Best Black Market Poems
Poets
Why is it poetry, is a like dirty word and talked of in undertones?
It’s like a naughty postcard, more flesh than there are bones.
Poets tend to deny their art, “I’m not a poet, I’m a rhym-er”
Come on you lot get stuck in don’t be a poetry two-timer.
After a glass of alcohol some may admit-“I like a little verse”
“But no I m not into poetry…” It’s like a speech they did rehearse.
Now poems I’m getting good at, but famous poets I don’t know any
Don’t ask me if I’m a poet, because in wages I don’t earn a penny.
Now rhyme I am not bad at, but at free verse I would stink
As for haiku, senryu, and other forms, I stink I really think…
I listened to some so called poets; decry their art the other day
They denied their art while they listened, to what each other had to say.
Standing there with their poems held high, “I’m not a poet” they all said
Well get down from the microphone and let’s hear a poet instead…
They pass their poems around the table, like some black market currency
Not wanting anyone to see it, but they are at a reading for poetry.
So be loud and proud you poets stand firm for what you believe in
Tell them you are a poet, and just get used to all the teasing
I used to be a shy poet and I write verse with some frivolity
But the definition in my dictionary says “words with a pleasing quality.”
So now I am open to judgement from all of you wonderful poets
You have all commented on my work, but do you really know it?
You all have qualities that scare me, you really seem so clever
So can I finally admit to being a poet, from now on and forever?
~GG~ 27/09/2012
Categories:
black market, confusion, funny, art, art,
Form:
Quatrain
Bang, bang, bang, black minds open,
Black eyes seeing black blood spluttering on the black board,
Black tears from black eyes,
Black man in black out,
Black people eating black berries,
Black for black market, black magic, black eyes, black etc,
Black is everything bad,
Black is abused everywhere,
Black people now the black sheep,
And yet I am the black poet,
Reciting black poetry.
Categories:
black market, africa,
Form:
Lyric
Sunday cockcrow nascent
aural essays reveal
laissez-faire raptures.
Enigmatic silken piece compost ushered in by
trenchant trademark tremulous signature.
Doe-eyed instrumentalist’s strident brass ensemble,
wakey wakey for the pier gazing loiterer whose blasé
sashay amble’s out of kilter.
Maverick antennae on a radio safari,
hawking hourglass heritage lodestone.
Closet Peter Pan’s astride transistor, literati goggle eyed and glued.
Silhouettes of wistful mint leaf tract,
navigating hoarse throat shellback allegory.
Earnest weekend welcome mat to madcap jester, laureate, bohemian.
Religiously the listener’s transported
from a humble tepee sanctum
to alluring levee inundation area,
far flung folly edifice,
nomad siren hymn sheet to mount Half Dome.
Long wave bounder in my dreams,
I limb skip oe’r fiction world simulcast entanglement,
snoop beneath rogallo-wing parachute in a Middle East plot,
“twin peaks” would be awestruck by this labyrinthine concourse.
One can flit invisibly round medieval black market cobblestone arcades,
ghost novelist’s ethereal penchant for pinch and pilfer retro-fit infringement.
Melting pot cinnamon dispenser, whiff stick fix antidote to kettledrum ennui
the blight of urban jungle setting and rural folklore.
Otherworld contortion with a shard of drama for magic carpet flight of fancy broadcast
Lineage derived from ancient epochs now assumed but for an inkling, icons I become with card shark sly booth legerdemain.
Maybe I’m that fictile clueless hiker, destitute, indigent
Categories:
black market, august, birth, celebration, character,
Form:
Imagism
a brighter tomorrow
do you remember blue,
back in the days when whores
were temple women
welcoming stranger and friend alike
into warm passionate embrace
in the service of the mother goddess?
when making love was not a shame
but a joy of celebration
and defiling the land
was a sin against the creator
because it was the body of our mother
who brought us here, fed us, clothed all
and gave beauty free for the looking.
blue, myriad blue is disappearing
sky and sea no longer shine
they choke as cancerous lungs do
whores are sinning
for someone else's change
and nickel-dime corporate hacks
buy blue on the black market.
Categories:
black market, abuse, anger, betrayal, blue,
Form:
Free verse
Mogadishu ...
