Best Banged Up Poems
I’m trying a new refreshing write
My blessed Soul word out of sight
Maybe my view should truly change
Having a good look at new poetic range
I don’t want to upset the infamous P.D.**
The one who’ll police me in 3D
Undercover poet, that apparently is not?
If I reach for my pen, he’ll take his shot!
On the run with out my needed soul
I better hide in that deep dark hole.
As he Ass kisses all those lovely ladies
Maybe he wants to have their babies??
Taking advantage of his poetic power ;-)
I bet in reality he’s as sweet as a flower!
What horrid word’s I use without my belief
If I get caught, he may smash out my teeth!
A poet on the run from a cop so hot?
In P.Ds eyes, a poet, that I am not??
To be or not to be, that is his question?
Fountain Pen to my head, I’ll sign his confession!
Banged up in this inspirational cell
“Not a poet” written on walls of limerick hell
“P.D waz here “ plastered for all to see
As soon as he reaches for his pen, you better turn and flee!!
(Welcome and embrace our new Poet friend
I’ll love and embrace him until the end
I trust he’ll visit my poems, and call them crap
That’s my plan, body armoured up, ........I’ll just have a nap.)
**Poetry Destroyer
Only Kidding P.D. And welcome :-)
Obviously, i can't tell you what form this is!!
FATHER
Which love is not a struggle to the mind?
'tis easier to think love glides along,
regardless of a road not there to find,
or never caring what is right or wrong.
One love, of child, a father's steady hand,
protecting innocence, through many years
as if he knew the way, and had it planned,
to heal each mortal wound as it appears.
As if all things begin with his okay,
the good, the joy of life to build upon;
demanding right, and hoping in some way
he's always with you, even when he's gone.
The banged up knee, your losing of a friend,
are yours to feel, but his to comprehend.
© RON WILSON AKA VEE BDOSA
Brick had seen his share of hospitals
and had been to Saint Cecelia's more than once,
on occasion, a perp would get banged up
you know, during an arrest... on occasion!
He was just waiting for the X-Ray results
before he made his way home, but he had
to make a couple of calls after he got kicked loose.
First he had to make a call to Bill Lipton,
one of the suits from the 31st had seen him at the hospital
Now it seems that Bill's Lieutenant was leanin on Bill,
guess his Captain was runnin for some office and was
afraid to have one of his boy's involved in the
Shadow vigilante case, in case it didn't get solved
and tarnish his record, Like I would ever let a case go cold!
The second call, was gunna be to a pretty Blond
by the name of Erika La Plant, an EMT who gave him
her number in the bus on the way to Saint Cecelia's
But first.....Brick! the Doctor said as he entered the ER room
look's like you have a couple of bruised ribs there.
Just keep them wrapped up for a couple of weeks
or so, and you'll be fine, if you take it easy that is,
But I spoke with a Sgt. Lipton when they brought you in
and he said you were kind of stubborn and rough on yourself
so it might take a little longer, try not to get into any more fights!
Ok Doc! You got it! Can I go now? Yes Brick you can go!
here are your discharge orders, and a prescription for something
for the pain, I suggest you get it filled, you'll need it!
within a wink of an eye Brick found a phone and called
the Cowboy, the phone only rang once, Hello Bill Lipton here!
Hey Cowboy, I hoped I'd catch you, think you could come
get me, and give me a lift home, so I can get my car?
I may have a date later! Who would that be with Brick?
oh let me guess! the blondie from the bus , right?
Her name is Erika Billy Boy, and yep, that's the one!
Oh hey! what's this I hear your Boss is up your
keester about our Black clad ole buddy?
You ain't thinkin about pullin a runner on me are ya?
Now just hold on to your suspenders pardner! I ain't
a goin no where's we got us a score to settle with our
ole pal. I'm on my way...Click..the phone went dead.........
We're back in the Samauri Saddle, Watch for Robert Dufresne's reply..
He heard that the zoo was for sale;
a donkey and tiger he'd 'nail':
'I want' - to the lass -
'your pussy and ass!'
(And that's why he's banged up in jail...)
On the run, again
Being chased by rogue police
I got to protest
That I’m innocent
I’m a law-abiding criminal
I mean citizen
On the last exit to wonderland
I ended up all banged up in hospital
After this constant battle
With guns and knives
Another one bites the dust
On my hospital bed, I’m reminiscing
Of how many friend’s I lost
To this urban war
I thank God
That I don’t drink Bourbon anymore
Side effects lets me land face first on the floor
So, that chapter of my life I had to close the door
I’m currently checking my final score
I’m not going back to the lab again
I went from vegetable to a surgical guinea pig
Talk about Frankenstein’s worse nightmare
I’m out again now you can stop and stare…
Eyes open to reality but I'm stuck in actuality
My life is desirable but only to whom who never see me depressed hiding alone in my room
I'm the fast car that speeds by you and for a second you wish it was at the turn of your neck but miles down the roads come to find me banged up in a wreck and for a sec I felt I had it all figured out until the impossible became possible because I guess It was always a possibility
How do I accept my faults and move on without destroying my pride and dignity
If we all matter and we're all matter how come I'm losing my energy like what's gotten into me I see no change in my appearance to be honest all I see is important people disappearing but that's only once it's too late and someone mentions their disappearance see I'm constructing a life no longer constructed of lies and I apologize if I lied I guess we're all a little compulsive making decisions on impulses and I'm very impulsive I do then I think I should've thought before I did i should've never fought so many battles I should've quit and just hid but that's not in my character I'm too stuck on tryna make a difference so I take all of the blame even the outcome comes out different I don't ask you to understand nor do I ask you listen I'm just releasing my thoughts from this well guarded prison I write to clear my mind not to be relatable but that's often debatable my grass is barely green but I know people with a darker shade or two so I can't complain I just live content with the fact that I'm able to live I can't waste time wondering about the what ifs because life is uncertain and that's for certain my body is tired and my mind is still hurtin
Myriad end users round the globe
Chat rooms occupied – users at throb
Kinky creative thoughts on age no bar
Sex should be feminine but the location should not be far –
Messenger on buzz – Alas!
