Long Illegally Poems
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Conversing with a stranger
Is a New York City norm,
To comment on a situation
Or to just inform.
My chat with stranger #1
Took place as we observed
A tow truck hooking up a car
Which likely it deserved…
For it was parked illegally.
My stranger friend and I
Agreed that we would hate to be
The “where’s-my-car-at?”guy.
My next exchange took place
At the St. Patrick’s Day Parade.
A woman with green gloves enjoyed
A choice that I had made.
“I like your earrings – though they’re green,
They’re subtle, yet they say
I’ve got my Irish on to hear
The bagpipes holding sway.”
We chatted then ‘bout this and that
As bands came into view;
But what’s her name or where’s she live?
I haven’t got a clue.
What I love about the city is
The choice is ours to make –
Converse or blend into the crowd;
There isn’t much at stake.
Anonymity’s the rule
Though strangers, when connected,
May enjoy a conversation
Knowing nothing is expected.
Collaboration with Marcello Eans
Why do we find it necessary to cast dispersions?
What is it about others that we’re so afraid of?
Could it be our own dark secrets that we don’t mention
That cause us to hide our feelings of love?
None of us are capable of walking down the street
Without making some sort of random judgments.
We all have a tendency towards whomever we meet
To fit them into society-imposed compartments.
Not all foreigners are sweaty and smell.
Not all Blacks have been or belong in jail.
Not all Whites are always right.
Not everyone preaching has seen the light.
Not all immigrants illegally cross the border.
Not all brown-skin seek out white men’s daughters.
Not everyone in the military love Uncle Sam.
Not every priest’s been touching a child.
You’re not always invited because a woman shares her smile.
Not everyone in the Bronx is broke,
Nor Manhattan tenants whole-toting the note.
Facebook stories I leave for the boss,
You ruined a life, it’s your loss.
Think I’m bluffing,
I had things to do
after you
I do nothing
Two times you convinced girls I like to avoid me,
Changed my reputation so no one liked me,
Slandered and harassed after and before I was sacked,
illegally, you reading me, bully,
You f**ked my head buzzing as you attack
turning all against me, behind my back
Nervous breakdowns mental breakdowns
Depression anxiety I was destroyed and lonely
You ever taken the whole packet of sleeping pills
I didn’t even do anything, obsessed to own me
or was it that complaint letter about you
when you blamed everyone but you
and I told everyone it was you,
management material, my dear you're delude,
became power mad and entitled you're mentally ill
you were SACKED you did things that were illegal
you should be in prison told people I’m sick and evil.
Every job you get I’m getting you sacked.
This is the last thing I do, I ain’t going back,
last thing I have left to do all tied up in a bow,
13 years my head didnt know, does now, cheerio.
all I have to do is tell your employer to ring head office,
sacked, evil little sprog, it's why you left Bath, I've still gotcha.
people think I put on a show for them,
attention sympathy oh get lost
it's about me getting her and only that,
don't ever mention it too me please,
don't give me your attention or time,
I'm used to no one just me and mine
I’m saying “The Blacks,” which is what we were referred to as.
So yall, Trump said, “Millions” (yes, MILLIONS) of immigrants are coming into this country illegally and “they” are taking jobs from “the Blacks” and Hispanics.
Let’s do the math. Yeah, let me make this make sense.
Black owned companies usually are small companies and will most likely hire “Blacks,” which means the rest of the “millions” of Blacks that don’t work for a “Black” company works for a white company.
(The Hispanics are definitely a part of this topic, however I’m going to leave them out this next part to shed light on “the Blacks.”)
Step 1 - If the immigrants don’t come into the country, then the whites don’t have many options, they just have to “stick” with “the Blacks.” Now, the only way the immigrants can “take” jobs from us is if they are hired.
Step 2 - If “they” (the immigrants) are taking the jobs from “the Blacks” and “the Blacks” are working for the whites, then that mean the whites are hiring them. So if the whites are hiring them, then that’s benefiting the whites and the whites don’t see nothing wrong with that, only thing is what you are saying is, if you replace “the Blacks,” and “the Blacks” don’t have a job, then they most likely could turn to drugs, crime and violence. So if they turn to drugs, crime and violence, they end up in jail. So if they end up in jail, then really all you have left to work for your company are the illegal immigrants.
