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The Best Dead Presidents Poems

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Lipstick Night

A Beautiful woman
Sweet Voice, Hypnotizing eyes
Displays of smiles
Emotions of lies 
Life seems normal
No obvious dismays
Yet you have no idea about her life or necessary ways.
You would never know what story she has to tell
You would never know how she lives so well
Not an average career Yet one so real
Only the true Lipsticks now she  truly feels.
Shadows with no name
Conversations with no face
Only thing relevant is the action taking place
Makeup just right
Hair up tight
Eyelashes fluttering
Along with whispers in the night
They want to know more about her
So they try and converse
She accepts no emotional visitors 
Strictly business & Dead presidents to place in her purse
Her lipstick leaves her mark 
Dismisses those nameless shadows when the magic is done
Strictly pure survival
All work no fun
It Keeps the luxury in her pockets
A smile on her face
She a woman of strenth and undeniable grace
Sweet woman by day
A Beautiful host by night
Welcome to her world
Of a Lipstick Night


Copyright © Kioshi Love | Year Posted 2013


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Blessed

It's a blessing everyday
It could be worse 
It could be better 
Homies in a shirt I lace my shoes the face on all my haters ??
I must be be doing something right 
Don't matter if I'm famous 
Recognize Dead Presidents they come n go let's face it 
Made the product boost 
Took flight
made memoriestf turn faded 
Once I dug my self a hole 
Some homies started changing 
I prayed to have no enemies 
Do even have to say it ? 
Lately I been working hard 
The hustle I stopped chasing 
Once u learn to ride a bike 
U WANa keep on racing 
The finish line ain't going no where 
It's games you keep on playing 
Ready for them obstacles 
They shooting I turn matrix 
Found myself all stoned with rocks 
Started building my foundation 
Pages of my life I saw 
I think that's manifesting 
Wake and baked then drank a red bull 
That's life with no vacation 
it's crazy how things happen 
Weather beautiful or tragic 
Fashion really don't mean **** 
wear out your heart and handle **** 




Copyright © fernando vergara | Year Posted 2016


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The Pirates Of The Carbine

Young G’s sporting tattooed gunz, on rolling black streets,
fishing without water, amphibians of the dark ghettos,
with names like Ricochet Rob, because he once dreamt of shooting straight.
Mumbles, who’s mom was a midnight walker. He was not named for that, but
because he was hit in the head to much, as a tike and stays drunk, on liquid crack.
Then there is Bboss, just because he says so and their ship goes wayback.
Riding in circles, on the wavy vinyl streets.They roll up on their port,
this side of an intersection, they cannot pass, for the other side its just to deep
They hop out of the grey primered lowrider and begin clubbing, off the hip.
Clubing their wares, slingin caps, dumping on anything, that is hauling ***.
The stray paint hits, an innocent ankle-biter, across the sea.
The truth is black lives matter, unless you are a pirate, with a carbine
and are colored blinded, by dead presidents.
4/30/2017


Copyright © John Beam | Year Posted 2017


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Delivered From Evil

  Deliver me from evil, for the unknown shadows in my presence. A deep, intense burning inside commences. Fueled by hatred and carrying around a burden, my intentions turn to such a self-loathing deep within. Becoming paranoid, my own worst enemy has come alive. Like a 747 jet, all I knew was getting higher and higher. Arrested, yet the test just began. A venomous temptation seems to be hiding around each corner. You can try and hide all you want, but the death cards start rolling once the dead presidents fan out from your hand. Your body starts to become numb, and the brain is full of smoke. It is a part of the addiction, like greed is to Nixon. You wonder why just say no seems like fiction. A thought pops in, and you wonder if taking all of this cruelty in will eventually turn against your soul. 
  Maybe it is time to give up, and throw up the white banner. Apologies are no longer accepted in the home grown treachery that started. Does anyone care? This runs through the mind day and night. As the fight continues, survival and health become the real issues. Bought, sold, lost, and thrown away. My religion also was lost in such a malicious manner. The fork in the road appears, and back comes all my worst fears. My hopes and dreams started to come back. I let people in, and started to believe that fate would stand in the way of going back to a drug filled day.


