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Best Dead To Rights Poems | Poetry

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Dead To Rights by Horn, James

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The Best Dead To Rights Poems

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One More Chance to Dance

If I could get another chance
Another walk
Another dance with him
I stand in a stance and glance at him with a frown
and knock him down to the ground while he turned around
How I'd love love love
To dance with my father again

If by dance you mean abusing, using all my might 
to fight it seems confusing, because you don’t know the sight
of riding home at night, 
after flying kites with your dad, 
and pickin clovers
then gettin pulled over
“Geeze dad, what’d you do bad?”
“Please don’t be mad, I can honestly promise I’m sober”
I looked over my shoulder
and saw red-blue lights
they had him dead-to-rights.
Guess he won’t me tuckin me in bed tonight.


Copyright © Cam Mac | Year Posted 2015


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Death Don't Play


You made Death grumble, boy
He not pleased that a little squirt like you got away
He had you choking on your mama's apron strings,
with that foolhardy, playful dare you made
Said you was gonna cross Bim Argut's field,
and you wasn't scared of his menacing sign
Hope that pretty young thing you were trying to impress,
comes to your funeral in her best Sunday dress
"No Trespassing" is what the rusted, buck shot at, sign said
"Private Property," so that means you better stay off
You can leave walking,
or you can leave being carried away on your back dead
Yeah, Death thought he had you, little bugger
Had you in Bim's gunsight, but he didn't squeeze the trigger right
Even after you turned tail and ran,
Bim was still trying to hit you with his bad arthritic right hand
Just missed you,
Grim Reaper thought he had you
Dead to rights, you was almost his
At that distance how did he miss ...
with a 20-gauge shotgun, even a blind man
could've gave you a silver pellet kiss
Maybe your big friend from on high helped you,
if he did, I don't know why
You ain't nothing but a troublemaker,
a short life is written in the stars
You won't live long enough
to raise glasses in honky-tonk bars
Now gon' run back to your papa
in your blue jeans with the brown backside
Yeah, run back to your mama
in your white sneakers with the yellow streak,
like you done cried
Death's gonna get you one day,
everybody knows that Death don't play
Yeah, Death's gonna get you someday,
so you better start learning how to pray


Copyright © Freddie Robinson Jr. | Year Posted 2016


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Dead To Rights

Dead To Rights

Was found dead to rights
As I conformed days and nights
All within my sights.

Jim Horn
Poet and Philosopher

Watching Abe Lincoln
Movie on TV.


Copyright © James Horn | Year Posted 2016


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Raiders of the Forgotten

Such peaceful ways are now exhausted and on the rise. Superpowers cart off all the cries. As the once born freedom fighters retaliate with hard spoken, wisely chosen opinionated confession. The mind creeper ex Libertine lets off a deep expression. It has come for the meek to teach all an underground lesson. Messages arise from the profound range of unspoken steadily broken chains. The people the people take to the community steeple and start to let it rain.
  A hold on the once amended past. A bond will test if the authoritative reign will last. The dreams of brighter days can now come into play. The lawless is deeply rooted. The once scared are now recruited. This established mind is always been predestined to be diluted.  Disillusion snakes through governmental procedure. Then a dead to rights bill is crafted to now again belief her. 
 The forgotten queen has been uplifted. Unearthed from the cold and strongly gifted. Myths have never looked this good. The elite bow out and are now the misunderstood. This is something the grand alliance could and should have always created. The less fortunate are the new iron heart aided and never again will be overrun or understated. Insidious minds now never have the strength to deceive because they will get dealt with and raided.


