"southpaw" poems
I should have been a boxer....the way I stick and move when I write. The only person I know that can make the sun shine at night.
I should have been a boxer....the way i fight with words to paint a picture. I'm using the jab to set you up for the knockout blow. I'm looking for your tendencies and when i spot it......down you will go.
I should have been a boxer....float like a butterfly sting like a bee. A sign of honor to a fellow poet.....and inspiration to me.....Muhammad Ali. I should be a boxer the way i study my craft and observe the legends of the game. It's all all about the passion.....I could care less about fame.
I should have been a boxer.....you can't be good unless you train. I have my book ....my pen .....ideas in my brain. I have so many thoughts I may need another brain. I'm on the speed bag so my brain is quick with the flow....switching styles like a southpaw.....which way is it coming? I guess you will never know.
I should have been a boxer....because i really like to fight. Instead of gloves I utilize my pen to pulverize the paper and annihilate those foes and lost loves....father's who left their children at start. They couldn't finish the fight .....was he a coward or a scarecrow.....born without a heart.
I should've been a boxer.....because my defense is always up. I hide my poems inside a book .....it's highly guarded so don't try to look. The thoughts inside are g14 classified....so I'm hiring security guards.....if you want to gain entrance.....you must present an identification card.
I should've been a boxer....because I'm always fighting. My thoughts are knocked to the paper and bleeds black or red. I write about life .....because I know nothing about being dead. Although, I been knocked around .....and have had to take a standing eight.....I leaned on the ropes and learned to wait. Still working the jab......which are the words i write.
I should've been a boxer.....one hitter quitter and then it's time to say "Goodnight!"
Ladies and Gentlemen......we have a unanimous decision. The new poetic champion of the worldddddd!!! ......I should've been a boxer.....Yeah right.
Oct 12, 2012
Oct 12, 2012 at 5:36 AM UTC
Bling Bang Boom
Tight little itty-bitty *****
If it don't fit, don't force it
You can lubricate it, so you can appreciate it
Oops, did I say that out loud?
Wearing Dr Dre is a ***** when you make a glitch
**** this gun like a real cool chick
It's barrels aren’t that hot or that ******* thick
And when it comes, blow your brains, while you’re still in cuffs
Elvis offended nerds, while doing those pelvic thrusts
But, he was merely having fun and just being ******* futuristic
While your parents were secretly playing with ***** vibrating plastic
I used to call myself at that time, ‘The Magnificent One’
Hell, I don't call myself that now, but I still believe it to be true
At the time, the frigid white kids would only spectate from the lower balcony
While some ***** white kinds, were leaping over with jealousy, to get downstairs
Because, that's where the black dudes would occasionally perform, their ****** affairs
Bling Bang Boom
Tight little itty-bitty *****
Protect yourself with a little soap bubble
If you want help, I can go pop, without getting into too much trouble
Oops, did I say that out loud?
Wearing Dr Dre can mean defeat when others hear your beat
How can I put the creeps down, when I've been creeping from afar?
I'm another mother fuckin' world wide pop star
They called me, ‘A Hip-Hop Bipolar Southpaw’
Always left swinging up and down like a friggin outlaw
They warned you that, I would drive all the the kiddies insane
So don't blame me for the way your kids now truly reign
Bling Bang Boom
Tight little itty-bitty *****
Thank you for being so sweet and ever so cute
Next time remind me, to always switch the ****** to mute
Oops, did I say that out loud?
Sep 5, 2019
Sep 5, 2019 at 6:37 PM UTC
addressing my southpaw weakness...
don't know... my left hand is a bit...
weak...
started to train it...
by extinguishing cigarette
butts on each other knuckles...
have two vacant slots to fill...
and plenty of whiskey...
why?
i paid my Shylock...
i was **** with the Gorbachev
**** on my right shoulder blade...
now comes the fun part!
the lesson...
of boxing, with not boxing gloves!
i want the middle finger knuckle
to... hurt... the... the most...
like Tom Waits'
circus narrative...
