Long Streets Poems
Long Streets Poems. Below are the most popular long Streets by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Streets poems by poem length and keyword.
In savage streets it’s hand to hand
once shrapnel rips the air that’s damned,
no sin of ego in this land.
Baptismal bloodshed echoes
through rust and rebar ghettoes.
There’s bullet swarms and rocket rain
but infantry must hit terrain,
forget I’m sane and rupture veins
with melee-trench-knife flashing,
the bane of peace doves, slashing.
I wear their red of death and drive
my blade abuzz in hellish hive
to stay alive! Yes stay alive!
The apathy of killing,
and twisting morals willing.
My heartbeat kept, a victory,
it pounds just like artillery
but prized, despite the misery.
A witness to destruction
and holy soul’s corruption
and christened by the selfishness
of presidents with negligence,
we soldiers march with evilness.
The narcissistic leaders,
the preachers and the breeders
of rhythmic spates in drumbeat hate
unfurl their nation flags and fate
in bloodlust war… while heads of state
stay combat clean in bunkers.
I witness gurgling utters
your last and bloody gasp for “mama”.
I grasp with greed my breath in chest.
Thought ricochets inside my skull;
I’m still alive! I'm still alive! I'm still alive . . .
Verse 1
Yo, it’s Jacksonville, where shadows linger long,
The streets whisper tales, but we gotta stay strong,
From 103rd where the echoes of pain,
A fatal shot fired, left families in chains.
Once the crime peaked, like a wave at the beach,
But hope washed up, yeah, it’s within reach.
Homicides fell, yeah, we fought and we bled,
But violence creepin’ back, heavy thoughts in our heads.
Fast food fronts, where the masked faces lurk,
Caught in the hustle, feel the pressure, it’s work,
Armed robberies striking, they’re takin’ our dreams,
While the city stays silent, plagued by sirens and screams.
A woman caught in crossfire, what’s the plan?
We gotta rise up, unite, it’s a call to the land.
Jacksonville’s a canvas, painted in gray,
But in the heart of the struggle, we find a way.
Chorus
In these streets where we hustle, where the struggle is real,
We’re dreamin’ of a change, yeah, we’re searchin’ for heal.
From the blocks to the beaches, we’ll rise from the ground,
Jacksonville’s resilience is the strength we’ve found.
Verse 2
The Avenues mall, it’s a spot where they caught,
A shootin’ that rattled, left the city distraught.
But we breathe life in the face of the fight,
Combatin’ the darkness, ignitin’ the light.
From Moncrief to Beach, we’re takin’ a stand,
Gather ‘round the youth, let’s uplift our own hands.
Targeted violence? Nah, we aiming for peace,
In a world full of chaos, we yearn for release.
We navigate these streets with our eyes to the sky,
Mapping out a vision, no more askin’ why.
The cycle’s gotta break, we’re the change that we seek,
In the land of the bold, where the strong never weak.
Through the stories of pain, we’ll weep and we’ll hope,
In the ink of our struggle, learnin’ how to cope.
So let’s build up our city, brick by brick,
In Jacksonville, Florida, we’re stronger, that’s it.
Chorus
In these streets where we hustle, where the struggle is real,
We’re dreamin’ of a change, yeah, we’re searchin’ for heal.
From the blocks to the beaches, we’ll rise from the ground,
Jacksonville’s resilience is the strength we’ve found.
Outro
Yeah, this is a call for our people to stand,
Through the trials we face, united hand in hand.
Jacksonville, rise up, let the world know our name,
In the heart of the struggle, we’ll ignite the flame.
he doesn’t need to see the world
to understand it
the rhythm of the streets
tells him everything he needs to know
he feels the sun
not through his eyes
but in the warmth on his skin
the way the morning air shifts
when the day begins
his fingers dance across the keys
or the strings or the frets
like he’s tracing the face of something familiar
something he’s always known
music is his sight
his way of painting the world
without ever seeing it
people watch him play
some with pity, some with awe
but he doesn’t care for their looks
because when he plays
he is free
floating somewhere beyond
what sight could ever give him
he listens to the rain
like it’s whispering a melody
he hears the laughter of strangers
like a song waiting to be written
he doesn’t need eyes
when he has music
and music has always seen him
It's time we all
take a deep breath, let the smoke settle
clear the streets of rioters -radicals and rebels
make some changes for the betterment
of all
bring open dialogue and mirrors to the table
empty everything from attics and basements
see where we stand or see where we fall
see if we really can't
all get along
get over the stumbling blocks of ourselves
then make some tough decisions
are the divisions too great
or shall we overcome
shall we build bridges
or impenetrable walls
stick it out till death do us part
or will it be another sloppy civil war
divorce
or maybe the answer is a trial separation
a small price to pay for the salvation
of our great
nation
No flower
Nor wreath
Shall those deceased
Call to arms
On unknown gravus
That cross the bows of scuttled ships
That sank before the powder mist
Kisses follies chance encountered
Praying for an end to war
Could not save
Nor pebbles pave
The wanted loss
Etching towards the strike of bell's
Spying on the conversation
The felling leaves
Whisper when all is still
Underneath the Ravens bill
Where angels fear to shrill
The hour's have been at hand
And there are no more conductors left
To lead the band
In the devil's symphony
Art has met it's Waterloo
And there are no bends
Along these trampled streets of woe
For fiend and foe to seek
No more tear's to leak
This is where humanity ends
Not in victory
Forged in pity
The cost the living live to tell
But what is hell
And that remain
Shame shall place upon the face
And behind the eyes
The soul's of buried fallen dead
Whose family members lie in state
Resonate with diunified elegant poise
Though the noise on deaf ears fell
The hollow broken shell
Cried mother I will never see you again
And I never got to tell or show you how much I loved the
And I never will
Take my hand placed in yours
And keep me safe in mother's womb
This is where I choose to place
My love upon your resting grace
So I never forget your face
A camelot on the horizon, ending a Viet Nam war, fallen walls and Soviet Union collapse, while the people dreamed on, in the midst of food shortages, starvation and death, loss of home and hearth and the promises of change amidst the Afghan push and independent rule for land and possessions, tighting the hold over the popukace.
