his soldiers seized these heights. When he forfeited his advantage, the Stars and Stripes held sway; Union forces would repel his sorties the next day. So, with careful measured steps, we walk above these men, Who loved, not wisely but too well ,the cause for which they bled. Do not disturb this hallowed ground; leave them at rest I pray. Until they hear the trumpet’s call upon the Judgment Day.
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Dec 18, 2014
Dec 18, 2014 at 10:29 PM UTC
Culp’s Hill
There is a lonely shadow that Roams the street at night in search of her Body, but she can’t, for it is buried under The earth without any intention to leave Its new humble abode; and it dwells there In peace, and in sorties the ants looking For pieces to steal and to bring to the Queen; but the Shadow still wanders and Travels the earth; the beginning of time She beheld , and of the end she will be the Observant; th’ immortal and the most Docile servant; and no one to talk to and No one to speak with; so she trails ever Onward; with no sense and no purpose, With no one to back her or lend helping a Hand; so she strides and she cries with no Hope for an end
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Dec 20, 2019
Dec 20, 2019 at 8:51 AM UTC
The Shadow
Let there be dark in your life. One day, you will be able to see the light. Wind would sleep in the earthen lamp during day. Come evening― tears will light the wick. Hordes of moth have resumed their sorties. Any cruise of moon was impossible. Not acceptable was hiring the womb for manipulating the race. An eagle dance, brings out the savagery of man.
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Dec 29, 2016
Dec 29, 2016 at 12:40 AM UTC
Eternal Verities