Black Hawk helicopter down
Caracas ...
Riots burning everything to the ground
New Orleans ...
Katrina tears has gotten many more drowned
Manila ...
Government death squads are roaming around
Global Dystopia
Earth frowns
Parents and children weeping,
sad mourning sounds
Everyday the sun comes up,
hope goes down
Bi’lin ...
Smouldering settlement protests sparks up
Baghdad ...
A covered face blew up the church bus
Philadelphia ...
Government bombing citizens they don’t trust
Hiroshima ...
Radiation wine still overflowing from the cup
Global Dystopia
Ain’t we had enough
Can’t take no more mushroom clouds
raining on Earth’s thin crust
Everyday the sun goes down,
dark hopelessness rises up
Tshikapa ...
Crystal clear diamonds covered in jungle blood
Sarajevo ...
War crime bodies dumped in mass graves covered by mud
Tel Aviv ...
Sleeping residents killed by a black market American SCUD
Chicago ...
Lead poisoned urban poor houses built by HUD
Global Dystopia
Earth cries
Parents and children missing,
news covered up by politician lies
The day the sun doesn’t standstill,
all hope then dies
Categories:
black market, death, pain, truth, war,
Form:
Dramatic Verse
Armadilly Billy the Sling Shot Kidster, was the Sheriff of our town.
When mangy rustlers went into action, he was wont to hunt them down.
‘The Buzzard’ and his surly gang of rustlers of epically, bad renown…
Had picked Texas and other states clean, and were on the move, NOW!
A terrible dust storm, dumped them smack dab, into our piece of territory.
The evil buzzard leader sat, now contemplating, upon the hangman’s tree.
His gang was ready to rustle, as he sat scoping out, many a nefarious deed.
Their base camp was an Old Box canyon, not far, and full of tumbleweeds.
Now, snail rustling’s a crime, so word got out, of where they’d be found.
As they’d gleaned, every single snail, grazing in all the creeks, all around.
The outlaws were expecting soon, to get away quite clean, with them all.
But the sheriff of our town, Billy was steamed, and he was standing tall.
Billy went on the move, and he meant business, if you know, what I mean.
Yep! He’s tough! He’s mean! He’s focused! His eyes were hard and lean!
While ‘The Buzzard’s’ head was bald, eyes cruel, his stance was cold as ice.
In the box canyon they’d be snail kabobs, by sundown, if Billy didn’t strike.
The snails were easy to follow, just had to follow their trail of yucky slime.
With Billy’s trusty stead Jalopy, they were at the boxed canyon by noontime.
Now, No One, and I mean NO ONE, steals, while Billy’s Sheriff in any town.
That no good, low down, Buzzard better watch out, for he’d now been found.
When Billy arrived they were loading snails into a boxcar to ship for Escargot.
The French black market in Quebec would offer a price, beyond compare so…
To bring them buzzards down, Billy’s slingshot clipped each wing and tail.
Without their feathers they couldn’t fly so they couldn’t remotely prevail.
But not without looking each one in the eye, for he was the good guy, after all.
There was neigh a feather left, as they were buzzard bait, way before nightfall.
But who can tell on a buzzard, for they don’t have much to start with, anyway.
Now they were the one’s loaded on a train set to Yuma, to prison all the way.
The moral to my story is that: Crime never EVER pays. Besides…
Snail rustling is just plain dumb! They’re so slow, that it's a pain!
To the music: The Good The Bad and the Ugly.
Categories:
black market, adventure, fantasy, fun, humor,
Form:
Light Verse
The DVD lady came over today
And she was Chinese
She knocked at my door
And as soon as I opened,
“You wanting teefeetee pleeease?”
“I haw new mowie and ca’toon
Awl ve’y gooo’
I giw yooou gooo’ price, I p’omise yooou
You wanting Robin Hooo’?”
“I am free tonight,” I thought to myself,
“and a movie would be great.”
I thought I’d buy one, but she sure didn’t
So I ended up buying eight
“Sank yooou my f ‘ iend, I cum back agaiiin”
She packed her CD’s and left
I played the disks, they sure were jammed
… now that’s black market theft!
