Long Robbery Poems
Long Robbery Poems. Below are the most popular long Robbery by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Robbery poems by poem length and keyword.
Ten long years in jail for petty theft at a bus stop,
While leaders steal in billions with a wrist-slap.
A man wore the hangman’s noose for armed robbery,
Yet a governor earned honours for a pen robbery.
Citizens bled by taxes to please Bretton Woods,
Loans secured not for growth but to fatten pockets.
When the people protest, police scatter them with contempt,
And soldiers fire bullets to silence their voices.
Black ink scrawls draconian laws on tyrant’s tables,
Threats and punishments stitched to entrench their power.
But such laws befriend only ephemerality,
Before the masses seize the reins of their rulers’ reign.
Mass anger drove Rajapaksa out of Sri Lanka,
Gen Z rose in Nepal against a media ban.
Burkina Faso’s streets toppled Compaoré,
And Egypt’s squares forced Mubarak to resign.
The people’s voice will always drown draconian laws;
Chains that glitter at first soon corrode into rust.
The rulers may feast while the nation starves in silence,
But shackles will break—the storm leaves none untouched.
This latest theft, stole more than just my money,
It took my soul and left nothing to spare.
With little remains to even fight back with now,
My defeat is final; the white flag is in the air.
Any strength once known has been exhausted;
Chains of despair are left hanging to drag aside.
My new companion is known only as poverty,
Rarely sharing much to diminish the pride.
Looking inward, I seek to learn any lessons,
That could prevent this from happening again.
Although my next thought dwells on any value,
Since my recovery is so unlikely to even begin.
Could this be a lasting piece to the puzzle,
Where survival rests upon those who steal and take?
As if this culling would thin out those weakened,
Leaving those strong enough who want to stay awake.
This may be the greatest hardship that's unseen,
When those can steal what they don't even see in the heist.
So while this theft isn't pawned or even brokered,
The damage is often beyond what is normally priced.
Here is the sad tale of the moronic bullfrog king
He may be royal, but he is a ding-dong-ding-a-ling.
He cannot tie his shoes, drive a car or even sing.
Whistling is out, he is a lackadaisical old thing.
He has a name, but he does not answer to it.
For he does not remember it day-to-day, not one bit.
Majestic maids and butlers are much smarter than he.
He does not even hit the toilet when he takes a …..
He has no friends, but his court is always full.
People can steal his riches with a tug and a pull.
For he does not notice as they grab his watch.
No robbery there ever had even one small botch.
Lickety-split here he comes, so pretend to bow.
He will either ride in on a donkey, pelican or cow.
He is the oddest bullfrog king we have ever had.
And this was all said by his mom and dad.
Jessie James was a fine young lad,
When he joined the Confederate troops.
He learned his craft as a shootist and spy,
While traveling with this group.
His commander was one Capt. William Quantrill,
A man with a checkered past;
And under this man he learned hit and run,
Leave your enemies standing aghast.
After his death in 1865,
Quantrill's celebrity stayed,
And Jessie and Frank used what they had learned,
And found guerrilla warfare paid.
They formed with their friends a wild outlaw band,
And looted the banks and trains.
It seemed to work out just as they planned.
To them it seemed quite a good game.
The money came easy and life was good,
And Jessie took him a wife;
Deciding to settle down for a while,
And lead a respectable life;
But two men were killed in a robbery gone bad,
And the governor wanted his life;
And one of his friends thought he'd turn him in,
And get paid and save himself strife.
Dead or Alive made no difference to him,
The reward would still be the same,
But Jessie was fast and his aim was true,
So it seemed to Bob Ford it was plain,
Jessie would have to be caught unawares,
If he would celebrity claim,
The honor, prestige, reward and glory,
As the man who shot Jessie James.
April the third, eighteen eighty-two,
Robert crept up on his friend,
Shot him in the back as a coward will do,
And that's how his story ends;
But Robert lived on in shame and disgrace,
As a low down, back stabbing coward,
Who betrayed his friend for money and fame,
On the day that he shot Thomas Howard.