**** these teenage girls cutting...
how about their start burning
themselves,
with hot, metallic objects?
how's that?
less blood!
ha ha!
two knuckles down...
two to go...
i'm giggling with anticipation...
while, i, eat,
the, pain! ha ha!
who gives a **** about
predictability,
preachers / theologians
or stock brokers?
so who?
the Turkish barbers,
the English tailors,
the French chefs?!
who?
the roof, the roof,
the roof is on fire,
let the ************ burn...
we don't don't need no
water let the ************ burn,
let the ************ burn...
i'm a simpleton...
catch the genie... catch the lamp
sort of scenario...
otherwise?
bon voyage / bon soir /
mon amí!
god, i hate the french!
it's like...
you want to lick them...
face to face...
and then... punch them...
my type of ****** nationalism!
comes the third knuckle...
and the cigarette...
it will be put out onto!
- like an interrogator might...
you show the victim undergoing
the torture, with yourself
prior...
and then?
torture the **** out of them! ha ha!
i.e. who's the buckle,
who's the knuckle, and who's the knee?!
oh please! please!
don't mention the oysters
of the elbow!
have some common decency!
Aug 18, 2018
Aug 18, 2018 at 8:52 PM UTC
Go on, my Son, go out and box,
don't wave this chance good-bye,
Switch from Southpaw to Orthodox.
The Judges have it Fifty/Fifty, an equinox,
apply yourself. . . apply,
Go on my Son, go out and box.
Keep it crafty, like the fox,
acid to his alkali,
Switch from Southpaw to Orthodox.
Jab, Jab, Hook! Unpick the locks,
it's time to modify,
Go on my Son, go out and box.
Unloading pallets of concrete blocks
until the day you die ?
Switch from Southpaw to Orthodox.
Win this Round, escape the docks,
would I tell you a lie ?
Go on my Son, go out and box,
Switch from Southpaw to Orthodox.
Jan 4, 2016
Jan 4, 2016 at 3:45 PM UTC
The sun is out in Jacksonville
Me oh my goodness gracious alive
Now that the Richter scale has calmed down
I'm happy to say, we've all survived
Hoping from the beginning we'd go extra innings
And that our side would win
Between the Suns owner and the fans who are moaners
We are now the Jacksonville Jumbo Shrimp
So batter up you people
No need to be steamed it's just life
Though can you imagine the jokes from all of the folks
Might make us so boiling mad we could fry
And then there's the question of Southpaw
What's that mascot still doing here
I'm sure he can fetch but that's about it
Something smells fishy in this sailors beard
But I digress from where we should be
The theme is the name of the team
And I might be in hot water if I go any further
Without explaining what I really mean
Though you may not find
It very a-peel-ing
The way the owner did
In this fishy dealing
It might be to late but it's only a name
Try if you can to chow down on this
The teams still the same so come out to the games
No need for you to be so shellfish
Nov 6, 2016
Nov 6, 2016 at 4:41 PM UTC
It was an atmosphere
It was an oxygen mixed with southern fog
Southpaw gloves tied in sailor knots
Waves of golden grains in ocean wind
The rolling hills behind property lines
It was the question you asked
not with words but in the way you breathed against the window glass
as I leaned against your Corolla
And we sang under the overpass
It was graffiti
It was graffiti
It was the cavernous concrete cats with purple hair and acid wash jean jackets
melting the light of their city's street lamps into the obsidian void of moistened pavement
It was the way the reverb spread the major seventh across the sky with burnt orange cascading into the violet of the minor ninth
which reminds me of crickets and summer nights (and violins and cellos and midwestern jazz bars)
and how bar chords are a guitarists way of flipping off a crowd-
surfing the web for an answer to why I'm still single-
handedly the handsomest man in my car currently.
