Best Mugger Poems
I remember the day I got the call.
My world fell apart.
I had lost it all.
I remember the day you were taken from me.
I knew your beautifull smile I would never again see.
They said it was a mugger and you put up a fight.
I should not have let you go out that night.
It seems like just yesterday we fed eachother our wedding cake.
When I remember that memory my hands start to shake.
I sit in my cabin on this mountain with the sky so blue.
I won't leave. This's where I spent my honeymoon with you.
My family wants me to go back into that world, so cold.
I'm not leaving this mountain.
It's where I'll grow old.
They say your gone and will never again be.
Well, I hear what your saying. Yes, I know your talking to me.
You sit in the chair and drink my tea.
My heart swells up when you smile at me.
They say I've gone insane and see things that aren't there.
If I'm on this mountain here why should they care?
I love you more then I did when we first found this place.
I remeber everything about you, your ellagince and grace.
Why am I not in that world full of anger and fear?
I want to be with you on this mountain here.
Old Death is a scar,
an empty eye socket, a lost limb.
It has been grieved and we leave it alone
most of the time except on long drives
or sleepless nights.
New Death is a police siren behind you,
a baby crying for you in the night
in a house on fire.
New Death is bright red.
Old Death is brown.
We can pick it up and put it down.
New Death picks us up and
puts us down when it wants to.
New Death is a mugger in an alley
on your way home.
Leather jacket, whiskey breath,
fear smell, switch blade at your throat.
That's New Death.
It mugs you and steals your life
for years or forever.
Old Death is a tight uniform you wore,
you try it on once in a while.
You were drafted in the Regiment of Pain.
It doesn't fit, you don't wear it
but you will never be the same again.
You have your memories at that private war with Death.
You are a veteran now.
But the Private Pain mellows into General Acceptance
and the poignancy turns to peace
and all New Death will lose it's sting
with time and God's help forever.
A Storm is whirling in town this week, as Dragon’s sidekick is on a streak.
Yes, the little Dragoness is here, and its havoc, she does endlessly wreak.
She took her cape with a small “d”, and made it definitely, into a large “B”.
Then she appliquéd butterflies all around, and painted her wings… yes…
With matching abound.
Now, when Super Dragon is called, Madame Butterfly arrives first, all recall.
She invited the Trolls to follow her around, making it a gang of true renown…
Yep! The butterfly gang has come to town with Dragoness wearing the crown.
Super Dragon was following a length behind, because she was faster, by dang!
And she’s fighting crime with a Capital BANG!
Some teenagers were bullying, little kids, of their lunch money, it’s true…
So Madame Butterfly gave them a reverse Mohawk, with her fire that flew!
Then sent them to set up their own rock band, which became the hit of the land!
Now making tons of money, while having a hoot, they send her, a weekly tribute.
So now the Trolls have butterfly capes, too.
Then Dragon was called to save a family caught in a fire, their plight was dire!
Dragon was inside to get them out, Dragoness instructed the Trolls, on how to…
Put the fire, quickly out! She was talking to the Paparazzi when Dragon came out,
Discussing, with them the plans, on how she was instructing the Trolls to build…
Them a bigger, and safer house, and was dutifully signing autographs for her fans.
Then that mugger, that came to our park, she chased him away, and he never again,
Chose here, to embark… Then she finished up, by putting the Trolls to work…
To build a new Butterfly House… as a perk!! Yep, Dragon was soundly forgotten.
As she kept beating him there first, and he was shoved into the background…
For him it was the very, VERY worst!
But her Mama Dragon only allowed her to stay for one single week…
Then the town was given back to Dragons’ Super Duper mystique…
Still the legend of “Madame Butterfly” will always remain, yes, it’s true…
And her stories will be told throughout time, until the end, of this town, it’s true.
Will she return? Or with Super Duper Dragon, will they have to make do?
For that answer… Stay tuned… is all I can say to you…
Written 5-5-2016
There are “functional psychopaths” among us,
different from their murderous counterparts
who use their detached, unflinching and charismatic personalities
to succeed in mainstream society,
and in some fields of work most shockingly
the more psychopathic individuals are more likely to succeed.
We all possess psychopathic tendencies.
It's a scale along which we all sit within varying degrees.
The brilliant neurosurgeon who lacks empathy
has more in common with a Ted Bundy than we'd like to believe,
and that mugger in the parking lot lit very dimly
may well in fact have the same nerveless poise as a titan of industry.
