Long Committing Poems
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A man was sick and he loved to kill.
Committing murder gave him a thrill.
He stabbed people and shot some with guns.
Human beings meant nothing to him, it was fun.
He cut a man's heart out and it's enough to make people cringe.
Seeing his dad kill himself is what caused him to come unhinged.
He sneaked up behind a woman and slit her throat.
He was proud of the killings and decided to gloat.
Gloating was what caused him to be caught by the cops.
People are very thankful because he has been stopped.
When people found out that he was the killer, it was a big surprise.
He is locked up in an insane asylum and will be there until he dies.
This is about a jihadi.....who consummated yet another terror attack. But this time he...fell for
a grenade thrown at him......by the armed forces......he is dying now.....and in those very last
moments.......he is reminiscing his life. And what he has been through.......what he has
achieved.....what a waste his life has been......with blood soaked hands.....and soul.......he
dies.......
I lie there dying, with the dewdrops falling on me;
It felt like salt being spread on my open wounds,
My eyes half open, just about to close,
But I will die for sure as this is what I chose-
I can see the smoke rising from the scorching grounds,
It’s wafting from the ashes of my torn heart;
As I recall my doings and it's time to get apart.
My hollow soul went as thin as a waif,
Whilst I continued to slay innocent lives;
Not once did I think of my imminent fate,
For every life I took, got stabbed with a thousand knives!
I see the shadowy faces of the countless I rendered dead;
Tears mixed with sweat and grit from my eyes I shed,
With my own pieces now strewn across the asphalt street-
No matter how much I try, I cannot sew them back,
Red is the hue of blood but Oh look mine is black!
There is a chill in the wind;
And a stench of death in the air,
The smell is nothing new to me,
I have smelled it before with flair
My breath is shallow as I hear the footsteps clear
Marching towards me shouting, “Catch him right there!”
Reveries of heaven were shown to me but alas it was all an illusion;
I continued committing the felonies in delusion-
The walls of hell are closing on to me now,
Parting is my tainted soul with a sad bow;
I take the last breath in, deep inside the lungs
And dove into my harrowing death with a plunge…
'Why so serious?'
He would say as he started to walk my way.
He wears a purple over coat,
His face as white as a ghost.
Always has a smile beaming from ear to ear
Laughing like a maniac till his eyes are full of tears
Who is this mad man with hair of green
he is the creepiest thing I've ever seen
He always seems to have a trick up his sleeve
Along with many different weapons' like you wouldn't believe
Spreading uncontrollable chaos trying to put on a show
Committing crimes where ever he goes
How did this criminal mastermind come to be?
What drove him mad to reach the point of insanity?
Some say he fell into a tank of chemicals that drove him insane
Others say it was the loss of his wife and unborn child
Whatever it was it caused him a lot of pain
It seems like he was already unsteady
Close to that breaking point, slightly losing his mind already
Maybe he was never really okay
All it took was a little push over the edge
And we got the Joker we have today
Entered in the premiere contest, Superhero or Supervillain
Sponsored by Robert James Liguori
Placement: 3rd
My first doll
smelled like chocolate
and her skin
just as dark
I adored her
Innocent as I was
I could have
never imagined
anyone remotely
resembling
my precious doll
could have been
committing
the equivalent of a crime
punishable
by the worst
kind of persecution
and abuse
Whoever bought
me that beautiful doll
was making damn sure
there would be
one less dirty bigot
in this bizarre world
we live in
Ever so proudly
as I clenched to my heart
my best little friend
I was blissfully unaware
I was making a statement
back in dark days of 1962
Read on air by invitation ~ August 28, 2022 'POETS HARBOUR'
AP: Honorable Mention 2021
Submitted on January 11, 2018 for contest WHAT IS WHITE? sponsored by DEBBIE GUZZI - RANKED 10th
No fear of threats from vicious
Peter Gargano knights of kkk
Threatening my life for attending
that 1969 Civil rights field trip