For Deborah Guzzi's "Dialects Make the World Go Round!" contest
Categories:
black market, funny, people
Form:
Rhyme
First person shooter,
on a hate tour of duty,
swinging a bullet sling blade
Buying a death row ticket,
worth fifteen minutes of fame
First person murder shooter;
womb-to-the-cradle-to-the-grave robber,
using your Automatic Revolver
to solve your anti-social mental problems
Sharpen that sling blade
on a coroner grindstone wheel
Gather the scythe-shredded corpses
from the harvest killing field
Take the bullet-riddled body bags,
with warm blood dripping still ...
and kevlar
coffin
bury them on Tommy Gun hill
Guns and Roses —
Automatic Revolver 15 bullet salute
Let the gun pallbearers put ‘em in the ground,
and the saltpeter pew mourners
put the rose flowers on the graves
AR-15 bullet salute ...
Guns and Roses —
giving society another senseless violence eulogy
Guns and Roses —
weapons of war killing innocent children of peace
Guns and Roses —
ricochet death purchased with capitalist ease
No background check to vet tranquilize
the uncaged rage,
wearing a Second Amendment disguise
Empty thoughts and prayers,
full of politician hypocrisy
Thirty pieces of silver tongue lip-cluckers
offering a gun lobby: no gun control policy
A paid, no-money-back Judas apology
Snake oil teary talk rubbed on dry soul skin,
allergen empathy-free
Guns and Roses —
sacred shell religious philosophy
Guns and roses —
kinetic death violence theology
Gun manufacture worshipers
love deifying the work of their hands
They love to praise their golden trigger head
silver handle arms
brass chamber belly
lead barrel legs
paper green toes idol
Saying: Let your scimitar banana-shaped heart
always remain sharp
And may your lead scythe sling blade soul
never be dulled
Guns and roses —
waxy ears don’t hearst hear it ...
bulletproof hearts so iceberg smoking cold
Guns and roses —
plastic carnation petal spirits ...
metal detector salvation black market sold
Categories:
black market, dark, death, violence, wisdom,
Form:
Elegy
pitter patter acid rain waxing hi-gloss
smoky sky-scratching monster coup
fearless hue self-out stabbing acrylic nails'
bond to black market sale-deal rape
indian tears too few to cleanse
the polluted hearts under the stitch-held
stars of a blood-whipped flag
in you is a flood after drought
in you is a pestle fitting crucible
somewhere in your rash, there's a place called sensible
our common meeting place coming out
ten-speed riding sunshine girl smiling
wide and high as her cheeky-powdered rock-washed
shorts
cellular towering, nerve-shock stroking man
dodge-wrecking his impersonal laptop-orgy
maverick hopping additive, lasso-steroid
from steak-rustling warrior pinning-the-tail-on-
a-steel-wheel-heart when picking up metal armor
in you is a flood after drought
in you is a pestle fitting crucible
somewhere in your rash, there's a place called sensible
our common meeting place coming out
toro, taxi-driver
toro, weightless astronaut
toro, steaming sailor
it's all in us wear it's knot
Categories:
black market, confusion, imagination, introspection, political
Form:
Alliteration
Power tends to corrupt
And absolute power corrupts absolutely
This is so true in the political arena of Bangladesh
The ruling party has made the justice department
And anti-corruption commission a hoax
They forgive the criminals on political grounds
And withdraw all corruption charges against themselves
By hook or by crook
Politicization is taking place in every sphere of the country
Votes are being bought and sold like commodities
In competitive markets
The criminals are becoming leaders
Because of their black market money and liaisons
The mouth of the civil society are being gagged
By large amount of hush money
People who are trying to eliminate poverty from the country
Are being called bloodsuckers by the so-called patriots
Whereas the real bloodsuckers are in disguise
Of the heroes and heroines
Categories:
black market, inspirational, life, people, political,
Form:
Free verse
MOUNTAIN GORILLA
Gentle giant of the great apes
Close to us in temperament
With compassion and love of family
Mighty vegetarian walking the Congo
Hunted and endangered species.
Silver-backed male
Father and protector
Too heavy to sleep in trees
Sleeps on the jungle floor
While his family sleep safely above.
Babies cling to mothers’ backs
Carried through the jungle
With silver-back on guard for danger
Loving family group of nine
Moving peaceably from place to place.