"AND JESUS SAID UNTO PETER,'PUT UP AGAIN YOUR SWORD INTO IT'S PLACE FOR ALL THEY WHO TAKE THE SWORD SHALL PERISH BY THE SWORD."
Matthew 26:52
For Dana's History Contest
Lord Jesus Christ triumphantly prevails
Servant-leader* Who never fails.
Leaving glorious home in heaven
Born humbly showing stewardship’s haven.
Saviour, rescuing from hell’s torments
Emmanuel, securing faith-works’ engagements.
Seeking sinners at love’s cost
Compassionate missionary to the lost.
Fulfilling first His supreme command
Winning souls as divinely planned.
Offering Himself as gracious sacrifice
He paid redemption’s great price.
Bearing iniquities upon death-altar
Indeed, He’s obedience righteous-Exemplar.**
*Matthew 8:1 , 23; Matthew 4:25
**Philippians 2:5-8 Let this mind be in you, which was also in Christ Jesus:
Who, being in the form of God, thought it not robbery to be equal with God:
But made himself of no reputation, and took upon him the form of a servant, and was made in the likeness of men: And being found in fashion as a man, he humbled himself, and became obedient unto death, even the death of the cross. Wherefore God also hath highly exalted him, and given him a name which is above every name.
Ten-Word Couplet Series
December 5, 2018
They say we are close
Yet don't live together.
They say we are close
But killing one another
They say we are close
By the ties that bind us
By religion and faith,
And images that blind us.
When in reality
We are crying in shame
Obsessed by fame
To be part of a game
that divide us
They say we are close
But that's a lie
When they stab and shoot
And on the street they die
From across the world we can see
The yolk that binds us in depravity
The wealth that's taken from our land
By the robbery of assets from the motherland
We have the gold , diamonds and land
But we have not the common sense
To unite as one
and share a pride
In helping a brother or sister
That's cast aside
The streets of London
Were paved with gold
That's another lie,
We were told
For as we followed the pied piper to their land,
How much of the bigotry, did we understand?
How much hatred was in store
When the inn was opened
But we were faced
With a bolted door
To opportunities
If Martin Luther had a dream
So do I, but what does it mean?
To abandon forced doctrine, and unite
Around the motherland
And make things right
With your brothers and sisters
In far off lands
Africa, Brazil, the Caribbean
With a helping hand
Sharing a love
Make things right
Share resources
And stop the flight
In confusion, delusion, hatred and strife
Lets start a new era
And get things right
Smoke swirled and billowed from your lips
Like gossamer it extended itself like a ballerina arching in hopes of caressing mine
The crickets raised together their bows in consideration
The summer sun nodded quickly to proceed
The waves tickled our lanky set of alabaster knees
The dock groaned beneath us but I am anchored
Steadfast in this life
I see our life through kaleidoscope binoculars
Such cheery coloured spectacles and distortions
I want to ride on this merry-go-round with you
But it appears my pocket watch keeps spinning because
Time is relentless
I want to capture our laughter in mason jars!
Your fervour makes me feverish when you consume and devour!
Cloaked by nightfall and nimbus clouds
Within the recesses of my mind my anxiety is patiently awaiting moments to commit heinous robbery
This parasite creeps into my subconscious and whispers down my lonely hallways
It makes itself comfortable by weighing heavily on my shoulders! The entire body shudders from its hideousness
It’s toxic venom runs through my veins
Holding my memories ransom and masticating any feelings of safety
Writhing and wailing to dominate and keep me still
Never willing to compromise or to remain ill
Navigating through the muddy waters of my mind
Following the metronome of your breath demarcating our way home
Form:
Two guys at the corner of Fifth and Grant,
were looking pretty far down on their luck.
Because their beat-up old station wagon,
just got T-boned by a Ford pickup truck.
The light was green for that station wagon,
but that truck just slammed right into their car.
After they all got out and walked about,
looked like that truck driver came from the bar.
That station wagon was a mangled mess,
one guy had some blood oozing from his head.
