Best Hoodlums Poems
Forgive me Lord for all my past sins that I’ve committed
Help me to feel that through Your love I have been forgiven
I got to move on in my life
Not to continue to wallow in worries, pain or strife
I still struggle with the fact of who I was
Living my life in the streets with hoodlums, thugs, doing drugs
I lost everything in the world that I had
Including my self esteem had me feelings so sad
Lord, I want to love me enough to forgive myself
No longer being that person who’s always so messed up
You said in your word if I continue to trust and believe
To keep on praying soon I’ll feel relieved
So no matter what satan tries and continues to do
I’m going to forgive myself God through loving you.
Jeremiah 31:34b
……for I will forgive their iniquity, and I will
remember their sin no more.
:)
What kids are watching on telly
are crimes and crimes in all variety!
Crimes of hate
crimes of passion
acting it out at shocking rate
thinking in some wild fashion
then ending up cell mates!
When kids watch their movie heroes
shoot down people with the gun
they are incited to do the same
to achieve some thrill and fun.
When they see their very film star
slash someone's throat in a fit of anger
they think well of crimes of rage
and plunge everybody else into danger.
The tendency to portray the violent scene
luridly and shockingly on the Big Screen
Ah even for the small screen, tis the gory
that makes for the dark and thrilling story.
Now that technology's long opened this pandora's box
the dispersal of amplified social ills ain't no hoax
The rowdy hoodlums and reckless gangsters
are simply by-products of Tv influences
The world watches the thriving of the bully-boy pranksters
passively in helpless terror of their offences.
It's all portrayal of the vulgar, the obscene
by that devious Silver Screen
And the horror movie
though it may seem groovy
begets the horrendous
and drills evil thoughts subliminally
into the subconscious!
It's an unrestrained dark faking
of real life reality exaggerating
Whether it's Bollywood in the East
or it's Hollywood in the West
they don't merely impart tactics of defence
but rather those of aggressive offence
Viewing those gruesome swashbuckling films
gives rise to morbid sadistic whims
Flipping through the TV channels
just ponder if the telly's the perfect channel
of information is it a proper panel?
Dad always tells me, 'fear ye the roaches' flicking antennae?
While you oughtta fear the influence
of 'em' flickering images by dish antennae'.
Then a mere single merit that I dug
as I drank cappucino in my mug
that atleast one couldn't live in a bubble
daily watching the bubblebug.
Ah but then tougher gun laws couldn't halt
even underage shooting sprees
Rather it's stringent scanning of Tv content
that might make it all cease
Parental supervision too tis gravely essential
Should've been of parental code quintessential
So the next time you catch your teen
absorbed and engrossed while glued to the screen
Just sleuth a bit just to make sure
that for the x-rated he's not too keen!
Crumbling crinkly, cracker crumbs
into salty, seafood stew,
Mother made our midday meal.
Fast for favorite food we flew.
Gluttony Glenda gulped a glass
of Linda's lovely, lemon tea.
While Will wolfed down whole walnut meats,
carefully crunching kernels free.
"Savages", sister Susan said.
"Politeness, please," our papa pled.
7/4/14
For Dr. Mehta's contest
Mushin Ajina
Bojiojimi
Eruobodo, ogongo baba eiye
Ofigbogbo ara shogun bi olosha
Gidigbalo dawa omowipe ebi npa omo enikankan
Iluola ti ki nsekan labo afi kobuyari
Iluoola baba Dimeji
Eniyan ogoro nwo e goro
Awon dobodi yes ma poshe
Woni otigun igi re koja ewe
Igba ti ba edun nile odi obo
Igba ti ba enle odi irawe
Agba de okuro lewe
Won omowipe aiye ominira lonje
Olaju totun lala
Odiju otun riran
Mawominiran baba Fatai
Ewo ketona
Ena ketora
Enibitin to fowo ola gbaniloju
Arinja lojawa
Ago, ago lona ni ti jalo
Malu ja odi bolo oya mi
Ashoromo
Ashorowo
Ashorokan
Ajagungbade
Fibeyenle jo!