Villagers of the Congo
Hunt and kill gorillas for meat
Selling skins on the black market
While hunters kidnap the young
Selling them to zoos for public display.
Days of gorillas in the wild are numbered
Soon only to be found
Gentle giants caged in zoos
Paraded for human entertainment
Great apes so close to us in temperament.
Colin Ian Jeffery
Categories:
black market, animal, nature, tribute,
Form:
Free verse
I am woman …
WOMAN
Of Congo,
Chewed,
Spat out,
And bestowed with straw basket
To fetch water.
You set upon us
Wild dogs,
Stretching our legs wide,
Ripping out our genitals and dignity
To nurse your children’s
Craving.
‘fore you design gods;
Ones who create dolts,
Small-minded folks,
And feast on minerals –
Congo was a lady
And I … I am
WOMAN,
Strong black woman.
I bought some views
On black market;
They are rare commodities,
Sat down with glass of nsamba
on the rocks
And seriously contemplate …
It is hard to buy
Black market stuff;
We are set up
To think
East is inferior to west,
Barring them Europeans
Who broke their necks
To dwell in Canaan.
One thing is for sure,
They alleged a better name
And substitute
The ones we were given;
Those with implications.
Oh, what things we see
When we start looking
From our own eyes.
I am WOMAN …
Woman alone
And taken against my desire,
Ravished by the corporations;
The gods who create your children
I am WOMAN,
Woman from Congo.
Categories:
black market, angst, daughter, depression, hope,
Form:
Free verse
My heart
fell into the wrong hands
My love
was sold on the black market
My virginity
was stolen from me
by a pimp with a penchant
for sweet talking
Now I'm a turned-out sex slave
street walking
Men pass me around
like a bag of candy
They take a piece of me,
eat all they can eat
I satisfy their sexual gluttony
They love to have me every kind of way ...
do things to me,
that you don't even dare wanna say
I am a prostitute,
my worn out thighs tell the truth
Only have my body to sell
Walking on the cold concrete,
feels like I'm living in a frozen hell
Maybe you'll see me one day,
when you're cruising,
and I'm walking your way
Maybe you'll wanna stop and holla,
spend a little time together,
then throw me some dollars
But I'm warning you,
don't take me home to your wife or girlfriend
Or risk giving them some of me,
pass on to them some of my misery
This ain't how sex was supposed to be,
but it is what it is
I am a prostitute ...
time to get cleaned up
to get dirty again
But there ain't enough money to be made,
when you're twice dead,
and the bed is your grave
Categories:
black market, dark, lust, men, society,
Form:
Dramatic Verse
my dirty little stones in a pouch
received in a hotel one night
slid them under my pillow
dreamt sweetly
opened the pouch in the morning after breakfast
saw dirty little stones
wondered what they could be
went to smith the jeweller
sat on the couch as i waited for him to wash them
came to me holding something glittery
it was diamonds
i jumped up and down
told him he could sell them on a black market
take his share
i locked them in my safe at home
would you like to hear more
before i do that
i have to go and testify at the hague
diamonds are forever and you too should have them
Categories:
black market, funny, satire,
Form:
Haiku
‘BLACK SHEEP DRAWBACK’
Discouraged, anxious and unsure—pitch black tarmacs start their war
Petrified, panicked and distressed—uncertainty cracks amidst unwelcomed guests
Dissociated and desensitised a perfect attack—as nervous disposition follows predictable tracks
Another prestigious black tie event—suites and shoes will seldom boycott consents
Perfected flair keeping companies in the black—elegantly formal their wives attack
Each one attired in the colour of grief—sadness and mourning a blackmailed thief
There stands Jack, in a room that is packed—emotionally elusive, cunningly drawn back
Mysterious, powerful negative dirt tracks—black-market malevolence no visible cracks
Observation, lack of confidence to engage—courage imminently pending and upstaged
An edgy apprehensive shrink-back—protection from impulsive reactive, confused attacks
Alarming blackout to opinions of others—ignoring motives of guaranteed buffers
A black sheep just got blacklisted again—anticipation of recurring hurt and pain
Categories:
black market, fear,
Form:
Rhyme