Long Terrorists Poems
Long Terrorists Poems. Below are the most popular long Terrorists by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Terrorists poems by poem length and keyword.
There's a man who I call DeSatan
From Florida to Sunshine State
who said that slavery for Black folks in America
was beneficial and great.
they were taught skills on how to be
better productive slaves
and those beatings, rapes and lynchings
was simply how white folks behave
no need for us to get bent out of shape
we just need to realize
to that to have been a slave in America
was considered an enormous prize
and to add insult to injury.
we have a few token Blacks
who co-signed that bull
as some historical fact
DeSatan in my opinion,
is simply a Nazi fascist prick
who tends to overcompensate
as he probably has a little dick
an angry and bitter man
who on divisiveness firmly stands
to go pick a fight with the Disney corporation,
your state's largest employer is beyond dumb
and if the company vacates your state,
where will all that lost revenue now come from?
slavery was an abomination
America's most heinous sin
and if we don't stay diligent,
they may try to revive it all over again
white nationalist, domestic terrorists
and the MAGA Supreme
will try to tell you that slavery
wasn't what it seemed
generational chattel
never an opportunity to be free
born into captivity, no chance of liberty
degraded, debased and worked
like the lowliest of dogs
hell, they had more respect
for their cattle, horses, pigs and hogs
slaves were caned, whipped and mutilated
for the smallest offense
Yet the slave owners never showed any empathy,
no consideration and no penitence
slaves were viewed as 3/5 of a human being
who only deserve endless and senseless beatings
I can't imagine nor see any benefit in all of that
and for anyone to say otherwise. It's just bull crap
slavery wasn't slavery.
It was involuntary relocation
a training program to teach African Americans.
a viable vocation
slavery wasn't slavery
it was an inconvenience ideology
a social experiment that white folk in America
don't believe warrants an apology
it was what it was and Black folks need to let it go
as slavery wasn't slavery because white folks say so
The penchant of a national leader.
can show malignancy in things he says;
things for which his mind needs a proof-reader.
Some tempers malign as rivals start to quiz
Views have drawn the cancer, cacoethes.
A writer’s mania – cacoethes scribendi -
appears when terrorists write a manifesto.
Do over-engaged minds stage what’s trendy?
obsessive was the groove of the fluent Victor Hugo
and fictional, compulsive liar – Pinocchio.
Take Hugo’s masterpiece, Les Miserables.
With surplus words, intense cravings we find
yield lawless acts, theft, prostitution which rob
disadvantaged folk of their conventional mind.
Poverty's victims are prone to spell-bind.
So many numbers out there, but which ones do I choose
Twelve takes center stage, the day I joined the family tree
Seven, the time I rise and get ready for work, or just to go out and play
Four, a time to return home, or perhaps do some errands along the way
Nine the day I got married and a new journey began
Fourteen, Valentines Day, a night of love and romance to plan
Twenty -eight, the day my beautiful daughter entered the world to join me
Twenty-five Christmas Day, a festive time I am sure we all agree
And who could forget nine / eleven, that fateful day when terrorists had their way
Just think of all the numbers we have to deal with every single day
Without numbers, we would not be able to figure almost anything out
Just think of an election when they went to count the vote, finding a winner would always be in doubt
On threads of wispy air,
in breathy undertones of political wind,
I can hear the quiet catastrophe,
the quiet ruination of our commonwealth.
I can hear the sleepy madness, turned avalanche
between my ears.
I can hear the quiet catastrophe,
the whispered words of terrorists,
guttural phrases taunted as political incorrectness,
flaunted vacuous nihilism fomenting insurrectionism,
the quiet convulsion of our self-rule.
I can hear the sullen invocation, turned torrent
within my mental models.
On threads of wary air,
in stealthily vengeful murmurs of pretenders,
I can hear the casual, softly spoken demise of justice,
the grim sabotage of governance by principle,
and with it,
the slow dripping blood of all those who died,
all those long forgotten.
The fading ink on parchments spelled out ideals
never attained or practiced in a nation’s history of enslavement
and genocide.
Yet can the people’s ambit even begin without the
enshrinement of these principles for all?
I can hear the quiet catastrophe,
the reckless, feckless conmen concocting hallucinogens.
Conspiracy contagions so easily playing upon, confirming
the jaundiced eyes, so easily validating the invectives of the addicted.
On threads of wispy air,
in breathy undertones of political wind,
I can hear the quiet catastrophe.
Are you listening?
In a theater or museum
Someone’s there to check your bags
And I wonder what exactly
An inspection like that snags.
Are there weapons nestled next to
People’s wallets or their phones?
Have they confiscated contraband
That some attendee owns?
As the line moves up, my bag’s unzipped;
I let them glance inside.
Although they have a flashlight,
There’s so much that I can hide.
But I don’t, of course, and neither do
The visitors behind me.
I think of 9/11 then;
Precautions still remind me.
The bag check’s just a surface ploy
So we can all pretend
That we’re safe, but that’s the error
On which terrorists depend.
Oh what did you see, my blue-eyed son?
And what did you see, my darling young one?