{Mushin one of the flashpoint in Lagos Nigeria is the place i was born, full of miscreants and hoodlums who are ready to foment trouble. The language is Yoruba language of West Africa and spoken in the West indies and Brazil}
As much as we hope that eventually human nature will turn to good
It seems we see signs everywhere of the eventual unlikelihood
We see money hoarders who care not one iota for the plight of the poor
We see those that will milk the system for all it can possibly endure
We see hoodlums on the streets punching old ladies for the sport
We see politicians lying through their teeth when the truth is nothing of the sort
We see morality totally ignored when it doesn't pay a sufficient dividend
We see greed rearing its ugly head everywhere as a means to an end
Drug dealers and pushers roam the streets with little or no fear
As it seems our resolve to eliminate addiction is nil, or so it would appear
Is there no path out of this horrific dilemma for today's human race?
Or will we continue this downward spiral at an even quicker pace?
We ask the important question 'Is this what we have become?'
Or maybe this is what we have always been and just where we come from
Whatever the answer if we each don't soon do our part to reverse this destructive trend
We will pass to our children's children a world that no one can possibly comprehend
Life is fast sometimes slow on path marked for chains with a soul with nothing to gain.the pain hurts and it burns deep.Trying to find my path on the streets.in this life filled with up's and downs trying to find gold in this forsaken town
If my family new the things I due they would probably turn there back on me.Its too late for crying now.Its time to turn this smile to a frown.And make a way for me to live now.
The get down is real.The game is fast.No slowing down.Its time to turn this city up side down.
No mercy no disrespect no clowns and definitely no sintchs no broken rules.hold your head up high and get ready to go on a dangerous ride.all gas no breaks control my fate.Im a animal it's time to sit at the table and make my plate killed are be killed are get ate.
Where the concert jungle test your fate.what a life perading around with a knife and a gun.dressed to kill just for fun
In Black with a hoodie on looking for someone I can come up on quick cash rules the streets thugs and thievs.Hoodlums and crips push a hard line trying to devour the empire before my life exspires.
Dark streets filled with love and hate.what a place for me to stay.locked in a maze with no openings.lost souls bound for hell In every way.
My spirt slips away farther from God everyday.A sinner I am but I'm A child Of God.Trying to beat the odds so I'm on my nees now asking God to forgive me for my sins.A mortel man asking God to hold my hand so I can a blessed man...
Active Minds
Freeman Bolden
AS my chest gets pumped by the rescue team
I see my soul slowly hover over the scene
my life begins to flash I see me in my youth
stealing candy out the store in my Easter suit
I used to skip Sunday school and the bible lessons
but those vital lesson could have saved my adolescents
my mom stressing I was completely outrageous
my education wasn't between the text pages
was so impatient these streets fed what I was craving
It left mom weeping and waiting praying and pacing
with total dedication she would sacrifice
I'm out the back with hoodlums in the night
involved with all types of things that won't right
and moms used to gripe about what did each night
but Im in my zone
Im grown
as a matter of fact I'm gone
leaving mom up waiting for praying for her son to come home
In A Hotel Room
In a hotel room, she lies, literally to herself.
Their meetings filled with desire are brief.
How can she put her dignity on a shelf
Lost, between the crumpled sheet.
As a friend I helplessly watch
As her happiness turns to shame
All the joy before is lost
Falling for this hoodlums game.
There is no love in a hotel room
Used for trysts and rendezvous
As she leaves she's filled with gloom
Not the girl that I once knew.
Players play for keeps
no conscience they can sleep.
To the North, South, East, and West...
Geniuses are lost in the jaunty jewels of rakish cads,
The hazard morsel palaver allot odium on idioms...
Rankle virulent mishmash wheeze addle chagrin jives,
Loosing a volley of expletives ordure waft charmed oafs,
Self-iniquity gull maven heresy when blighted wizardry jinxes,
Ticklish cynic infidel swindle dupe cozen duress...
Squall patois and whammy sham schemas wriggle hoaxes,
Charlatans and hoodlums melange to dunce vows,
A shyster unquiet quivers with jester gestures now...
Semi-sacrilege vitiate and endemic jargon raze imps,
This collides as a white energy as dolt hooligan knaves beget...
