Long Peoplepeople Poems
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Daylight fades, a city pulsates, and traffic is reflected in store windows.
Hurrying headlights come out of the darkness.
They crisscross like dueling knights. People in the crosswalk scamper
as if squirrels and streetlights leer gleaming yellow eyes, like watchful hawks.
The shrill trumpets of the charging gale force winds, rattle an awning,
and newly planted maple saplings bend and sway
in random pairs. Set in concrete planters, they hang on by tender rooted toes.
Pages of a discarded newspaper are hurled into the air,
buoyed on the steely breath of a frigid winter evening.
Several leaflets scatter into the street and down the sidewalk,
into the path of one lone pedestrian.
He slaps away the sports page, that flies into his chapped, red face.
Without hesitation, this castaway vagrant, down and out
by the rape of hard times, will accept an offered dime,
from a passing man in a Red Sox ball cap.
Head bent low, face hidden, a worn and dirty pea coat
pulled tightly around his thin frame, he carries all his meager belongings
in a large paper grocery bag, wrinkled and beginning to tear.
Serving as his satchel, the brown bag, damp and worn,
still displays big bold red and black letters
advertising "Smart and Final Grocery"--"Located in Three Convenient Locations".
A city bus roars by, splashing through three days of rain,
and a siren and a blaring horn is heard from the next block.
The dark silhouetted outcast, stops for a moment,
peers into a sidewalk trash receptacle, then continues slowly down the sidewalk.
A taxi pulls up along the curb behind him, and the attractive couple,
dressed in evening wear, emerge, pay for their taxi, and arm in arm,
enter Mario's Italian Restaurant, the brick bistro
that sits on the corner of Broadway and 1st.
It begins to rain again, and across the street people open umbrellas
and like the afore mentioned squirrels, they scurry home to supper.
The lone man walks in the rain, his pace doesn't quicken, his voice never spoken,
a spirit broken, ............ his sack held together by circumstance.
A passerby takes a brief glance...just a quick, chanced moment,
to take notice of "Smart and Final's" last stance.
I am a differeent incarnation of a poet who garnered a lot of praise for writing a poem on a
subject matter a lot people thought of consequence, as do I. So if you took my advice and
showed my other poem to your children, cool, and now let them read about how to do what
brought six of my friends down in eight years…..I’m telling you dudes the s**t is deadly…..so
Little Johnnie or Tommy:
THINK ABOUT THE POOR MINK
Those are the breaks
For making mistakes
That’s how it goes
When weeds slay a rose
Look you all
because I’ve got something you probably don’t care to hear
But I have vehement verbiage I want to voice
I want to tell you people that I’ve been places that scare even Satan
Imagine that,
The father of fear
Making hs own fear clear
I’ve used items you all think are totally benign
A baby’s pacifier, an eye dropper, a medical needle , and a thin strip of paper from money
If anyone had any dollar bills left
…………because the end of the eyedropper is a bit too thin to hold the needle without what we
called a “collar”
It was more like a noose
That which we called a “collar” made to bring us relief
Oh, and this I never knew back then,
but a lot of shirts come with cotton on the back of a button.
So if we didn’t have cotton to filter out the particles that may clog your needle we’d use the
back of a button, a cigarette filter or invent something with junkie ingenuity.
And then you need a hairpin and a bottle top from a soda
And you use the hairpin as a handle for the little frying pan you cook the dope up in
I’ve seen people shooting dope in bodily areas you may not believe
Because either he or she had no viable veins they could find
So they shoot it in incredible places such as under their eyeball
Between their toes
All in an effort to make certain nobody knows
The genital area is excellent but mostly for a dude
Chicks don’t have as many places, and much thinner veins
Somebody please tell me where we went wrong
how we as a people go from we shall overcome
to uplifting these ghetto drug infested slums?
How we go from dreaming about and reaching
the promise land to teaching generations that
for money pu$$y & power is what they
should take a stand for? since when was
the same streets that killed our
brothers & sisters ever worth fighting for?
