Best Streetwise Poems
There is a scar
On my face
Small, steadfastly placed
One only notices if they are this close
To kissing my soul
On my cheek
Below the eyes and sideways
Beside the bubble-gum sweet
Mouth, vivacious story teller
like an upside down
sharp angled half moon
The endless emotions of my sky
So attractively rough
It attacks the delicate features of my face
Allowing my streetwise beautiful
Personality
To shine through, I don’t hide thetruth
It’s as plain as the scar on my face
Life isn’t ugly, you make it that way
Some days I wish it wasn’t there
But I always
Appreciate it’s presence
I won’t ever forget
When I received
The blow to my vanity
From a fight over youthful yearnings
Inside this
Is my learning processes
Scars hold history
I shall carry with me
Through tough times
Soft and easy, peaceful
To remind me
Of me
the wind was roaring
an open road forever-
trees a blur of green
My brother brought him home for supper one day,
I recall it was a beautiful warm day in the month of May.
I hung on the back of his powerful motorcycle, happiness
Oh, this was love! I had never felt such joy- in my young heart
He was everything that my parents hated
Rough, streetwise, a real bad boy, reckless
To me he was a guy that God himself created
He left me breathless and my memory is endless
But a life with him would have been dumb and careless
__________________________
December 23, 2016
Poetry/Verse/Haiku/Couplet/Free Verse/Quintain/
My First Date and Love- A Poet's Dozen
Copyright Protected, ID 16-738-196-0
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
For the contest, A Poet's Dozen 2, First Date,
sponsor, Silent One
Third Place
The flush of spring has bought new life to romp in greening feed,
along the border with the forest where domestic flocks do breed.
Managed through the daylight by the fear of being seen,
the sentinels of death await for night when they are keen.
Though distant lights may glow as beacons for the lost,
guerrilla’s stream out silently in pack form to accost,
and satisfy their lust for blood without no grace or fear,
frustrating yet the hand of man. By dawn they disappear.
Far reaching eyes in anger lies where wilderness is dense,
I know my soul is being watched beyond the border fence,
locked into disappointment where flies gather at my feet;
There’s blood-stained wool on rotting flesh, with no thought to eat.
Immediate is my judgment for no trial is needed here,
I am the executor of the guilty, who dare to wander near.
Survival is the wisdom tho’ for the wily streetwise cur,
the frenzy’s not in pattern! It’s too late for where they were.
The night is cold and lonely with the urge for needed sleep,
but as the shepherd of my flock I must protect my sheep.
A pack will form again when blood is dry and lost its scent;
Until the last sheep drops their guard, no dog shall here repent.
The lead appeared Alsatian bounding surprised in its flight,
for its escape back to the bush in my sudden cheating light.
The echo of my three-o-three thundered through the hills,
with-in the change of retrospect. ‘Tis I who wants the kills.
Death took a holiday tonight where death was meant to be,
my shot was high or wide or low, ‘twas more shadow I could see.
Silence returned and in my light that scanned the field and scrub,
I knew that I was being watched, beyond a woodland shrub.
Up in Colorado, in the forests of Pikes Peak
A cranky critters conference was held just this week
It was led by a mouse, 3 legs, whiskerless & without tail
"Against a common foe!" He said "We must Unite! We must prevail!"
He hobbled out to the edge of the woods & pointed toward a house
In that house, I once lived a good life, a young & healthy mouse
Then one day the rancher's wife decided she'd had enough
I will say she is a worthy adversary, Mercy she was tough!
He looked around at all the critters, weasel, skunk & squirrel
& said "I hate to admit it but I was bested by a girl!"
Its true, I escaped alive but she got her trophies, too
For I left my tail, paws & whiskers stuck there in her glue
The squirrel spoke up in a streetwise Brando voice
I'll accept the challenge! For this mission, I am the best choice!
