"toughs" poems
I tried to write a poem for the moon.
I searched the earth for
words worth wooing you.
I made some pretty phrases for your face and your phases,
and thought I’d said it all.
But I’ve said nothing, because
Earth words won’t work.
I’ve just made a pile of noise from stupid earthling dirt.
I sent the pile into space, fueled by foolish grins, and waited (with pride!) for tides to bring you in.
My words were just quiet, colored dust against your atmosphere.
My grins and smiles can’t carry those dusty piles of
Noise into the wind
hard or far enough to make you near.
So I must DO.
To make a journey to the moon, I’ve got to makes some moves
instead of barking at your light.
I’ll start with exercise,
building thighs and biceps to
climb the skies
between
you and I.
Keeping shoulders wide so if
You light my planet up
I’ll keep you up at night.
Then I’ll scan by hand your every surface, where rough meets smooth, where your smooth keeps on going,
and where your toughs meet your trues.
I won’t leave it to my luck to have
my love
reach the moon.
I’ll learn how soft and where to land.
I’ll learn how strong you are and when
I need to have plan.
When to take my helmet off
when you need me
to be a man.
So, as moons do, if you get blue
I’ll have found and know and own
the fastest way
to get myself to you.
Next I’ll find out every
stone that broke
your heart,
every rock that smashed your sides
(starting with my pride) and make them pay for not watching their orbits.
I’ll clear the way and make the oceans do three quarters worth of work.
they keep the rhythm while you dance around the Earth.
If the sun
falls behind your time,
I’ll fire that ball of fire,
float around and put up flyers,
and find another star to make you shine.
Now, If I ever prove to be a
man who got the moon
I’ll still fill my pockets with dusty piles
Of favorite words
From Earth
every time I visit you.
And when I know I’m close
-it’s when my smile beams in your beams-
I’ll ignite those words I’ve gathered and shower you with comets upon comets of compliments.
Over time, in walking your valleys,
Napping in and mapping your grooves,
throwing comets at your craters, and
Staring at you
Through the roof;
One day those marks start shifting into the words I made sure to do.
At midnights and sometimes noons
They’ll see me from the Earth
Sifting out your smile, glowing in your dunes.
Written on your face in shiny piles,
“This Man Is Over The Moon.”
Jul 16, 2021
Jul 16, 2021 at 5:46 AM UTC
My motto is **** the world
no joy in my heart been heartless from the start
and whats love got to do with it
i been acquitted since the devil made me do it
can't help that im hopeless
scopin' out my enemies everybody wanna bury me
cuz all eyez on me and trust me
***** i rise back to the top i feel relieved when hearts drop
like bricks **** my **** you trick
i ain't satisfied til i see nigguhs in open casket
though a *******
child stuck in the wild nobody can change me
maybe envy me jealousy keeps a nigguhs strapped
tried to play with the full deck 52 years in week
that means i got 365 days to think
of a masterplan since they wanna get my hand
in cuffs **** all toughs this aint no bluff
im rippin' hearts apart from lyrics full of fury
so what if they take me
i send two middle fingaz to the grand jury
sentence me
but ONly God can Judge Me Nigguh
Never send a boy to a grown mans job
i plan to rob the spotlight late night
shakin' out of cold sweat im thinkin' terrorist threats
yea i know they government despise me
mad at me cuz im black than the next nigguh
cops is crooked so keep ya hand on ya trigger
how ya figure?
thiings gonna get better in the afterlife
when hells already on earth
when i die ill probably be sent as cursed
to the times of the Devil i was made a Rebel
**** everybody and anybody that ain't down with me
i promise youll feel my treachery
adversary come in different times and signs
lookin' for the perfect crime
****** after midnight focused my sight
and though ill die alone no tears in my eyes
they all dried out **** the clout
no justice no peace this for my hellraisin' peeps
creepin' out the trenches
leave nigguhs stuck like they fist clinched on fences
only god can judge me
Aug 7, 2015
Aug 7, 2015 at 3:23 PM UTC
o' cinereous city
give to me your blacktops
where on hard white asphalt
impenetrable, grave and square
we play hardscrabble with toughs
who huddle in groups
hanging keds that swing in the air
a pitch of blank gray
a field of kicked stones
ashen, barren
the end of confusing friends
but still a place to go
and run and run and run
when all at once, filled with children laughing, crying, jumping, stumbling, climbing, bouncing,
announcing life in eternal screams - - let me play!
Mar 24, 2016
Mar 24, 2016 at 4:59 PM UTC
My hometown was rough
because teddy boys and mods and rockers
off the cargo ships from Glasgow and the docks
and slums of England rocked the streets
and knocked the local toughs
out silly with their knuckledusters.
They also slashed them with their razors and their chains.
Yeah, but my friends and I had a revolver
when we were kids
and we used to try and shoot out streetlights
on dark and stormy nights.
We missed, but we could have shot
those boaties close up for all their street frights and
all their ****** peccadilloes like ******* local girls
and leaving a league of nations in their wake.
We didn't pull the trigger there,
but they shouldn’t have got away with snickering
among themselves that they could
pull girls’ knickers down when they wanted,
and scare us with their their flick knives.
We let them get away with thinking
we were easy pickings
in that small town where I was born.
But it’s just as well, really.
I'm glad we didn't take their lives.
Mike T Minehan
Aug 23, 2017
Aug 23, 2017 at 4:58 AM UTC
*Life is about walking,
Not always in a straight line.
But always pushing,
The limits of your time.
Most people run,
From the wolves.
Most people hide,
From the toughs.
However life give us an option,
To take or challenge this alone.
Thanks to other's collaboration,
May we triumph over this cyclone.
No matter the winded paths,
No matter the unforgiving hearts.
May the path give birth,
To those long forgotten laughs.
So let's reach out to those in need,
And warm those hearts of stone.
Whatever this life heeds,
Remember you are never alone.*
Nov 21, 2017
Nov 21, 2017 at 5:19 PM UTC
Skin and bones, walks but roams
Starved from lack of touch
Empty holes wither away
as hunger overtakes
thin, so thin
claws flay the space
in between now and yesterday
Never look down
unexpected horrors, animate the sounds
as she walks the earthly grounds
searching
famished
unbound
Framed thin,
roughness scored
not thin enough, but fat enough
to gorge.
If remorse, never weighs
feather light, guilt repeats her phrase
such tastes, such toughs
I've felt before
Like ****** raw steak
ate with a fork
salivate such vivid plates
worry it to be your last
longing's wrath
Feb 24, 2018
Feb 24, 2018 at 3:11 PM UTC