what happened to rec centers &
positive role models? all I see now is
so called...real men that teach youngins
to throw up gang signs & pop them hallows
yeah that's the motto...marriage is a joke
nowadays we live in a day where kids
look up to d-boyz & self proclaimed gangsta's
yeah this is what Martin Malcolm & Nelson
died for to see you destroy the community
y'all the real wanksta's...maybe we should
look at them parents who thought they were
to good to spank ya! what because you providing for your immediate fam illegally
you want me to thank ya? But you know what they say if the shoe fits...wear it
most these people won't even look their self
in the mirror cuz the truth they can't bear it
I swear it everybody's glorifying these
rap stars like they the next prophet
I ain't never seen a thug wit skinny
jeans on man y'all need to stop it
looks like history is bout to repeat itself
just imagine if the hottest rappers & diva's
in the game started to lift up our
Lord & Saviour's name, Imagine if they put
down their diamonds & necklaces
and went back to rhyming & singing
bout some life changing messages
how bout if women went back to owning
their territory got off the block
and back in the household, Imagine if
these men were lovers of their families
instead of being disrespectful too the same
people that... wiped their ass feed em and
cleaned that nose Imagine if we as a people
went back to that mission
to following God's laws on Holy Living
Prospect to rejection in a matter of minutes
Always in a lifetime people rarely finish a sentence
We hop from line to line, relationship to relationship, family to family, job to job
Without adding the comma’s and periods
The problem in America is we don’t take our relationships serious
Because we intertwine ourselves and others fate with run-ons
Crash, bang, boom no conjunctions to keep us from colliding lives and emotional ties
Prospect in a matter of minutes a few spelling and grammatical errors and eraser
marks
But we fail to finish, but overall prospects diminish and rejection runs on the scene
Flowing and connecting neighborhoods as rains flows through storm drains, carrying
pollutants in down stream
Rejection brought on by critique and lack of satisfaction sends a confident individual
backpacking
In the Alps, not knowing, rejection spreads faster than the speed of light, sneaking
upon lives as day to night
We are guilty of not finishing our stories and responsible for breaking and adding
traceable errors to others, but lets not ply, resist and reject our own fears because
in a perfect universe
The first prospect started here in the Garden of Eden Park
Misunderstanding as a serpent coned then persuaded mankind with question marks
We disregarded our own love for our human race for a pencil trace of a fruit called a
sentence fragment, ruining manuscripts of life set from the creator’s lips. We created
commitment issues with our evil works leading life back to the formation of dirt
Leaving people void of respect and repentance, entangling our negative paths in an
unfinished sentence, which should have been finished never intending folks requiring
a renaissance
But blank autobiographies are opened in the book of our remembrance
Salt of The Earth
Ordinary people
That’s who we are
Our triumphs
Our sacrifices
Loves
And torments
Go unsung
For the most part
Un-noticed by anyone
Ordinary people
Who’s lives may have suffered tradgedy
Quite sperate
From the world of celebrity
Who’s weight loss and weight gain
Who’s lives are sucked up
So avidly
Un-famous
Un-important
That’s what we are
Un-recognised heroines
And heroes
People that the world
Never knows
This celebrity culture
Demeans us
Turn our lives
To a paultry plethora
Of existence
Devoid of the glitter and pomp
Of celebrity red carpet
TV show sold money
Our faces un-immortalised
In the applause
Of the overpaid and wealthy
Of yet another publicity stunts
Awards
Our lives a mere daily
Rigmarol of mediocrity
As we dine on the scraps
Of news and gossip
Of the purile insignificance
Of celebrity
Ordinary people
That’s who we are
The un-discovered heroes
And heroines
Who’s backs and sweat
Hold up the scaffolding
Of the bright shinning
Neon distraction
Media circus
World of celebrity
Politicians
Models
Muscicians
Actors
Football players
All raking the cream
Which belongs to
Firemen
Cops
Nurses
And Doctors
Road sweepers
Trash collectors
Husbands
Fathers
Wives
Mothers
Making their lives ends meet
And staying afloat
Facing each day
Heroines and heroes
Of the common all
And for the common good
Though bemused and belittled
Misinformed
Mislead
And lied to
Still we emerge
As the salt of the Earth
Just ordinary
People
This poem was prompted by the recent death of celebrity Jade Goody, a tragedy indeed. I am
sure she will be sorely missed by her family. As will all the other ordinary people who
passed on recently, be missed by their families.
(true story)
Robert Redford yelled at me, though he did it over the phone.
I worked at an answering service in town, graveyard and weekends alone.
A struggling new mother helping with bills, I always felt so tired;
a note said not to call him by 3, and basically here's what transpired:
I waited according to what the note said, but then in the aftermath,
although I followed instructions, I got only Redford's wrath.
He screamed that his meeting was still going on, and asked why I was calling.
But I had not done anything wrong, so his shouting at me was galling.
For weeks I had worked and phoned things in to Redford's secretary,
hoping one day "his" voice I"d hear, charming and not so contrary!
I still love his movies, his politics, and his Sundance for Indies is heaven!
But I'll never think of him quite the same as I did before '77.
All for that time he yelled at me, a someone he did not know.
I was just a stranger to him, so he let his anger flow.
My voice I cannot raise to a stranger. That is not my style.
Still, when I'm feeling down and out, do I always remember to smile?
To people in this world I've met, have I always great kindness shown?
When someone couldn't help me out, did I maybe start to groan?
And worse, do I sometimes barely glance at people serving me?
Do I sometimes briskly go on with my life, forgetting humanity?
Another time I remember, when in a Target store,
a different man, once famous, made my aging spirit soar.
I can't recall this singer's name. We know him for a song.
He sang, "The Lion Sleeps Tonight." (his fame did not last long.)
