Best Pimping Poems
How did a cherry kiss? Bitter flower petals with sweet pistils.
So laden they act as halos while we breathe the love
in a pink hollow, silence sounding like taste, acting like epistle
to hold this moment in a silvery image, like moon, or dove
low, low, a bowl formed while sunshine flickers above.
Chains of yellow petals hang over our deck, the leaves hands--
offer welcome resting branch, our sheltered home.
Seeds follow close, fragile like beans, hard case to feed the land
crawl before God, they say, be grateful as we weed and stir loam.
Together seeds and flowers and hands make a life a poem.
Awaiting the sumac, the flame at summer's ending is fruitless
we've passed the feathering, the pimping of red underneath bristle
the deer horn softness crawling out in oddest places in a mess
lining the sand pond, above the purpled iris, the pestle
of stone and sun, no rain to bring down sumac's fiery trestle.
Vulturous crows squawk and fight the ring-billed sea gulls
waiting, one in the bared hollow hands of the cottonwood
the other fat-bellied and waddling after rain finally dulls
we're under hoodies, under shivers, our neighborhood
waits the pinking and mossing, will it unfurl new wood?
Addiction was her puppeteer
It pulled her every string
Drugs became the master of her fears
Depression was all it would bring
Some become puppets of greed
Pimping out their very souls
More, and more, and more they need
Satisfaction is never their goal
Envy is also a puppet master
Making us want what others possess
Pulling the strings of jealousy faster
And leaving us a sorry mess
Perhaps we, are just puppets of love
As our strings are pulled from above
----
Screwed in the "Puppets" Contest
IT'S SAID A FEW HUNDRED MILLION YEARS AGO
I WAS LIVING IN THE SEA
I HAD NO LEGS TO WALK
I COULDN'T EVEN TALK
I WAS JUST A SEA ANEMONE
A SINGLE CELLED CRITTER IN THE PRIMAL STEW
DIDN'T SEEM TO BE GETTING ANYWHERE
BUT THEN SOMETHING HAPPENED
I DON'T KNOW WHAT IT WAS
BUT IT MADE ME COME UP FOR AIR
I MUST HAVE LOST MY TAIL BETWEEN THE SEA AND THE SHORE
AND I FINALLY LEARNED TO WALK ERECT
I GUESS YOU COULD SAY I'VE COME A LONG WAY
TO GET A LITTLE COSMIC RESPECT
SOME MIGHT EVEN SAY I AM CIVILIZED
BY THE WAY THAT I KNEEL TO PRAY
BUT WHAT'S IMAGINATION IF IT ISN'T INSPIRATION
IS THAT HOW I GOT HERE TODAY
THERE'S A THOUSAND DIFFERENT TALES OF CREATION
HOW DO YOU KNOW WHICH ONE TO BELIEVE
SCIENCE TEACHES EVOLUTION
RELIGION TEACHES ADAM AND EVE
I DON'T CARE IF THE WORLD IS ON A TURTLE'S BACK
OR A SUPER DUDE SAID LET THERE BE LIGHT
THERE IS SOMETHING HAPPENING, SYNAPS ARE SNAPPING
SO I'D LIKE TO GET MY FACTS JUST RIGHT
GODS SO PROLIFIC YOU GOT TO BE SPECIFIC
WHO'S GONNA HEAR YOU PRAY
JESUS OR JUDAH, MOHAMMED OR BUDHA
WHO ANSWERS PRAYERS TODAY
I DON'T BELIEVE THE BIG BANG THEORY
IS HOW I LEARNED TO PROCREATE
AND I THINK IT'S KINDA FUNKY
IF ADAM WAS A MONKEY
OR IT WAS SOMETHING EVE ATE
WHILE CHILLING IN THE GARDEN OF EDEN
SOME OLD SNAKE SAID STEP INTO THE LIGHT
IF YOU WANT TO HAVE A LIFE YOU GOTTA BE A WIFE
SO HAVE ADAM TAKE A BITE
OH WHAT A STINKER, HOOK LINE AND SINKER
ADAM REALLY SWALLOWED EVE'S BAIT
HOW WAS HE TO KNOW THAT SHE WAS JUST TROLLING
PIMPING FOR A SNAKE
NOW HE'S GOT HER DEEP INSIDE AND HE CAN'T GET AWAY
SHE REELS HIM AND WATCHES HIM PLAY
THE BETTER THEY LOOK, THE DEEPER THE HOOK
MEN WILL NEVER EVER GET AWAY
HAS IT BEEN THAT WAY FOREVER
BY A GOD THAT IS SO CLEVER
IN A GARDEN'S PERFECT WEATHER
IT'S A LOVELY ENDEAVOR
I DON'T MIND IF I DON'T GET AWAY
BUT I'D LIKE TO KNOW TO WHOM I PRAY
There they are__ made each day no shame, no disgrace...
