Best Stunting Poems
True definition of a hood love story,
They called him Felony.
Skin was as smooth as a shot of Hennessey.
He made a lot of other men envy.
His style was particularly different from the rest.
No gold chains around his neck, but a simple rosary lies on his chest.
Underneath his Sunday best was a solid bullet proof vest.
His pockets had a secret treasure chest.
Steepness with infinite thickness,
But every man has a weakness.
She killed him with kindness.
A righteous lioness,
His royal highness: his positive guidance.
She was the offspring of the titans.
Exceptional of importance to his reputation,
She was his foundation freedom from his everyday discrimination.
A safe haven like a wave equation, her name was Money.
Half black and half Puerto Rican,
Skin complexion of an Egyptian he nicknamed her Isis.
Dipped in gold went perfectly with her skin tone.
She was an overgrown precious stone.
Foreknown Money was working with the federal bureau of investigation.
Deeply in love with a convict but yet victorious triumphant.
Stunting on everyone’s judgments Money is Felony movement.
A step ahead of the government,
Never seeing a seal indictment
Money was his antidepressant.
Felony was her significant participant.
Both of them reaping the enjoyment,
Bonded by each other’s fulfillment,
Seal their delinquent intimate commitment.
In love with a codefendant left them with a Bonnie, and Clyde ending.
Love testimony of Felony and Money
This lapse shed showers of sorrows
Piercing my diamond heart with its arrows
And as it breaks within my grasp furrows
It paints little hells on my minds marrows
Oh! Pretty maiden so dark and comely
Exhuming my youthful passion spontaneously
With infectious smiles and extorted kisses
Your seduction breaks honest promises
There our shadow coupled in the pool of yesterday’s rain
Ill-memories of passionate groans and silent whisper
Accentuating painful pleasure for gain
A deluded victory, a stunting stigma,?
Growing is the ears to this confession
Of rumbling rhymes and straying clauses
Still before you condemn me pause
To this myth of contrition.?
You know not about fear
when in the spotlight of
your rage
snarled in distorted
ugly
your hatred
twisting
my unguarded spine
stunting small bones
blustering
bluffing
concealing weakness
too plain to miss
as
you pound down
walls
and
hammer
ineffectively on
my resolve
to
leave you
to
your
own
creation
"The Bleeding Rose"
A rose so beautiful with crimson lips
Slain by pain, and drowned by drops of rain that drips
Into the stem that locks in venom,
Stunting her growth
Staggering strength and thorns that grip
The hands that touch her tips
They Bleed
Her petals needing to be caressed
But her thorns are sharp and continue to cut
Deep inside her gut lies a love that lost its luster
A heart like steal but cannot be stolen
Shattered,
Battered,
Cracked,
Broken,
Nothing poetic about the process
And words go unspoken so nothing is heard
Yet, her heart is silenced in Spoken Word
She suffocates as she tries to break free
She can't breathe
She searches for an air that taints her lungs
Skies remain unclear and it feels like her spirit's been hung
What a death to die
Too many times they've tried to tackle the thing that makes it tougher than tar
A prisoner chained, gagged, and mocked behind bars
She cuts herself over again to escape the pain
And bleeds in the battle of shame
Once again the rose is clipped
She is tormented by mind games
And wishes she never knew his name
But she knows,
And still
her stem grows
So close…
She starts to bloom
But the water drowns her at the roots
And once again it's too late and her petals begin to close
You chose me off the the thorny pine lake
And gently place me on a rocking rack,
I could breathe the cleanest air above the pile of pineapples
You took me off the rack showed me an easy way to go
Made me like the water made me flow,
And i was the sweetest fruit for the thirsty and of bitter taste
You made my life a happy song
And took the spikes off my chest
You made me fly and diffuse my wisdom and then every one followed
They took me by their mouth and made for themselves freedom
Freed themselves from stunting,
Muscled up and helped others cross the street
They grew up to raise kids by pineapple juice and moral feet
Then i knew i was nutritious
I had made the society conscious
Because you made me first into that pineapple,
And my juice i serve to Gods people.