Copyright © nick alexander | Year Posted 2015


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glance from God

a single glance from God blinds a billion evil eyes
a single glance from God binds and breaks a billion lies
demons doomed to die where angels...like flames of fire...learn to fly
down in the depths and up in the sky are a million signs and wonders
forgiven and forgotten are mad mistakes and badness blunders
i sleep in peace and slumber cause His thoughts are like thunder and lightning flows from His lips...vengeance and fury surge through His fingertips
i slide into sin and i slip...
a single glance from God puts an end to that terrible trip

a single glance from God ignites a holy holocaust...like firebirds rise from ashes and sinners 
get blood bought
dead to rights and caught red handed...marked and branded
satan makes the truth seem slanted
still salvation seeds get planted...soon tall towers reaching heaven
enemies come united but flee in 7 million different directions
with His power and protection...the divinity hammer drops
a single glance from God makes death and devistation stop

a single glance from God puts bad men on their knees...while they're praying for forgiveness 
He listens to their pleas
a single glance from God unmasks mad masquerades
those lions dressed as lambs...those predators turn to pray
a single glance from God scans the bottom to the top...from the vallies filled with violence to the mansion mountain homes

a single glance from God turn false halos into horns
no bird or beast can fake it
a single glance from God is all it really takes


Copyright © anthony beesley | Year Posted 2010


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Silence of the Lambs



Dueling Americans
love drawing blood from a distance
Crossing swords with their dogma guns ... 
a test of mettle:
Who will bow first
to the pressure building in their lungs
Bipedal zip-lip back-to-back walkers,
bivalve mollusk closed-minded talkers
Fifty paces then turn... 
make a quick trigger decision
Taste the iron-cooper burn,
mortician diagnosis: it's a dead mute condition
Mouths kept shut to the mounting evidence,
metal defense always gives the final argument
Bicameral battles in a dark, backroom alley
Congressional blood feud,
never count the bullet-riddled body bag tally
Some wink, nod and non-verbal say
there’s no need to do a single gun violence study
Their lead belly reasoning
is that sidearm pals are a goodfella’s best buddy
In a courtyard bar hall fight,
the fastest finger can make the call dead to rights
Trigger hand-to-trigger hand combat;
getting pistol whipped on Capitol Hill,
give the fact-deficient citizens voter brain concussion
Create a comatose public forum — 
put a cap in any crazy talk 
of having calm, common sense gun-control discussion
American deer hunters
barrel tell the Bambi does to keep their mouths closed
Silence of the clams
Shut the trap-doors, shutter the transparency window
Money talks ... silence of the clams
No one to legislate protect the little lambs, 
what happened to the mighty pen battering rams?
Only pimped-out politician whores 
working for Daddy Rich Uncle Sam
Sound byting their tongues from shore-to-shore,
lip-synching parrot style on video cam
Silence of the clams ... money talks,
pearl handles guard the robber barons’ bank vaults
Money talks ... silence of the clams
In a gun-toting realm,
the baddest hip-slingers dragon walk
Breathing fire from the barrel,
yellow-taped pavements outlined in chalk
Dueling Americans
are always bullet quick on the ballot draw,
targeting all real challengers from a rifle scope distance
Gun spray silent, smoking scarlet wisps 
of violent intentions fired at any radical vocal resistance


Copyright © Freddie Robinson Jr. | Year Posted 2018


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Love and Hunting, Part I

I was moving down an access trail
in my favorite Pennsylvania game land,
heading towards and open meadow,
near which I’d set up a tree stand.

Then came a rustling from some bushes thick,
a buck shot out at lightning speed,
I reached for my gun, but he was gone,
through dense forest the buck did flee.

I was stunned by this strange happening,
for a buck to have gotten so near
to a human walking in plain sight,
it should have been skittish, hiding in fear.

Then exploding from that same thick brush,
came a petite and seething form,
she fixed a pair or rabid eyes on me,
shook once with anger, and then she roared:

“You stupid fool! I had that awesome deer,
all lined up for the kill in my sights!
If it weren’t for the sound of your footsteps,
I would have had that buck dead-to-rights!”

I instinctively bristled at her sharp tone,
snapped,”Forgive me for walking a public trail.
Maybe if you had a stand, weren’t mucking ’round,
you would have seen more than that deer’s trail.”

She roared,”And maybe if you had half a brain,
you’d be able to pick out my ground blind!
Took me days to find their bedding space,
now all of that is just wasted time!”

I yelled,”If you really do have a blind there,
I would have to stay that I was impressed.
But I’m so damn mad I wouldn’t say so,
even if it’s camouflaged with the best!”

She screamed,”And I’m so pissed, I won’t say ‘thank you,’
even though I worked for this so very hard.
How could I accept a compliment
from a fool who sends deer running far?