Colloquial bilge putrefy, the rascals soon flatter us,
Bollix of potpourri lingo wanes to tutelary tongues,
Harlequin coercion argot musical novellas in history,
Pray our shifting shrapnel of karma, varnish boor minds,
Erstwhile, live grenades made of better lives are unvanquished as they are
thrown by unsung heroes into the North, South, East, and West,...amen...
Now for warm oatmeal with honey and her sugarless tea
To this chrysoberyl dawn rescue from chuted linen bedlam,
For here's a bedside tale to whispered promise and plea.
She sits on her hands and shuffles her ugg boots,
And watches me toast, I'm butter, I'm smoked ham.
Now for warm oatmeal with honey and her sugarless tea.
Pepper shakes, egg white eyes, her yawning toots,
Her champagne hair bubbles still of our liquory sham,
For here's a bedside tale to whispered promise and plea.
The wonder to her sprite body and this morn in cahoots,
When I feels like I'm sunken, with lids like a sleepy clam.
Now for warm oatmeal and honey and sugarless tea.
Not flowers on feathers, hoodlums we are - munchy and moose,
Nothing much matters but her lippy kiss coat of strawberry jam
For here's a bedside tale to whispered promise and plea.
This first light and cigarette and her shuffling caboose
Closer, comfier, her smile on my shoulder, to the day be damn'
Now for warm oatmeal with honey and her sugarless tea,
For here's a bedside tale to whispered promise and plea.
Don’t walk on the grass, no sleeping on the bench
Well if this don’t throw in that old monkey wrench
What was it bothering? Since no one else was here
Just old Hank and his stogie and his warm bottle of beer
Just fresh from the hall where he dined on that meal
Rice and gravy and a slice of what they called veal
But it’s free for the taking and pickings are slim
And to tell you the truth, it wasn’t bothering him
Well he looked left and right and set down for a rest
As he lit up a stogie and blew out a smoky breath
He sipped from the bottle and lay back his tired head
Then rolled up his jacket and then went to bed
Soon a uniformed officer was tapping with his stick
Said, don’t even think of pulling any of your tricks
He was hauled off to a site down off Third and Green
And thrown in the alley that cleanliness had never seen
The stench and noise kept him awake and alert
One never knew what to expect in this filth and dirt
Just as on cue, those hoodlums all arrived
As old Hank wondered to himself would he come out alive?
Just then a paddy wagon screeched to a halt real fast
As the hoodlums night didn’t have long to last
They also grabbed old Hank and threw him in the bus
Right next to an old con by the name of Handy Gus
A night in the slammer, fighting was their plea
As old Hank just shook his head and said “how can this be?”
Then just before breakfast, they set him free once again
As it’s back on the streets right where yesterday began
Was it his clothing or was it his beard? He really didn’t know
Whatever it was, they again ordered him out in the cold
Maybe it was his clothes, they were all ragged and torn
But if memory serves me correctly all roses do have thorns
He thought of the old days when Uncle Sam came to call
He joined to fight the japs although he was small
And this is his reward, boy ain’t life just grand
Go off to war and fight but now you’re just a bum of a man
Inside The Mysterious Enigmatic Fragmentary...
Mortal Mind Of Matthew Scott Harris
ENTER AT YOUR OWN RISK!
Seedy gobbledygook ergot
visibly argot bubbled, burbled, bustled...forth
yea...give garbled, jangled, warbled shoutout
if ye doth render
mug gadabout totally confounding,
this unfettered voluminous confection
ruff lee in toto as sample
doggone freelance gargon
sublime red rover - misaligned with
twenty first century time
emerging, fishtailing, kvetching,
slithering, whipsawing
during springtime
thaw - oozing out primordial slime,
schlepping aboard bissel mishuga train
while kibitizing with longfellow
ghost hosts Bartleby,
thee Herman Hermits,
and Stray Cats caterwauling
scrivener circumlocution showtime
evidences troubadour prima facie
tremendous struggle rustling rational rapport,
ruminating, citing his dismal schooltime
track record muddled, and hence
questing to cobble a rhyme
distilling, harvesting, and
leaching (out pulpy, knotty,
Max Headroom Ancien regime
filmy... gray matter) in realtime,
while strains of Ragtime echo
from late nineteenth century
tin pan alley, nsync, linkedin
cubist, dadaist, existentialist...