It's the cloth in my empty passenger seat
soaking up the air of my A/C heat
and the scent of the soil spilt from the succulent I was given at a wedding last fall
and now I don't know if my trunk will ever smell clean at all
But I'll let this night be interstellar
I'll take a bath in the Big Dipper and write you a letter about Orion's Belt
or how I miss the stars sparkling in your eyes making contact with the E.T. in me.
Phone me home, darling.
I'm lost at sea.
-W.J. Thompson
Mar 30, 2017
Mar 30, 2017 at 1:13 AM UTC
I stared, stupidly, at his head
and the pool of red he bled
from the brass rail down onto
the barroom floor.
Had it been a half an hour
He, so cocksure of his power,
had first set foot
inside the barroom door?
I'd been alone but for the Doc
a Presbyterian Scott
who just come from
a hard delivery.
Mom and child were doing well
but the Doctor looked like hell
so I sat him down
and gave the man some tea.
I 'm the Pub man's assistant
and my job that Winter's morning
was cleaning up the place
for this day's trade.
Had I been out in the snug
I'd have never met this lug
who is lying on the floor
fit for the grave.
I am Irish from Tyrone,
He was from Lancaster-shire.
To his thinking I was
a blight on English soil.
He was spoiling for a fight
which he started with a right
that sent me sprawling
on the barroom floor.
He said "Get off the floor,
and I'll treat you to some more."
"You stupid ****
His boon companion smiled.
I'm not one to shun a fight
when I'm firmly in the right
and these arms were toned
by years of quarrying stone.
Was it surprise I saw
when He learned I'm a southpaw.
Satisfying was the sound
of fist on chin.
As he commenced his trip to earth
It was the foot rail caught him first
He cracked his skull
and then he was no more.
His friend ran for the police
as his pulse and breathing ceased
Doc looked up at me and said
"This won't go well"
" Take my bicycle and flee
Off to Scotland , listen to me,
unless you fancy
dancing on the wind."
So I rode like one possessed
on the narrow winding roads
Early winter darkness
coming down.
After, I worked on dairy farms
and spent three years in the mines.
Eventually, the case grew cold
and went away.
I emigrated to the States
where they too have
their loves and hates
but the Irish are accepted in a way.
Nov 10, 2011
Nov 10, 2011 at 7:08 AM UTC
*True North plummets into my Southpaw
and I swing and miss the gum locked teeth of my Grendel
I waste a day, heaving toward my monster
to gain a moment.
The numb rest...
plucking strategies from a tablet
of fisticuffs and Dragons
of my own resort...
soaring over Hells
as I succumb to the likes
Of You.
Born where the Echoes Stop...
I start a new song
where deaf birds
recite my longing
always.
and as blind
I have the
View*
May 1, 2016
May 1, 2016 at 1:43 PM UTC
It was in this place, found in the southern sky,
That he was born between two bright stars, Spica and Antares.
Libra's scales of justice would be his destiny.
Articulate, creativity and integrity was his badge of honor.
A southpaw that had hands of strength and determination.
An astronomical heart that pounded out an undying love for his family.
Your family is remembering you this this day and for those to come.
And this evening, as we face the southern sky, we'll signal you with our flash lights...
... so you know we love and miss you dearly.
Oct 9, 2018
Oct 9, 2018 at 10:27 AM UTC
stinging like a bee
stinging like a bee
nothing can beat ,my southpaw spree
my southpaw spree
stings like a bee
stinging, stinging, stinging
like a bee
nothing can beat, my southpaw spree
the punches I'd throw
the punches I'd throw
they'd pummel, from the get go
from the get go
from the get go
the punches I'd throw
pummeled my foe
I'm Ali the king
I'm Ali the king
my gloves produced, magic in the ring
the magic I'd produce, in the ring
was so thrilling
thrilling the magic
I'd produce in the ring
around my waist
around my waist
a champion's, belt was placed
placed around my waist
the belt of a champion
the title I won
the title I won
it made me, the heavy weight champion
Jun 1, 2014
Jun 1, 2014 at 10:33 AM UTC
there is,
in my opinion,
nothing like,
the determination,
of four and half kilos
of grey feline.
