Best Pusher Poems
As I walk the dirty streets, I look into a crack head eyes,
as she look's up at with surprise.
Knowing I got what it takes to supply them dimes!
She has her high beam's on, and a crack pipe in her palms.
she has no time to speak, as she crosses the street.
I'm her pusher man!
That keeps the past, in the past.
She beg's me for a hit, with her cracked white lips. She say's she needs a dime,
for it's her last time, knowing it's lie just to get high.
As I smile in her face, with a look of disgrace, for I'm the pusher...
I know to never let the street's get to you.
I alway's know rule number two...Never smoke from your own supply!
Rule number ten,... All rule's apply!
I'm your pusher man...
All these other rules, from one thur nine, is for only real niggas that put in time!
Never be weak for the drug's you seek, for she knows what she needs.
She really has no need to plead, what ever she needs, I'm pleased.
For her money is coming to me! If she only knew I was taking her life.
Everything she has, or ever treasured, from her husbend, to a straight dike!
She needs me for I'm here to please. With out an "us"... they'll be no "we"!
She'll give up her home and, her family, she'll never go to far,
I'm her pusher man!
I'll make her dreams a reality!
To reconcile, to feel all she needs is me! I'm the prophecy, she'll live in poverty,
talking with profanity. Selling her big screen to me!
I'm her pusher man. I make her happy when shes sad,
I can get her higher than a kite, she'll be in the streets all night!
Her family wouldn't see her in weeks, her home, was with me!
No need to eat, drugs was the beef!
I'm her pusher man!
She'll rob her mom, just to get her high on.
She'll steal from the police, If she see me in the street's!
I'm her mom, I'm her dad, Im' her everything she had,
I'm her pusher man!
She keeps me richer, my pockets stay thicker!
She loves me more than she loves her self... because the crack, is what it's really all about! I'm her pusher man!
I am what I am, I give what I can!
From the suburbs from, the hoodest of all hoods! I stay with the goods!
I'm her pusher man...
The streets will be watching everthing you do, and one day they might come for you!
For I'm... your pusher man!
There's a game known as Chess that I learned as a lad
But in spite of the passage of time I'm still bad.
I can not see ahead seven moves like some do;
If you say, "Bobby Fischer" I'll just come back with, "Who?"
I speak French when I must, as in terms like, "J'adoube,"
But it's all a charade, for I think like a boob.
I don't know who invented this mind-wasting sport,
But I'm sure many law books would deem it a tort.
You can find "Chess For Dummies" on shelves in bookstores,
And I once tried to read it, eliciting snores.
See, I'm trapped in the middle, 'twixt Firsties and Plebes;
It is called Mediocre, and it ranks me with Dweebs.
But this thing's got me hooked; I just can't walk away;
It's a weird fascination that's always in play.
I don't care if you trounce me in ten moves or less
When I trot out my Queen in a desperate press.
My intent is to smash you like ANVIL on bone,
But it's not very often that I'm in the zone.
And I have other schemes that I'm willing to try;
GARIBALDI's the Gambit that might make you cry.
When I'm lazy I mimic your opening game;
MIRROR MOVES, my descriptive, alliterative name.
Metaphors just delight me as labels for ploys
To deprive my opponents of all of their joys.
If I were only equally good with my men
I could teach all of you a sore lesson, and then
I would not have to channel my fear of defeat
Into tirades like these that sound like a goat's bleat.
An Impossible Dream (A Cry of a Truck Pusher)
The street is my home
It is where I belong
I know no love
So I make it not part of my daily vocabulary
One sachet of pure water
Enough to perform the magic
In cooling down the body
The small lotto kiosk is my sleeping place
My heart was filled with merry
The day she looked my way
I wish to dream a dream
Even if I lost my memory
Her beauty I will always remember
But we both belong to different worlds
I push and pick before the hand can go to the mouth
She is welcomed with smiles
With servants at her beck and call
What am I feeling?
Is it love?
But how can this be
Love is not love
I can only dream of her love
I can only visualise her embrace
I can only imagine her warmth and kisses
Oh! Allow me to dream a dream
I have long suffered on this street
For tomorrow may not be mine
Don’t blame me,
Maybe I have a slow faith
From her posture
I knew she were a creature
And it’s in her nature
To capture my heart
Oh! How I wish I were a preacher
To tell the world about the moisture in her love
Oh! How I wish I were a teacher
To lecture about how she will feature
In my future dreams.
But it is just an impossible dream
Because I am only a truck pusher.
"What you doing at midnight the night?"
Cool down with a hot offer..
Bring one addict get one free!
( Ask the Junkie in front )
Terms and conditions apply.
Dream on, don't stop
for your reality is in shatters.
Your life has lost its essence,
There’s no logical fluidity in your actions,
so just dream on, don't stop,
your misery will soon end:
aren't your dreams so luminescence?
And just to help you on, my friend
I have just what you might need,
you only have to choose, my dear,
for now, it's only a free deed.
See your tears are drying up,
your body's tremors stop.
Would you like some strong valerian?
Sniff my white intoxicating powders,
sleep like a crafty grown-up,
and dream like an uncouth Iberian?
I have all your answers, pal.
Soon you'll depend on me.
(Oh how I hate your youth!)
I'll give you dreams galore, scum,
Provided on payment we agree.
here you go.
Have a sedative.
No wait! That’s mine!
It was given to me by a doctor fine.
Here’s a lithium.
That might calm you down a bit.
No wait. It has to be given to Uncle Chit.
Here’s a cough drop.
But hurry and be quick.
My dog loves to devour these.
His name is Slick.
I am not a pill pusher.
I just like to share.
Getting you hooked too feels kind of fair.
When you have to have other drugs look me up.
I have greens, blues and reds, look there in the cup.
But bring your money cause although these were free
The next five or six transactions have to be lucrative for me.
Well it all started out as a real good time
Until we're all talking at the same time
Each acting out our own radical behavious
Chaos and confusion to meet us later
As sure as the clock's time on the wall
Progressive addictions will make us fall
Forever, the pot calls the kettle black
Integrity and respect, are qualities they lack
Family or not; it's the cons of the cons
Sure as the sun rises; a deal's going on
Each jewing the other down
They all look like circus clowns
We can't wait for the final show
Most likely to end up in some blow
What an easy way to make a living
First ones always for the giving
Just enough to reel us in
Do they care that it's a sin
They know no other way of life
Living off other's grief and strife
Why do we let them do this to us?
All of us, family caught in the fuss
Is that all they see is money?
Their greedy lives; it isn't funny
They may end up all alone
Finding conversation on the phone
To you, nobody will want to talk
They'll tell you; take a walk
Pushing some narcotics,
of yellow, red and green.
A rainbow of biotic’s,
to match the color scheme.
I have an abundance of diuretics
all different shapes and sizes.
An organized aesthetic
for commercial enterprises.