Long Dirty Poems
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“Hansel, why have we returned? I know that witch is toast
But what if she’s around here someplace as a blackened ghost?”
“Gretel, do you not recall, these flowers were not here
That when the witch was still alive these woods withered in fear.”
“But, Hansel, when we came as kids, complete with dirty knees
All we had to guide us was a dirt path through the trees
And now the very path itself is hid by vegetation
So tell me how you plan for us to find our destination.”
“Gretel can’t you smell that spicy scent of gingerbread
It’s even stronger than the flowers upon which we tread.”
“Hansel, please don’t tell me there’s some dumb scheme in your head
Like when we marked our way with crumbs on which the sparrows fed.”
“Gretal, Gretal, sister dear, just give a guy a break
Can’t you just for once forget that minuscule mistake?
But, lo, I see the witches hut; it’s right there up ahead
I won’t pretend that I’m not glad that awful witch is dead.”
“Don’t you ‘Gretal, Gretal’ me; I know you all too well.
I’d even bet you came to get some gingerbread to sell.”
“Gretal, I’m so fed up with your patronising grin.
But here’s the door; it’s up to you, but I am going in…….
Okay, now I’m puzzled, because inside there’s a bed
And in it there’s a grandma with a hairy face and head.”
“Hansel, as expected, seems you’ve led us both astray
You’ve brought us to this place from which, if wise, we’d run away
But no, you cannot help yourself, you’re quite beyond belief
So go back in and shut the door and talk about big teeth!”
Everything is broken
In a way you don't understand
Safe within your bubble
Isolated from your fellow man
Granted safety from your birth
As loathe as you are to admit
Privilege is a dirty word
But it's one that unfortunately fits
White of skin and comfortable
With the gender of your birth
How oft do you gaze upon us
And consider us of worth?
See the ones in charge of us
Aim gunblades at this half
Pray, are you just as incensed
Or give a shaky laugh?
If the sword or gun pointed
Doesn't aim at your head
But at those of your fellow man
Do you still feel the dread?
Are you content to stop and stare
As nooses are fashioned?
Knowing you've escaped today
The rest of us are shunned
Do the pointless deaths incense your soul
Stoking violent flame
Or when the victims aren't of your ilk
Is it just a silly game?
Everything is broken
In a way you could understand
If only you would reach on out
To pull up your fellow man.
I was walking in the sunshine happy and careFREE
oh yeah, humming a tune in my head
when a car stopped
wanta a ride miss?
he looked handsome and friendly
so I got in and that was my mistake, mistake, mistake
we were driving a wild ride on streets unknown
swirling and twirling
then he was dragging me up stairs, ouch
down a hall and into a room
a dirty disgusting stinking room of filthy walls
my prison walls, walls, WALLS
and from something to nothing I was doomed
he spoke to me with words angry blurred
whispering in my ear, biting, that I was his now, his, his
he said, tell me you love me and I did, I did say it
'cause his knife was at my throat
I did everything he wanted
when he left me I was chained like an animal
a prisoner with no freedom
had nothing anymore but deep inside
was courage, a flame still burned
he was a coward with a knife
knowing one day he would eventually make a mistake
and it came suddenly
he left forgetting the chain
I lay waiting, waiting, listening to his fading footsteps
then sprung up
opened the door and ran
ran to freedom, ran, ran, ran, ran
from nothing towards something, something
how long had I been in that room of doom
I had no concept of time anymore
where do I go?
where are you mom?
____________________________
March 22, 2019
Poetry/Free Verse/Running To FREEDOM
Copyright Protected, ID 19- 1126-803-02
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
Submitted to the contest, NA Re-Run (rec'd NA Freedom to nothing, 4/24/19)
sponsor, John Hamilton
Third Place
Years ago, but one
Nineteen hundred and thirty one
Solomon the Gun
He smoked big cigars
He drove really big fast cars
On his face a scar
He ruled the city
Drove us all into pity
Made us feel shifty
The world his oyster
I don't mean to be witty
Boiled, fried, roasted
He always boasted
"I can take anyone out
Anytime I wish"
He owned everyone
Father, mother, daughter, son
No one was safe from
Solomon the Gun
He's always a gangsters son
With a Tommy Gun
He killed thirteen men
St. Valentines Massacre
Dirty cold red blood
Alibi's no good
Now Solomon's on the run
The cops after him
Nowhere left to run
Solomon's shot in the head
He was left for dead
Oh, he's all but gone
Nothing but a memory
Newspaper fodder
Now, he wasn't brave
Buried in an unmarked grave
Never to be saved
He was just stupid
A total stooge and moron
Solomon the Gun
When you fight the law
You'd best have the bigger gun
And bigger ego
Better be faster
On the draw and on the run
Or it's your last here
Now, you may well say
What's the moral of the story?
What to take away?
Solomon the Gun
The moral is simply this
Don't be like he was...