that wants...
to be fed at 5:37am.
the pushing
and bumfping,
the disproportinate roar,
of the basso profundo purr, in your right ear.
if still not convinced,
or just,
downright lazy
a whack with a southpaw
to the back of the head.
your attention will restore.
no you're still resisting
the charm.
then be aware,
of the flying leap & twist; landing on the midriff.
but, from years of dilligent training,
i have deduced,
the cold, wet nose, trailing across my exposed flesh,
is to best be avoided.
simply, by stumbling up,
from your rest....
and succumbing
to the mantra,
the cat knows best.....
fill the bowl,
be done with,
the furry pest.....
and hope you
can snooze for a while,
before.... you have to get up
and feed the rest....
Jun 12, 2014
Jun 12, 2014 at 5:32 PM UTC
From cold wickedness and sly pack more magnums
Than PI Infamous wise guy see the world's cry
From a Thousand yard stare light year glare none can compare
My flows a magnet hard not to get attracted
Thoughts subtracted from the rhymes abstracted
This ain't an act or a tactics my southpaw be raw
Outlaw living out dramas with out laws
Invoke perdition from the hidden commissions
Y'all still wishin'
Upon a star snake bezel shinin' cane like Jafar
Yo I wonder if they know who we are
Braced into my race now they getting a taste
Of an intellectual toxic waste get sprayed like mase
Ya loosin' sight tryna fight the might
As my cells excite off of a dope write soon to snipe
All the hype got more mack skills than Dolemite
Bringin' back down from the Htown we ******* up
Without the driver I'm
liver
Learn from my past mistakes cuz I grew wiser
Oct 12, 2018
Oct 12, 2018 at 7:53 PM UTC
It was an atmosphere.
It was an atmosphere.
It was oxygen mixed with southern fog,
Southpaw gloves tied in sailor knots,
Waves of golden grains in ocean wind,
The rolling hills behind property lines.
It was the question you asked,
It was the question you asked,
Not with words but in the way you breathed against the window glass,
While I leaned against your Corolla,
And we sang under the overpass.
It was graffiti,
It was graffiti.
It was the cavernous concrete cats with purple
hair and acid wash jean jackets,
Melting the light of their city's street lamps into the obsidian void of moistened pavement.
It was the way the reverb spread the major 7th across the sky with burnt orange cascading into the violet of the minor 9th which reminds me of crickets and summer nights (and violins and cellos and midwestern jazz bars), and how bar chords are a guitarists way of flipping off a crowd,
Surfing the web for an answer to why I'm still single-
handedly the handsomest man in my car currently.
It's the cloth in my empty passenger seat,
soaking up the air of my A/C heat.
And the scent of the soil spilt from the succulent I was given at a wedding last fall,
And now I don't know if my trunk will ever smell clean at all.
It was how my energy dripped away into the floods of San Jose,
And how her eyes began to sink into her iPhone 7's screen.
It's in how I long for prolonged eye contact,
It's in how close the answer is but never slips,
I'm not interested in the electric work of fingertips,
I'm interested in connection.
Mar 18, 2017
Mar 18, 2017 at 3:45 AM UTC
MY build to suit mind is designed for disappointing,
a warehouse space of dim lights, taunted by an l.e.d. retrofit,
TREPIDATIOUS, unable to sign my life's lease to own,
YEARS spoiled like produce, a dumpster gratefully digests.
I was 7, a little league southpaw, my arm, accurate on the mound.
PRACTICE of carelessly skipping stones over invulnerable ponds.
that day, the equation was misaligned, numbers squared roots and
CAUSED the answer to spawn seismic ripples of infinite affects.
it was the split second that was carelessly skipped and
THIS boy's vulnerable retina, the invulnerable pond.
although I was the expert marksman, I begged William not to Tell,
SO he blindly obliged my apple-shot withdraw request,
NOW spoiled produce my dumpster won't gratefully digest.