I know this lady well, having enjoyed seeds & nuts out on her deck
I am not afraid of her & will show her we deserve respect
So the squirrel plotted & waited until the time was right
He saw his chance & took it while in the birds she took delight
He scampered up a pine tree & scurried out on to a branch
While she was distracted with a phone call & a pretty bird, he seized his chance
He took a flying leap, landing square on her blond head
Taking great delight in her squeals of surprise & dread
He then let loose with a torrent of the defecation sort
"That's for all the dead & walking wounded!" was his parting retort
The moral of this story, for one there must be
Is be mindful of avenging squirrels when you sit beneath a tree
Big fight
Last night
Clyde's Bar
Bizzare
Tough guys
Streetwise
Much brew
Fists flew
Thrown chairs
Pulled hairs
Black eyes
Loud cries
One bloke
Nose broke
Heads bashed
Teeth trashed
Knives slashed
Pecs gashed
Cops came
To tame
Powwow
Peace now
All's well
That's swell
Great fight
Last night
She endured trauma as a child, that shut down her mind
Without safe adults, there was no security to find
She played outside and pretended to run away
She prayed and God answered, he heard what she had to say
She learned about good and evil, at an early age
When her soul with a facade, became stuck in a cage
She was lucky to have natural talents to help her survive
God granted her what was needed to stay alive
She was given strength to endure things, beyond words can say
When she was older, it was time for her to speak and find her way
She investigated the past, fighting to stop others from being hurt
She learned to watch her back, be streetwise while on alert
After 14 years, justice failed with deep corruption, that started back then
Finding the closure she wanted was no longer a matter of when
Family outcasted her, while more losses and deaths came about
The silence of the past had turned into a powerful shout
How did she make it through such painstaking times?
She created in many ways including things like these rhymes
She was granted many good things through so many years
Friends who care, pets who love, much comfort that erased fears
She yearns to love and give to all who may have pain
She will offer to give the sun to anyone, after the rain
I say all this because there is hope in life, through good and bad
- smiles do return from the depths of being sad -
Heidi Sands
12/22/33
Plain brick walls
Wait for clinking cans of spray paint
To color in streetwise notions
Beyond the naked eye
Quiet strings of violins
Wait for hands to draw across bows
Or play pizzicato melodies
Beyond the well-trained ear
Blank pages
Wait for clever pens
To write stories and verses
Beyond the bare mind
Sparks of star light
Wait for a ready lifeforce
To ignite a hellmouth fire
Beyond the ordinary self
Wild Leafs flutter in a hue-laden town,
windows creak open, spritely faces gleam,
cheerful air burgeoning, no need to frown,
sweet fragrant coffee dock, a gust of hot steam,
just rejoice as the heavens don their gown
Bus stop close at hand, joyous high alert,
laughter billows skyward without panic,
rainbow veneered archway, daylight concert,
broadcast on the pavement, sound of manic,
street painter chalk marks granite slab, dull gray berth
It’s autumn and those colours bound to show,
bright clad walkway, budding Rembrandt canvass,
red hot sun trail blaze, smoldering, aglow,
ice cool fall in situ, magic atlas,
urban setting nod to season wide flow
Power lines a home for migrant songbirds,
they chirp at streetwise citizens in train,
who brave the latent chill in eager herds,
huff and puff swarm enduring tingly rain,
rapture in a plot for winter blizzards
Cigarettes and alcohol
had washed her youth away.
The fresh faced girl, with the wayward curl,
that I knew from 'yesterday'
had now been replaced,
by something hard faced,
playing the oldest game in town.
Her painted on smile and streetwise guile
trying to hide the tears of a clown.
Our inner voices give us choices
of the pathways we should take.
It's a downward spiral, that soon goes viral,
if those voices are all fake.
And she had reached, and then had breached,
the nadir of her life.
She had once been a friend, staunch to the end,
a daughter, a mother, a wife.
And as we walked, so we talked,
about the might have been's.
The what went wrongs, remembered songs,
and prom night Kings and Queens.
We said goodbye and she said she would try,
but I knew her cause was lost.
And I'd scan the obits, for lost souls and misfits,
and she'd be there, as a thaw follows frost.
Red traffic light.
zebra stripes in black and white
Streetwise birds crossing.
I actually witnessed this event. Two little birds crossing with pedestrians.It was an
amazing sight.
