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.
From Tampa Florida And Still Living Near By
Poet's Page Poems More
Next Poem1070 / 5323
Previous Poem
Camp E-How-Kee.
?
Autoplay
Camp E-How-Kee
as a child
had it's dark side as well.
Paul Butler is doing life
for robbery
i know.
He was black and seemed
like a nice kid back then,
he was the token
in our small group of whites
with him it numbered ten.
Fat Jack..Jack Thomas
died
in Florida state prison.
George Walker abused by
his father,
Sexually, psychologically and
physically life a living hell.
kicked in the face by Chief Snell.
He may have weighted
seventy pounds soaking wet
five foot one perhaps.
While Chief Snell,
wearing size thirteen and standing
six foot eleven in bare socks.
Kicked him in his face one early morn.
George in and out prison as well
perhaps by now, 'maybe dead.
He had courage.
Robert Sykes, whom wet the bed
every night.
Lord only knows,
the demons and monsters,
inside of his head.
The abuse that he suffered at home
was his fault we all now know
but a child as well.
is he alive..Amen.
The boy with the epileptic seizures
so bad
I remember his name..
as Dwayne Robinson..he shook and he
screamed all night..
putting the pillow over his head.
While the counselor poured buckets
of cold water on him.
Screaming be quite.
where was 'God'..then..
Must I go on..yes I will.
All of us between eleven and twelve.
Maybe one was thirteen..
mighty frontiersman were we.
Angels, were we heavens know, 'no.
being allowed to use axes
and draw knives
we kept pocket knives to do our work.
And Wally Otting was like Frank...
Michael Berro...
none thinking back then were like I..
When it got to bad
I would take most away in the middle
of the night to escape..
what we thought we escaped when it was
we left our homes.
Most would not listen and then get caught
I always made it back home fifty miles
of eating berries or nothing at all..
just to be sent back again.
Delila after dark..this was then...
you were a tender Ronnie and
I was a boy of twelve..with no
moss or beard..
and my parts even then were coveted
by others as well..
This is my confession for them..
Donna Black...H.C.S.D.
Doing this to us was what..........and
where is Gary Anderson?
What could a child, 'i have done back then
but i tried, as
One group of five made up of tens.
There were three mice, members of the mob
Wanted to retire, so planned one last job
It was deep winter and it started to snow
But they weren't deterred, and the job was a go.
Their names were Gnasher, Scratcher and Dred
And you dared not cross them or you'd end up dead
Even cats were afraid of their deadly scratch
But very soon they would meet their match.
The target they hit was John O'Neils dairy
But things were now going to get a bit scary
At the main entrance was a large welcome mat
And sprawled all across it was this mean looking cat.
Their luck was in and the cat was asleep
They ran towards him and then took a leap
There was a small hole by the front door
Soon they were in, and on the shop floor.
With some small cartons they built a bridge
Reached the door handle and opened the fridge
In the mousey world it was the ultimate goal
A rare box of cheddar cheese and that's what they stole.
Meanwhile outside puss began to wake up
Was very thirsty and wanted a sup
Then in the snow small footprints he spied
The game was now up for the three mice inside.
He spotted the thieves and he gave chase
But they sprinted off at a very fast pace
The God of mice was looking down on them today
They didn't get the cheddar, but they got clean away.
The camera's were played back the very next day
As the drama unfolded there were gasps of dismay
Puss was so happy his boss he did please
By foiling the robbery and saving the cheese.
O'Neil was so impressed with the actions of his cat
He rewarded him with sardines and a brand new mat
But for the three poor mice, it ended in tears
They were eventually arrested and all got ten years.
Written 16th January 2018
If you don’t support gun rights,
there’s something wrong with you,
if you don’t support gun rights,
you’re evil through and through,
if you don’t support gun rights,
then you can go get screwed,
if you don’t support gun rights,
there’s something wrong with you.
John lived in the country
where work was hard to find,
how to earn a paycheck
was always on his mind.
He had a wife and children,
three other mouths to feed,
when he went on the hunt
it was with a real need.
