Best Hustler Poems
The sun is really high and hot;
his three-day shirt is all wet.
He carry academic papers in his file;
every day he walks for more than a mile,
looking for a way to get a decent job,
and save him from political mob.
Sometimes he wonders why he was born;
looking down at his shoes so torn.
Pain and misery is visible on his face,
as he toils hard on the rat race.
His hands are so strong and rough,
adapted to the world so tough.
He lived alone – he’s an orphan;
sometimes he tries out heroin,
to forget his childhood trauma,
and focus on life’s daily drama.
In his heart he carries a song,
which he sings when days are long…..
He stumbled in, as drunk as sin
with a limp and a nose full of red
He ordered cheap gin, and the blood dripped in
As he raised the drink to his head
He sat on the stool,and the drops formed a pool
He could feel all the eyes on his back
He guzzled the fuel, but he kept his cool
As he loaded the balls in the rack
He straigtened his gaze, yet still in a haze
and challenged the room to a game
Then through the maze, with a cigeratte blaze
The surly stranger came
His face was stone, He walked alone
With a beer and a black leather case
with a cue of his own, his cover was blown
On his wrist a tatoo of an ace
He said "I'll take", and he put up his stake
The lushes all gathered around
With a half hearted shake they flipped for the break
While the bartender poured out a round
The stranger broke, with a solid stroke
And down fell the four and the three
This guy was no joke, then he pinched from his poke
and cried out "the next one's on me"!
Ear to Ear grins, as they swilled down that gin
In this stranger, a hero they'd found
They cheered him to win, as he knocked those balls in
they cheered for another free round
He had it won, yes all but one
The eight was final ball
The table run, the lushes stunned
When that sphere refused to fall
Clinching his fist, shocked by his miss
He glared across the table
Like a ship in list from drunken bliss
to stand he was barely able
That drunk cracked a smile, for he knew all the while
That he only needed one chance
In appearance so vile, yet he shot with style
That Gin put him into a trance
His vision was blurred, he mumbled and slurred
Yet to win he would need just one more
And so much as a word, could not be heard
That stranger just stared at the floor
Well he sank that ball, and won it all
and he yelled with a bellowing groan
"before last call just one more tall
And the lushes can all buy their own!"
Hustling on point
No time to waste
On the go
On the move
Money on my mind
I care less
About all else...
The hustler...
Love makes life
Go round and round
So they say...
To me
Love has no network
It's dead...
Later in prospect
It may resurrect...
The hustler...
In my mind
Money rules
Cos I got to bustle
Run around and jostle...
The hustler...
The time I got is now
My bones are strong
Ailment scarce
My body young
So on and on I move
In search of the alcove...
The hustler...
God bless my hustle
I remember You in it
Cos You are my source
Anywhere I err
It's part of my weakness:
You I see in all
And You I beg
To fill water in my hustling keg...
The hustler...
Talk to me of money
Talk not of women
Nor of frivolous things
Money on my mind
The evil genius of my kind...
The hustler...
Hustle less
And pay attention
To your deeds
Hustling ends
Deeds go on:
Time to act is now
Less you cry when you bow...
The hustler...
Every hustler has fallen.
Cracks in the concrete is how the streets are watching.
Calling me back, i thought i closed that door?
Slipping into darkness heating up my toes.
Rock bottom balling is a choice.
Do or die. Be heard or make noise?
Bodies traced in chalk then go void.
Last time i checked I'm dealing with faith.
like a rose that grew from under the pavement.
A hustler dies a hustler is made.