(in many ways those moral teachings
of the bible makes us as human as we should be,
they are all a different fruit to us)- Lucas-
Longevity dreamers don’t wanna
deal with me
I’m short straw bad for good health
Liquidators that are paid handsomely
to handle the hazard,
don’t quite make it home safely
after coming in direct contact with me
Material perks comes with a radioactive
buyers remorse poisoning penalty
Emergency workers sub-contracted to die,
get an all-expenses-paid funeral tax-free
Courtesy of government policy
Four lethal isotopes, I possess
Brief exposure can be genetic deadly,
even if you’re wearing a protective, cobalt-lined suit
Come any DNA closer to me,
and your uranium saturated body will receive
a guaranteed morgue visit, very shortly
Got four jellyfish gaseous tentacles
that’s gon beta burn sting
Two thyroid growth-stunting twins:
caesium-134 and 137
will double date you
with a mutating embrace extra finger eleven
Along with strontium-90
and iodine-131
These four cancer flirts are sure to give body hurt:
acute radiation ... grab the suicide gun
Extending invitations for a half-life
Party over
before the sunset get golden twilight
Radionuclides will get daydreamers sober,
as the mortality music stops at midnight
When I get under the skin,
epidermiological odds are,
your whole life is gonna get cut short
So don’t hold your breath,
half of nothing is all you got left
One day I just want to mean something
If I could be something I will dream nothing
Pharaohs wore gold so I suppose I’ll keep stunting
I’m trying to fight for my rights but every night I keep running
Isn’t astonishing that I’m a black man that can’t stand being moderate
It was my plan to take over in politics, but damn I can’t even get a scholarship
Am I different because I’m fatherless?
I been living my life for a while, but as your child I wanted you to be a part of it
Sometimes I feel like the only thing that is close to me
Are Basic instructions before leaving earth grandma said I’m supposed to read
But it’s more to me. I survive, feed, and remain fly
Either I’m a soaring eagle or one of god’s chosen people
I hate the word potential, I will come 1st no matter what I been threw
And when things get worse I remembered how to kneel
Numb to what’s real I forgot how fraud feels
How we against each other but worship the same god still?
As long as we bleed the same we are the same.
Will you be my tomorrow?
When the sun creeps languorously
Red and purple swirls,
golden tentacles stretching,
stretching to embrace the spreading wings of birds aflutter
as they draw towards those very life giving limbs as they
burst through the skies vividly
To and fro they dart
a choir of beautiful solo proclamations disjointed yet unified
Great trunks sturdy
lifting greens higher,
higher to drink of that potion
Buds, slowly they unfurl giving way to dainty leaves
How carefully they are veined, their sustainance obtained
Leaning blades they weep as they witness
the beauty of my tomorrow, today
Will you be my tomorrow?
Vicious winds howling
Oranges, browns swirling
like dancers they flutter to the ground
Soft blanket of fallen pieces carefully laid
disrobed from gnarly fingers striving,
yes striving for perseverance
Garbled birdsong , hunched wings
as they retreat into cocoons of their creation
woven and threaded pecked and mud slung
perfect in their complexity,
beautiful in simplicity
See where there is stunting, blades no longer lush but
trodden to bareness beneath the carpet of debris that paves a way for regrowth
tomorrow...
but what about today?
On the banks of river folks gathered solemnly
Where in repose lay the body of his father;
Dry dead-wood was stacked in layers they built,
Fire was crackling, burning, heads were bowing,
Memorializing deeds in voices of the elders--
That is how cremation was done in his village.
He recalls now how they walked river’s edge
Where wildflowers bloomed, animals grazed
As farmers tilled rice fields in dawn’s silence,
Much as his father did until he died that day.
Frozen he stood there, thousand burns unseen,
Inflamed in veins as he looked to his mother
Gasping for words choking youthful innocence
As tearfully they hugged fearful of the burden
Bewildering his mother into stilled unknown.
Look at him, for a glimpse of child-subjugated
Who parted in hopes of altering course of fate,
Grateful to those who made room for his stay,
In a city where wealth was sign of intelligence,
Poverty denigrated~ tantamount to ignorance,
And class defined by the ancestry of bigoted;
There he found shelter, offered only as a loan,
Love not included in covenant of sustenance,
And mighty price required to learn existence:
Humiliated endurance, humbled-subservience…
That even in freedom-won, never sets one free,
Suffocating still in those embers carbon-fumed,
Life robbed of childhood throttling pitied tears,
Adulthood festering wounds of acrid memories
Spurned by summers and dejected by autumns,
Parching his life’s springs, stunting his seasons,
Caging his heart where his father’s ashes burn.