Constant reminders of who controls the human race.
We wake up every morning and get hot on the chase...
gotta get the God with big numbers on his face...
gotta hurry along... got no time to waste...
gotta be first in line_ anyhow in any case.
Jamming down my food, pimping my style in great haste...
no time to pull up my pants or tie my shoelace....
grabbing coke and candy_ gotta keep up the pace...
sodas, coffee, caffeine_ smoking crack-freebase.
Looking up in the air, and down in any space_ ....
over here or there_ it could be any place....
cheating through life_ up my sleeve_ a spare ace....
lies are the present _ truth is gone without a trace.
There they are__ made each day no shame, no disgrace...
constant reminders of who controls the human race.
persisting un regrettable unabatedly to abase...
our plagued souls_ with anything antidepressant laced.
Copyright © 2015
11.12.2015
9:18pm
This crazy rush hour traffic, traffic
like swimming the Caribbean Sea,
in these streets you don't wanna be.
Headlights brighter than spaceships,
spaceships, these drivers make you
wanna flip, rush hour you'd wanna skip
Many hurrying and rushing, rushing
sending many to hospitals with blood
gushing...Driving down these streets,
never know what crazies you'll meet
On roads with deep potholes, potholes
and speed...speed is their creed,
think you're bold, ask that stiff
he's cold. And remember, bigger the
car makes Dominicans a star
And, motorcycles like bubble bees, a blimp
is all you'll see...their weaving and
bobbing ahead of everyone hopping
So, on these roads don't close your eyes,
got to be like an eagle, everyone tries,
Dominican traffic can be anyone's demise
Dominicans don't have rules, they aren't
cool, with do as you wish out of school,
school that too ain't cool. Got old folks
cursing, with all their pimping and hustling
And, to drive, you will need an eagle's
eye on these bumpy roads to get by, get
by many who seem to be mentally ill
behind the wheel
No tail-lights, tail lights?
not even head-lights...hard to
see around high beams at night,
nearly everyone runs red-lights
it's HOT and no police in sight.
So, where's the police, police?
hardly any don't you see, pay is lower
than fish in a sea...Yes you'll see,
Dominican traffic will make you run
for the sea. Driving isn't pragmatic,
just frantic, hectic and chaotic.
by: LP
10:13pm
Edited: 26.12.2015
2pm
**(on Facebook w/photo/theme: North Coast Poetry Society)
JUXTAPOSED AWARENESS
On and within the fullness
of this beautiful sunshine day,
I peacefully sit here pondering
the present chaos of the world.
How awe confusing…it all is–
outside, flowers are blooming,
birds and butterflies are soaring,
and the quiet wind peacefully blows.
.
But within the physical and spiritual me,
there seems to be a battle for power control
over which system is the most in control when
it comes to sustaining me physically and spiritually.
Indeed–within–the heart seems to challenge
the brain, while expansion and restraint tease
the soul and spirit with respect to focus and divine
wisdom and guidance in oneness of mission purpose.
Here at home and around the rest of the world, atrocities
continue within its circumference: supporting inequality,
denying climatic change, ignoring human disasters,
and pimping war; all deemed…apt power aides.
