Photographed at the bank
Everyone knows you are just
Another Ska-Ank and a loser
Wish you were wanted
But now everyone knows
You are sort of ree-tard-ted
Everyone is better than you,
And you're a loser
Saw you with a drug dealer, too
Were you hoping his money
Might rub off on you
Forget it…
You're a loser
You're just tra-sh
And you’re a loser
You're just tra-sh
And you're a loser
Last time I saw you
When you were down on hope
I saw you on 6th Street
Hustling for a piece of dope
You're just tra-sh
And you’re a loser
You're just tra-sh
And you're a loser
So if we should meet up some time
Don't act like you're a friend of mine
Don’t smile at me, stay away from me
I don't want to be seen with a loser
It was from a small town that he came
In fact so small I can’t even remember its name
His mother and father were just regular folks
His younger brother he loved the most.
He had a talent with the guitar
Lots of people said that he’d go far
So he packed up his car and drove for three days
For the first few months he didn’t make much pay.
He went to New York to make it big
Playing for 8 people’s not much of a gig
In a big city so far from home
Surrounded by people but you’re always alone.
The dealers and pimps can pick fresh meat
You don’t even need to get up off your seat
At any time of the night or day
They’ll help you keep the pain at bay.
Then one night it all came to an end
With a little help from his drug dealer friend
He scored something cut with nitazene
And so ended his New York dream.
He was a mechanic who sold illegal drugs. His nickname was Snowman. There was warmth in his eyes despite his moniker. There wasn’t a high he couldn’t supply or a ride he couldn’t repair. Despite his humble beginnings, time in the penitentiary, Snowman was a genius with machines. A doctorate’s degree in life and machines, only certified by the streets of north Davidson.
snowman eyes of coal
winter life froze carrot nose
gentrified bulldozed
Poetry is my drug
I go there like a devoted ****
I take a line
And oh I fly
But recently I am sober
I can not find my drug dealer
I search and I search
Will you be one?
RED
There it is
The mark of dead
Wrecked up, messed up
Drug dealer, car fixer
Poorer than dirt
Up to the neck in man hurt
...track B
Brown
Tiny, original
The mark of birth
Successed up, dressed up
CEO, Someone you know
Richer than stone
On the top floor, only one door
...to original
White
Enveloped, concealed
NOOOOOO
My car has dents, cheap, paid in full
...but red
FAILURE, a marker of sorts
Broken, beaten, damaged
But the chassis isn't bent
...point A to destiny
It is good
Written by Trudy Schrader on 01-10-2023
Key: Worked at D.M.V.
I believe we make our own world wherever we are
Living in a cozy, little house in a neighborhood
I live close to a drug dealer, a snob, and a recluse,
None of whom, apparently, wish me any good.
I could whine, and let them make me miserable,
I could immerse myself in their puddles of poo,
But I choose to go about my life without concern
What the people in the next block think and do.
I mind my own business, live in a peaceful world
Anymore, I don’t even watch the evening news
I go about my business trying to live a good life
I don’t need aggravation from some stranger’s views.
My motto is “live and let live,” just give me a break
I am not judgmental, so try to treat me with grace.
Leave my property alone, do not my belongings take,
And if you have something to say, say it to my face!
Written October 18, 2022
I learned that my daughter's old boyfriend was a drug dealer.
He was a scumbag who turned out to be a cold blooded killer.
When I learned how bad that he is, I made my daughter break up with him.
That made the punk extremely angry and that's when things became grim.
One night, he came on my property and burned my house down.
It burned and burned, it burned to the ground.
The fire fighters were able to rescue me, It was a close shave.
They tried to rescue my family but sadly, they couldn't be saved.
When the fire started, a neighbor saw that punk running away from my house,
She was both happy and proud to testify against that psychopathic louse.
Unless your family was murdered, you can't possibly understand my fury.
I was so happy to hear the word "Guilty" from the foreman of the jury.
Ever since I lost my wife and daughter, life has been a living hell.
I'm having to live in misery but at least that punk is rotting in jail.
"Kevin"
Drug buy,
for one it went good.
Drug buy,
for one it went bad.
You see Kevin,
wore high heeled sneakers.
You see Kevin,
was his junkies' keeper.
But one day;
the junkie didn't have it,
so Kevin didn't give it,
but the junkie had to have it,
but Kevin didn't get it.
So when his beeper beeped beeped,
the Junkie popped popped.
And when his beeper beeped beeped.
his heart beat beat,
"Stopped."
______________________________________________________________
“In Truth, He Lies”
(Kevin’s Funeral)
Preacher screams,
"He's goin’ to heaven",,
Kendra cries,
"Wake up Kevin",,
Momma sighs,
"Baby, don't cry",,
Grandma weeps,
"Kevin's asleep",,
Grandpa states,
"Resting his eyes",,
But when Momma screams,
"wake up Kevin",,
Grandpa weeps,
and then we all cry,
But to me,
It don't matter none.