I said to myself, it could have been worse,
thank Heaven nobody’s bad hurt, or dead.
The cop showed up a few minutes later,
asked them what the heck was going on here.
The truck driver said, Billy Bob old friend,
those boys there smell like they was drinking beer.
The cop hemmed and hawed then cleared his throat,
he said you know it looks perfectly clear.
I see what you’re saying is true, Judge Brown,
these boys will be locked up for fifty years.
So, they hauled those guys to the county jail,
told them that they don’t need any phone call.
Cause if they want to get out of this mess,
the best thing was to confess to it all.
The sheriff wrote it all out on paper,
said that it was going to be all right.
He told them, sign your name here on this line,
then you might be out by tomorrow night.
The next morning, they went to the courtroom,
their lawyer was the judge’s son-in-law.
Billy Bob showed the judge their confession,
the biggest case this county ever saw.
There was murder, rape, theft, and robbery,
with a whole lot of other crimes thrown in.
Every unsolved case the sheriff had faced,
was listed in the charges against them.
The judge slammed his gavel on the desktop,
said haul these boys off to the calaboose.
What say we go down and have a few rounds,
cause this one calls for a couple of brews.
Now ain’t that just the way life seems to go,
some days it don’t pay to get out of bed.
You’ll be cruising along, singing your song,
with the warm sun shining down on your head.
Then the day starts to turn cold and dreary,
though that is not what the weatherman said.
Some dirty bird flies by and drops his pie,
now your day has turned all nasty instead.
Come with me to nineteen sixty three
The year Pope John died and so did Kennedy
We saw Lawrence of Arabia with Peter O’Toole
Listened to It’s My Party and She’s a Fool
Last year for the Studebaker
Martin Luther King had a dream
Great train robbery in Buckinghamshire
Whatever Happened to Baby Jane made us scream
Skeeter thought it was The End of The World
Liberty Valance starred Stewart and Wayne
They were The Days of Wine and Roses
Cascades sang Rhythm of the Rain
Dion had Ruby Baby and Bobbie sang Blue on Blue
Dale and Grace were Leaving It All Up To You
Little Town Flirt and My Boyfriend’s Back
In My Little Deuce Coupe, we’ll go to the Sugar Shack
Ben Casey and Kildare were two television shows
Remember the Dixiebelle’s Down at Papa Joe’s
Two Faces Have I was sung by a guy named Lou
Roy said In Dreams he missed Blue Bayou
The USS Thresher sank and all were lost
Poets mourned the death of Robert Frost
Elvis said his girl was the Devil in Disguise
Bobby thought the Night had a Thousand Eyes
The Dodgers beat the Yankees four games to none
The Essex said It Was Easier Said Than Done
Da Doo Ron Ron and Then He Kissed Me were sweet
Ray Charles was Busted down on South Street
Mockingbird and Surfer Joe
Memories from long ago.
The Irish bank was ripe and ready
For a hood whose hand was steady
And had a gun, not 'fraid to use it
Bent on living life or lose it
Just out side the door he waited
Put his mask on, hesitated
Then rushed in through, the bank's front doors
While standing on the lobby floor
With gun held high he shot one round
"Now everybody-- best get down"
Laying face down on the floor
A dozen patrons maybe more
And a teller, young in age
Standing frozen in the cage
So the crook with lightening speed
Driven by his lust for greed
Tossed a bag and said to fill it
Got it filled, then turned to split
As he ran, a man quite daring
Grabbed the mask the crook was wearing
At once the man, seamed surprised
Looked the robber in the eyes
Then took a bullet in the head
Now on the marble floor lied dead
The thief now desperate, looked around
At all the patrons looking down
But saw the teller, see his face
Then walked to him in rapid pace
And put the gun up to his head
Another victim laid there dead
Now the thief to end it all
Shouted out inside that hall
"Has anyone else, seen my face ?"
Perhaps a glimpse might leave a trace
Then McGee said "I'm no sneak
But I think me wife , just took a peek"