I don't know why you feel you gotta lie
learn to be real - you ain't got to steal
just cause you say - it really ain't that way
doesn't make it so - well you outta know
you think your one up, it's just another come up
here is what you must know, you need a new hustle
cause you say it's not so - doesn't change the fact yo
you say it's not true - still, I don't like being lied too
you try to flip the script - you think you're well equipped
it won't change my mind, you're yelling all the time
chaos and stress unwind, clarity not far behind
the more that you scream, it was you, wasn't me
trying to pass the buck, confuse things what the f***
whatever you took, wasn't by the book
karma is a b**** she'll throw you a hitch
all will be returned - no lesson you have learned
you were unconcerned, you hurt the one you burned
I don't even know though, how far you would go
you seem real concerned - that trust you have to earn
you think that your owed, that just goes to show
you are deranged - my opinion will not change
you'll still be the same - a hustler you'll remain
without any game - you will always come up lame
but without any dame - that will ever take your name
it will all be in vain - if the lying doesn't change
For a Part-Time Hustler, every day is sunny
Money comes in and outta my hands
In need of some walking around money
I wrap my cash in rubberbands
Chicks swarm like bees to honey
Got me feeling like a Part-Time member of a boy band
Product flying off the news stand
Kinda got me feeling like a Part-Time Paperboy
Hold my drink, let show u how to make real paper, boy!
Selling my product from my desk and on tha corner
Snitches meet the coroner
I make a phat stack
Then I go home and lay back
I wear rubbabands on my wrist
Owe a debt and get wrapped like a boxer's fists
Bein' a full timer is takin' a risk
But bein' a Part-Time Hustler is the sht
Enter the hustler
With monetary momentary speed
He's rolling
Not a man of need
He's got it squared away
No specific race these days, all races participate
Man of grace, charisma, his needs
On any other day
He's got gold so he knows
The hustle night and day
He's got the glory of the prize
Standing straight and tall
On this side of the ball
He checks it all
Watch the paper trail
Always gets by
Sly slipping out the back way
When no body has
Eyes on him
Turns around with that golden smile
Panther style the cool of charisma
More than you can guess, major
No temporary swag
His mission, stroll the GOAL
GET THE MONEY AT OPPORTUNITY'S DOOR
stay the patrol
He glows
Light the life of jive
Known to thrive customary stride when he goes
Smooth EXIT THE LEGEND STROLLS
Steps his foot out of the door with granny’s anointed words
if blessings were edible, he’d have been fatter than North America
faces the day’s task with immunity to the heat of the sun
dines with the wild to keep the oil running
the quest for a better tomorrow begs for a step further
a bright mind, a weary heart, a bunch of hard nails
and strained muscles still yet deserving of any praise
one added day and his large hope is a chronic liar
for an upgrade, his life is becoming an outlay.
After the rigorous relay,
the day ends in a sleep commenced through deep thoughts
the alarm rings at dawn, no fresh start, the cycle continues
he’s sunk in this ocean until a miracle sailor comes through.
Yes- hustler,
all dressed in his lies.
Slick talking,
devil tongue.
Loves ladies of all ages,
you watch out for him.
The greatest hustler we will ever know
Is our wishful thinking
For something holy.
The deal on the table never really changes.
It has long grown old
And curdled.
But we all take it as new.
And
How can I find my balance on the legal apparatus
Of a rat eat rat city
Which will always take the form’
Of a moneyed home.
Those of us who honed our craft
Have become exhibits in
museums of all our spent years
isolated
while the moneyed children
beautiful in their designer skin
and expensive shoes.
But their souls were left behind
On the cutting floor somewhere
Where the rats
The ones mentioned before
are free to collect all scattered things
For their unseen nests.
That is the price of advertising:
To
plant your heart under the floor boards
Like just another roach
Another lost
Or discarded thing
all
To avoid the pain
Knowing what it is
To turn into just another house cat
Peering out the same window
As yesterday
Knowing you will never
truly be part of the world below
Only living just behind
Drawn shades and
Dark clubs.
And me?
I continue to wait for you
To return from finality's
unforgiving sea.
Awaken feels cold these
soul's forsaken, taken
locked in a dungeon I
feel their pains is aching
Feel the heat from the
streets as they seek out
their error, it's so simple
people we gotta look in the
mirror
A mear image of the error
we live in the heroin's
giving to children delivering
the message coherently fibing
They listen, why? because
they gotta hear it to bear it.
