Best Muggers Poems
Don’t worry.
The head of British Gas
will take a pay cut.
Your favourite watering hole
will never shut.
There may be acid rain
because the ozone layer is kaput,
But someday
it’ll be OK.
Don’t worry.
Elvis Presley will announce
that he is well and truly dead.
You will be given a wage
to stay in bed.
There may be squatters
in your garden shed,
But someday
it’ll be OK.
Don’t worry.
There’ll be a non-stop funfair
in your local park.
Granny muggers will prowl
the streets in the dark.
There may be need
to build a fall-out Ark,
But someday
it’ll be OK.
Don't Worry
Leicester City will achieve
the Cup and League double.
Politicians will resign
when in trouble.
You may have to live
in a pollution-free bubble,
But someday,
it’ll be OK.
Don’t worry.
Lady Gaga will become
the Antichrist (or Pope).
Cliff Richard will crack
and start smoking dope.
You may have to listen
to another Tim Vine Joke,
But someday
it’ll be OK.
Don’t worry.
Footballers will not dispute
the yellow card.
Salman Rusdie will not need
an armed guard.
The next London airport
may be New Scotland Yard,
But someday
it’ll be OK.
Clouds drift slowly like soft tissues across the lonely cold face of the crying moon,
absorbing its golden tears and leaving the night painted in ebon darkness.
Darker still on Halloween, the ethereal shadows seem to solidify and come to life
taking labored breaths, pulsing and writhing, in the changing lamp light's starkness.
He is the shadow, ancient as the contorted limbs on the twisted leafless trees that cast
grotesque shadow puppet silhouettes against the canvas of the sky. Need palpitating,
he remains melted in the corner of the cemetery behind the church's old bell tower.
How long he has been here he can not remember, sitting and waiting, always waiting.
He hungers for emotion and savors each delectable morsel, anger and hate has a delicious taste,
so creamy like freshly churned butter, but lust is his desire, his deepest craving
and what he waits for this night, as he licks from his gnarled hands the sticky remnants
of blood and doomed soul of his latest victim as he lay in the filth of the street raving.
Remaining hidden in his favorite haunt, the alley by the graveyard where few people pass,
only the most deviant come, muggers, murderers and ladies of the night, the ultimate chocolates.
The dulcet sound of epicene heels echo on the pavement near him, the beautiful vamp
her prey in tow, unaware she's on tonight's menu, moves into the shadows... as he waits.
10/05/15
Dying starving kids in the streets of Calcutta.
Lepers, faceless and worthless pieces of flesh,
kicked and tossed in the nearest cesspool.
Low caste Hindus hated and harried from the Ganges.
Women raped in the streets of South Africa.
Their bloody torn panties---flags of rapist victory.
Tribal warfare, shooting each other for no reason.
Mutilation and torture in their hot sweaty cells.
Faces slashed by muggers’ knives on London tube.
Reckless thugs on Brixton side killing to get some change.
Beggars punched black and blue, left to rot in East End's slums.
While politicians sing tunes of law and order at Westminster.
Old freezing tramp seeks shelter in warm sty.
Jailed for break and enter, slowly dying.
Who cares, the law must be seen to do justice,
Our judges say as they hold a minute of silence for dead soldiers!
Let's bash these Jews and brown-black bastards in their chants of racial hatred,
Echoing in European and American streets, kill em to preserve their purity.
Their whiteness and Aryan image mustn't be poisoned by these animals.
Then the killing and slicing begin in the dark corners of the metropolis.
Fighting in Israel, the Middle East and Afghanistan is man's thrill,
as a flood of blood soaks the war-torn lands and they smile
at wasted lives to hail a religion and a useless cause.
Wars created by man for fun and games but we're the pawns!
Oh God when will the angry ravage and savage evil of man stop?
When will our children be able to run in golden fruit scented fields?
Drink cow’s pure milk and crunch crusty bread reaped from the land of wheat.
When will human suffering end and life of love and peace with God prevail?
First of all, it’s a big responsibility,
especially in a city like Jacksonville, or Philadelphia, or wherever really.
So think long and hard before deciding on love.
On the other hand, love gives you a sense of security:
when you’re walking down the street late at night
and you have a leash on love
ain’t no one going to mess with you.
Because crooks and muggers think love is
unpredictable.
Who knows what love could do in its own defense?
Broken glass bottles.
On cold winter nights, love is warm.
It lies between you and lives and breathes
and makes funny noises.
Love wakes you up all hours of the night with its needs.
It needs to be fed so it will grow and stay healthy.
Love doesn’t like being left alone for long.
But come home and love is always happy to see you.
It may break a few things accidentally in its passion for life,
but you can never be mad at love for long.
Is love good all the time? No! No!
Love can be bad. Bad, love, bad! Very bad love.
Love makes messes.
Love leaves you little surprises here and there.
Love needs lots of cleaning up after.
Somethimes you just want to get love fixed.
Sometimes you want to roll up a piece of newspaper
and swat love on the nose,
not so much to cause pain,
just to let love know “Don’t you ever do that again!”
Sometimes love just wants to go out for a nice long walk.
