Long Strippers Poems
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Our Company makes both
the Ware and Anti-ware
products needed to be in full
control of your business.
Hacking equipment
and anti hacking equipment
moral and in disent.
S$it our company
has equipment to
find the codes
to every engine, washer dryer
anything with a computer
made after 2017.
It is wrong to do one of the other
but when you see
how people either
want to create or dismantle
what is created to sour the ways of many
you can then see how
this world is both Savage and Sinister.
they would make robot maids
but would you trust them.
man: My automated coffee machine tripped
during leap year: I found out my
secretaries wife
bought the hcking device
that compromised my breakfast.
She said there was a program that
turned "Maid Hazel" into " The Maid from Hell"
the robot with anti- care technolgies.
On program is said to be
"either clean as you go___or__
A$s whipping time"
This is a crazy world man! One crazy Place!
them Tech Guys aint no joke!
Ya'll hear the one about those
twelve strippers at a Joint In Blogga Hoogga wonk-Wonk,
man dude told me them guy slattered the floor
and lefted hugh tips
and told the Gals to
get the C$n and be
pregant. Get the
money while the
money there.
They did all twelve
got pregant
and they don't know the fathers is
but the got the whole
night on tape. They say it was about
Fourty to Sixtty dudes
up in there. Letra and Armonia said
they left out
before
it got to crazy
but Letra said he was on the floor
and was scared that one
them Gals coulld
have his.
That's Crazy man!
That's Crazy!
by
Bizzy The Smogg Protester
“Sedation”
by Positive Mark
Deep, still blue.
Rage from the Peekskills, now caged from his street skills, with the vantage point of a gargoyle heart of stone.
The streets should be mine, but there’s always other stragglers.
Used to be streets. Now, it’s backroads, chasing antlers.
Conjuring faces of the fallen. Wondering from what damned direction I’ma hear our sins calling.
Freeing the spirit with acts that defile matter.
Forever shaking the salt from the blood splatter.
Heart with a hard on for that incense carbon smoke.
Fix me up a bump, and I damn sure better choke.
Point me to the spot where them cats is on dippers.
Scroll down on Backpage for Baltimore strippers.
Five day admission, and back to the medication.
Deep, still blue.
Drenched in darkness for sedation.
PETER GARGANO AND MY ABUSIVE EX HUSBAND **** OPERATION THE WATCHERS CAMERAS WATCHIBG TOTS FROM THREE TI 10 AFTER THAT THE OPERATION EMERGED MANY MISSING KIDS ALL IVER THE WORLD BECAUSE THE CHILD **** WAS HIDDEN UNDER THE KNIGHTS OF COLUMBUS TREADURY OF SAN CARLOS BEACH HE ALSO RAN YHE STRIP CLUB IN TAMPA HOUSING ILLEGAL IMMIGRANT JAMAICAN TALIBAN STRIPPERS IDENTITY THIEVES I REPORTED THIS TO THE FBI 2003 PETER GARGANO AND MY ABUSIVE EX HUSBAND BEGAN THREATENING MY LIFE TORTURE BLOWING MY BRAINS OUT LITERALLY THESE ELITE CHILD KILLERS DISPOSE OF THE VUCTIMS FRAMING THE PARENTS THERE ARE A FEW THAT PERER GARGANO PAID WITH LIQUIR LICENSES OF SCHOLASHIPS FOR THIS PREY UNDER THE FLORIDA LOTTERY I EXPOSED PETERS OPERATION AFTER FINDIND OUT MY ABUSIVE EX HUSBAND WAS APART OF THE **** MANY MANY KIDS MISSING I AM SO BLESSED MY DAUGHTER WAS RETURNED HOME MY LIFE WAS THREATENED SADLY THE TREASURE OF KNIGHTS OF COLUMBUS PETER GARGANO HIS LONG LIST OF STRIPPERS JAY TOWNSEND JOHNSON HENRY ALICIA HILTON TALISA SHAW KIWANI BUGS DANITA DELMONT THE MANY MISSING KIDS OUT THERE BECAUSE THIS POWERFUL ORGANIZED HORROR FUNDS THE ABUDUCTIONS MY PRAYERS ARE WITH THESE VICTIMS PETER BLEW UP MY SKULL EMBEZZLED THE TRAUMATIC BRAIN INJURY FAKED HIS DEATH WITH T KNIGHTS OF COLUMBUS IN ORDER TO KILL ME AND IMPERSONATE MY IDENTITY WITH HIS JAMAICAN ILLEGAL IMMIGRANT TALIBAN IDENTITY THIEVES ATTEMPTING TO IMPERSONATE MY WOUNDED WAR HERO HIDING UNDER VETERANS IDENTITIES GOD BLESS AMERICA GOD BLESS JOHN WALSH FOR ALL HE DO TO BRING MISSING KIDS BACK HOME SEARCHING ENDLESSLY NEVER KNOWING PERSONS OF POWER ARE RESPONSIBLE FOR COVERING ABUSED KIDS TOSSED LIKE TRASH PETER PRAYS ON KIDS ALREADY BEING ABUSED THEY BECOME WORTHLESS PREY HE THEN SEND OUT HIS HIRED HANDS TO DIG THE HOLES FROM FLORIDA TO MINNESOTA MAINE GOD ONLY KNOWS I WILL NEVER EVER FEAR THIS TWISTED HORROR
GOD BLESS AMERICA
On Bourbon Street,
strippers occasionally step out for a smoke,
scanning the scenery for potential clientele.
