Best Peoplesweet Poems
There is nothing better than a good cop, nothing worse than a bad one
Has always been bad cops since time began, nothing like the modern rampage
I was raised in an era, to always respect the law
The very same should hold true, for those that wear a star and a gun
But now, we live in a new age
If they take "dirty money", then they are twice as bad as the outlaw
All of my life, I have lived on The Mexican Border
It has always been a wild place, a outlaw's paradise
With billions in drug smuggling, a sweet lure
For a price, they can have their own "Law And Order"
And in the end, they will pay a higher price
May not be as sweet as before, but it is a cure
For some judges, lawyers and cops, they are part of the law as well
They have their price, their judgments can be bought
But that is the way that they have chosen to play the game
For honest people, it can be pure Hell
it is a two edged sword the day they get caught
For all honest judges, lawyers and cops, it gives them all a bad name
Being the Devil's advocate, if they should go to jail
Don't send them to a "country club" lockup, put them in the general population
Let''s see how they survive, when they get to looking at him
So they will really know what it costs to fail
They pretty well know where they will go for destination
One thing about inmates anywhere, they have their own "justice system"
My days in the streets of despair took me from scanty shanties
Intermittent through dreams drinking the syllables of books
Cast before my eyes, I was at the bottom of nooks and crannies
Hiding in barren valleys of bushes, and sometimes cast hooks
Angling the sea for food that did not feed brain alone. T’was then
Eagled in the sky I saw you like a speck of dew swelling up
Latent opportunities kept before my race as pittance in a cup.
Nobody knows the darkness behind the iron gate of hopelessness
Omitting light except to the paler color and privileged ten percent
Registered in the status quo as rich, despair was a sweet callousness
Meandering the streets at the edge of destructive explosion, pent
Anger muted by the false theories of our worthlessness. We let it
Nurture rebellion in rock steady songs, and battled on playfields over it.
Michael Manley meant more than a man, or regular politician
Anthem in my thoughts, a new hawk against the glitter of crown
Nurturing the trodden down with wand of words, a magician
Letting us believe in the self like an abeng picked from the ground
Entering the new day I campaigned alone to bring it to pass
Yielding nothing in the struggle to the old power of caste and class.
Intelligent, gifted orator, compassionate servant moved by solemn creed
None is left like you since death fragrant you with our native weed.
Men do not write their history alone without lead from God’s intention
Ending the culture of disbelief democracy had its breathless chance
Ministering to the hovels of colonial cast offs, I saw the raw fission
Orchestrating the destiny of the past, your tongue was a glinting lance
Reneging laws of understanding where some were too comfortable
Interestingly filling the place of the great house lord, and regrettable
Another excess of the left, disbanding Africa for blind white theories
Meaningless to our negritude, still you linger in fireside love and sweet stories.
The world seems to thrive on
sugar's debilitating taste.
This sweet drug corrupts the body,
turning good health into diabetic waste.
The sudden burst of pure energy
ebbs within minutes of the tongue's caress.
Sluggish movements crawl through the limbs,
causing physical and emotional duress.
Sugar's addicting kiss spikes the blood,
playing twister with the chemicals inside.
This nectar of man made confection
swallows health within pleasure's temporary tide.
Sugar calls out with lips of sweet passion,
increasing the body's craving for more.
But too many sweets cause a meltdown
within the human body's insulin core.
Thank you
Keith, Ernesto, Kristin and Diane
Thank you christopher and beyond
I love this soup
Richer than St Elizabeth cow peas
Mannish water or pepperpot
Poetry.com was a bubble in my history
Burst now
I love this family,
O Deborah what a gift
What a Caleb in your tongue
Carolyn sweet as a Irish violin
The little Japanese tea
Served in chinese cup
Thank you
Stacey, Denis, Lena
Karena
Children of a sweeter God
Muse of the okra tongue
Slippery as oil where inspirations run
Under the green sheet of the sun
Laurie, Karen, Brian, Sue
Stacy you too
Orishas of the river woman
Giver to the Shango
Brides, brethren, warrior crew
I am the twister, conniver
The rattle of the drum
You played me
And gentle too,
Lovers are givers and sweet water flows in sweet rivers
Thank you
God for these people, the candles
Of your fireflies
Thank you all for you.
Oh, my soul is bare,
like a thorn stinging within my chest.
Beauty surrounds me, yet
I cannot draw pleasure from within.
This Eden that surround me, with
It's magnificent beauty evades me.
I cover, in embarrassment,
For Adam did lie beside me.
Holding me captive in his arms
And I willingly complied.
Oh, my sweet Lord,
For our sweet innocence we grieve.
Now from this garden we must leave.
after the many times,
you shot my dreams down
after telling me I wont accomplish,
nothing I set out to do.
My Sweet Revenge,
toward you is not violence!
My Sweet Revenge,
is to achieved in everything,
you said I couldn't!
the looks on your faces,
after I've done what you said I couldn't,
is My Sweet Revenge!
The gypsy man went down the lane
In sunshine and in rain
Singing his melodious song
All the weary day long
Along with his sweet bell
And the music from his shell
Sweet smiles he had in his bag
And a bright blue flag
Laughter he spread around
In him love abound
Along with his sweet bell
And the music from his shell
The pain in his voice
Was hidden from prying eyes
He filled hearts with cheer
Kids looked to him without fear
Along with his sweet bell
And the music from his shell
At night the lonely gypsy man
Without a friend or fan
Sat helpless and sad
With his arm around his sick lad
Along with his sweet bell
And the music from his shell
Is you is or is you ain't
sweetest devil or smoothest saint?
All dressed up in suits and ties
your smile is empty behind those eyes.
Your words drip of sweet honey,
as your mind trips only on money.
Is you is or is you ain't
a lover of women or a pimp to taint
the latest sweet young thang
with empty promises of a ring,
if she'll only come through
with whenever its about you
and your needs getting met
to the latest bimbos' regret.
So, is you is or is you ain't
as we sit at your feet acting all faint
within the charm of your poison ...
girl, you better just run!