Fifty pounds of deer meat,
all with a single shot,
meat for the whole winter,
improvement to his lot.
To buy that at a market
would cost hundreds of bucks,
so he targeted the deer
thankful for the good luck.
Marie was five foot one,
barely one hundred pounds,
and knew she was in danger
late at night on the town.
Some folks said, “Call the cops,”
but that took too much time,
she had to defend herself
from assholes with cruel minds.
They liked to target women,
hard for them to fight back,
they had the size and muscle
that most women did lack.
So in her purse she had
a thirty-eight waiting,
all who might target Marie
had a surprise coming.
Martin was a father
with quite much to protect,
he’d seen much in this life,
knew not what would come next.
But he had lost his mother
in a past robbery,
yet here in his own house
such things would never be.
A duty to protect them,
the job of any man,
if any didn’t like that
he didn’t give a damn.
So he kept a shotgun,
and knew its usage cold
to meet any scumbag
who came there feeling bold.
Hector loved his freedom,
his leaders, not so much,
he voted against them
but didn’t have much luck.
They took people’s rights away,
claimed, “For the common good!”
Started interfering with
things no one ever should.
Stole half of his money,
silenced his voice online,
turned their backs on hate mobs
with intentions malign.
Others were much like him,
with real things to defend,
and like great men before them
would bring this to an end…
If you don’t support gun rights,
there’s something wrong with you,
if you don’t support gun rights,
you’re evil through and through,
if you don’t support gun rights,
then you can go get screwed,
if you don’t support gun rights,
there’s something wrong with you.
Peace has left my heart
Joy has left my home
Happiness has deserted me
Goodness and I strangers we are…
Guilt is my friend
Fear lives in me
A vested companion
In my abode is agony
Sleep has deserted my eyes…
For the crimes I committed
For the pains many I caused
For the anguish many a times I birthed
For the years of robbery I did…
On a thorny seat I sit
I sweat in the freezing weather
Warmth I feel not
My heart and soul is a burning furnace
Peace truly has deserted me…
I am the living dead
A walking corpse I is
Satisfied hunger dwells in my belly
Dancing songs of sorrow
With its beautiful fangs
Torturing my whitened dark soul…
Respite I seek
A break from these
I plead
A turn to the past
In the hands of time I yearn for
For a correction of my erring years
But wishes never will be horses
The wasted years of pride
Shall haunt and hunt me
Repeatedly till ages unending…
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"
True story, my uncle was a famous safe cracker
Before becoming a soldier in World War I
Known to police in New York City for robbery
The army wanted his skills against the Huns
Employed him to defuse bombs the Germans threw
In the trenches around the front lines
And also to defuse all the mines around them
Till the end of the war was showing signs
Dying in the war he received a medal of honour
Posthumously for his heroic bravery
Made amends for his past so unsavoury
When I came along I was named after him
Quite a hero I always looked up to
Before the war, a criminal known to police
After death got the recognition he was due
© Jack Ellison 2015
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.
Lessons Learned from the Tennessee Valley
Spoiled have we become!?
When you look back from whence, we have begun,
the provision of profit to our young,
that sheltered them from hard work, and supplied them with ample fun,
have we spoiled our generations to come, only to be left undone?
The Tennessee Valley in the forties,
provided generations of poverty,
the aftermath of early settlers’ natural resources robbery,
became the next era of agricultural drudgery,
by an unfertile land with little to no productivity.
Then came a movement of cooperation,
with scientists, engineers, and leadership industrialization,
sparked with imagination, and a love for civilization,
built dams, upon dams, to prevent topsoil loss devastation,
and through education, began a slow restoration.
And now… what now… nearly seventy-five years later,
what is our national social, yearning for advancement, a social unrest agitator?
Is it math and science, food and faith, or security against a totalitarian global hater?
Or is it a confused and spoiled lot, who are experts of slogans, poisoned by social media traitors?
Why did we trade a hoe in hand, for a drag perched on a stand… to become a morality translator?
Time will show, once again, a land of infertility,
with no children from barren modern “families.”