Burning twisted battered cells
A thousand needles a thousand hell's
Addiction...affliction... crucifixion...
Who cries for their demons...they do
Empty spaces with empty faces a heart is torn
All the while in denial a new crack baby is born
Come inside...my genocide... suicide...
Who cries for their demons...they do
Aged anger with fermenting lies
Abuses... excuses...no compromise
Ugly sorrow...no new tomorrow...beg steal or borrow
Who cries for their demons...they do
Echoing fear through darkened skies
Silent screams...streetwise...sunrise...need more supplies
Rehab no tab...remix a fix... crucifix +
Who pays for their demons...we do
Feb.11.2016
The chorus, a cacophony,
as gulls exploded
from the mudflats, on the estuary,
sleet, brain-numbing,
pelted a grey curtain;
with hands thrust deep, pocket jammed,
I felt like Richard Burton,
selling his soul to Hollywood,
not quite the same, though,
when all I sell is death
in Deadwood.
Here come my gulls, scavengers,
teenage patrons ever eager
as bad news messengers,
heads, sloth riddled beneath
baseball caps reversed,
their words, a streetwise patois
fluffed and stammered
badly rehearsed
but I always sense the gist.
There’s no excuse for me,
sedating kids,
passing bags of snow,
blank eyes fixed on the sea;
for all my delusions
cliché’s of market forces
customers, supply and demand
their snorting horses
once were wooden and rocked
not so long ago.
Within me deep
I know what I am,
no, I have no grand illusions,
I know I’m not the man,
not the myth from songs by
The Stones or the Underground,
just a bigger gull feeding
on the little gulls.
I’m no pharmaceutical saviour
in this seaside slum;
the man? I’m not a man
I’m just
scum.
In the tangled jungle of my mind
creepies and crawlies
bite and suck.
They feast on your blood
and fill you with venom.
Howls of the night
keep you from rest,
and contorted vines
grab at your feet.
Oh, and the poisons
that turn your mind within
and make you fear your past.
And your future.
Those poisons in the smoke,
the innocent leaf,
and the full round berries,
Juicy and ripe,
that would lull you to a soundless sleep.
In the cave-dark recesses
I see nothing
but danger.
Whilst you, bathing in the dappled sun,
taut with adrenalin,
lean and young and brilliant,
agile and streetwise,
your light shields your eyes
seeing only the soft green shoots
and fearful creatures.
Seduced by that beguiling woodland.
Aware of only good
You go where I would fear to travel.
Take care.
In a contest between the stupid and the smart,
the stupid, at first, didn't really know where to start.
But after a while
of applying streetwise craftiness and guile,
in the contest between the stupid and the smart ~
the two were actually not that far apart.
Rollin' thru the 'hood
in his signature gangsta lean
Ridin' dirty with a Mag clip,
blowin' out his favorite Tupac scheme
Poetic justice he never liked,
his 9-mil wrote his Caesar Palace demise own
Raised on a rough road ---
Hell was always gonna be his retirement home
He embraced the thug life,
he pushed white powdered dreams
After he took everything you had,
he kicked you to the curb like you were trash
If you came back to him wanting more,
he'd tell you it's not like it was before
His advice to you was to get pissy mad,
then do what you got to do, and start breaking bad
He loved to cheat and lie,
he loved being a wise guy
He loved tossin' the bones,
he loved giving you the jones
He loved the do or die,
he loved sending you to the bye and bye
He loved to spray the ammunition,
he loved drivin' down the road to perdition
He raised his kids to be like him,
to never show anyone any mercy
Said if they every had to work a prison clock,
they'd be the ones ruling the cell block
He told 'em to feast on the weak,
and to permanently cripple the strong
He said never ever be on your knees
begging and pleading for sympathy
He taught 'em to love to cheat and lie,
taught 'em how to be a streetwise guy
Taught 'em to love to toss the bones,
taught 'em how to give you the drug jones
He taught 'em to love to do or die,
taught 'em how to send you to the bye and bye
Taught 'em to love to spray the ammunition,
taking a few more with him down the road to perdition