March 14, 2022
Placed 1st: A Brian Strand 1096
Placed 1st: Pick-A-Title, Vol 29 – Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Edward Ibeh
Title chosen: Festering Wound
I understand you’re insecure but why you gotta put that make up on
Ya beautiful, its true I ain't stunting, I ain't trying to con
Don’t run away from who you are, it’s the way you were born
Personally hand crafted by the man upstairs
He’d want you to be yourself
You’re unique, you ain't like every other book on the shelf
What’s underneath ya front cover
Let me see what’s under that powder and eye liner
It's true I want to open you up and read you up
Every page I turn to you getting finer and finer
God damn you got me tripping
I ain't the smartest around here but that’s saying something
Girl put that make up down
I’m being honest with ya ain't trying to make you frown
I know you’re insecure but I’d rather you natural
Cream colored tulips and satin red roses
intermix fluid in the garden.
One flower fades away as another takes it place,
like croci giving in to daffodils.
Marsh daisies and wild violets blend between the hosta
and minimize the scent full of lily of the valley.
A lone white iris bloomed today, stunting the green of others
holding high its flowered head above the may-apples.
At last the hint of peeking gladiolas rise,
red and pale green above the ground.
Yellow green eunonymus glow lime green in the sun
vibrant and colorful around the bark of an old broken oak.
Wild mustard rises and bloom in clumps
yielding dainty bouquets of delicate white florets.
With this early spring that lingers dry and warm
everything will bloom before its time.
Time demands ever
People apply ruler hardest
Stunting life..desires.!
The facade you subconsciously display--Is making a mockery of your beloved EGO.
While In your mind your rich...
Choosing the path of Denial is a hell of a way to GO. What you KNOW, they’ll never KNOW... Never ever KNOW-- How when the sun sets on Sunday you hang your head LOW.
Your emotionally caged--You are stunting your humble GROWTH.
This Perception of your POPULAR MOLD. Where you come across apathetic and COLD-- Is winning the battle with your TRUE self--Where you sympathetic and BOLD. And to know you is to tell you..The Things you’d rather not be TOLD.
--That you must be genuine,honest and LOYAL--.
--That a happy soul is only possible--When life is void of TURMOIL. Chaos is no longer ROMANTICIZED;And days never end With resentments or LIES.
Check out the other side of the TRACKS. This is where tranquil Self awareness resides.
And Where truth and acceptance will FOREVER have our BACKS..
-'Never look BACK--.
Like a wise man once told me; “The presence darling.The presence is where IT'S AT.”
innerpeacestartnow143
Up above the filmament,
Appeared a cloud of racing horse,
Like a plague of locust,
Stunting down and down in stallion.
As the trampling sounds of trumpet sounds,
The winds calls for the saints,
The seas and lands vomited there held beings,
As death gave up it throne of power.
Behold; His second coming,
Behold; the New Jerusalem,
From above the whispering voice of paradise
Sainted saints shouts, alleluiah amen.
Tribulations and threats on the dark sheep,
Scared and sweating like Christmas goat,
Torments of the Anti-Christ to the dark sheep,
Who choose to pay with their dark blood.
Returning from the other side of the world,
Is it a nightmare? Or a revelation?
Could it be rapture? Will it take place from now?
Hence I ran to the cross for protection.
From the moment he turned adult legal,
Triple B been hot rodding to the liquor sto’e
Making them daily late night beer runs,
and popping them tops with his beefy guns
Liquid numbmification is his stupor education,
sober thinking everyday takes a vacant vacation
Guzzling and grunting,
brain cells mental growth stunting
Belching and barfing,
lager laced blue-in-the-face scarfing
Triple B don’t have a problem with none of that,
he’s a certified spud, who loves sucking down suds by the sack
His grandpa affectionately calls him Beer Belly Boy,
a Budweiser lunch box was his favorite childhood toy
He don’t mind people saying his six pack is a couple cans short,
as long as he delivers the moonshine on time to the rally point port
Triple B feels he’s living the life of a NASCAR rebel,
and his best friend Bo is a rowdy, hell-raising devil
Beer Belly Boy loves his favorite American girl,
dressed in her aluminum skirt and amber pearls
Beer Belly Boy, full of joy, gon crush kiss each empty can,
‘cause his gut feeling tells him this is the measure of a man