Long Mexicans Poems
Long Mexicans Poems. Below are the most popular long Mexicans by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Mexicans poems by poem length and keyword.
The Not So Lone Ranger
Hi Ho Silver the Lone Ranger yells as he rides
Misleading because he always had a friend by his side
His guide, sidekick, savior, and yes friend
Tonto stayed with him till the bitter sweet end
When the Lone Ranger needed help, Tonto was there
Wherever he was needed, Tonto was everywhere
In a battle shooting guns or bare knuckled fists
Tonto was the first to deliver most hits
When traveling across the desert hungry and cold
Tonto trapped the food and built fires with charcoal
If the Ranger had a message to send of dire need
Tonto would deliver it on horseback full speed
No matter who the foe he had the Rangers back
He has saved him many times during surprise attacks
Saved him from Indians, Mexicans, and White Men
I guess you could say that he was the very best friend
His loyalty to the Ranger was far above none
The Ranger might be lone but it was two amigos with guns
04/24/2016
Jack was sitting poker faced
With bullets backed by bitches.
Neal hunched at the wheel
Puttin everyone in stitches.
He was braggin 'bout
This nurse he'd screwed,
While drivin through Nebraska.
Said that when she came,
She honked the horn,
And Neal just barely
Missed a truck
And then he asked her
If she'd like to cum like that
All the way to CalifornY?
See a redhead in a uniform
Will always make you horny.
With her hair net and her white
Shoes and a name tag and a hat,
She drove like Andy Granatelli
And knew how to fix a flat!
And Jack was at the bottom
Of his second 2020.
Neal was yellin out the window
Tryin to buy some beannies
From a Lincoln, full of Mexicans
Whose left rear tire blew
And the son's of bitches
Prit near ran us off the road!
Well the nurse had
Spilled the Manischewitz
All up and down her dress,
Then she lit the map on fire
And Neal just had to guess.
Should we try to find
A bootleg route
Or a fillin station open?
The nurse was dumping
Out her purse looking for a kiss.
Jack was out of cigarettes,
When we crossed the yellow line.
The gas pumps looked
Like tombstones from then on.
It felt lonelier than a parking lot
When the last car pulls away.
And the moonlight dressed
The double breasted foot hills
In the mirror, weaving out
A negligee and black brassiere.
The mercury was running hot
And we were almost out a gas,
Just then Florence Nightingale
Dropped her draws and stuck
Her fat ass out the window
To a Wilson Picket tune
And she shouted "get a load of this! "
And give the finger to the moon.
Counting one eyed jacks
And whistlin Dixie in the car,
Neal was doin least a hundred
When we saw a shootin star.
Florence wished that Neal
Would hold her 'stead of chewin his cigar.
Jack was noddin out and dreamin
That he was in a bar,
With Charlie Parker on the bandstand
And not a worry in the world,
And a glass of beer in one hand
And his arm around a girl.
And Neal was singin to the nurse
Underneath a Harken moon
And somehow you could tell
We'd be in CalifornY pretty soon.
Lost in a Land of Gold and Honey
What is white?
What do you call white?
White can be a mixture of races like shepherd pie.
A mixture of vegetables, meat, spices, then creating a seal of mashed potatoes.
All you see is the topping of white mashed potatoes.
So, what do you call white?
Let your colours bleed and blend whither brown, black, yellow, red, green, or white colour skin.
You peel back the bark of each family tree.
You’ll find we all share some sort of, religion, language, hopes, and dreams.
We are all under the same clouds,
rise in the same golden sunrise,
slumber in the same star filled night,
and stand on the same fertile soil.
We all thirst, we hunger,
we hate, we love,
we cry, we laugh,
we live, we die,
we all bleed red,
and mourn for our loved ones.
My parents, my parent’s parents, were born and raised in the United States, Spaniards in a city of segregation. Excluded from Whites, Mexicans, and African Americans even though we were white and Spaniard I was labeled.
So, what is white?
Because you’re not white, it makes you less special you become less innocent so the law looks at you as guilt.