Indeed, as I sit here looking out into the Godly beauty
of nature’s canvassing in the springtime, all is painfully
sighted and sourly tasted by the awareness of the chilling
wind of change murderous war is bleeding onto peaceful life.
Once more and again–we hued–wherever we may be
in our sojourn, are caused to detour round-about-focus of
empathy to drop off aspiration, inspirations, hope, faith, and
collective actions, to physically and spiritually aid victims of war-
mongering power-viral infected oppressors we all battle in common.
As I sit here gazing out/into this beautiful canvassing of nature,
hell flaming fires are wreaking devilish havoc not too far away and
at the same time, bombs shred life and spread their collateral pains;
all leaving peace to be realized in the spirituality of the actions of love.
As the “round-about of nature leads us back to the sojourn pathway
our ancestors left and foot-printed for us, let’s move on past syndrome
roadblocks and continue to cover miles of awareness–honking honks–echoing
to all the world that “...our equanimity too, is essential to world harmony.”
Tell me something,
To all y’all young brotha's
How do you define a real nigga
Is it that dude that’s defiling women,
Drug dealing, robbing & stealing
Claims he’s big pimping, saying he a “G”
Cause he did like 6 months in a detention center.
Is that what you call real? These niggas ain’t real.
What about the niggas that’s
Taking care of their kids
Handling Grown man biz and
Yeah he might have did a couple bids
Something like a three year sentence
And that’s real I ain’t kidding
But y’all ain’t listening.
See ya perception of a real nigga is so messed up
By age 18 most of our brothers
Are gonna be dead or in bloody hand cuffs
You out here trying ya luck
Robbing for a little bit of paper
Stop believing these rap artist
These niggas ain’t gangsta.
Problem is these niggas is so scared to be somebody
Scared they gone see somebody
They so used to being nobody
They think hustling & catching bodies is actually a hobby
But you know what they say ya mind is ya worst enemy
So it got ya heart full of hatred, jealousy, & envy
Got you thinking you addicted to cigarettes this generation is so dizzy
And I’m part of it, trying to make a change
So far the moment I’m so busy.
These niggas so caught up in the money
They overlooking the trap
Niggas at war & beefing so heavy they can’t relax
Thinking nobody loves them
Tell me where’s the loving?
Racism exist believe it or not
Everybody’s holding grudges
They ain’t realizing we all
Brothers, sisters, & cousins
But In the hood it’s survival of the illest
So called thugs claiming they the realest.
These niggas ain’t real I’m telling you man
When you get locked up or catch a little sentence
See how many of ya homies come and visit
Every night is the same here
As the night before
They make us drink a couple beers
Then men come in the doors
And have their choice of whores
We’re supposed to flirt and smile
Encourage their attentions to us
But when you’ve done this a while
It’s hard to sell them lust
When all you feel is disgust
If you resist, they’ll drug you
And sell you anyway
You’ll wake up broken and bruised
And sore between your legs
(Or worse, if they have sick tastes)
So try to find the nicest perv
And take him to your bed
Don’t count on those pimping jerks
To help; help yourself instead
And choose the best prospect -
The answer is in their eyes
Soft or warm eyes are best
If they give you chills say bye
And move on to the next set
Before their appetite’s whet
If you can’t get away
Don’t let them see your dread
Above all, don’t grovel or pray
Or even play dead (think pummeled head) -
That’s how their power is fed
Just imagine they’re someone else
Like a lover from long ago
It’s easier to take the abuse and dwell
On happiness you used to know
And keep that horseshoe of hope
If you lose hope or die, they win
So don’t make it easy for them
Pick the best guy and give him a “grin” -
It’s the only control you’ll ever get
In a rape contest
Revised 3/6/12
Prevarication permits pretend perception, presenting
piquantly piqued, pimply pimping playboy, plucky
pulchritudinous previously pusillanimous, prevalently
puckish, psychic packman, pokemon playing proletarian
puppeteer pygmy, peevishly punky, plummy, plumy,
pompously pushy, pampered, prefabricated pinchbeck,
pokily plying plowshear, plodding peregrination, pied
piper pitifully peppy pornographic potato pealing,
parsimonious paradoxical protagonist, proposing