Society as a whole is more psychopathic than it could ever be.
Fearless, confident, charming, ruthless, and focused are all qualities
that are tailor-made for success in the twenty-first century,
and all of the above mentioned qualities
are very dominant in every psychopath's personality.
It is our much maligned dark side that often reveals
the trump cards of success functional psychopaths conceal.
Something created. Does the creator think ahead
or spill a storm. Rain happens. We supply the
reasons. Evaporation of water collecting over
huge expanses, condensed and pushed as clouds
over the land. We say it makes us sad or depressed.
We want to cry.
You describe the America you know and if you
are ashamed of yourself for what you see, you lie.
Or don't look. Loud noises of automobiles and
fumes. Today in Riverside Park, leaning on a rail,
the dead leaves and snow reminded me how far
from nature and life I am. The snow blew
in from the west. People passed in a smooth
slow line in front of me. Dogs trailing one
another. People hiding until crises bring them
out. Their dog smells another dog between the legs.
The master runs over to stop him. Maybe he
thinks they're going to fight. Doesn't want his
big German shepherd to hurt her dachshund.
Guy runs past in gray sweats on his tip-toes.
Glances at me. Another passes in blue sweats. Looks
longer. They think I'm a mugger. They are not
sexually attracted. I'm an opponent. I want something
they have. I look surly. Why aren't I out
running, disciplining myself, making myself healthy,
doing something. What brings you out here. You're not
doing anything but watching us and staring at the ground.
Walking down Broadway I realized I've never lived here and still don't. Two women window shopping is strange to me. They talk about the clothes. They are friends. I slow down, I don't feel so cold. Stroll, looking at people is like a sunny day and it's a carnival.
Rainy nights are good. Cold rainy nights. Bars filled and warm. Streets empty and cold. People pass and look as members of a fraternity. They need someone and don't hide it. They will try anyone out for one night. They have tea together. They go for a drink in some neutral place. They go straight to bed in the dark. They can't see the face.
The noose is a nightmare for any seafaring man
Especially those who thrive the best they can
Danger lurks on the waves like a mugger in the shadows
The only concern is the prize and the gallows
For the young pressed into service have two labors
Cabin boy or powder monkey are their favors
A fair share for those who survived
Though not to many lived to enjoy the ride
Mostly master gunners would employ the young ones
For the task of loader and powder runs
A grizzly sight to any mother of today
Blood spattered, powder covered, limbs severed portray
I dare say I met one intact and conscious
He was rude and quite audacious
No name had he just an X above the knee
His mark given by Captain of the Breeze
A sloop of war in Caribbean was this
Massacred whole crews drunk as piss
The boys attitude so moved my heart
That I had to set him free from his part
Before I saw him he was the only one left to be hanged
Port Royals mob clawed and fanged
I set to watch when I saw how young he was
I had to do something for his cause
I bid the court give me custody immediately
They awaited the response from the Admiralty
The response was yes almost to late
For the executioner just removed the safety plank
He kicked and cried for a moment then released
With the knife of the kings lease
A bruise found its way around his neck as a reminder
For a life against the grinder
I sailed him back to London to learn a trade
And go to school for a decade
I later named him after my name kidd
Later to be known as William Kidd
It happened several years ago
But it is a true story in the flow
A Senior Citizen woman being my Grandmother
She was a strong woman like no other
She worked as a Board Of Education Lunchroom Manager at P.S. 202 in Brooklyn, New York
As my Grandmother was leaving on a regular day, a Mugger was getting ready to pounce
It all happened on the busy street of Atlantic Avenue
My Grandmother was on her way to the Doctor
But when she got in the middle of the street, the mugger showed his attack mystique
However, the Mugger didn’t know he was in for a surprise
Yet my Grandmother showed that Mugger her realize
She literally knocked the mugger off his feet
The Mugger tried another attempt in attack being another retreat
Well my Grandmother showed that Mugger, this senior citizen was determined to not be beat
What do you think happened?
The Mugger got sacred and ran off
Now my Grandmother 5’ 5’ being short, but I never said she was weak
Big things come in small packages
My Grandmother being the Biblical David and defeating Goliath being the Mugger
My Grandmother’s response being her slugger power
She reigned supreme and that Mugger knows what that means
This is a true story and I am being honest
Senior Citizen’s have more power than Social Security, and their strength being their unity.
I stand here yelling
false tales at you,
soon I walk out of
the door; I feel
stupid and foolish.