Copyright © nick alexander | Year Posted 2015


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A Revolutionary Christmas

It was a week before Christmas
He knew many kids were about to receive presents
Didn’t care too much for Sing-Alongs 
Rather obsessed about Mr. Benjamin,
And his flock of Dead Presidents,
Living among the outcasts
Most couldn’t grasp how his daily went,
He was only 15 years old,
Already prepping for content of execution
‘Cause he resented his present sleeping tent

With no loving parents
Just a distant memory and a vague scent,
Through the cold days and nights
He planned every scenario possibly to circumvent,
He was scared for his life but had to be strong
Couldn’t relent under pressure
He hated to see these happy spoiled brats with their gold
‘Cause he too wanted his own treasure,

Like the pirate that he was 
He sought out other aggressors
They planned to stand tall at a mall
To see if there would be any holiday gestures
With caps in their hand bracing the cold weather,
The patrons came and went
Putting a dagger through their endeavor,
Not wanting to pester,
Or be anyone’s jester
He understood that he had to one up and
better their adventure,
He was hungry for respect
His appetite was growling to take more of a drastic measure,


Being on the lower end of the spectrum
He’s all too familiar with people
Living arrogantly with an abundance of pleasures,
They couldn’t give a damn about the less fortunate
However,
His purpose now was clear, and it was all coming together
The texture of the lever was smooth and its design was very clever
His initial plan was written in Braille 
Where only the blind can transcribe
the contents of his unfinished letter. 







Copyright © Remi Stan | Year Posted 2015


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UNBREAKABLE

THE browning Version
ET> Unstrung heros Premonition
Enemy of the State
Good will hunting
Mystery, Alaska The family man
Galaxy Quest Hook ghost busters
CARNAL KNOWLEDGE
5 easy pieces Last American Hero
WITNESS
High fidelity
PULP FICTION
HEIST
Waterworld The Big Lebowski
GO TO WHITE CASTLE---DEAD PRESIDENTS
   the scarlet letter
       Nixon
3,000 miles to Graceland
   Luke 11:9


Copyright © gary dye | Year Posted 2015


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dear mary jane

2 mary jane my girl,most times she's so green
different color hairs a spectacular scene
so uplifting so natural she means me no harm
she goes through problems with me,we weather the storms
we come 2 conclusions,she make me feel good
she won't judge or blow my buzz my point understood
me and mary don't argue,we just have a good time
she never trips when she with me never steps outta line
she brings me dead presidents,i don't have 2 ask
what a relationship we have!!!!!!


Copyright © orlandus nance | Year Posted 2011


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Foreclosed Home

Walk out to get the mail
I get a letter from W. Fargo 
They want to put my house in jail
My  job doesn't give me much dough

Get up to an alarm
Go to a micromanaged job
Doing three positions at once
All those seconds to hours become a fog

I think of all the CEO's that brought this on
I'm not the only one
Millions know where this comes from
Money, money, money
Guess it's too late, it's done

Really wish that a few decades ago
When outsourcing and efficiency experts dropped in
That the generation would have had the guts
To value family over property
The fact they didn't drives me nuts
It's brought us to a depressing poverty
Dead presidents on paper are pointless
Big business should come with an ointment

I realized a while back
There's nothing more scary 
Than someone with nothing to attack
So when everyone only has their families
They'll realize the greed is a ****ery

They can take my house
They can take my car
My dream was never to die with these
My loved ones, 
They're what will make my heart go far