Because love loves exercise. It will run you around the block
and leave you panting, breathless. Pull you in different directions
at once, or wind itself around and around you
until you’re all wound up and you cannot move.
But love makes you meet people wherever you go.
People who have nothing in common but love
stop and talk to each other on the street.
Throw things away and love will bring them back,
again, and again, and again.
But most of all, love needs love, lots of it.
And in return, love loves you and never stops.
Why have stars and why so many?
To remind us possibility is limitless.
Why do stars sparkle like diamonds?
To put desire for beauty in our hearts.
Why do stars come out at night?
To contrast with the darkness in our world.
Why do stars appear like stars?
To show off an illusion.
Why do stars live light years away?
To remind mankind of human frailty.
Why do stars hide from city lights?
To avoid seeing muggers, murderers and thieves.
Why do stars live in the country more?
To be in a clear, fresh, unpolluted sky.
Why do stars even shine at all?
To make a wish as you see one fall.
Why do stars seem to twinkle a lot?
To pinpoint the lucky ones you’ve got.
7/2/18
Two scales must always be within an approximate range
for an accurate weight, and the close relationship
between the Humankind and God must withstand any change.
Solutions must be found before catastrophe approaches,
and if we were caught by surprise, we would regret the outcome;
less trees should be cut down to make room for buildings.
Thieves, murderers and rapists should be held in contempt
and thrown into dungeons...instead of giving them cosy cells,
the Law admits that's just to punish, but inhumane to torment.
Nightly streets have been taken over by muggers, drug dealers
and prostitutes, now called escorts, haven't changed their lewd attitude;
even madams of the brothels open doors for the well-dressed sirs.
Society has gone mad, and it has condoned both sexes of equal desires;
never was Sodom and Gomorrah as iniquitous and lustful as this one;
God forbid...I entered this city and be found guilty of their perversions!
While on the outskirts, in run-down homes poverty duplicates its horrible woes,
politicians' corrupt hands are not seen...pocketing money that Congress approved;
and the suffering of the poor is plagued by famines that turn into deadly diseases.
Crooked judges are manipulated by criminal defense lawyers who have handfuls of cash;
justice can never be served when criminals are given their parole, and the innocent,
humble men are detained and put behind bars, because of their limited wealth.
Proud hearts see neither simplicity nor beauty in anything that evolves into splendid light;
self-praise, greed, bluntness and invulnerability are the rules they live and swear by;
humbleness is unacceptable and insignificant...it's a virtue which diminishes their pride.
Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci
My pen cascades it's ink here and now,
Leaving stains on my pad, silently i assign my words,
Carefully in a filthy aura, they might be candied than
Thaumatin, yet as biting as lime, very monotonous
And exhausting.
Perseverance please!, it's not my fault.
Let fault be found to the wicked, who are never guilty
Of their licenticiousness and that's why my pen is on a hike
Traipsing about to rebuke the vicious.
If i were you, profligacy would be a consequence.
Perpetrators of the ordinance along with the
Muggers of mutual estate, to them it would
Be a remorseful dilemma.
If i were you, this couldn't be what we're,
Impoverished, philistinism, unpaid time off and
Antiquated. I wish i were you, you couldn't be
What you're doing, nefarious crooker, larcenous,
Deceitful and shameless, still they don't get
Why if i were them.
I wish i had that crown on my head,
It doesn't matter whether it would fit me or not
But it would definitely suit me, to hold the treasure
Fishy enough it's neither mine nor yours,
It belongs to them.
Just in: Reported
Thefts of fresh air leave victims
Of B.O. gagging!
9/16/11
Received 3d place in "Make Me Laugh" contest
Received 5th place in "any Haiku will do" contest
Swinging in the pavane of love
Doves doze where ravens nest
And bells toll for sick and poor
For drifters and muggers
Jokers and jugglers
And ones who spot a dirty floor
They fly away eventually
Rejoice by chance they may
Maybe they’ll remember
When wings tomorrow fray
Oh, the bells sing for all that is
And all that isn't too
Oh, eternal bells ring for me
Chime through cracks in truth
Oh, when bells toll I never hide
From battery buzz above
Oh, bells ring for me and you
The raven and the dove
I live in a concrete jungle,
with buildings in the place for trees,
and traffic noise in the place for wild game.
Dawn to dusk I trek with other people
like bison, as we search for better
opportunities;
most of which have been taken by other people.
"Dad, what have you brought us?" my children
ask when I'm about to enter my house.
What I bring home is all what I've worked
for, that day.
Sometimes I meet muggers and scammers
on the way, all who have been forced to be
as they are, because of limited resources.
They are human, but their humanity
is hidden under the carpet,
when their will to survive kicks in....
Here's what happens if you Roll The Dice...
Your gonna lose and it will not end nice!!
Don't get s#!t confused, you'll pay the price!
But not with money or an electric divice.
If you mess with me you'll pay the ultimate price and your Ending will not be nice..!
I'm an oleschoolrebel turned modern day renegade,
Soon I'll have it made,
Laying in the cooler shade...
Drinking spiked ice cold lemonade,
And I will elimemate...