I reach a fence, it
shines in the dim
street light.
I hear my name being
called; peering at
the bright moon I
ignore the sound for
I know it is you calling
out for me to return.
I turn a corner and instantly
I am in an unfamiliar street,
I begin to feel alone and
defenceless.
I feel as if someone is
behind me, like a creeping
shadow of a ghost.
I turn around expecting to
see a mugger but instead
it is you with tears of
fear and worry running
down your face.
I peer into your tear-filled
eyes, pain and shattered feelings
are reflected; guilt grows
within me in an instant.
Softly I embrace you in
arms for I now see the
error of my ways; they have
bruised your heart and sweet,
compassionate soul and I,
for one, must heal the
wounds I have created by
my foolish actions.
I'm learning to swear and to curse
And to make my poems sound worse and worse
But when I shouted, oh f**k
It was just my bad luck...
I was standing right next to a hearse.
So then I thought, oh what the hell,
My mind's as unsound as a bell
I cried . what a b*gger
And scared off a mugger.
So here I am with no cr*p in a dell.
Is there a future for the pure on the earth
For those who don't swear and don't curse?
Cor blimey,you're quaint
Is you a saint?
I almost feel a faint tinge of mirth
Inspiration
A fly which past fast zings
Like a bird on beating wings
A leaf that in wind flickers
Like a curvy girl on knickers
Or a Wretch who bemoans
As a weight lifter that groans;
Flying quite ethereal across
Clouds that gather no moss;
Like a mugger in the street
Fleeing with his hungry feet;
A happy lover who guffaws
Elusive to possessive in-laws
A Man of masculine feat
Sartorially elegant and neat,
Or a child who, like loud bells,
Is given to sobs and to yells
And a conversely patient mum
Composed and keeping mum,
Starving fellow; old and wan
Visage bruised with sun tan
With keen eye trailed above
In supplication for His love
The rain, wind and all that stirs
Voice, sound and all that burs-
I watch Nature with adulation
It gives my pen an inspiration.
JM
24th Nov. 2013
This morning I walked in the dark.
Before, I’d not go to the park
When the sky wasn’t light;
It would give me a fright
For the pathways were lonely and stark.
But now, though, my worries do lack
The fear of a mugger attack.
It’s the foe that’s unseen
Causing mass quarantine
That I hope to keep off of my back.
Ere the sunrise, the streets are devoid
Of the crowds making me paranoid.
So I breathe in the air
While remaining aware
Of each early bird I must avoid.
He’s a rocker, a mod, a violent young youth,
He bashes whoever he sees,
While she is a mugger when the sun disappears,
She’ll destroy, pretty much, both of your knees,
And he says he’s gay so of course he has AIDS,
Stay away, don’t infect us with “Qu##r”,
Are words uttered by small panicking towns,
The words that simple folk hear,
And the sore jaws of the world explain it away,
God’s will, a violent video game,
The music made him do it, teenagers today,
Shock jocks lead a moral crusade,
But today the distrust is against something small,
No vaccine, no drugs and no shots,
Nothing to blame so people panic buy,
Panic buying toilet paper from shops.
At just 30, please death take this to her:
For I was thinking that life start at forty
For I had hidden the good side of me mother,
For that me, there is another me stealthy;
A good son you once dream, that is not a robber,
rapist, political thug, cultist, dope distributor,
A well educated, that never try to kill his brother
Not a road mugger, and not a village destructor
Kaka, i am no more, that evil is out of me now,
And say good things about me later, please,
Give them my legacy, and lied that i rest in peace
Recall me before age ten; the joy i never know;
And smile I forgot off, mildness son you once love
Alone mother, untroubled, for the rest of my soul.
See the owl in swift silent flight,
Surfing the darkness of the night,
In control of its black domain,
Its prey killed quick, no time for pain.
Don’t be outraged when its victim dies;
The owl’s not a mugger of the skies,
No malice shown when it hunts for meat,
It leaves alone what it cannot eat!
Glorious God that grips and grabs the heart of great grandees
Who wangled on the walk-way of war and wastage
They truly troubled me and I trembled tremendously
But HE breaks their backbones bits by bits without blinking
Salute shrew sire for saving me from shackles of slavery
Darkness dig deep distracting and dragging me to death
Praise the potter who put past pest problems to rest
Father of faith fraternized freedom for fraudulent friends
Covering and cleansing concise minds; cutting corrupt cabals
Made me mode my life much more than male mugger ..
8-28-2020