1/14/2018
He stepped down from the stagecoach kicking dust up with his boot
He stood a while, he lacked a smile, his teeth gripped his cheroot
His Stetson it was thick with dust, his guitar case was too
He looked around this downbeat town; found no man that he knew
He’d travelled to this lawless town of which he’d gotten word
Two preachers vanished here before, but he won’t be the third
For he had brought his guitar which, to praise the Lord, he plays
And when he strums those guitar strings, the congregation sways
Had this town been a Wild West town, he’d know which way to go
But how does one say ‘Hotel’, here in outback Mexico?
A man in a sombrero, three armed sidekicks in his wake
Sauntered up and told him to be gone for his own sake
“Hey, Cowboy, we don’t want no Gringo, messing up our town,
Take yourself and your guitar before we take you down.”
The preacher said, “I’ll play for you and if you love the tune
You’ll point me to the chapel and the rowdiest saloon.”
He’d travelled to this lawless town of which he’d gotten word
Two preachers vanished here before, but he won’t be the third
For he had brought his guitar which, to praise the Lord, he plays
And when he strums those guitar strings, the congregation sways
He reached down for his guitar case, the Mexicans took aim
And with a little slight of hand, the preacher did the same
But nothing grins as wide as when a bandit thinks he’s won
And when four guns are facing one the job’s as good as done
So was it skill or was it God who played a helpful part
When each of those four bandits took a bullet to the heart
The sheriff, if you’d call him that, said, “Have you got a name?”
The preacher said, “I’ll tell you Sunday if it’s all the same.”
The sheriff, having none of it, said, “Tell me who you are.”
He said, “I’m just a gringo with my god and my guitar.
But men of God preceded me and got no help from you.
So clear your desk, I am not me… I am those other two
He’d travelled to this lawless town of which he’d gotten word
Two preachers vanished here before, but he won’t be the third
For he had brought his guitar which, to praise the Lord, he plays
And when he strums those guitar strings, the congregation sways
A man drives a truck and his wife's a nurse
He knows it won't be long 'til he's in that hearse
He's middle age now but he's pickin' up speed
He wonders when and how will he be freed
Thinks he's lived his life playin' by the rules
Doin' what he learned in his churches and schools
Pays his mortgage and feeds his kids
But he's feelin' lately things have hit the skids
Lost his insurance and his wife moved out
Stepdaughter tried to kill herself
Chronic back pain and now he can't pay
For meds he needs to get through his day
Feels like his world has gone insane
Looks around for who to blame
Maybe it's the blacks or the Mexicans
Maybe it's Wall Street or the corporations
He knows in his heart that it 'aint them
They're all tryin' to make it just like him
He can't shake the thought of a bad faith deal
But hate don't seem to him the way to feel
He tries to think of how to get unstuck
Get back to where he could give a (EDIT)
So he sits on his porch and smokes a little weed
And wonders when and how will he be freed
March 4, 2017
These days, the most sought out advanced degree
In Extreme Higher Education is in Plagiarism.
A student can also minor in Overt Racism,
Sexism, Misogyny, Stupidity, and Bigotry.
Help wanted signs will be posted in January,
On every freaking corners in Washington D.C.;
Muslims, Mexicans, Syrians and minorities'
Applications will not be accepted. Senior citizens
Can apply unless they voted in the last two elections.
The reason for the change in rules and policies
Is to NOT 'Make America Great Again'.
Only Europeans and Aryans can apply for political asylum.
The Statue of Liberty will be returned to Marine Le Pen.
More pamphlets will be distributed at the next symposium.
Copyright © November 12,2016 Logerie Hébert, All Rights Reserved
Hebert Logerie is the author of several collections of poetry.
WHY are those who have nothing obsessed over wealth?
WHY are less hospitals less concerned about Health?
WHY are the Homeless still Forsaken/Forlorn?
WHY the Great Earthquake which left Haiti to mourn?
WHY the fuss over Mexicans?...most do no evil or rob
WHY arrest and deport them?...just give them a job
WHY all the shows about vampires, werewolves and witches?
WHY are some rappers such retards, and call Black Women bitches?
So many people Unfaithful, yet, we're "Bought with a Price?
Then WHY krishna/Buddha, and not Jesus Christ?