Any bustas-suckers not feeling me !
Any motha-suckers not hearing me..!
Now y'all motha-truckers be fearing me !
I dare you stupid-suckas to be dareing me !
None of you dirty-muggers be scaring me !
All you dump-trucks better be hearing me !
Or you garbage-trucks better steer clear of me!!
Or this I can guarantee...
No one gonna know where your body be!
Stupid dummy should-na bothered me,
Now I'm the only one know where his body be !
In a shallow grave resting quietly!
This is what the hell happens if you step to me,
You gonna get stepped on cause I'm a bigger G
You a little g, you better believe, you gonna see...
If you mess around with an oleschoolrebel like me,
No one gonna know where your body be!
I'll rip your throat out n throw it the hell out!
Figure it out, Figure it out,
Or I'll rip your stupid throat out n throw it out,
Mess around n find out,
Mess around n find out!!
So go ahead and roll the dice,
I guarantee your ending will not be nice!
I garentee your ending will not be nice!
So go ahead and roll the dice,
There rigged and your gonna lose,
That's Right...
There rigged and your gonna lose...
Your always gonna lose and it won't be nice!!
You'll pay the ultimate gruesome price,
The ultimate messy price...
The final bloody price...
And your death will not be nice...
Your death will not be nice...
Your death will not be nice...
So go ahead n roll the dice...
Roll the dice...
Roll the dice...!!
Hidden beneath the underground secrets
in the corridors of concealed
the clandestine cloisters where muggers share
deadly tales told in whispers
Darkness cloying soaked with disdain
the minions diatribe upon popular media assertion
spells how the empire demonstrably remains
and the boarder lands have shrunken
Slow to gain the robotic nation
each injection the merest of pin pricks
every death to mark the procession
to the steady state of the population maturates and sickens
Who knows now where to place their foot
where beginning ends, where the line is drawn
where conscience can govern
where truth stands a principle, it’s redemption for us all
Who knows now what or who defends
the garden porch of the worlds boarder lands
and the fear of all provably remains
who knows who the enemy is
And hidden beneath the culpable secrets
deep in the vaults and tunnels of blackness
a criminal computer whispers
telling tales of villains and their collateral excess
Pay no heed it is but a rumor
a stories telling by black blooded thieves
a nothing of nothings whirlpool of stupor
a covetous distraction in need lives
Who knows now where they stand
who feels now the unseen hand
the pecking of the invisible vulture
all crammed together in the boarder land
Who knows who the enemy is
as fear and death cut their genocide straits
huddled in the safety of TV lights
gnawing on the boarder land between left and right
On the side of the road
I lay in a box
I wake up every morning to rummage for food
I stand on the sidewalk beggging and entertaining for a small scrap of change
The only safe haven for me is the public buildings it's warm and safe there
I sleep in a alley way don't know if I will survive a night
Muggers come in the night but I have nothing to give
They just beat me and all I get in return is bruises
I find a lottery ticket in a store and I have just enough so I try my luck
It happens that I won a million dollar ticket
I live in a mansion with a swimming pool
The mobsters who beat me Now work for me
Life turned out to be in my favor
Now try your luck
"Time is the thief you cannot banish."
Phyllis Mc Ginley, Writer, 1905 - 1978
if you cannot beat them join the crowd of armed unkind robbers
otherwise you end up with identity fraud at the hands of the thugs
instead rule and divide the hourglass one step at every moment
synchronize what must be said and done and count the rewards
an imposed time machine is a wicked illusion and criminal offence
pick your own pockets calm rapid paces and speed up your apathy
turning tides do not steal pebbles from beaches
the sun never asks where her rays have gone to
moons follow their path without wondering when
a waterfall keeps its composure even when falling
cancel direct debit to people who don’t care for you
standing orders are not written in hard grafted stone
debts can be cleared and overdrafts countervailed
the only mortgage you have is to live to your tempo
a bit of rhythm helps when the pendulum swings backwards and forth
rhymes a chime for when the final bell takes its toll as the coffin lies vacant
if you have not filled it with meaning before permanence rests in the grave
a time sheet spread out over nothingness infringes upon the tick tock of joy
imposters can try as hard as they want to steel your dial
will try to bend all the hands of fortune magic and fate but
destiny comes from the springs rewound at every dawn
vacant echoes will be enriched with challenging meter
when the ultimate curtain unveils to your own applause
as the poachers admit defeat and fall on swift swords
feel free to mock burglars and mischievous muggers
a dead man’s pockets are full of victory’s memories
10th November 2020
They draw love-hearts on their saucers,
after they've cleared their date lunch.
They play "shark-and-swimmer" in the pool,
as they laugh and tease each other.
They kiss deeply under the streetlights,
not worried about paparazzi or muggers.
They throw each other paper planes carrying
love letters, as they wait for the standing comedian
to begin his show.
Words most common in their phone messages
are "Darling" , "Sweetheart" , "Vanilla" ,
"Celestial Popsicle" and many more.....
Sometimes they get lost away from civilization,
and joke about their past relationships,
as they find the nearest tarmac road.
They've resigned from the saying "Marriage
has no happiness".