Long Snitching Poems

Long Snitching Poems. Below are the most popular long Snitching by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Snitching poems by poem length and keyword.


Where the Truth Lies

The truth lies between silence
wisdom, knowledge, and deception 
it lies between politicians and big business men
supreme court judges and prosecutors 
who be doing the sentencing 
and the ones who know are too
afraid to come forward because fear is 
what they be living in, and why I fight to expose 
the truth the ones who fight to keep it hidden
be collecting big checks and 
counting their dividends

The Truth lies between stupidity and ignorance 
a lot of niggas talk that gangsta, gang banging
trappin, gun totting, killa life
they tell me to get it how I live so I'm livin Christ-Like 
the truth lies between family ties and 
business partners, peace makers, risk takers 
the ones that wanna see someone do good
and the people that we call haters
it lies between savoring the moment
and those who are
outspoken, heartbroken, they say stop snitching
or your loved ones gettin a death certificate notice
the truth lies between me and them friends and enemies
trusting in man and puttin faith in the one who was
and who will always be with me
© Corey Ross  Create an image from this poem.


It is a funny old game but the clue is in the name

Survival of twitching lieutenants just the last remnants 

Working class residents snitching in lurking tenements

No matches or scratches itching irking local regiments 

Sentiments stitching Test bible’s tribal past testaments  


Elements primal pariah bewitching best temperaments

Merriment ditching spiral & dire forecast impediments

Viral as pitching tents inspire dream steam experiments


Not enriching with evident quagmire resentments  

Inclement does fire bitc*ing about predicaments

Ire cements hitching to the umpire assessments

Hunch squire long lunch switching rival condiments


When cricket is in London town look up not down

What will sever any willow & leather is the weather

No refuge from the deluge as sorrows do drown

Whoever has got a ticket at the end of their tether

Is the tickle of all things fickle that gilds its crown


Which is why have to explain why Tests do reign

Sport where you might go off for bad light again

Complain haven’t the powers to showers restrain

Sort where you can’t properly train have to refrain


Let’s be plain to forget how wet it can get is insane

Naysay why do we in vain play 5 day Tests is inane

Mental and elemental is the point so don’t be a pain 

In a nation where in every location it’s likely to rain
Form: Rhyme

What's Good

Tell me what's good
because it damn sure ain't me
I'm broke, jobs ain't hiring my souls crying
thinking I ain't gone make it 
thinking GOD overlooked me when he handed down his graces
I'm just thinking if I die now
I won't get in Heaven later.

Life is what you make it, right? wrong!
At least i don't think so.
Last night I saw myself in a dream
wit a whole in my chest
it was kinda hard to swallow
that I was a bloody mess
there I was a bed full of sweat
and a face full of tears
thinking damn, was GOD punishing me
for the sins I committed over the years.

Question? How do I cope with all this?
Maybe wit hydro and malt liquor
pouring it out for all my innocent niggas
you know the niggas that's doing time for
crimes they didn't do
and the peoples testified against them
I'm telling you that stop snitching is true.

But if you live by the gun you die by the bullet
you die soon as that trigga happy nigga
behind it that pull it
Life's a grimmy chick she's doing everbody raw
riding this nigga deep throating him,
while she's playing wit the next mans balls.

She a dirty broad  either she on her back 
or got my back against the wall.
What's good in this world, not a thing
that is until I see the King of Kings.
© Corey Ross  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Bio

Premium Member Convict Mentality

A convict Mentality/
Is common sense to someone/
But, uncomprehensible to most/
People get it twisted/
They think an inmate and convict/
Are the same/
But they are not/
Two worlds apart/
An inmate can be anyone/
Who goes to prison/
A convict sets people away from others/
A convict is about business/
In all ways/
No one sees weakness/
When looking upon a convict/
An inmate is a weak person/
Who does what they are told/
That has no backbone/
To defend themselves/
Let alone speak their mind/
Keep telling on people/
To gain what they want/
They are cowards physically and mentally/
Now, a convict is a person/
Who is cunning and smarter/
Who is prone to violence/
And has no problem flaunting it/
They are full of power/
Inmates are frightened of convicts/
Even when convicts have to do nothing/
Most convicts are bad to the bone/
Who just don't care/
In the mind of a convict/
They will go their graves/
With their crimes/
An inmate is always snitching/
Convicts gives inmates stitches/
Make them end up in ditches/
A true convict mentality/
Is a rare find/
They put the Antichrist in prison/
For a crime he is innocent of/
He developed a convict mentality/