my father Civil rights advocates
political leaders gather
as we awaited the trial
way buses to board
my first grade class
was the only class
honoured to attend
because excellent
grades and we were
the entertainment
choir members thirty
one 1st graders my
mom and dad was
so proud of me no
cousins or sisters or
brothers no identity
thieves Jamaican
immigrants from tampa
definitely no mexican
violent offenders from
delicia chichihau mexico
born in 1980 committing
home invasions for corrupt
junk sick cops very sad place
in America truly sad these
violent offenders and corrupt
cops threatening my life
obsessed with my poetry
my life 1969 Abraham Lincolns
home my first grade class was
the only class selected throughout
Chicago i will never fear intimidations
threats from domestic terrorists
with badges discrimination
hatred of me fir being the child
of a civil rights advocates being
a child of a the black panther party
1969 fred hampton breakfast
program I wore wires pregnant
buying weapons and drugs from
corrupt junk sick cops today
these corrupt officers crave
my death attempting to extort
my poetry for Peter gargano
criminal group breaking in my
home reading my diary about
my 1969 field trip sorry your
Mexican imposter wasn't
even born your Jamaican
imposter wasn't even born
this was peters game to
murder me and impersonate
me with immigrants because
he hates blacks he burns blacks
alive he frames blacjs extort
blacks he hires blacks to
unearth blacks he hires corrupt
junk sick cops to terrorise
threatening fbi informants
confidential human sources
he ignited a car bomb in my face
i am truly blessed that my first
grade class was the only class
chosen to attend only because
I sang in the chior I got to sing Marian
Anderson’s hymn were the only class
we felt so special liberty and justice for all
lift every voice and sing very very exciting
such an honor to be chosen to sing
let freedom ring
Imagine if they really knew you…
What you are going through
What you actually feel
Pain
Imagine if they really knew you…
Imagine if you could see what people think about you.
What to change about yourself
Make people think good about you…
Imagine if you had one wish.
One wish that would fix everything
A wish that would help you overcome your fears
Imagine you had one wish…
Imagine if they knew what you wanted to do…
How much you hate yourself
And having to fake your smile
Imagine having a blade to hand…
What would you do?
Imagine how they would feel about you…
Imagine how they would cope with your death.
Imagine if everyone was equal…
No young girls would be committing suicide
No one would be faking their smile
No one would be depressed
Imagine if life was perfect
Imagine if dreams came true…
Imagine having one wish
A wish that would fix everything
A wish that would make people stop hating you
Imagine having one wish…
Time is ticking like a bomb about to blow up into smoke and flame
It alarms me to say this, but how DARE you waste my precious time
Your words could be as sweet as honey or as sour as lime
But I feel like I've been trampled to the ground
By grief and gravity...
My teeth are wearing off...is there a cavity to be found?
Keep me in your memory...
Fulfill me with your graceful glee and vibrant positivity
But it ain't no surprise that we all aren't normal and we all are peculiar in our own bizarre ways
Sorry to burst your bubble, but haha, yeah...I've been causing mischief and what not
I can't face my shattering reality...I can't face the consequences I must face from past downfalls
Unless you trade me your ecstasy
Abide with me next to sea...and I'll make sure to answer your calls
We'll watch the sunset and the gorgeous waterfalls
Don't be afraid, baby
It's only in your mind...throw your worries out the window and pray for a blessed reality
Anxiety is brewing...but you can replace it with last minute hope
And I don't have the strength to hold on to the rope
Time is ticking like a bomb about to blow up into smoke and flame
It's quite alarming to say this, but how DARE you waste my valuable time... Blaming me for your heartless, devious crimes
Time is ringing like a church bell chime...it's your time to say goodbye and it's my time to forget your name
It's alarming to hear broken records of memory replay in my head...it's almost like committing a wicked crime
Time's flippin' like a dime...