WHY the murder of children?...this we can't get around
WHY Carly Bruscha, and Nix Mary Brown?
People running to mischief, it seems a pandemic trait
WHY senseless killings on The First 48?
WHY pools of Oil on the Gulf, which threatens those on the coast
WHY do they think their lives over, when still more Blessed than most?
WHY does a person never sick suddenly breathe their last gasp?
WHY are simple things in this lifetime the most hardest to grasp?
There's vast changes in weather, time to Pray and Reflect
It's a sign from Our Maker, not "The Green House Effect"
Without The Lord in our existence, we live each day as mere pawns
WHY does it seem we weep loudest before the Light Of Hope dawns?
The next WHY? an Enigma....requires deep contemplation
WHY did Jehovah choose Israel over every other nation?
Abundant things I can't fathom, though I ponder and try...
2010, eight years later...the question still remains....WHY?
Evil is what those devils will not conceal.
At Goliad, we tasted their bayonet steel.
The walls at the Alamo have been painted red.
Davy Crockett and some others have fallen dead.
Many civilians are fleeing to escape
to the Sabine River in a runaway scrape.
Rather than fight and face defeat,
Houston and his men are in retreat.
This has been exacerbating the people’s fears.
Houston’s army faces ridicule and jeers.
Sam said, “I will know when the time is right.
That is when we will turn around and fight.
We will surprise attack that devil Santa Anna.
He and his men will fall during siesta.”
The right time to attack is today.
We heard Vince’s Bridge has been burned away.
They are camped just outside of San Jacinto.
Men, just remember what they did at the Alamo.
We can catch those bastards while most are asleep.
With the bridge gone, the water is too deep.
We can surround them with no place to run.
With surprise on our side, they will become undone.
What is this I hear? The fighting is done?
We have just started and the battle is won?
We got word that Santa Anna is not dead.
With a sweet yellow rose, he was comfortably in bed.
Word is he was captured with a sweet thing named Emily.
Wearing only silk underwear, he was taken into custody.
Finally, those Mexicans have tasted defeat.
With Santa Anna in our hands, our victory is complete!
There was an orange tanned douchebag called Trump
Playing hero on a bicycle pump
When inflating his Ego
Before sorting the Lego
The great wall crushed with a flatulent thump
London BoJo called Muslims a post box
Surely they spread contagion and small pox
We must rule the waves
Or else we'll be slaves
In isolation stranded on dry docks
Blame it on Putin and that Xi Jingpin
Produce a fake red yellow catarrh spin
Those bastards won't mind
Just one of a kind
Virus Vodka in a chop suey tin
Mexicans count their left over last grace
With Europe a mere historical phase
China meets Russia
As fake news' crusher
Xenophobes leave their vile virulent taste
Poets scribe of idiots in power
Just ink on sheets no Ivory Tower
Peace from a kind pen
Once more and again
United in truth and scripted power
05th April 2020
GERONIMO, FEARED APACHE WARRIOR, DEAD
Human Tiger, Merciless Slayer of Mexicans and Whites
His Own Family Fought Government Efforts
to Provide Medical Treatment
Fulfilled His People’s Prophecy
By Telegraph to The Times.
Oklahoma, Feb. 18. – While returning to Ft. Sill from Lawton, the infamous savage known as Geronimo fell off his horse, drunk, and lay in a water-filled ditch all night. He was discovered in the morning and was taken by his people to Loco’s Camp where he developed pneumonia. His family initially rebuffed attempts by Army officials to transport him to hospital for medical treatment, believing only those condemned to death are ever taken to hospital. In time, he was forcibly conveyed by ambulance to the post hospital where he expired a short while later, fulfilling his people’s prophecy.
Readers of this journal should note that the town of Lawton, Comanche County Seat, was named in honor of General Henry Lawton, one of the daring Army officers responsible for tracking down and capturing the elusive Apache. It is fitting that the memory of such an illustrious hero be so honored. As for the name, Geronimo, if it is to be remembered for anything, may it be as a synonym for cold-blooded murderer. His face always did seem, to this humble scribe, to be sinister and expressionless, like an icy desert morning. The unrepentant heathen infidel will not soon be missed.