When I discovered marbles can take marbles
I became a hustler
I was a pro
I took marble after marble
Some cried
I rarely gave their marble back
It was a competition
Taken fairly
I feel no guilt
yesterday we used to pray
today you say it ought not be that way
I was born in the gutter my mother was a whore
she sold her junk in the trunk in back of the liquor store
I was raised by my grandma Mable
feeding her dog underneath the table
back then as a young G living came most naturally
as the years would pass having every reason to grasp
those silly days of my youth with the loose tooth
shopping trips at the nearby mall
playing bat and ball at the end of my street
Pop Rocks those fancy socks eating candy with the dots
loose lips sinks ships took some time to move those hips
Went to high school thought I was way to cool
smoking weed listening to boom box with Scot Lerock
block parties that where it began the day I became a man
working on my tan selling dope down at the 8th Street Station
getting busted by the cops doing time
made a name for myself on the streets
The hustler was soon released had the best of suits but a noose around my neck
What the heck had to put things in check
Had my mind on my money but my money was gone
Until that day I went to church payed a visit with the savior
Now I get high with the Lord up in the sky
No fly by or getting shot in the eye
God is good to those who love & put him first
Most of my friends were in the back seat of a hearst
The moral of this dope joint is have faith in God
Forget about your good for nothing friends yet who are they anyway
Let us learn to stay humble everyday and bow the knee to pray
Couldn't share my story any other way
Pool's Prince Charming
by Michael R. Burch
this is my tribute to the legendary pool shark "Saint Louie" Louie Roberts
Louie, Louie, Prince of Pool,
making all the ladies drool ...
Take the “nuts”? I'd be a fool!
Louie, Louie, Prince of Pool.
Louie, Louie, pretty as Elvis,
owner of (ahem) a similar pelvis ...
Compared to you, the books will shelve us.
Louie, Louie, pretty as Elvis.
Louie, Louie, fearless gambler,
ladies' man and constant rambler,
but such a sweet, loquacious ambler!
Louie, Louie, fearless gambler.
Louie, Louie, angelic, chthonic,
pool's charming hero, but tragic, Byronic,
winning the Open drinking gin and tonic?
Louie, Louie, angelic, chthonic.
NOTE: If you like my tribute you are welcome to share it, but please credit me as the author, which you can do by copying the title and subheading. I used poetic license about what Louie Roberts was or wasn't drinking at the 1981 U. S. Open Nine-Ball Championship. Was Louie drinking hard liquor as he came charging back through the losers' bracket to win the whole shebang? Or was he just pretending to drink for gamesmanship or some other reason? I honestly don't know. As for the word “chthonic,” it’s pronounced “thonic” and means “subterranean” or “of the underworld.” And the pool world at its worst can be very dark indeed, as Louie’s tragic demise suggests. But everyone who knew Louie seemed to like him, if not love him dearly, and many sharks have spoken of Louie in glowing terms, as a bringer of light to that underworld.
The Hustler President
The Hustling nation finally got the king of Hustlers,
Yes, he was born deep inside the village Sungoi,
Born by Hustling parents, he lived a modest life,
He fed on the best natural foods, which he loves today,
A sip of Mursiki and some well-done Sanga will forever remind you where you come from Forever.
The king of hustlers started his journey in life humbly in the village school,
He attended the best University in Hustler Nation,
He is a go-get-it; he made sure he reached the apex of education in the Hustler Nation,
What do you expect from him? Just the best.
He has risen to the apex of leadership; what else, he is now Mr. President.
Mr. President, this mama country is bleeding,
It's bleeding from being raped by her sons!
Mama, our country is calling for your support and directions,
Tame this Serpent threatening to kill Mama,
Mr. President save the Hustler Nation; all eyes are on you now, papa of Kenya.
You are the cornerstone, anointed by the Most High,
Kill corruption, avoid all the traps on your way,
With your resilience, you will deliver this Hustler Nation!
Have that grip on power, a sober Hustler president,
Save Mama Kenya and all her children; the noise of frogs can't deny cows to drink water,
Mr. President, live to your promises. All the best on your journey.
PS: Receive my poem with a lot of humility. My request is to meet my Mr. President.
Stanslaus Mukumbu