Aah! ‘PING’ came upon and banged up on his luck.
First few formalities – schooling, hobbies and passions were out pouring
Awhile later that too became boring –
He went on his way on her looks –
Said to be, she is beautiful.
Curious his mind – in doubt if she is committed
As told by her – she is single.
He showed some ways of his personal magnetism
That mulled over her for some sensualism –
Followed by few chit-chats for couple of hours
And when the time came to exchange their numbers
He promised he would surely call her by midnight –
He was shocked, he was enraged, he was mad
When he found – after he called
The voice over the phone sounded a man’s.
O great encompasser
of the three AM world
and the boundless countryside,
where the wind sprints gently
shedding its high heels,
I wish you would come more often,
to rest a weightless hand
on a banged up shoulder,
and to plant a tender kiss
on a pale grizzled cheek
ripped raw by the winter wind.
A mute descending avalanche
to drown the car horns, the obscenities, the talk shows,
with all united under a single banner,
One that needs no name no color no country,
only to be embraced for what it is,
the rarest of all treasures, the soundless.
Return to me now, voiceless friend.
I could use your wisdom,
and your brotherly embrace.
But it seems you visit most
with those who roam after death,
your dearest, best-listening friends.
Brick was put on a roller and deposited in the Bus
the Blond paramedic never left his side, Hey
where's my piece? It's right here pardner, said Bill.
Sorry I was busy puttin the eye's on the crowd.
What'd ya take my piece for? It was layin on the ground
And you was nappin, didn't want any kids gettin a hold of it
you really should take better care of it ya know!yea you should have
been there when I was beatin the bum. Yea I'm sure he's all banged up
pardner, Hey sweetie, take care of him will ya, he's delirious.
I gotta check some stuff Brick, Ill see ya at the Hospital,
Yea Cowboy, It's about dinner time, Your lookin a little thin
Must have been a small sandwich at lunch time,
Bill laughed, I'll see you later pardner, Take care
Bill spun on his heels and went on the hunt, Always on the hunt.
As the cute Paramedic was checking Brick out she hit a soft
spot, Hey darlin that hurt...I'm sorry, I know it hurts , is it there?
Yea it is, ouch, yeah there. I'm sorry just try and relax.We'll be
at the Hospital in a coupla minutes and the Doc's will take good
care of you. Hey what's your name anyway.She pointed to her badge
That read La Plant, I'm Brick, Oh Sgt. Rodney ( Brick ) Townsend
folks just call me Brick. By the way are you free tonight for diner?
Your kidding me right Brick? No Ma'am right as rain.
She blushed and said..Well we'll see what the Doc's say!
If they say ok... Arte we on? I got a sweet little place, great food
Alright, your on......
FATHER
Which love is not a struggle to the mind?
Tis easier to think love glides along,
regardless of a road not there to find,
or never caring what is right or wrong.
One love, of child, a father's steady hand,
protecting innocence, through many years
as if he knew the way, and had it planned,
to heal each mortal wound as it appears,
as if all things begin with his okay,
the good, the joy of life to build upon;
demanding right, and hoping in some way
he's always with you, even when he's gone.
The banged up knee, your losing of a friend,
are yours to feel, but his to comprehend.
© ron wilson aka veebdosa the doylestown poet
I took a chance,
that you would be the one
my banged up heart
beating new beats
life flows in through windows
and doors
long closed
love peeks through mirrored lenses
asking me if I feel lucky
well do I??
yes...yes I do
Men glassed, broke, gunned down, dying
Why do they feel the need for all this fighting,
Over pigment precious postcodes and petty people lying,
Now there up in the sky flying.
Lay down your guns,
To save our daughters and sons,
Lay down the weapons,
Before more lives are taken,
No more souls need to be souring through the skies.
One stupid situation now causes a life to be taken,
Everyone seems to be be carrying a knife, gun or weapon,
Which is fine until disrespect is thrown around for fun,
Your disrespect has you staring down the barrel of a gun,
And then bang you’ve just disrespected the wrong one,
Lay down your guns,
To save our daughters and sons,
Lay down the weapons,
Before more lives are taken,
No more souls need to be souring through the skies.