Chorus
Never give up or
Put yourself down
Never hate this
Tis just for loves
Never wake up be a dreamer
Till your dream your life
Verse 1
Don’t pinch me
this dream
This cars
this house just for me
am joseph better coat
finer things stain my soul
j s on designer sole
made for the shine like a mirror
about the money like a banker
straws to all my haters
so y all can suck it
money talks
cheddah in my hands
Im holding conversation
So good a dirty mind
You cant brain wash
Your god deleted you
now you are not saved
Believe in you then
Get money till they say amen
Dad says its never too late till you dead
I cant ever be the late
So I
Work and work and work
And I
Chorus
Verse 2
Don’t pinch me
This moment
This feeling
This crown
Just for me
Am martin luther
Better style
Am no hoe land
Even with a dyke
You wont stop my flow
Always do it for you
or you get a crown of thorns
They will stab you in the back
if you save em all
like the joker keep smilling
please my heart keep beating
where is my throne
needs titling
lost my mind
quit looking
if its love keep falling
always keep time
like your life
don’t waste it
find yourself or you lose your chance for greatness
it’s a marathon till you run the world
so run and run and run
and please
chorus
bridge
everyone goes to sleep
but all don’t dream
you are special
may your work make men and angels cry
when it gets so hard like constipation
when the suns up high and its all trepidation
looking for salvation
and all is damnation
sleep honey
dream darling
and please honey
chorus *2
SOUNDCLOUD:https://soundcloud.com/moses-c-chach
No joy in Zion
Cast the first stone
If you are sure of your soul
Cos you Don't point fingers
When your eyes are dirty
Our streets are hot
Too many events are unfolding
At same times
Some are good
So many are ugly
The elite keep taking blames
While
The youth keep protesting
Life is what it is on our streets
We are naked to the world to see
What more do they want to know
Cos we are the ones
With situations that don't change
Yet we can live
We can smile regardless
We can manage despite the terrible stories
Some how we are talking over our defeats
Some how we are everywhere
We are the magic the world loves
Yet ignores
Yet we can smile regardless
We can manage our lives
Despite their is
No joy in Zion
No joy in Zion
The kingdom shakes
Cos the elders are not truthful
They became money blinded
Choosing sides instead of true cooperation
Allowing calamities in exchange of money
Tell me what will the youth do
When they see their elders evil
Instead of a mentor
Tell me who will advise us
When we need to listen
No wonder the streets are hot
Too many young dying so soon
Moral values dying like
We can't live without brutality
The kingdom shake
Cos the elders are not truthful
They refused to take care
Of Thier very own people
Their existence bleeds
The reality on our street
On daily basis
I wish the kingdom reigns
With the brave cos now their is
No joy in Zion
I took her over the county line.
This parish is dry
and you have to drive some to get a damn drink.
She's not much older than my truck
but we both need a break
from the coal dusted air.
In the mostly empty White Pony
cold beers slide our way.
She's wiry and tough,
no one bothers to card her.
Together in a booth corner
she tells me her story,
it's a short brutal one,
my hands feel dirty
as I nod saying nothing,
then order whisky chasers.
On the way back to her trailer
she asks me if I want something from her.
I ain’t got the words.
Maybe another drink
some other stone cold night,
I hear myself say.
I’m proud to serve, that’s true as hell,
But sometimes I wonder why we’re here to rebel—
Not against the mission, not against the fight,
But the brass and the game that fogs up the right.
They say it’s a brotherhood, shoulder to shoulder,
But I see ‘em slicked up, gettin' rank over the bolder.
The ones who dodge grime, fresh-pressed and clean,
In their service dress blues, their polished-up sheen.
Some troops in coveralls, sweat-stained and tired,
Running two shifts while the "heroes" retired,
To volunteer for cake duty, handin' out smiles,
While we’re on the line, racking up miles.
The shop’s down to bone, mission load is high,
And we’re the ones grindin’ while the brown-nosers fly.
They get the medals and accolades—so absurd,
For fixing their collars and kissing up to the third.
I don’t care for the politics, the backroom cheers,
I don’t work for the lapel pins or selective ears.
But there’s pride in the dirt, in the scuffed-up boots,
Where real service lives, where honor takes roots.
I’ll keep pulling weight, watch their parades pass,
Nods and awards for a well-polished brass.
And yeah, it gets old, watching them rise,
When the dirty and smelly, they pass right by.
But proud to serve—I don’t need their praise,
For a job well done, for these long hard days.
Just wonderin’ sometimes why it’s this way—
When the heart of the mission is the boots in the fray.
They signed the contract
The sneaky dead souls come through the door
Making deals
They wanted resurrection, health and beauty
Glam and Manzoor was greed
Suraya and Khalida were jealousy and beauty
Saying T is to blame for their misfortune
And began their reign of terror
They crossed the demon’s hand with silver
The demon wanted proof
They played dirty hoping to fool the demon
With lies and deception
They took out loans
They signed the contract
Now there’s no proof to their accusations
And must pay the fines and heavy debt.
Glam and three others and prayed a spell in the middle of the night on a log fire. He unlocked a door and he beckoned a demon called Sire Marcus Barracus to assist him. Glam overpowered Marcus and stole, hair, nails, and umbilical cord of his victim. He put it in a grave and mortuary for riches in heaven. They stole the all-seeing eye so he knew exactly where to look. All he knew was he needed perform a ritual, he needed a pure soul. He had no idea what he was doing as he was literate.
He didn’t know how to arrange such an act. He ended up putting his body in a mortuary too. The others too. Then Marcus didn’t know how to explain to him, as he was horrified. All Marcus did was ask him to sign a contract. Which he never did until now thirty-five years later. Now Marcus managed to get through to them what he tried to advise them.
In these days
Of protest craze
We sit or stand
When we don't get our way
We scream and shout
Piss and pout
Without even knowing
What it's all about
We cry foul
Take a knee
Burn a building
Steal a T.V.
Guess it's easier
To protest
When we don't dirty our hands
In the real mess
If there's something there
That we don't like
Why not try
To change hearts and minds
Instead of running around
Pitching a fit
Which never made
Much sense to it
I've got an idea
That we could try
Not sure how well
This will fly
Instead of beating our chests
In protest
Why don't we do
Something bout it