Copyright © Lynn Dolly | Year Posted 2013


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My Member

Chicks get pissed at dicks when they're tasting them
call her the wiener cleaner...when she's basting them
don't complain thats insane if she's taking them
waking them up, then she's displacing them
making up her ****ing mind while chasing them

takes to long with no dead presidents
because cash rules everything around her dick...
mouth, sucking in air, sucking on his mouth
all he wants is for her to go down south
but she can't seem to get the taste out of her mouth

the privacy is absurd she can't observe...
nothing besides what is in her face
especially when her drink gets "laced"
good excuse for her getting to *****faced
done with the chase, done getting chased
done with excuses done with her hate

not done with the sucking on the best member of my team
find her again so she can attempt to **** it clean
you know what i mean...
i mean I'm a dreamer
i write what i see and i see with my wiener
haha get on it, clean it up till it's cleaner
i already told her i was a dreamer
or a joker, i can't remember her name
oh man you're insane, dumb, like snakes on a plane
i'll write a poem about it 
	then watch you complain about it
she's insane about it...what's "it"
if you don't know by now...
	i don't give a ****...HAHA


Copyright © Matthew Godek | Year Posted 2014


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When is Enough Enough

When is enough enough?
What doesn't kill you just makes you tough?
I agree fifty percent
Sometimes I wish for a simple life in a tent

Creative financing brings worlds to shambles
Dead presidents kill the earth and destroys animals
I really want to bring a child into the world
I don't find this one suitable for my little boy or girl

Now humans are defined by a chip or stamp
Watching computers replace humans makes my heart cramp
Confidence of our race is shattered and they're hopeless
They want to be heard, but don't feel important enough to carry their voices. 

They don't maintain
They post selfies looking vein
Online diaries of millions visible to millions
Then get mad cause it's available for internet villains

Go to a movie
The scene starts to get groovy
Because this theater doesn't have the commercial reminder
Someones cell phone screen lights up like fire

Cell phones are security blankets
They're our binkies
Our dolls
God forbid your different and don't answer all calls
You can't not answer your phone
It's okay to be patient and busy, 
I'll call when I get home. 

Working 365 a year
Not worth it unless your interests are sincere
Years go by,
You'll wonder why
Why you never stopped
The money drop never stopped. 

It's easy to stay
Easy to keep a routine
Easy to do the same thing day by day
I'm sorry to ruin your little parade
At some point, you'll have to awake
There'll be too much at stake
If you choose to avoid it you'll die
In those last seconds, you'll wonder why








Copyright © Lynn Dolly | Year Posted 2013


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The Shepard

Nail biters with white lighters. You are never too old to be cursed. How did Jesus die for my sins if he’s still alive? Pogo Sadomasochist Christ on a stick. 
Riot Hymns for the Condemned.

The racists and rapists can bleed out one by one under the cold moonlight and the stars up above. 

A will to pain, a will to power. Sleeping in the dirt, and dreaming in the roots. On that slow crawl in the belly of an iron slug.

And we fantasize with delirious eyes, trying to recollect the winters past. 
The herd dress as wolves now a days and still get ripped apart.
Foreign bodies Hung like Judas. Rub-a-dub's for the Grubs.

Using logic and reason, it's always in season to murder police for Satan

 Everything is fucked and we can't crucifix it, God is dead and we Fucking killed it. I will truly be happy when the cities are overrun, the bones of the officers bleach in the sun. We snuffed out the lawyers, and legislation for fun. Live by the book and die by the gun. Educate sons and daughters of peace, by systematically eradicating murderous police. People curse this song.

The part that you lop off, the part you throw away. Cutting off the cancer that festers in society. Racists and rapists the true haters of love. Deploying there soldiers and bombs from above. Dead canaries in the coal mines, All the pretty  things coagulated.

We outnumber you and we are sick of your ****. Hide behind the badge, occupy space in the pit. 

So drink to the Dead for we shall be amongst them soon,...but not tonight motherfuckers because we've got things to do! 

Using logic and reason it's always in season to murder police for Satan. (Deceased rhymes with police. 

