Email Poem

Your IP Address: 52.15.220.116
Your Email Address:
To Email Address:
Subject
Personal Note:
Poem Title:
Poem
Damn bad reputation counts 500 plus paw whet tick stints

The following fictitious poetic vignette attempts a feeble tale of one ordinary day in life of anonymous miscreant.

"I don't give a damn 
about my bad reputation."

I haint never done nobody no harm, 
nor did any animals 
(code word for other gang members) 
get injured or killed 
in the making of a video 
(our lingo for done deal). 

A decoy police officer 
(one named Sergeant Smart) 
pretended to be a drug dealer. 

Turf wars made clear 
the domain each mini kingpin oversaw.

Our base, which included 
drop outs, whose parents 
did not give a fig whether 
their son lived or died
(got pitiless date with death) 
drove motive to act truant 
or commit a serious violation 
warranting expulsion 
generated a buzzing business 
for social services field attending minors.

Thus here we were at our "den", 
when this officer (dressed 
in plain clothes) wanted some 
(even just a dab) smack.

One badass dude of this pack 
nicknamed "Hen Owes" 
usually tried to "sniff" out trickery 
when a new bro showed up out of nowhere. 

Me and the boys could “feel vibes”, 
and sense an infiltrator, sleuth, 
or simply traitor, 
(which last mentioned 
a real impish whinny ninny), 
when we immediately see him.

Between ourselves, we exchanged 
specific non verbal signals 
if someone ratted on us. 

Thar haint nuttin worse getting duped.

A posse member 
(if found out got pole axed for revenge).

Usually the beans already spilled 
with a caper on our tail, 
but the ragamuffin who tattled 
would pay with his life.

At this instance, I felt trapped.

No doubt flaunting law groupthink 
and figurative cohesiveness 
exhibited obvious signs of defeat. 

Once no escape in the cards, 
each "coyote" barked, howled, 
and jabbered like any other teenage punk 
when outsmarted by authority 
decorated figure head honcho.

A hair brained simultaneous idea 
lit up all our brains too kill 
this menacing enforcer of the law.

As if on cue, the beefiest beastie boy 
sucker punched, and pistol whipped, 
and kicked in the groin this pisser, 
who lied thru his teeth. 
       
They all did! 

We knew that.
     
The unmarked car 
the mutilated body mortally wounded 
with a couple/few token gunshots 
for good measure got stuffed 
in the trunk of the vehicle.

Already headquarters triggered 
the slain global positioning satellite 
to track location of this rookie.

We subsequently found out, 
he attended the same hell hole high school 
some years before we 
plugged, plotted, planned 
to bomb the damn building 
to kingdom come.

Since the moniker 
"bad company" linkedin 
to every f**k'n trouble 
maker and threat 
to other students in general 
and homicidal maniacal 
reputation in particular, 
thus gave us bragging 
(cachet damn reputation) 
rights in this underground 
world wide web of all gory 
blood lust and violence.

Live to be freely mean and die, 
or a nasty, short and brutish life 
found most every day a shooting gallery. 

A temporary bond meant nothing, 
(or meeting the barrel of a gun) 
if a turncoat wielded a loose silky tongue 
spoiling opportunities 
to mow down another body.
CAPTCHA Preview
Type the characters you see in the picture
Required