WHAT i regret most is not saying, William. Tell.
Feb 25, 2018
Feb 25, 2018 at 2:36 PM UTC
there is,
in my opinion,
nothing like the..... determination
of a four and half kilo
of blugrey feline,
that,
wants,
to be fed ......
at 5:37am.
the pushing and bumfping the disproportinate roar
of the basso profundo purr, in your right ear,
if still not convinced
or just,
downright lazy,
a whack!!
with a southpaw
to the back of the head,
your attention will restore.
no you are,still
resisting the charm offensive.
then be aware
of the flying leap&twist;, landing on the midriff.
but from years of dilligent training (on the part of the cat).
i have deduced....
the cold nose,
trailing across my exposed flesh is to best to be avoided.
simply by,
stumbling up from your rest
and succumbing to...
the mantra,
the cat knows best!!!
fill the bowl,
be done,(no never)
with the furry pest
and hope...
you can snooze for a while
Apr 21, 2014
Apr 21, 2014 at 5:25 PM UTC
Now since my childhood
I knew the world wasn't good
Cuz back then I was misunderstood
Subjugated by a system
That's color blind
Look into my eyes inyoull
See a glimpse of a lost soul
On a stroll bump the cash roll
Cuz it's all a fold
Debt been collected since
My first steps making reps
Trying to gain street fame
But back then I didn't know my name
But things changed for the better
I'm standing up for my nation
Fighting for my past ancestors
Reparations
They say we was lazy imagine that?
Working Sun up to Sun down
With a gat to the bat
Or better yet a whip
Or a noose
I'm knocking Washington's boots loose
Prepare for this lyrical *******
I ain't scared no more
Made for war talkin reckless
Out my maw
Raised in hell so I guess I'm an outlaw
Raw with my southpaw
But it's all good my folks
Been ready for battle if they understood
We been here along with the indians mexicans they kin
To us friend
The gringos took all they land
Then they got us fighting
For our own land?
What kind of ******** is that
I know my history
And it didn't start in slavery
It started with monarchy
We was pharaohs and queens
Back when the scene
Was black the dark ages
Wasn't blank it was just us ruling the world
Reppin' the black nations
Still fighting for reparations
They talk about the Sundance Kid
Billy the Kid
But what about what Nat Turner did?
In 1811
Sent many souls to heaven broke the leven
Claim we equal that's just a new sequel
To keep minds off the ********
**** them preachers in the pulpit
How the hell could God love everybody
When he abhors the rich trick
Games people play say
**** to make you feel better
But underneath they want you wetter
Behind the ears how many tears?
The poor gone cry no lies
Look me in my eyes
In you'll a 400 plus years of scorned mentality
I'm tryna uplift my peeps
But they it seems they mostly dumb succumb
To what the world lays
But hey
I say **** that bull and form a litigation
Come back like King said for reparations
Jul 16, 2017
Jul 16, 2017 at 9:06 AM UTC
sleeping in til nine
put contacts in the wrong eye
outside getting rained in
listeing to micheal cera palin
different cold the wet and dark
the body and soul drift apart
coworker said "running late"
no need to worry, there is no hate
o how happy i am again
o so happy my friends
im doing just fine
on my daily grind
feeling out my insides
there's been a lot to realize
just trying to figure this soul out
acting like a **** fool, no doubt
always check the left
never been right i guess
born not normal in the right place
been left to find out, im a disgrace
all because my hands are southpaw
it's become my greatest flaw
not something i can change
not something i want to change
Dec 10, 2019
Dec 10, 2019 at 7:36 PM UTC
Die a failure
No I could never..
Succumb to the pressures
Of the worlds threshold
Die a follower..
No I could never
Imitate another man
With a brain just like mine
Orthodox
And I'm southpaw
The outlaw gangster
Pledging to conquer
Uncharted territory without a conscience.
Oct 22, 2015
Oct 22, 2015 at 12:14 PM UTC
Usually the underdog,
The weird -- the strange.