. The voice of the witness is a pillar to burn. A chemical God of chemical skin. Anointed in blood, the feeding begins. Every moment in life is a hypothesis of sanity,  varying results of sweetness with the ugly. The definition of insanity onward driven… 

 I go insane in my feeble brain's.

Fetus, we're hungry. All the pretty things, coagulated. Vitriol.

Pew fillers. Atrophied monkey paws. Don't get stigmata in the Bible Belt. I could see Christ falling frail upon the wagon Trail, and then the screaming starts. 
All the beautiful things, coagulated.

Inhumane/Unhuman- everything devouring everything else.  All the pretty things coagulated. Blood for the master. Up right walking canker. Speaking foul nothings from the opposite end of it's *******.

 Mouth full of headbutt. Dead presidents kill presidents .Band name – "the Clintons kill everyone", "the murderous Clintons". They'll show you images you can't shake.

And his lesson was learnt and forgotten in a vast paradoxal void of eternal nothingness. Serotonin dry in the altered states of Americunts.


Copyright © Pauly Plaster J.R. | Year Posted 2016


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USA-Part 2

                     USA (Pt. 2)     
United States is full of pressured lesson learned people that live with oppression....
for the Rich's obsession of money....watching us sqwerm from pressured lessons learned....yet we get no where...they don't care....they never will...but still we are strong living with depression from our oppression....yet we give to the rich....who taught us our hard pressured lessons causing us more oppression by the cost of it's lesson....pressed in an office...pressed clothes...money being taken with our eyes closed....judged on how we are dressed....We are oppressed....air pollution causing cancer....more caused anxiety....but we still wake up and go to work in our 
oppressed society...sobriety seems not the matter to be...liberty of freedom...
only by the cost of paper colored green....with dead presidents' faces...
American Nazis placed in high places, and un-earned positions...with the poor's visions...the rich slithers....taking the little we have watching us sqwerm from our lesson we learn...we are in a state of oppression....I have learned my lesson...and know it well... I am oppressed....can you tell?

My Country 'tis of thee....Sweet land of liberty of thee I sing.....

By Peter T. DeSpirito


Copyright © Peter DeSpirito | Year Posted 2015


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Dreams

And they walked away laughing--
It made me simmer.
The one with the long legs glared,
"You'll never...," she said-- and hot I became--
(sigh)
It doesn't matter.
The farther away "It" seems the closer I get
If I only had the Dead Presidents...


                                             Dreams
                                             8/12/'13



(Alright, this is for all you Einstein's out there--"What is a 'Dead President'?" Take out a dollar bill, if you got the picture already, then you can think you're pretty smart. If not, look at it. On the bill on one side is our nation's emblem in the form of a monument, statue, etc. On the other side is a... "Dead President".)


Copyright © Gabe Shelly | Year Posted 2013


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Without Measure the Greatest Hero

My ours the greatest Hero so I saith 											  like a soldier throws himself on grenade  										 not mentioned in Hebrews hall of faith 										           this one of the cross hung a tree He made 									 some cheer for their's football basketball baseball                                                                                                                            	  dead presidents or one alive that is										       how much more to love He that died for all 									     how much more to wave to the one who gives                                                                     			moms dads preachers teachers as really                   								 	as in heaven hope earth all will adore 											 truth faith love life forgiving all freely 											  Jesus is the greatest hope He is yours