preposterous panicky pacification plots, prioritization
pertinent penultimate peroration, perhaps perceiving
perjuring, perplexing, perverting puzzling pronouncements
projecting pulsating pixelated pulpy pinball pinging
packets prompting pacific, poetic, phlegmatic purplish
psoriasis plagued, plumbum pallor pallid, Paleolithic
protuberance pronounced, psychosomatic prohibitionist,
polarizing perfunctory peculiarly progressive, patriotic
postmodern pathologically proud paternal panache,
peripatetic panaceas portraying prescient perfidious
puerile president, predominantly proposing parochial
principles, plenty public parking, purposefully
promoting pharisee phalanxes, pilates practicing
paragons, perennially peaceably proficient protesters,
profitable polygamy, pugnacious pitbull powerball
players, pandering polyandry, propagating professional
palindrome pensive peeping people, peddling,
proselytizing predicating prostitution, proliferating
phenomenally, populist persona promulgated peyote
phased physicians pioneering prescription promoting
paradisiacal pricey photographic pictures, placating
phrenetic physical perturbation partaking place
purchased (paid paltry pennies) por palatial piazza.
I'm 19.
That may not mean much to you but it means everything to me.
It means I've already out lived most of my friends and family.
It means I'm smarter than most in my situation.
It means with out hesitation I've given myself the modes and the means
To get what I want and do what I need.
It means I have more hope than most to leave.
I'm not the concrete rose.
I'm the dandelion seed
Ready to leave, waiting on a Gail or a child to come blow me free
So I can land in a better place to take root and take lead.
I'm only 19.
But I've seen enough black on black crime and self-destructive hate
To ever forgive the streets
For turning me against the mirror image I see,
Or for blinding my brothers so that they could not see that they're killing their own
brothers sons of their own sisters and mothers
Or for tainting my sisters with hate, replacing they're hearts with that of a snake, and
leaving them with no self-esteem,covering there eyes so all they see is green
For pimping our children making them turn tricks for treats, closing their minds making
them think "you better start rapping, better get them feet tappin or pick up a ball if you
ever want to get from me get from me" turning them into dancing, singing fools instead of
the future educated black enterprising leaders they need to be
I'm only 19
And already I've been to far to many wakes too ever sleep
Seen far too many mothers grieve and cry
To ever permit myself pity
Seen far too many holes dug six feet deep for those who have falling around me to sit idly
by and wait for mine
the one assigned to me by some stray bullet or how ever death sees' fit to take me
I'm only 19
I've seen enough
I'm done
America's in a real crisis which needs immediate attention even more than Isis. Big Pharma's off the chain with their perscription pain killers, thought to be life thrillers but turned out to life spillers then, just plain killers.
People this is insane and we all need to complain because this has become far bigger than crack cocaine. Nation wide pain and suffering is what they have inflicted they need to be tried and convicted for it seems they're trying to get the whole country addicted.
Opioid's are a powerful hook and their intentions can be easily over looked, before you realize it your goose is well cooked. They had the doctor's thinking it would do no harm so there was no cause for alarm. Sense they thought everything was dandy, they started to write prescriptions like it was candy.
It was the miracle drug which turned out to be humbug because it was blanketed by distortion until it has reached epidemic proportion. America, they are hooking both the young and the old, selling pills by the truck loads, exactly what is their goal turning the whole U.S. into their ho's they need to be exposed.
Because they are constantly pushing their pills and they're not skimping maybe we need to start calling them Big Pimping. And will Congress address this big mess. Yes, make no mistake, this is for all your sakes, we'll give 'em a bigger tax break.
While assuring us, they have advanced in tearing down Obama's nation wide health insurance and the new will be greatly enhanced. Still many think we must beware because they are about to throw the whole country into despair when they cut millions of people completely out of health care. WOW what a scare.