People though, are creatures of habit, wealth comes at a cost, then power and greed seek more control until... one party rule without obstacles alone survive the intimadation and lie, truth ground to dust, given in to the ruling class, the loudest voice, self centered, preserved by the dollar sign, the elephants in the room.
A golden age, full of golden dreams and hopes of golden years,
promiseof streets paved with gold inlays and paths worthy of taking,
possibilities that faded with the times, mere memories now
of what could have been, would have been, should have been
had we only stayed the course.
My ramblings on the changing times.
Dissenters dominate the streets,
The public dominion of demonstrations.
This POTUS threatens military domination.
Just forget the pesky First Amendment.
Sowing seeds of civil war
The best path to reelection.
Yet remonstrations rally relentless,
One man’s terminal chokehold
A symbol of structural racism.
A metaphor for the socioeconomic suffocation,
The clamor and commotion
torn and tormenting in every town.
Protestors street hue and cry,
voices of the marginalized and forgotten .
A human chain of disputant dissentients,
Occupiers striking for a new order.
Rebels demanding
a new systemic justice.
Broken windows give no reflection
graffiti for those who can read
concrete streets are polluted rivers
passing shoes leave bodies in need
disillusion is a crumbled sidewalk
stretching to an intersection of who cares
empty eyes follow shadows that wander
stolen clothes from the morgue to wear
hope is a night's survival passing
when sounds of gunfire are heard
silence comes from gang handshakes
pigeons and crows the only bird
A bell that rings in the distance
the church the preacher will rob
players and pimps with tin cups
approach the stampeding mob
a moat of suburbs surround
gates to the castle are locked
guards at ramparts bleed blue
guns are always cocked
a cry only heard by those crying
in a dirty world of make believe
tomorrow finds another broken window
a rock by a child that can't leave
5/6/17
Donor Cozeners
by Odin Roark
Seduction eased into town long ago,
Thought to be natural.
It was
Praised as stability,
It was
Embraced as destiny,
It was…
Procreation ruled the nights,
Delivery rooms the days,
Time passed and like flies to a sugar fix,
Victory swarmed
Bank tellers on payday,
Local bars on Friday night,
Churches on Sunday.
Workweek habits continued,
Sexual harassment ‘round the water cooler,
Ass kissing ‘round the bosses,
Entitlement ‘round the calling-in-sick phone.
Then something happened.
Times got rough,
Unemployment rose,
Businesses shut down,
Preachers sought donations elsewhere,
Enticement stumbled out of town.
Darkness lured memories of enticements,
Cob webs hung furtively,
Tying unlit lamp post to shattered neon signs,
Side streets to alleyways,
Locked doors to broken windows.
Summer storms passed over,
Leaving muddy puddles,
Their rippled reflections
But gurgling echoes to the moon.
Goodbye waves of regret.
Today…
Not far down the road,
A new infestation of passionless hunters
Perfect their duplicitous smiles,
Awaiting yet another bounty of ignorance
For buying into the inducement
Of both flight
And fright,
Believing this,
Believing that,
Unaware that allurement
Is barbed with many disguises.
Hopefully…
Conscience will remain conscious
Never forgetting that on a clear night,
Or a dew covered sunrise,
Deception’s abalone color
Will flicker from the incandescence of
Beguilement’s lure,
Turning tomorrow’s entrapment of dreams,
Like the broken wings of flies,
Fractured rainbows are sucked
Into the black hole of deceit.
Ghanaians are beating
The drum of shame
For Nigerians
Which they will later dance to
Calling Nigerians in Ghana
All sorts of names, due to some misunderstanding
Now they're promoting hate just because of mistakes.
Ghanaians are on the street
Creating scenarios
Nigerians the villains
Forgetting they triggered it
Forgetting what their Ghanaians
Are doing to Nigerians as well
No country without a foreigner
There are also foreigners here in Nigeria.
See Ghanaians on the streets pretending
They're perfect and absolutely innocent
Because of the acts and misconduct
Of few Nigerians in Ghana
Now they're protesting for disunity
Your mind is the greatest treasure, work on it
If we can't unite and live in
Oneness, peace and unity within ourselves
Who or where else!?... Let love lead us.