Promoting holiday music that day along with some other guys,
he looked at me, a stranger, and said, "YOu sure have beautiful eyes."
For Dane Ann's contest: Kindheartedness: What It Means To Me
Who Knows What Evil Lurks Within
By Elton Camp
When a vicious serial killer does arise,
It takes the community by total surprise
The people living there had felt secure
That such would never, ever come near
They didn’t need to lock doors at night
To welcome all visitors was their delight
It was nothing to walk down a dark street
And give a greeting to all they might meet
They thought they lived in a virtual paradise
And everyone in town was so extremely nice
“This man must be some sort of raging maniac
Passing through and living down by the track.”
The over confident killer finally made a mistake
Then for the authorities that was all it did take
They very quickly got on the criminal’s track
And soon led him off, handcuffs behind his back
The one arrested, people found so hard to believe
He lived in their midst and managed to deceive
It was a man who had grown up in that very town
Astonished faces of citizens were seen all around
The teacher said, “Why, yes, I remember Tom well.
There’s not one bad thing about him that I can tell.”
For as long as the folks in the town could remember
Of the local church he had been a faithful member
He seemed so normal it was beyond anyone’s belief
That a nice man like Tom could bring so much grief
Looking back, he was seen as a loner and a bit odd
But he had managed to maintain a respectable façade
What is in a person’s mind is quite impossible to say
But in this case, it was powerful compulsion to slay
So it’s extremely cautious that everyone should stay
For we never know who it is our trust might betray
No mere artist or poet can ever portray in oil or verse,
The grandeur of this great land and its people so diverse.
Never since The Founding Fathers set in motion its creation,
Has there been on all the earth a more grand and glorious nation!
Generations of valiant patriots from The Revolution to the present day,
Who placed national destiny above their own, now lie 'neath hallowed clay.
They sacrificed to preserve the precious freedoms God upon us did bestow.
So much, so very much to each of those courageous souls we owe!
Though they seldom get a word of thanks and work for meager pay,
'Tis the ordinary blokes who keep the gears running smoothly every day.
The farmer, the truck driver, the plumber, the postman who delivers mail;
Patriotic, hard working folks who carry their lunch in a beat-up dinner pail.
'Tis the land of opportunity where you can be all you aspire to be,
And enjoy the inalienable rights that The Constitution doth guarantee.
Among these the freedom of speech and the right to worship as you choose.
We are independent souls, yet can agree to disagree about our divergent views!
The pioneering spirit is alive and well in the people of this youthful nation.
We are renowned worldwide for our ingenuity and our innovation.
When it comes to being a generous people, we will not be outdone.
'Tis the people that make America great when all is said and done!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
Gossip[n].small talk or chatter about someone,often about things heard from others but not
known to be facts.
Intro: Don't you just hate when the world turns on you unannounced? You get that paranoid
feeling all the time that you wish would go away. The main factor contributing to that feeling
is gossip.
I always tell my inner circle not to believe what people say.
It goes in through one ear and out the other because they do it anyway.
O, thats what we on, you listen to them but not me.
My mama always said people are fake, I didn't believe it, but now i see.
We go way back to God knows wen, what happened why spread rumors and lies?
I see you everyday and wanna knock you out when I look into your eyes.
Word around school is... I'm no good, cheater, a hoe,
Lets be real I'm none of that especially a false-flaggin Moe.
Then again haters get down like that becuz their esteem is weak.
Katt Williams said if Monday you have 5 haters, try to get 10 by the end of the week.
What is it, you mad because my attention isn't on you but somebody else?
You need some attention, go kill yourself you need some serious help.
I'm cool though, hated by many, confronted by none.
My swagger, words, and wisdom will act as my only gun.
So for all the people who like riding the winds breath here's a tip:
If there's one thing that will get you hurt,is spreading gossip.
The Lunatic Fringe
By Elton Camp
Once it was a wild-eyed man carrying a sign
“Tomorrow, all but me will be left behind.”
Now we have far more from which to choose
To find those people with really extreme views
Makers of silly conspiracy theories are an example
That Osama bin Laden is now dead, proof is ample
Yet there are those who insist that the man is living
As proof, sightings of him walking about are giving
Political views is another source of some weird nuts
To promote much mistaken ideas, they have the guts
And there are always many people so easy to deceive
Not matter how strange an idea, they quickly believe
The lunatic fringe has folks you don’t expect to see
Example: the founder of Heaven’s Gate had a Ph.D.
On the faculty of an American university he served
Until into total madness, illogic and murder swerved
The Unabomber was surely not some ignorant dunce
He had a doctorate and worked at a university once
But he developed ideas just as wild as they could be
Then he decided sending bombs would make all see
So all of us should guard against what we may accept
At deceit, a fair number of people have become adept
So, to avoid folly, one of the best things that we can do
Is to demand proof that anything odd we’re told is true