Flashing lights illuminate eager faces,
good business in a place that hardly sleeps.
There's a sign up there now
that's got a devil's tail with angels wings,
a place called Saints and Sinners.
It goes well with the soft Zydeco
sweeping down the streets-
Nice and easy.
You can imagine the waves of soft
and loud voices, up and down,
are lyrics to the music.
Mellow and sharp, thronged together
by a net of harmony.
Songs of nothing in particular.
I started thinking in the flow of it all, with the buzz
of a Pat O'Brien's Blue Hawaiian in my swing.
Then and there,
I made a half-pact with the devil,
and another half with good.
I'd start paying attention
to the meaning of a two-sided coin.
There's a way of thinking that goes like this:
If you're bad sometimes,
then you're only half bad,
goodness trailing behind you
like a faithful dog. Instinct,
it's how we are.
Nice and easy logic.
To some this doesn't go down well,
like old religion and voodoo in the South.
Because it feels too good,
looks so natural it must be sin.
But I like the music and I like the dirt,
the strippers with their sweet perfume,
and the laughter that gets heavier
with a little booze on the tongue.
And just like love,
a little sin can wash anything down
like a good southern bourbon.
Asinine
The Poem
Spit and glue
Tape on glasses
Lace on wrinkled rumps
Lipstick on lizards
Ants in bee-hives
Parties in the cemeteries
Toothfairy bank robbers
Dunces in libraries.
Rhymes on caution signs
Large Letters for the deaf
and hearing aids for the blind-
Asinine.
I think, to see a cripple crabs with crutches,
bow-legged spiders with a pigeon toe-ed cat.
Or a knock-knee-ed rabbit- with a Multi-Colored Bat
Apes eating hor devours
Amish wearing Hats no-more
Imagine the scenic scene
That we would see-
If the Sky replaced the sea-
Spit and Glue will never do-Spit
won't do, when you need glue.
Dressed to kill with taped up glasses,Lace on strippers
with wrinkled rumps
It's a crazy poem but I really feel
You should never read rhymes on caution signs.
CAUTION
Look up here
have no fear –
There have been
twenty-six
accidents right here-
When you slow up
to read this rhyme
you may get hit
from behind
cross the white
line and smash
over the medium
The light is on so now dance!
No more living life in a nanby-pamby trance.
You’re eighteen now boy no more.
Man now you are, forget all those ‘lessons’ from before.
Men are men and know the score.
They’re there for you take galore!
Stand up straight and be a lad!
Pints and shots must now be had!
The wild in you now must be fed.
Then tamed your wild will be until you’re dead!
The world is cold, the world is weird.
You’re nothing until you’ve bed a score or more and proved your ‘hood’!
So this is what it is to be?
Remember success is who you know not who you be!
The loner types think too much and try to feel.
They look at life and try to find the quiet deal.
A thoughtful appreciation is frowned upon. Stag nights and strippers in Marbella is where you belong?
Walk your path, find your way.
If materialistic proof and money is your ‘hey’. I’m sure that life will treat your days and years in this superficial, unreflective, simplistic way.