It's almost crime...
With fustigation to amelioration
We are led by The Law to The Gospel
And in turn The Gospel demands we keep The Law
No epistle of straw, there’s room in the hostel
(Because God’s style to the world is hostile)
We are led by the Spirit
To learn to endear it
Endear what? Is a sinful recitation
Learning to serve others in convocation
(God calls us and overhauls us
Whether one by one and together)
How do we inherit eternal life?
By loving our neighbor as serving kin
Who is our neighbor?
The one without (as in not having and not within)
The fustigation of Jesus Christ
Begs our amelioration of a fustigated life
And if a cruciform life is led
There must be blood, sweat and tears shed in stead
(Or instead of the evil in tow as is led here below)
Life is hard, there’s no doubt about it
Jesus’ words touted and shouted from the Cross
But serendipitously (and graciously)
When we lose, we don’t count it as loss
Are you willing to look like a hypocrite to the world without?
Are you willing to look at the hypocrite within?
(As He lived and then hung betwixt two of us)
Jesus took on this struggle without committing a sin
I've been caught in tempest winds
with hurricane strength, they have blown
I've been guilty of committing many sins
and poor seeds, sometimes, I have sown.
I've worn a diamond on my left hand
and took it off when my marriage ended.
A symbol of love was my wedding band,
thrown away when my life was defended.
I've walked in the midst of pouring rain
heard thunder crashing all around me.
I've felt physical and emotional pain
until I knew I had to set myself free.
I've stood in a cane field and one of wheat
watching storm birds rise and take flight.
At times I wanted something more to eat _
and times I cried myself to sleep at night.
I've wakened in the hush of a quiet morn
wondering why the birds weren't singing.
And then I remember why my dress is torn.
In my head, bells peal out their loud ringing.
I've looked at stars glowing above my head
and wish I could see them twinkle at dawn.
I've tried to forget my sorrow and stay in bed
with shades and curtains pulled and drawn.
But there is one hope to which I always cling.
It's comfort in knowing that my Father cares.
He's the reason I still have the courage to sing
and the weight of all of my burdens, He bears.
Let us accept this pain
and some fear
it will heighten autumn colors
crack of clean air
black crows in blue sky
lake.
Rather than fight pain, falling
asleep in front of tv,
understand the full
import of its situation
in the body. Blessed
once, cursed now
only fear prevents
full knowledge of experience.
The gray sky brings
winter, no blame.
The poet writes a few last poems
or continues to live with his pain.
In itself pain does not oppose
life, and may enhance it
or build character, create
wisdom. But too much fear
chokes the throat and burns
the eyes. It
destroys the last free
assessment of life.
* * *
Now I am going to live in my body
as it is, almost fearlessly
running in pain, working
to abandon immortality
as a hope, conceiving
sunset after sunset
feeling what I feel.
On the streets I meet
many beautiful young women
curious to a certain extent
what makes a man older.
I can only say ten years
and the hand that reaches through
the cloud. I can say
only the knowledge of mortality
which makes us brothers and sisters
with the animals. And only
the acceptance which gives us wisdom
to couple often and lovingly.
How am I going to live every day
as my last, hoping happiness
outgrows fear by an ounce
or enough? By running, writing
and loving. By moving uphill
and downhill like a bear.
By committing my last words
to a powerful lord. How
do the clouds accept my dead
self? A rock thrown, a crow.
* * *
When I am old
young girls will not be frightened anymore.
I will invite them
to my seat and tell
about the women I knew.
I will tell about
the clothes they wore
and how they earned a living.
I will try to remember
what was important to them
and if they had a favorite color
or knew how to divine.
Maybe I live and maybe I don't.
The smoke is white or black.
The winds are bright or dark.
The coins are heads or tails.
What have I been afraid of?
Death is most of all like sleep.
We spend so long apart
after briefly knowing ourselves.
I need you to know myself
and without you all I know
is sun.