h when i was truth i fell
drew boy i grew up
still def still be a cre4ators tool
wipers for the pain tears drop
fear not, fret no baby worrys from the devil. whispers on my ear xrtays , be very afraid, cantrall camaflauge like a sand dollar, honor boy we descretion , a virtue is all im left now, we the still launching balls in the park, remarks, its remarkableaint it?deep all dark as the cell lights from weldsgenuine from the top to the bottom, weathered by the struggle tried and true i confess tyhe devil still got a bounty on my head here, Weapons come bring all even that
determination reaffirmed confirmation
dragged across the face of
the devil, and i will face him,
killer on a cutthroat, lost my chrome and prorellis,
tomahawk mechetes,common cause i blare on, bread and butter, married to love of, giving mary credit, everytime i ever said it, deeper than the message, freedom never said more, boy act like he badder, go for me now im bipolar facing all weapons like its the deepest ****ing episode, connection in the west, no nothing coming easy, friends spell finders,wilder than saying it aint over, i aint acting like im clean, babys body beating on my head whelps and melodies, def to a felony, boy consider carefully im more than just distant memories, more than u still feell, the crown on your head of a king i slam down, been down in this sound like seashells has been around, like it hurts well pain is my profession, still trying trying to perfect it, pros dont know whats pros and cons know, among those pics as fast a lens close, so i been known tell u motha****as i been known, still feeling likke i got a price on me, yea devils got a bounty on my head, ask my nephew, ask me and stars shine like scars be me traveling far to minds, reaching for more life treating this like im beast tearing out this town by its eyeballs, white squalls black powder , blast that ass like Im massive passions in acid baths,listen strictly speaking to the Masters, G-force and white noise creator of the devil salngs pain choice words Streets still speak ina deep voice, do u feel remorse, hear the men i lead hear me boy slient in a count down anticipation anger too got u making mistakes now, now now no i aint even dressed in your wardrobe, take the tie off, nical all nighters, alcohol graig them twist their ****ing minds up, listen if u got better hand, well stealth meet finesse's nails, i said i will, sett a trap and the net never catches me it never will, dealing with a hardhead, as i rain hell down soft my middle finger the taste of victory , that u still long for, flash that mercy and emergencys well dont freak out, i speak out
and put a X on a narc's head, boy im part metal, its what i teethed on, Like Im thuggish for accidents that the dicate the laws broken by a skunk, feel my blanco vendetta,as it shrinks your stature, just suppose I stole your power, well ***** u can have it back,
Copyright © Timothy Jacks | Year Posted 2013
I do not know?
I look and saw how much war veterans like me suffer when we come back from war,We don't have anyone to comfort us,the power is on the side of those that beat us down,I look and saw how much war veterans like me suffer with tears in ours and sadness on ours faces,We don't have anyone to comfort us,the power is on the side of those that beat us down,I look and saw how much war veterans like me suffer,where we should be treated right,we are treated wrong,we have no one to comfort us,the power is on the side of those that beat us down,I look and saw how much war veterans like me suffer,where we should be treated fairly we are treated unfairly,the power is on the side of those that beat us down,We don't have anyone to comfort us,I look and saw how much war veterans like me suffer,where we should be treated kind,we are treated unkind,the power is on the side of those that beat us down,We don't have anyone to comfort us,I still can see the tears of war veterans like me suffing from coming back from war,We don't have anyone to comfort us,the power is on the side of those that beat us down,I look and saw war veterans like me suffer,where we should be treated good we are treated badly,I still can see the tears of war veterans like me suffing who are still on this earth while ours conrades have paid the price and die for this country,We still don't have anyone to comfort us, the power is on the side of those that beat us down,I look and saw the country on 9/11 when the enemy came and bomb the USA,We was there to comfort the country and the people that lost love ones,the power was on the side of the military of the USA,We beat them down,so I ask this question????? Who are going to comfort us now,we are no longer soldiers but war veterans all mess up we was not born this way but got this way for fighting for ours country////// SSG Jack Thomas Kirt
Copyright © JACK THOMAS KIRT | Year Posted 2013
It starts with a little 6 year old girl named "Jellee" (pronounced "jelly")
from Liberia, Africa (on the western coast) -
and ends when she is about 18 and having changed her name to Veronica.
I personally interviewed Veronica and helped begin writing her biography
which she is planning to entitle "Blooming From Roots".
I name this poem the same.
I kept this poem fully factual
(and should be appropriate for the younger readers as well).
I have written it in 'first person' in present tense with permission.
I wish to thank Veronica (Jellee) Gabor for giving me permission
to publish this poem for my readers.
I hope you enjoy "Blooming From Roots".
Blooming From Roots #1 of 3
The night is very peaceful. Stars twinkle in the sky.
While God creates the beauty, man destroys - but why?
A-boom! Boom! Boom! A-bang, bang, bang! A-pop, pop, pop! Rat-a-tat-tat...
Our village undefended! The horror starts like that.
What is going on? I'm only six years old. Gunshots echo through the air!
Yelling, screaming - orders barked. Bullets everywhere!
As fireworks, but louder - those AK-forty-sevens -
A-bang, bang, bang! A-pop, pop, pop! The booming shakes the heavens!
The rebels swarm like bumble bees! The terror snatches breath.
They frighten all the villagers. They sting us with their death!
They scare me so. I try to run. One catches me off-guard.
He slaps me and I start to bleed. He hits and kicks me hard.
They seize my father, torture him. They frighten me a lot!
They grab his arms, behead him there - and kill him on the spot.
The rebels move so swiftly! I'm just a little child!
My mom is screaming. I am too. These murderers are wild!
Two more hold my mother down - they kill as if a game!
"Shut up!" the rebel yells at me, "...or you will get the same!"
Oh, how I squirm and wiggle! He's holding me so tight.
He hurts my arms. I cry and scream! I am too young to fight.
He hits me hard with his big gun. It slams me to the ground.
He swears that I will get the same if I make one more sound.
Shocked, I am. I'm terrified. My friends still unaware -
of what is really happening. Is this a bad nightmare?
I scramble up and start to run - past one hut, then another.
Oh, will he kill me as he did my father and my mother?
(continued on "Blooming From Roots #2 of 3 -true story poem)
©2012 louis gander / www.ganderpoems.org
Copyright © louis gander | Year Posted 2016