Whether Kevin's in Hell,
for what he's done.
But the truth is,
Kevin lies.
In that casket,
before my eyes,
And the coffin keeps,
such still remains.
But will the coffin keep,
what still remains?
NoelsArt
Comments: Above is a poem about Kevin, a drug dealer. Added this week is Kevin’s Funeral poem. FEEDBACK WELCOME
"Kevin"
Drug buy,
for one it went good.
Drug buy,
for one it went bad.
You see Kevin,
wore high heeled sneakers.
You see Kevin,
was his junkies' keeper.
But one day;
the junkie didn't have it,
so Kevin didn't give it,
but the junkie had to have it,
but Kevin didn't get it.
So when his beeper beeped beeped,
the Junkie popped popped.
And when his beeper beeped beeped.
his heart beat beat,
"Stopped."
NoelsArt
Comments: Above is a poem about Kevin, a drug dealer. It’s from a series of Kevin poems. I like to perform this poem. FEEDBACK WELCOME
Escobar
Columbia was a team full of promise, on the rise
Their relationship with El Padrino they could not disguise
Drug money accepted under threat of demise
No choice take the Gold or your family dies
You’d think choosing money and life would be wise
Yet the result is an entire country that cries
Two very different men with the same last name
One shot dead because his team lost a game
The other a drug dealer who loved money and fame
Many thought Pablo was the one we should blame
No matter who for Andreas the result was the same
The end result brought the beautiful game great shame.
Both men were shot dead but will be long remembered
One for the own goal his unfortunate foot tendered
One for the agony his reign of terror once rendered
Columbia’s soccer teams soul has now been mended
For the whole country I hope their showing is splendid
World Cup soccer contest
17/06/2018
He buys his drugs just to get high
Never thinkiing he might die.
He pays his money takes the dope;
He still believes--this is his hope.
He's nineteen, he's really just a boy
He buys his drugs, searches for joy.
He lies motionless in a hospital bed
He's all hooked up; his brain is dead.
He stops breathing, his fight is done
The angels take his spirit home.
Now it's you, strolling down the street
It's your drug dealer you hope to meet.
Ask yourself before you get high--
Could this be your night to die?
Kids are dying, left and right
Overdose the conmmon plight.
Your dealer's the devil, he don't care
When you lay dying, he ain't there.
Dec 16/17
D H Loewen
Good evening, how are you?
Would you like a cup of tea?
Please relax, have a seat, and
Enjoy a cup with me.
It’s been a while since we last talked
About your curious life,
Those are beautiful pictures of your kids,
With your beautiful wife.
I’m really glad your job is great, and
The garden ‘round your house is grand,
And it’s good to see you have a horse
On your own little block of land.
Now, here’s the bags you ordered,
Filled with pills, and ice and dope,
You can always count on me, your drug dealer,
To sell your soul so you can cope.
I once brought home a friend,
of the African American persuasion.
My Mom approached me and then,
asked me the following questions.
"Who is he?"
she asked me,
"Is he your drug dealer friend?"
"That's racist Mom,"
I went on,
"and a horrible thing to say.
He's a very close friend of mine,
whom I've known for a long time,
so put your money away."
I've been raped
I went from FBI agent to a drug dealer
All those years in college and still no job because Iam black
My new gang colors is the American flag with the stain red blood. The blood that I shed to work so hard to live a comfortable life.
I've been rape from a job
I've been raped out of my education
I've been raped out of a place to live
I've been raped out of my religion
Then had the nerve to come in my face and ask who side Iam on
Christian or Muslim
I've been raped out of the color of my skin
I've been raped out of my wages
I've been raped out of graduation
I've been raped out of spending time with family
I've been raped out of spending time with friends
I've been raped out of health care
I've been raped out of voting
I've been raped
I've been raped
I've been raped
I've been raped out of life
So who left paying the cost!
Me!
By: Shaniki Smith
Date: February 16, 2016
My name is not Tony Montana
No I'am not a nature born killer
The heroine is not embedded in my veins
I'am always drug free like the quote states
ride or die
don't get high off your own supply
My name is not Tony Montana
I'am not a gangster
I'am that Bruce Lee the one you don't want to mess with
One blow to the head and the second blow to the chest
consider yourself knocked out
For sure I have skillz like that
My name is not Tony Montana
Tattoo this to your forehead
No wankster
No gangster
No drug dealer
Check the profile I hit the school books
not the streets
I know how to say no to situation that may cause destruction
in my life
No my name is not Tony Montana
Say no to drugs
Say yes to school and a job
So you can have a healthy stable life
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