Premium Member Noah Flood

My strange tears.
The genie's eyes, oh genie's eyes.
Gather the sun's spears.
Be careful not to step on the thistles of fear.
Plaits are used to create the form.
To achieve a slimmer epitome.
You and I are friends.
Envy is what comes after us.
At the close of the twilight.
Because of Noah flood.
My strange tears.
The genie's eyes, oh genie's eyes.

My strange tears.
The genie's eyes, oh genie's eyes.
Start to contrive our departure.
A sea is teeming with adversity.
With the wrench, assemble the notes.
From every flute.
Place it in the abyss of your soul's disgust.
There is a period at the cease of each event.
Amass a set of love outfits.
Enable us to escape the dangerous ghetto cities.
It's around the awful roads.
The virus wind had found a haven there.

My strange tears.
The genie's eyes, oh genie's eyes.
Feel my heartbeat in your ears.
The condition had left him immobile.
He won't be able to catch any of the mists.
That is not a picture of the sky.
It hasn't claimed the land as its property.

My strange tears.
The genie's eyes, oh genie's eyes.
That's my propensity, and that's my flaw.
Ease up my mangled rib.
Stay aware of the words that come to mind.
Retain a checklist of it in your head.
For those who desire for it, as well as for you.
Attain a note of it by calling for a gathering.
Furthermore, regardless.
I entice her with the rhyme of my aged stuff.
I yell out my hazy promise.
It sang of druid snitching schemes.
From the eyelids of the sea.
With some salt, I can grasp the meanings.
I find the secret to her.
To quench a nostalgic thirst.
Besides, when there is a smidgeon of envy.
Detachment can yell.
The absolute first seashore.
That is where you can ensure it as love is broadened.
On the last islands of the meeting.
Love is also waiting to pass me.
Dream wine has enticed me.
The many shades of my eternal passion.
I'm an awful fan of the mountains.
My never-ending goal sparkles brightly in flames.
My strange tears, thank you.
The genie's eyes, oh genie's eyes.
© Sotto Poet  Create an image from this poem.


Premium Member Safe to say '

Tech giants politicans; appeals for better.' 
Wars forever, viral illness's? Spotlight
Points ( bit-ch-ing and snitching ) througout
The joint..physical-virtual... Less or more?
Peace the biggie.' Billions sent..Oh no that was to (the wars) do pardon my false invent.? YES..Stay sane and sober, and sans a view.' Well outside of the ordered one.? Whats the truth.? Well a ( five letter word') that can cause much offense.' You know it could even provoke a war.? Now don't be so dense...Its all about freedoms.'
And celebrating the past.' Where they can
Stay.' Ya know peace never lasts.' There are
Some really bad people.' Or so the government said ( dictators and perpetrators ) but i thought they were dead.?
And the then the 'eu' backed ukraine.' And the us was with them? Then they were protecting
Greenland and the USA was not a friend.?
And putin is he still evil.? Why all the mess.?
When there are such well placed leaders.' 
Its getting beyond me i must confess.)
Form: Rhyme

Dirty Money

Cats look at me like I've changed
   Nah man I didn't forget that I started out in the weed game
   Until I figured out that legal money and dirty money buy the same things
   And what you for getting about them streets is
   The streets is a cold game
   Crab in the bucket saying cats don't wanna see you get out
   Or get more than them
   Nobody telling on the cat with nothing
   Snitching don't start until they see you getting something
   The dope game
   Finally came to the realization that legal money and dope money buy the same things
   Not worried about fame because that's not me on a day to day basis
   Try to stay low key anyways
   Don't need fake freinds anyways
   Old song lyrics put my way thought of getting paid many ways
   Finally figured out plenty ways
   Hardworking and freedom over jail time anyday
   Just making sure it's the legal way
   Best lesson learn legal money and dirty money buy the same things

Black Vulcan Up dah!