We need new leaders to build a new dam, a damn against immorality.
Take heed, and learn from the Tennessee Valley.
We must return to hard labor and reverence for His Majesty.
I tell you the truth… and you better listen without hesitation, nor reservation,
of what is our salvation, resist wicked temptations, before death and starvation…
becomes our destiny!
by Martin Braun
July 29, 2023
I once suffered a strong arm robbery on a dark Chicago street. Halfway down the block, I saw two young men turn the corner and headed in my direction. That had never happened before, and I could not have outrun them if I wanted to. So I proceeded and faced them head-on, accepting whatever was coming my way. Afraid and speechless after being robbed of $90, I continued my duties for the night. Why did I go home, refresh myself, and proceed to continue my assigned task in spite of my fears?. You don't always know why, but sometimes, you just do ''it" anyway.
On another occasion, a gentleman said to me, "Don't you know that you are in 'the snake pit?" Again, although calm and sounded no alarms, I feared great bodily harm. And just in the nick of time, a good Samaritan from the neighborhood came to my rescue, demanding that I be left alone.
I was guilty of trying to make a difference in the lives of drug addicts and spent many hours pleading with them to make a change. Doubtless, I was guilty of introducing Christ to the inner city people of Chicago. During the late 60's and early 70's, I was frequently found on streets in danger zones and in high rise housing projects.
I knew the danger that I constantly faced as I went many times alone in places I had to go. In spite of the fear of real danger, I proceeded anyway. I'm not the bravest person around, not a fighter, nor do I carry weapons, but on many occasions I have forced myself in the midst of my fears, to walk through the valley of the shadow of death. I knew that God was with me, but I must confess, I was still afraid and feared evil. However, I refused to allow the fear of evil to arrest, captivate, imprison, and hold me hostage.
09182018PoSoupContest, Mid Sept 2018 Premiere, Brian Strand Psalm 23
"And Sitting Down, They Watched Him There"
And sitting down, they watched Him—
The Son of God upon the tree,
A rugged cross not carved for Him,
But meant for someone just like me.
They gazed and stared, but never knew
The weight He bore, the love so true.
That cross was mine by every right,
Yet in His mercy, love took flight.
He took my place, He bore my shame,
The spotless Lamb, the sinner’s name.
They should have seen me lifted high,
But Jesus chose instead to die.
They sat and watched with empty eyes,
Blind to the truth, deaf to the cries.
But had they seen with hearts aware,
They would have known God’s grace was there.
They would have seen unfailing love,
Descending from the throne above.
They would have seen what I now see—
The King who died to set me free.
They saw His face—bruised, torn, and marred,
Yet missed the hands forever scarred.
They saw His body wracked with pain,
Yet missed the joy that death would gain.
He bore the nails, He took the scorn,
The weight of wrath that I had worn.
He chose to leave His royal throne,
To suffer in the dark, alone.
Not robbery did He consider
To stoop so low, to save a sinner.
And still they watched, but never knew
That every breath He drew was true—
Each gasp, a gift, each groan, a prayer,
A door to life flung open there.
They saw the cross, but not the key
That opened gates of eternity.
So now, when I behold that tree,
I see the One who died for me.
I see my Savior—gentle, mild,
Yet strong enough to save His child.
I see the blood, the thorn-pierced brow,
The Lamb of God, who bears me now.
I see the cost of love so vast,
A present gift that holds me fast.
And so, I bow with grateful heart,
Embrace the grace He did impart.
I cling to love poured out so free—
The best of Him, now lived in me.
I embrace His mercy, pure and wide,
I embrace the Savior crucified.
I embrace the cross—my humble place—
Where guilt is met with boundless grace.
I embrace the blood, the pain, the loss,
I embrace my Jesus—on the cross.
For when I look on Calvary,
I see the One who died for me.
The One I love—forever true—
Yesterday, today, and ever new.
And with a simple heart, I say:
I’ll love Him more with every day.
Yes, I embrace all things Jesus—
My Savior, my Redeemer, my Friend.