“And I certainly couldn’t appreciate
That pristine rifle, that cowboy gun,
owned by some rookie who makes too much noise,
who scotches up my shot and hunt!”

I laughed. “And I clearly can’t ogle at
the ancient bolt-action you’ve got there!”
She said,”And I would never tell a greenhorn
that my gramps once used it to hunt bear!”...

CONCLUDES IN PART II


Copyright © David Welch | Year Posted 2018


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The Peg-Legged Patriot, Part II

Jeremiah did not hesitate,
he drew one up into his sights.
His Kentucky fired in dawn’s glow
caught a redcoat, dead-to-rights.

The others charged, sabers drawn,
so Jerermiah fled into the near forest.
Hiding and quickly reloading his gun,
the British charged leaving him no rest.

The redcoat horses found themselves slowed
by the thick press of woody brush
that came with broad eastern forests,
a woody nightmare, alarming lush.

Jeremiah took aim and fired again,
knocking their commander from his mount.
The man pitched off and slammed down,
dead before he hit the ground.

The four others leapt from their steads,
and charged towards Jeremiah on foot.
He fled back into the deeper forest,
where it was hard to even get a look.

He waited behind a corpse of birch,
drawing his father’s old pistol.
A redcoat drew near, not seeing him,
so he put a ball through the man’s skull.

The others heard, but saw just smoke,
charging blindly to their comrade.
Jeremiah slipped left, behind a bolder,
quickly reloading under a crag.

The redcoats saw their newest slain,
and turned with muskets wide.
They scanned the forest anxiously,
then a shot came from the side!

Another jerked and then slumped low,
and a bellowing roar went up.
Jeremiah charged with tomahawk,
and a panicked fire did erupt!

But muskets are not accurate guns,
and in the chaos both shots went wide.
Jeremiah threw his tomahawk,
And it cleaved a redcoat’s thigh.

The man collapsed, moaning loud
The other turned and ran away.
Jeremiah clomped up the injured one,
and he had this to say:

“Surrender now, and I promise you
no further harm is going to come.
But press your luck and this here leg
will kill you quickly as any gun!”

He raised his iron leg just then,
to drive his point on home.
The wounded redcoat raised his hands,
said,”I’ve had enough. I’m done.”

It was several weeks later
when Colonel Wright returned.
His troops still mostly unblooded,
no glory in combat earned.

When he heard the tale of Jeremiah,
of his crazy, desperate fight,
he nodded firmly and said to all,
“It seems I was not right.

“It seems that I didn’t understand,
Just what this young man could do.
I thought him brave but still a cripple,
I suppose I made myself a fool.”

He enlisted Jeremiah that same night,
It was the talk of the whole town.
And two years later they both watched
beaten redcoats yield at Yorktown.

Few remember this tale now,
houses now stand in the field.
But to this day a peg-legged man
stands proudly on the town seal.


Copyright © David Welch | Year Posted 2017


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The Nightmare

I hear the roar of chariots
rumbling throughout the night
awakened from a sleep so deep
what I see gives me such fright
 
The weapons aimed at mankind
with symbols formed of colored lights
no human stands within their scope
their aim is dead to rights
 
My companions heart struck terror
has fallen there deceased
her husbands bones are crushed
but not from life released
 
The warriors outside assault the door
I have turned aside and fled
left the one thats broken
lying unconscious upon his bed
 
The signs are moving upon the air
they follow everywhere I run
their every touch upon a man
is a withered soul now done
 
From it's poison I keep running
I know to not look back
every living thing I've left behind
has died because of lack
 
Those who sought to help me
even these very ones have died
helped me make my escape
suffered death where they reside
 
I ran up a darkened mountain
fled into the nighted trees
there they gave me shelter
and from this terror frees
 
Thought I have about it's meaning
what insight lies within it's scope
humanity without protection
dying without any kind of hope
 
Here I found no answer
to evade or escape this dream
abruptly the spectre ended
nor found did I it's mean
 
COPYRIGHT © 2011 C. Michael Miller
via Duboff Law Group LLC


Copyright © Poetryof Providence | Year Posted 2012