You waited in line
Cause your we're
Next
That's an idea
l situation I am told

What shiney ain't
For me me
Cause I am dull
And spent
Excuse me Sir
Is that gold
I reckon I 'll
Just mossey
Along quote'en
Them words to
That cuss word song
By the way
All that glitter ain't gold


What want from me
Cause he so po'
Get his checks from
His chore 
That ain't no money
That's tween me and you
Talking rich and acting poor
Got your Gal out acting like-ah
Whore: talking bout 
place we go knee high I q!

Ya'll know the sequence y'all 
Meet her in spring 
She pregnant in fall
Pappie someone's else's 
Niegh I go I ate ooh ooh!

That's how it is
Ain't nothings changed
Oh the ancient
Still arrange
Talking in tongues  when
Sunday morning comes
Freaking fellas
By the time the service
Is through
Snitching in like gals
Current and future bride
Tryna make everyone say
Quasi motto neigh IQ
Form: Ballad

Premium Member The Last Organ Grinder

Written: October 20, 2023, 

If an opera cannot be played by an organ grinder, it's not going to achieve immortality. By Thomas Beecham
                _________________________________________

Only a rival who never yields may alter reality,
From birth to death, beats thrive—no mortality.
Crashing core causes a cosmic climax of chaos, 
Fierce floods float the forlorn fable of pathos. 

Dwellings were buried by a conundrum.
The slope has swallowed the humdrum.
Dusk of the mind is gingerly complete.
Gazing at crimson flies worn rilling feet

An ancient quiet trail—for waves and wind.
Ragged timbre limbs—cracks are left behind.
Tombstones had been raised from the quayside
The last organ grinder and another army replied.

Over lyrical, his weary fingers can play guerrillas, 
The last organ grinder is a throwback to bygone eras.
Camarilla would gather heralds, full of delight,
While fiercely turning—crank with all his might.

Forum from which fantasies fly and faith flourish
The sounds that the organ grinder may nourish.
He sang songs of suffering, whimsy, and anguish,
Sopping a range of feelings across—till languish.

Rumors raced to spread slander in solid deceit,
Selfish ghost-face snitch won a vexed word beat.
Lief spins fearfully. Cover up, ladies and youngsters,
Slaying in session, straddling on wings of musters.

A Walkyrie-lanced loop loom is a lethal lethe lie,
Blood dough whispers emerged and could decry.
Tarnished thrash tittles—timorous tonic ties taught,
A fabric-picked spying plot caught by a grim sought.

Saltwater swindler screams sought signs of a spider
Gloomy guile grins gushes on ghastly organ grinder.
It's the witching hour, and a trigger finger is itching,
I heard awful news and saw empathy fuel snitching.
© Sotto Poet  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Rhyme

Worry

I sometimes worry knowing poetry can be so subjective, you know

And yet, I still choose poetic verse to enounciate my story, but doing so I still worry 

I choose poetry to mail my experiences through similes, imagery, and silliloquies but still I worry that the meaning of my words aren’t reaching 

like the voices in your heads aren’t hearing my warnings 

I’m calling. But i keep receiving. Voice mail.

It’s hard for me to differentiate poetry from the meaningless rhymes and word crimes In my haystack mind 

Pricked by the cold, bitter sweet needle of reality
Revealed by the snitching blood of my poetry, sharp but not unexpected 

It’s biology, a mystery. An art. A story. 

Bitter sweet the sting until we realize it’s reality 
Bringing light, to the colour of life and it’s futility

Im afraid to live because of my worry - 
I’m afraid to speak because of my poetry -

It burdens my words, painted red with the blood of poetry witch flows in my veins unknowingly- 

I bleed into the world but worry covers the stain.

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