So since these “MILLIONS” are coming into the country taking jobs from “the Blacks” and Hispanics, what Trump is basically saying is, you white companies are or are willing to hire illegal, undocumented immigrants, right?
Just saying…
SHATTERED DREAMS
When I was young and still had dreams, with all my life before me
I dreamt of fame and fortune, where all the world adored me
Perhaps I’d grace the silver screen, the T.V. and the stage
And be acknowledged as the greatest actor of the age.
Or, if I didn’t make it on the screen or on the boards,
I’d be a sporting colossus at Wembley or at Lords.
And, when I got too old for that, I’d be a politician;
I’d quickly work my way up to a prominent position.
I’d be the Leader of the House, run ministries and then
The crowds would wave and cheer me as I entered number ten.
But now I’ve reached maturity, it seems it’s not to be
And public recognition is simply not for me.
No-one’s illegally tapped my ‘phone, my e-mails haven’t been hacked
My wife’s not been photographed down at the gym while her ‘trainer’ massages her back
The tabloids all ignore me; they’ve found nothing to chase me for.
When I peep through the curtains each morning, there’s no paparazzi surrounding my door.
They’ve shown not the slightest interest in the contents of my diary,
And I’ve not been made the subject of any public enquiry.
So now I have to face the fact that fame is not for me
And, when I die I’ll literally – go down in history
25th June 2021
A Broken Person Poetry contest
Sponsor - Faraz Ajmal
The lay of the land
Ramadan is going green; eat cabbage stew before dawn
and leave the cattle feel safe from men with long knives
I think of Israel, a none Muslim state, where the Jews
are demonstrating against the fanatics, who are, at heart
Fascists; the wish is, for them, to extend to lend a hand
to the long-suffering Palestinians.
In Europe, people are tired of the proxy war between
Russia and the USA; they are finally seeing Ukraine for
what it is, a fascist country that, with the help of NATO
Illegally grabbed power; they are wrong to think that
NATO fights for them.
It is with sorrow I see Finland joining the NATO outfit
that will build bases near the Russian border and sow
Discontent in a nation of thousands of lakes that have lived
In peace, with the larger neighbour, since 1954.
One wonders when Germany will break free of chains
Saddled with the burden of the past, weighing them down.
The French are marching in the streets, protesting to
the curtailing of their right; but it is a pointless struggle
unless they – the people- declare a general strike
till Macron’s regime falls.
Lest we forget that back in 2017, at a softball game,
they tried to massacre members of the republican congress.
Then between 2016 and 2020, they impeached Trump twice
for nonexistent and/or Trumped-up charges.
During the fentanyl Floyd riots
They attempted a REAL insurrection at the White House.
None of those insurrectionists were jailed.
Then in 2020, the CCP and the Fauci DNC
Unleashed a gain-of-function plague on the world.
To shut down our booming economy
To crush our livelihoods
To uplift the globalist agenda
and disrupt our electoral process.
They closed churches and decimated small businesses.
deeming them non-essential.
While fast food conglomerates and Nancy Pelosi's nail salon
remained open.
Since then, they've illegally wire tapped {aka Watergate}
Trump properties.
Storm trooped his home with authority to kill.
They've tried to:
slander
jail,
bankrupt
frame
keep him off the ballot in several states.
Biden said we need to put a bullseye on Trump,
Mere days later {they} tried to assassinate him.
Additional plots to assassinate
were stopped before they came to fruition.
They {LEFT} the unvetted borders wide open
to build up their dwindling voting base.
Mixed in with the desperate migrants are drug cartels.
Human traffickers, known terrorists, and rivers of fentanyl.
Whose ingredients are made in Communist China.
Who, by the way, are buying USA farmland at an alarming rate.
Complacent representatives have let the Trojan camel inside our (Bill Gates).