Copyright © John Beam | Year Posted 2012


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MY NAME IS

 MY NAME IS?
I always wake up feeling paranoid but never alone,
How many faces and shapes will I take?
Like a snake which sheds its skin, I change every time from one country to another, 
Wearing different faces, different masks,
I feel blessed and fortunate each time I help someone,
I helped improve people’s lives,
Living the dream life,
Feed the poor, provided shelter to the homeless,
They all seem to love me,
I have lived for ages,
I have seen wars; diseases and famine wipe out generations,
I will never really die,
Humans depend on me for survival,
My dark side emerges every time,
I sleep with prostitutes, slay queens &drug dealers, 
 I Made men & women kill for me,
They Offer sacrifices and demonic worship,
Some even worship me,
They have burned me with witches, but I keep coming back
Rising from the ashes like the phoenix bird,
Just to get a piece of my power,
I have brought down emperors, monarchy and countries,
I have led men to slaughter and began revolutions, 
I have been buried with dead presidents, kings and wealthy businessmen,
Some church members preach for me and lead their congregations astray,
Tonight I will dine with evil men whose hearts are dark,
My company will be heroin, cocaine, meth, molly, alcohol and purple haze, 
Some will purchase this products overdose, others will murder just to get a piece of the pie,
I lived with cartels, gangsters, mobsters   and they all love me,
They hide me on mattresses, carpets, ceilings, hidden cabinets and safes,
Some wrap me up in rubber bands, plastic bags,
Yesterday my company was the desert eagle, ak47, Uzi submachine gun, 33 callable pistols and m16,
These weapons of war will take innocent lives and wage war between different countries,
Will I ever die or go to sleep forever,
I am just tired of living this life,
Tomorrow they will print my brothers and hand me out,
I come in different denominations,
They call me Money, Benjamin’s, ace, bling- bling, dough & cash money.

 







Copyright © Mash Mulla | Year Posted 2018


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Now what are we going to do?

Society says that what we do is wrong
Their thoughts intermingle subconsciously in our minds
Who’s to say what is wrong and what is right?
The pills dairy doe-boy in the white collar preaches conservative ways to the Americans
Aren’t we as Americans have such rights to freedom and to choose our own lives?
If life was a book…
Aren’t we the authors?
To do, to see, to love as we please
To whom we choose as our true mate
Who has the grounds to discriminate?
Would every chapter be of hate?
Of different generations blaming those under the slate
And before their six feet decent
They beg for forgiveness of which they repent
Why should I look like you?
Smell like you
Think like you 
Be like you
If we were all alike…
The same word repeated over and over again
What word would that be?
Ignorance… ignorance
What’s an open mind with segregated thoughts?
Filtering out what society says is proper to our youth
The youth holds innocence
Blind of color, sex, and hate
Why feed them the propositions of those under the slate
Is the ultimate goal of life to have money?
Does money equal happiness?
Yes it feeds our mouths but…
You can’t but love, your intelligence, or the power to control your own life
Cali-greens feed your soul
Dead-presidents feeds your
Power
The power to control those under you
Your entertainment…
Is what the media shows
You’re mesmerized by the action of the unfortunate
People killing each other over things you take for granted
While you watch you read what’s in the next chapter
Time to pity
Now that you have been fed
Your time is coming…
Start forgiving…
So you can reach your holy ground
Say that you were wrong
Blame those who fed you
You had all the power
But not enough 
To stand up
For what you thought was right
Is this our destiny?
I don’t know?
Look in the prelude of your life…


Copyright © Jenifer Zuniga | Year Posted 2009


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The Big Clown

The orange man with a blonde wig took over when the circus shut down...He picked the best monkeys and clowns to play you a simple song called..."Great Again...Great Again"
It's showtime!
How will this program end? The puzzle is not complete due to a missing piece...
Where oh where could it be?
In the air or stuck inside his hair? 
Stay tuned for the next episode it will play out well 
When the dead presidents drag him down to hell


Copyright © Allen Hackett | Year Posted 2017


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My Three Graces

         MY THREE GRACES
Agalia
arizona goddess blossom of society's elite 
living your mother's dreams and wishes.
scottsdale pretty boys .