Unconventional in style,
But with an amazing range.
The distinction may be clear,
But he has already changed.
From the conformity to society,
To the death of Me.
To the tragic fate that awaits us,
Almost every single day.
We just try to fit in,
But who does that make us?
Just another one of them,
White-Collar with distrust.
Stories tell us to be different,
but in reality we shall halt.
The very thought of variety
Is to be taken with a grain of salt.
When it comes down to being true,
Just try to be you.
You won’t fail your own test,
Unless you catch the flu.
Sometimes it gets hard,
But trust me it gets better.
Play your own cards,
Just don’t be a setter.
In two years from now,
or maybe three.
Someone will ask you,
What’d you do with all that debris?
Tell them you left it,
Tell them wanted to be free.
And that now more than ever,
You can live peacefully.
As I said before,
Life can be tough.
But stand up and roar,
in that mighty Southpaw galore.
Sep 18, 2020
Sep 18, 2020 at 11:56 PM UTC
It's Yosef shining from the East north south and the west
Keep a tech next to my girls breast blessed
Ya heart rate increases then ceased
soon to be deceased
I just released ya soul back to the depths of hell
From the paths of a pistols travels as I unravel
Mysteries without a miniseries better yet an autopsy
Its hard for me to be moved in this industry
See what it does to heartless foes who envy
Breedin' jealousy cuz I spit it so wickedly
Game clutcher like Kobe or Horry feel the gory
Once my vocals touch the booth begins a horror story
Straight to the core I give ya that raw
Word to Amen raw son of an
outlaw
My Pa was raw with his southpaw and in the South all they
saw
Was grande killers guerilla
tactics
nocturnal beef made
eternal
If you gotta problem with the
general
And my chick be the colonel y'all get burned by the inferno
Pop more shells than
kernels
I thought you knew my heat
Made eternal so brace ya self for the halo
And the pendejos love to talk is soon to cough
Up a blood storm as I swarm intentions harm
For all critics talkin' **** ya soon to feel the backfires of karm
Dec 19, 2018
Dec 19, 2018 at 10:25 PM UTC
Atheist
Athena would be disappointed if she did exist
Exalt the Holy one or disappear into the mist
Mistake a man for God and you won't even make the list
Listen to the universe and you will get the gist
Balloon
Bouncing ball of joy popped by a harpoon
Deflating all the hope of ever reaching the moon
Can taste the sadness with a scoop of a teaspoon
Enjoyed the moment while it lasted, what a honeymoon
Chainsaw
The buzz is killed when the auntie brings some coleslaw
The uncle leaves her and he turns into an outlaw
His opinions pack a punch, his stance is southpaw
Dog eat dog world and he always eats his meat raw
Door
As one closes, others open up even more
As you step through you see the golden floor
Rainbows and clovers with leaves that add up to four
The silver lining in the clouds that rain and pour
Eroding the bronze and the copper forever more
Epilepsy
Flashing all your flashy items will lead to jealousy
Evil eye evident anywhere you want to be
Humbleness costs less than impressing humanity
Its not worth the insanity to create a fake reality
Flamboyant
Male ants on fire due to heating up an oxidant
Eye witnesses were present so let's see who was observant
Crime scene's shady though reports say its an accident
Looking for the culprits but people insist they're innocent
Apr 14, 2019
Apr 14, 2019 at 2:51 PM UTC
gulls squawk angrily on our roof
they argue about survival
forgetting they carry the souls
of drowned mariners
we argue in our bedsit
penned into a miniature life
fighting for identity
the right to be ourselves
we could be by the sea
but those angry squabbling scavengers
have never seen a wave in their lives
just gulls not seagulls
forgetting ourselves
we spar around the furniture
you are southpaw
I am orthodox
they root through *******
scattering it everywhere
no use to man nor beast
disease ridden vermin
wrapped up in life
forgetting how to fly
but we can all soar
if we ride the thermals
Apr 28, 2020
Apr 28, 2020 at 1:50 PM UTC