So America it's time to come out of our trance and take a stance say hey Big Pimping let's dance. Lets get off our duffs tell Congress we've had enough and do what it say on our money In GOD We Trust. And shout it loud, shout it clear from the streets, the roof tops, even the Church steeple, Shout so they can hear... WE THE PEOPLE.
Today, his mail order package just came in,
a foreigner wanting to be an American citizen
The price for the privilege has gotten more steep,
the cost for the coach airfare didn’t come cheap
The rich can pay half a mil to get a clean green card,
but poor mail order brides must work their bodies hard
This wife has a husband who likes pimping his brides
Repayment comes in the form of late night date rides
Clients want his candy bride to lustily unwrap,
their sweet tooth craving must be sexually capped
She met an undercover cop, who became her friend
Prostitution was stopped when they took the pimp in
Her tarnished wedding ring got used to make bail
Ex-sex slave bride got a free green card out of jail
Lured by the money, she chases a dream,
leaving her home for a life more extreme.
Mistresses of upper society;
high-priced call girls, project propriety.
Enticed by the glamorous life, she yearns:
lust fuels the flames as innocence burns.
Sullying her soul, for dollars and fame;
pimping herself is all part of the game.
Her heart has witnessed so much pain unfold,
love's no longer unique: it's something sold.
Her words of sincerity sound hollow:
like the phony smiles, men pay to follow.
Tomorrows cannot be fully explored,
feelings are meaningless: when love is whored.
Bamboozling her family and her friends,
ignoring reality: she pretends.
Yet, anguish slowly envelopes her soul,
as her lifestyle levies a heavy toll.
And truth only exacerbates her plight:
piercing awareness, like slivers of light.
I'm from Norfolk Virginny
where every bodies stingy
even king pins cut nuts and pinch pennies
where stick up kids are found
patrolling their grounds
when the sun drops the pull out and start patting you down
like give me your money now
don't make a sound
when this barrel burst it's known to send souls to the cloud
and rule number one is to trust no one
cause here friendships dissolve like snow in the sun
and when the parties are done ain't nobody dipping
that's prime time for parking lot pimping
but the crowd will disperse once the pistols burst
even the girls keep a little fire works in their purse
Virginia Is For Lovers. Thats just for t-shirts here hate is heavy
they'll turn you to a plate of spaghetti
the flow is steady
what every you cop they got ready
until the drought comes then nuts get cut like machetes
its the grind in over kill
where hustlers sale soap for dope and customers cop with counterfeit bills
it's where the projects got renamed
but the crime didn't change
so they campaigned till down came the whole thing
Its where Sweet Pea learned his fight game
and the weak learned to flee before the night came
and we morn our lost loved ones like Dwayne
and that pain drives some insane damaging brain cells
in a nut shell we catching hell
Staring at the stubborn facts
I stand face to face with a sneering fate
Legalized pot. Transitive
Bondage sold as liberty
Man made destructive phase
Don't lie to us as if we're back at puberty
I see you Bobojan, hiding behind a finger
Trying to hide the initial figures
Beckoning with subliminal fingers. Go figure
I tell people be careful, the aftertaste will linger
Electronic cigarettes; chunks of chocolate
The prince of darkness dresses fancy
And walks with a cane and talks classy
A fiend and no man
He calls himself the candy man
Telling us to live it up, like renegades
Bombs and grenades masquerading
As pop and energy drinks strutting and parading
On the runways of appetite for me to see
And I see you seeking my demise
Day and night while pretending to be nice
With frozen cold eyes and a plastic smile
Calling us the chosen, touting hell as paradise
And I get to witness the shifting paradigm
Batter voiced but with a heart of iridium
Pumping out destructive ideas
Pimping out the charm of sugar-induced delirium
You are as much a crime as Crimea
And I see your plan, runner of the sugar plant
Pocketing big bucks while stuffing us up
Filling our collective trunks with junk