A war on the streets has begun,
It’s to late for mothers to try and save there sons,
Ones banged up 25 to life
Another’s young soul is soaring through the skies.
Lay down your guns,
To save our daughters and sons,
Lay down the weapons,
Before more lives are taken,
No more souls need to be souring through the skies.
As you rise ranks you slaughter your brothers homies the lot
This is what you really want to be on top,
Putting people 6 feet under Before they can steal your slot,
It’s easy right all it took was just one solitary shot.
Lay down your guns,
To save our daughters and sons,
Lay down the weapons,
Before more lives are taken,
No more souls need to be souring through the skies.
You fiercely fight for this so called rep,
And wont tolerate discriminative disrespect,
Yet the you the streets preach racism and hate
Ruling with violence so you can dominate.
Lay down your guns,
To save our daughters and sons,
Lay down the weapons,
Before more lives are taken,
No more souls need to be souring through the skies.
They don't understand you have to protect your people,
Save the ones you love from such poverty and evil,
While keeping the food on the table,
The streets holla to make an easy dollar,
But at what price is a human life,
Think before you pull out that knife.
Lay down your guns,
To save our daughters and sons,
Lay down the weapons,
Before more lives are taken,
No more souls need to be souring through the skies.
There was a man named Carlton, who came
from a rural town.
He was well-liked by all within his community,
he was the town judge.
Everyone gave him much respect. However,
he had another group that he was the founder
and head chair of.
This group was a close group that didn't allow
outsiders.
They didn't accept anyone that didn't look and
act like them.
On a dark and stormy night, Carlton had a bad
car accident.
He was banged up real bad; he lost a lot of blood.
And he needed a blood transfusion STAT.
He also had a heart condition, so he was on the
top of the heart transplant waiting list.
It was touch and go for Carlton; they didn't know
if he would live long enough to receive a new
heart.
But in the nick of time, they found him a heart.
A month later, he was released from the hospital.
As time went by, his family and friends started
to notice significant changes.
From the food he ate, the music he listened to.
But the most significant change was his new
friends.
He started hanging around with “ Them.”
Carlton resigned as founder and the head chair
of the group he was apart of immediately.
Carlton had a change of heart two ways on that
life-altering day.
Alexis Y.
03/4/2021
The more I think about this strife
The more I want to take his life
Some sickening, evil, hellish brute
Returned to his primal roots
And every step that he will take
His humanity shall forsake
God help him if we cross
For I’ll make him atone for our loss
Enraged and blind, there is no pain
There’s only solace to be gained
Now he’s Abel and I’m Cain
He won’t breathe again, can’t breathe again, won’t breathe
The only mistake that God has made
And on his grave the sun shall fade
He’s declared war and soon he’ll know
That we never walk alone
He must have suicidal whims
Even without his intentions
To kick us while we’re on the ground
Dirt isn’t all that’s down
I’m wide awake and I thirst for blood
Nothing satisfies like a flood
I’ll turn this ground into red mud
Breathe…
I don’t care if I’m just as bad as he
I’m already banged up mentally
My vengeance is all I can see
He won’t breathe again, can’t breathe again, won’t breathe.
Jock stumbled - pals called him a wus
(No injury was obvious)
But Jock bruised his willy
And now he feels silly
With todger strapped up in a truss
WRITTEN BY JAN ALLISON
Old Jock had injured and bruised his man thing
His doc said "Jock, you'll need a tartan sling"
He's now looking quite built
Bulging under his kilt
Lassies swoon when he does the Highland fling.
After a week his thing turned black and blue
Jock said "hoots mon, what am I ganna do"
But he'd left it too late
Doc had to amputate
And now poor Jock has to sit on the loo.
WRITTEN BY TOM CUNNINGHAM
He washed his new jock, it was new
So it tightly embraced both its crew
But after the race
Oh what a disgrace
His now aching partners were blue
WRITTEN BY JOHN LAWLESS
Jock stumbled and he landed face down
Injuring the jewel in his crown
His bruised pride and joy swelled
By awe it was beheld
Jock's tackle became talk of the town.
The doctor said I know just the thing
To give support to your ding-a-ling
Doc got Jock's bits strapped up
Jock swore and he cussed
For doc said it could be longstanding.
Jock's dilemma can be seen by all
He's going nuts because of the fall
He's craving free willy
To swing willy-nilly
And longs to unstrap his cannon ball.
WRITTEN BY BELLE BELLEVUE
Now Jock knew about liquid nitrogen
But sprayed on far more than he might have done
So just when it mattered
One tap and it shattered
And Jock said Hoots mon, me old fright’ner’s gone
He said Doc, I need a new caber
My wife has never gone through labour
The Doc held his gaze
Grabbed three treble A’s
And sewed on on a three foot light sabre
WRITTEN BY TERRY FLOOD
Jock managed to get his willy banged up,
He cried loud like a little newborn pup,
Stayed in bed a week,
It hurt to take a leak,
All because he slipped on his sippy cup
WRITTEN BY ALEXIS Y
IF ANYONE WISHES TO ADD POEMS PLEASE SOUPMAIL THEM TO ME