Thalia
vail heiress your wealth cultivated 
from beans and canned corn 
condominium queen

Euphorsyne
santa barbara debutante 
daddy's money choking your freedom .
b.m.w. mentality calculated badgirl

I'm beer and generic cigarettes
not cognac and cigars
it's your world
with checkbooks balanced
paris holidays
matching bras and panties 
your questions never go unanswered.
my world,
sweat stained collar
southside of chicago
worn like a tattoo
exposed in my speech
dago kid
with coarse demeanor
public schools
vagrant morals
empty pockets


yet you take me in like a stray puppy .
you name me after bronte's heathcliff
i bark poetry
scratch words of love
i howl romance
you give me
groomed pussy
airplane tickets
and dead presidents
in return for orgasms
rendered as restitution
a gift with the price tag unremoved
you make love to me in pity
i tongue your trigger in triumph
holes in my socks amuse you
tan lines and lipstick shades 
your life's concerns
my existence paid for with humility
yours with credit cards never overextended
balances rising
long distance phone lines crackle
more empty promises. 

©2006


Copyright © Judge Burdon | Year Posted 2018


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Assyrian Babbler



Emerald shiny baubles
attract wizard eyes ...
Balaam al-Oz
Assyrian acquisitions
be kryptonite-colored vanity
Ownership is an Alexandrian transaction,
a Grecian war rhetoric reaction
Gehazi greedy ... 
take all that your Philistine soul see,
as much as your twelve fingers can reach
Sennacherib eyes bald eagle beady,
tilt the full treasure chest pirate empty
Hard diamond negotiator sue for peace,
brook of deceit bubbling sulfuric words acidly
Assyrian babbler
baring the saber sharp tiger teeth
Asking for more and more
shiny baubles ,
more than a Rab-shakeh heart could ever need
Baal belly lust consume:
Pure Pul gluttony, covetous Jareb vomiting
Iscariot greedy ...
betray any and everybody
for the precious metal blood money
Venusian discovery:
Jupiter begat Mars,
typical mythical anti-hero morality
Pharaoh pyramid schemes,
beryl baubles 
shining in Caesar’s coffer coffin dreams
Kill the Tyrus body ... then kill the Magog zombie spirit arising:
don't vow pitbull loyalty to a low-born licentious liege
Count the death cost for the Sisera hostile takeover campaign,
calculate the Tartan war price for the protracted siege
Assyrian babbler
don’t wanna pay for the Wall
No more dead presidents
jaded green leaves gon windfall
Assyrian babbler
you’re gonna pay for the Wall
Taxing dead presidents
levee green sacks gon Jericho fall
Assyrian babbler
give the last tour of duty trump call 

 



Copyright © Freddie Robinson Jr. | Year Posted 2018


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Image and Superscription



...What thinkest thou? Is it lawful to give
tribute unto Caesar, or not?
But Jesus perceived their wickedness, 
and said, Why tempt ye Me, ye hypocrites
Shew Me the tribute money. And they
brought unto Him a penny.
And He saith unto them, Whose is this 
image and superscription?
They say unto Him, Caesar’s. Then saith
He unto them, Render therefore unto 
Caesar the things which are Caesar’s;
and unto God the things that are God’s
Matt 22:17 - 21


Look upon your money,
whose image is in the palm of your hand
Paper tokens of dead presidents,
metal tokens of dead rulers
Dead men who were not god,
pay for the things you need 
in the land of the living
		Image and superscription 
matches the description of idolatry
Your love for giving praise and tribute to men,
		tread very carefully
Give unto Caesar that which he demands
Give unto God, 
He who supercedes, that which He commands
Caesar’s faces are on your dollars,
	God’s face you don’t see
Thus, the things God requires from you
	are all spiritually
Things that can’t be bought,
			that can’t be sold
Holy things worth more than silver and gold
We were made in the image of God, 
not man
God’s superscription was written in our hearts,
not by a human hand


Copyright © Freddie Robinson Jr. | Year Posted 2017


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My Three Graces

         MY THREE GRACES
Agalia
arizona goddess blossom of society's elite 
living your mother's dreams and wishes.
scottsdale pretty boys .