They kicked old Joe to the curb (disregarding all those who voted for him in the primaries) because of plummeting polls.
Then they claim that republicans are suppressing votes.
By promoting voter ID laws.
They replaced old Joe with camel toe Kamala.
Who set up bail funding for the Floyd looters and rioters.
Not the victims of the looting and rioting.
She promotes a no-bail agenda in general.
She has now selected a late-term abortionist. Waltz as her running mate, fellow...
During COVID, Waltz set up a hotline so people could snitch on one another.
And they have the nerve to scream that Republicans are a threat to democracy...
When in fact they are projectionists of the highest degree.
Wake up, people. The D.N.C tree only yields fetid lemons.
The Bull (El Toro) of Wall Street
With nostrils flaring and snorting hot air,
El Toro charges into the stock market,
Where capitalist investors
Feud with socialist harbingers
Who take money from wealth creators
To distribute to others for political power.
El Toro barrels down, “With grit in my eyes,
I follow my nose.
Move!
By the prick of my horns
And to the beat of my hooves on the pavement,
Move.”
Optimistically, the bull advances,
Undaunted by tangents and challenges.
Build of prime with nerves of steel,
Wisely headstrong, it tackles its opponents
And sends the market skyrocketing,
And predictably, people rush in for profit.
Di Modica thought well when he threw the bull down
(Made of bronze!) on Wall Street in front of the NYSE
Out of gratitude and respect for helping him,
A penniless immigrant from Italy,
Who saw “Black Monday” as an opportunity
For the headstrong to survive the calamity.
***
Note:
Arturo Di Modica (1941–2021) arrived in the U.S.A. as a penniless immigrant from Italy in 1970. He felt indebted to America for his financial success, and to show his appreciation, he sculpted the “Charging Bull” bronze statue and dropped it off illegally in front of the New York Stock Exchange (NYSE) on Wall Street in New York City, New York.
Di Modica was inspired by the market crash on October 19, 1987, known as “Black Monday.” Arturo Di Modica believed that the free market would pull America through troubled times.
West Berlin, British Sector
Hotbed of rumour and lies
I’m there illegally, not wearing
A Jimmy in scaleyback disguise.
I was a Secret Squirrel or
Sneaky Beak was another name
They called us both but
They both meant the same.
There to report
As things moved along
Trying to ensure none
Of the info was wrong
That infamous wall had
Not long been built
The Cuban Missile Crisis
Was running at full tilt.
They said there was a minefield
Under the duckboard to our site
I never knew whether it was
Just bull, or whether it was right.
You paused at the door to allow
The VOPO at the border fence
Get a good clear focus
On his telephoto lens.
If you were a newbie
And it was your first time
Tradition said you stopped
To give him a Churchill sign.
There was panic and despair
That we were pulling out
All from propaganda the Reds
Were spreading all about.
And then suddenly it was over
One Mr K decided to back down
And it was time for me to leave
That turbulent divided town.
A Twin Pioneer took me out
Quietly and Illegally by air
It’s not shown on my record as
Officially I was never ever there.
Go-go gadget, withdrawals no more,
a toast to addicts—there’s treasure on the floor.
X marks the spot, scribbled in Crayola,
connect all the dots—ecstasy, the night is over.
From Rock ’em Sock ’em robots to rocks in socks, a show-off,
hungry hungry Zippos, the money swells my lymph nodes, a lovely something sent ghosts—
right outside your windows,
trust no one, innuendo,
the night piggybacks the sickos.
I feel far from home, yet remotely close to sin,
my coffin’s so inviting—volunteer, I jump right in.
Fundamental frequency, but I only hit the high note,
incidental contingencies, lies in every word that she spoke.
Intentional indecency—my clip could use a reload,
a spectacle illegally, items bought without a barcode.
I yearn for entertainment, chose the red pill, hide from agents,
time’s complacent, me and drugs—true love, it’s our engagement.
And if I ever said “drugs make me a better me,”
I’m sorry that I lied—every night,
I cry myself to sleep.