(A lone figure, kneels and prays. Watched by his faithful cat, Rudolph)
I was born a sinner
Lord
For all us triers are
Blindly sent to live by You
An unknown higher power
To try to defeat the Devil's temptations and sin
But now at 75 and slowly dying
It's no use crying
Wishing I had done better
I've sinned all my life to live
Sinned
Staying out late looking for another with whom to live
Drank anything to get my soul wetter with all I could give
Gambled
Loved and lied
Been cheated on and cried
As inside I died
Cleaning up everything that was on my plate
So Lord it's now too late, and I know Saint Peter won't open your gates
But you know what
I still feel pride
About how I lived
So going to your purgatory with these feelings and sins
I'm sure I'll find other lost souls like me to continue the party
Because they'll be able to relate
For now, to change
As my end approaches
I still haven't got what it takes to be loyal
Since my Martha left me
After
For the millionth time,
I stayed out
Drinking and playing cards with the Gecko brothers
Watching strippers at the Titty Twister
Too late
Please forgive me Lord
Amen
(C)
Copyright John Duffy
Foundation.
At the end, what would your last prayer be?
Did you live a good life or like the man above, give in to the Devils seductive powers?
Saskatchewan’s Breath !!!
Comes on days that are long, steely and very cold.
It comes on winds that are strong, steady and bold.
Majestic little ladies try standing erect, against Saskatchewan’s breath
in their fragile, Autumn colours of golds, browns, yellows and reds.
He rings those bells - telling of winters cold hand of death –.
With great and greater force, Saskatchewan’s breath blows their heads,
bends their limbs without the passion and grace of a strippers dance.
Saskatchewan’s, cold, cruel breath – like a mad man rapist –
tears at, and strips them of their colourful gowns with little chance
to hide their nakedness for a moment longer – no fig leaf in his tempest
left for them - to greet winters white blanket – with or to enhance
the bleakness that old man winter brings – laying all else to rest
in frozen slumber – cryogenic freeze – in ice age arms of Morpheus,
until spring bounces back – rejuvenates life into rebirth –
bringing renewal, bringing hope for one and all of us
and smiles upon us weary old souls waiting for a green earth
to come to life under our tired old feet – lift our spirits to the skies
bringing joy, pleasures and wonder to our tired old eyes
as we look forward to seeing our – world – babies grow
into the wanders that are soon gone, as we surly know
- deep within – how this universe ( our little world ) turns.
Deep within our souls, there are places that yearns
to see a light through the darkest night – a spirit burns
with passion, with delight, yet knows and has concerns
about what lies in the darkness, behind passions eminent glow.
Sight, knowledge and wisdom, to many, come wings so slow
and in such small pieces, – in fragmented minute flakes –
tiny specks of light from the subconscious for consciousness sake.
So, until the end, nothing but questions – memories we will take
into that elusive light, where knowledge and wisdom it will make
us come to see, see the essence, true life in this universe
as the life of this rhyme comes to an end in verse.
B. J. “A” 2
October 6th 2005
He talked about strippers
I was ten in my slippers
I heard the sound of his zipper
I prayed for Jack the Ripper
It started back when I was nine
I felt a cold chill down my spine
His calloused hands touched mine
But I pretended I was fine
This man called me sexy
This man called me beautiful
And at the age of nine I thought that was suitable
He controlled every aspect
He controlled my whole life
Didn’t know that his plan was for me to be his next wife
My mom had no clue
And no one ever knew
I was protecting a monster, he screwed up my views
I thought that he loved me
I thought that he cared
But my body was the only thing that he wanted to share
I was a confused little child
Hiding shame behind a smile
I was trying to adapt to this dark new lifestyle
But now that I’m older
I cry on my own shoulder
I left a broken home before it got any colder
I’m no longer the victim
Of the traps that he set
I rose above the trauma and the scars of regret
The monster is gone
This child is free
It’s time to move on and count my blessings in threes
I had it made until my stupid wife ruined me.
I was rich until she went on a spending spree.
She spent it all before I even had the chance to stop her.
I had ten million bucks but because of her, I'm a pauper.
I was the richest man in my town but now I'm the most poor.
People are giving me funny looks because I'm buying clothes in a second hand store.
She forgot to insure the cars that she bought, even the Ferrari.
I only have ten dollars left and that jezebel isn't one bit sorry.
A tornado came last week and destroyed every vehicle that she bought.
If you're wondering if I think about strangling her, I think about it a lot.
She also spent a lot of my money on male strippers, booze and grass.
Now she's going to need a proctologist to remove my foot from her ass.
(This is a fictional poem)