Thalia
vail heiress your wealth cultivated 
from beans and canned corn 
condominium queen

Euphorsyne
santa barbara debutante 
daddy's money choking your freedom .
b.m.w. mentality calculated badgirl

I'm beer and generic cigarettes
not cognac and cigars
it's your world
with checkbooks balanced
paris holidays
matching bras and panties 
your questions never go unanswered.
my world,
sweat stained collar
southside of chicago
worn like a tattoo
exposed in my speech
dago kid
with coarse demeanor
public schools
vagrant morals
empty pockets


yet you take me in like a stray puppy .
you name me after bronte's heathcliff
i bark poetry
scratch words of love
i howl romance
you give me
groomed pussy
airplane tickets
and dead presidents
in return for orgasms
rendered as restitution
a gift with the price tag unremoved
you make love to me in pity
i tongue your trigger in triumph
holes in my socks amuse you
tan lines and lipstick shades 
your life's concerns
my existence paid for with humility
yours with credit cards never overextended
balances rising
long distance phone lines crackle
more empty promises. 

©2006


Copyright © Judge Burdon | Year Posted 2018


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Is It Not


Yellow is the color of the sun,
is it not?

It’s the same color as the Asian
valet corporate fella,
holding a Salvation Army red pot
Collecting inflated IPO fees 
at an illegal
dot.com parking lot

Always yielding to temptation,
is the armored car hijack dream plot slot caught
Never stopping to consider the cost:
a sinner auction sold  always get  Balaam bought

Red is the color of a dying sun,
is it not?

It’s the same color as the Native
citizen doorman woman,
holding her white glove hand out
Opening the revolving, business portal
A black hole:          Luciferian backroom deal
that lets those greedy green eyes in,
to the secret society place of crimson reservation rot
Where their sinking scarlet souls
fading light goes out

Cast into an abyss graveyard,
where the skeletal sound 
of the rattling chains won’t stop

The Resurrection comet tarry tale
of shed blood on a cross ...
no, it didn’t interest some,      not too much
Only the cash register ringing,     jingling silver sales
were the tolling death bells’      velvet touch
		    that those condor souls 
			        wanted to hear and feel — 
Taste of the dead presidents,
were the paper idols they believed made them live
So go golden tear dab their used paintbrush 

‘Cause they won’t cancer canvas stop 
cutting corners on their no-yield, 
killing field cash crops
Selling people triple X pain
for six bucks a pop

Green is the color of a living planet,
is it not?

It’s the same color as global gangrene illness — 
the yellow sickness
From ancient Far East to New World West,
the trafficking of souls
have always been, 
since antiquity, very profitable
	Poison ivy green
is an illusory vine that’s always seen
as being     eternally overflowing
Everlasting prospering

Monopoly Boardwalk disorderlies
careening around Go,
got their oily hands out, wanting mo’ ... 
	so much more
Wearing their pretty purple princess robe,
and blood diamond bling in their ear lobes 

Don’t be the next 
emerald color lusting ***** ...
doing an arterial splatter stick-up flow,
at an ATM gas-n-go     robber red angel wings in the snow

Evil desires so many don’t wanna stop;
as the timer reaches near zero tick-tock,
on the last nuclear call Doomsday clock

But the ultra-violet rays of a healing Son
will cause a violence withering — 
melting of the guns   ...   dissolving every bomb run, 
will it not?

Fervent heat from the Son 
will turn the charred whited bones to black,
Ashes to ashes 
will be the white dwarf conclusion

And every eye will see
lightning, and hear thundering ...
			As the Sun of Man 
	on white clouds descend,
from a blue sky turned pale gray
Then the oven browning of all hope
will be a desolate, bittersweet cry
as every chocolate mint green thing die

At apocalypse end ... lying false profits
will be the windfall inheritance
the wicked no longer got

And black is the void color ... the absence of Son, 
is it not?  

Dark shade of a bottomless pit — 
A closed Book of Life,
wherein names have been blot

If this isn’t the end of your story,
then fear not

Each awakening day, 
the bright Morning Star comes out ...
Another chance for a rebirth,
is it not?


Copyright © Freddie Robinson Jr. | Year Posted 2018