mine poetic melange jerry rigs
flashes random discordant phrases
kickstarting hotmail...faintly
analogous to processing quicklime
mucking with abstract alphabetic
mire ranks as playtime
forging whimsical tactical trippy thoughts,
nursing eternal idealistic Earthly peacetime,
worrying away looming mortality,
noshing post death as pastime,
welcomes input and alien abduction – ME,
mine "FAKE" existence, sans charade,
facade, masquerade onetime pantomime,
no second act allowed, nor
revising questionable tour de force
I claim NO pièce de résistance, nor overtime,
asper waning game
of thrown away Life
approaches nighttime haven
soon...forever rest in peace
surrendering requisite burnt offerings,
sans (cremated ashes) - meantime
fete grateful dead
scythe lent hoodlums on warpath
to incite bedlam
postprandial mealtime prayer final -
deathly hallowed gleeful grimace
witnessing successful electroshock therapy
of yours truly emotionally frozen
decades long comatose state
thankfully oblivious, when impending
curtain call signals finis!
The Estranged [A dedication]
Jay was sitting in his small cell
His head resting on the rails
Staring with an absent minded wonder
At the raiment on his shrunken shoulder.
Is he the same man! or a shadow of
Jay Sen the scholar, the stylist philanthropist
The graceful spendthrift, a sophisticated sophist.
When did his advent venture turned into adversity!
When did he turn an addict, refusing golden opportunity
He couldn't make up his mind
He couldn't cope up with the blind
Those who can't differ
A gold and a plated glitter!
Those who have used him and
Threw him like a burnt cigar.
The cynical pseudos who blamed him a psychic
Accordingly they deserved blows and kick.
To some 'normal humane' this was unusual
An act of violence, not so sane and frugal
From then Jay's address is 'the Asylum',
The 'kind' home for mentally disturbed hoodlums.
Just then he saw himself
In a half burnt cigar, the warden threw.
Smoke was still rising, it's still alive, he knew.
He wanted it so badly, he stretched his hand out of the rails
And a sudden pain gripped him
A hooked rod ripped him
Drawing back his bloody knuckles
Jay cries a song of pathos
A rhapsody of agony mixed with rage
Fills the air of the dim lit cage
The half dead creatures exhales sighs of sorrow
And thus the sighs and cries moves on
As great waves of echos.
One night an angel surely came for Jay
With a candle glowing with a serene light
Not for money,not for fame, but only to spread love
And took away all the painful humility like a feather touch of a dove.
She made the disturbed calm and quiet
Mr. Jay is a reformed man now, always happy and satisfied.
Tera” The Game of Life
We all play major roles in this set-up called the game of life.
Us trying to get rid of certain gamers is only causing us strife.
We should be thinking about the purpose of each and all.
Start referring to those others as “We” instead of “Y'all”.
This Game is not our strategy, so why sacrifice our dignity?
Giving thought to these facts, I will take the liberty…
There is due diligence of the hoodlums, so fine worth in the hood.
Need for the vigilance of gangsters, so let them form gangs.
Unfair Rules that must be ignored, so bring forth the ignorant.
Acknowledge the acts of the haters. Progress is made from the efforts of debaters.
Everything we need is present and accounted for and found in this sphere.
If this is not so, then, why else are they on the playing field? Why are they here?
And if you do not think these strategies are in active play… then wherein The “F”antasy have you been!
………07142020
With heart drenched in love
They served our dear land
With talents dripping
From their eyes and speech
They spilled services.
These flaming dreams
Lost in blade's thirst
Were kits of hope
And great, their deeds.
Why the slay
With daggers?
For no cause
Crack brained
Hoodlums
Why?
Dedicated to Nigerian youth corps, who were killed during their post graduation service,
when violence erupted after the incumbent president emerged the winner of the national
election.
For Debbie Guzzi's contest:'Jack out of the box'