I saw truth tellers doxed, and their addresses listed
I saw images on my cellphone put on by the twisted
I saw a prophet wailing as he was dragged to the madhouse
I saw madmen gaining all the levers of power
I saw wolves out of jail while their victims cower
I saw fools arm in arm with those who would kill them
I saw indoctrination vultures above me turning
Know-it-alls told me what to think, but I wasn't learning
I saw a meteor of old glory barely burning
And it's a hard, it's a hard
It's a hard, it's a hard
It's a hard rain's a-gonna fall
And what did you hear, my blue-eyed son?
And what did you hear, my darling young one?
I heard desperate fathers called domestic terrorists
I heard speech is violence and violence is speech
I heard the fury of a woman scorned
I heard a prediction of vengeance, a new weapon borned
I strained my ears in the eye of the hurricane
And it's a hard, it's a hard
It's a hard, it's a hard
It's a hard rain's a-gonna fall
And what'll you do now, my blue-eyed son?
And what'll you do now, my darling young one?
I'll hike through the garden with high rising fountains
I'll go off into the forest, and up the mountains
I'll swim cross the ocean, and glide on the river
I'll raft the white water, before the oncoming slaughter
And it's a hard, it's a hard
It's a hard, it's a hard
It's a hard rain's a-gonna fall...
Which American does not know great Tony Stark?
An industrialist tycoon like strapping shark;
Born with silver spoon in his mouth; noble bequest!
Lived luxurious life one considered blessed...!
Afghan enters his life; like virus in robot;
Terrorists kidnap him; force him to weapon-plot;
He builds his sly armor; makes his vanish easy;
Plays ploys; Shifts into iron man; tough, yet, frenzy...!
Cocktails and women beauties; Romantic, yet firm;
Juvenile play-boy; yet, strict to mercantile term;
Not lonely though alone; full of fun and frolic;
Midst accomplishment of tasks, he has his rollick...!
Pushed to misuse his invention of iron-man,
Virtuously he dismantles his harm-filled plan;
Splaying bundle of freedom virtues and vices,
Tony Stark is an epitome of guises...!
01 July 2022
Captain America's Friends or Foes Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Robert James Liguori
Celebration of death
Peter Gargano and his
son Peter memories
meeting at the clock
restaurant fort myers
right before traumatic
brain injury blessings
many laughs prayers
are with the family
reminders from license
plates RFP RIP it’s really
helpful getting terrorists
threats on license plates
especially when I have
to get 12 nerve blocks
injections in my head today
actually every 25 days
traumatic headaches
severe pain and suffering
memory care centers
after surviving hurricanes
I’m reminded of hurricane
Charlie grateful an yet
traumatic events Peter
remembering Peter Gargano
the the trauma it’s almost
like he’s still with us like I
didn’t witness his dead body
leaving this world or all thee
other wise guys hitmen
The Don of Don Boss of Bosses
all dead controlling terrorist
threats on license plates
I’m reminded of mob boss Frankie
boy cali being gunned down holding
his license plate organized crime
terrorising me for wearing
wires pregnant buying
weapons and drugs from junk
sick officers being a rat exposing
mafia hitmen no I’m no
Sammy the Bull or John Gotti jr
big Paul bambino who suffered
a rash from his Mexican maid
Christmas time before being gunned
down without ointment of course
not Carlo Gambino nor Domenico Cefalu
no just a mom a grandma the fbi
just warned me my ex husband
set fires with gargano killing 9
people before I knew a car bomb
ignited my skull Peter stood over
my blood soaked body to go
over investments insurance
monies my memory of my
wearing wires pregnant for the
fbi saved my life today is a
gargano kind of day happy
heavenly birthday Peter Pete
and Peters Just in case I’m
brutally murdered by this ongoing
hit on my life because I refuse to
allow the mafia extort my American
Poetry brings me to tears today fondly
remember me writing American poetry
He'd return after decades
Spent in imagination. Month
spent in reality. He'd return to the
House of comedy,here,to crack
an heart-taking,wits-arresting,Emotions-
devouring,Land-quaking joke.
He'd return with a robust neck
Seasoned with weeping nerves.
The joke cracker,Let's hear.....
Before he return'd
The gym-ed rodents embroided
with pleasant 6-packs had
summoned a meeting-Impromptu-
Behing the large hall-Hall of fame!
They'd discuss'd-
"Welcome,ye family of pointed
teeths. We're here to announce the
pending return of the Jester. So,with
deep regards floating on apprehended stats.
Let's invade the large hall- Hall of fame.
And destroy his valuable documents.
Let's give room for hanky-panky. Let's
disorganize his hood...."
In succession of their meeting,
They'd prick the discussion by it hem.
And now after he'd return.
All we heard and will hear is;
"A Cracking news that's about
to break- It takes time before news
are broken here-. The federal territory
has been invaded by gyming rats
full of unpreceedented mights and stats.
We would like to elate your heart that
the palace is disorganized....."
And after that,
they'll deep their deflowered hand
Into the draining purse. One hundred
and fifty thousand dollars to buy insecticide
to eliminate
these terrorists-gyming rats.
After that they'll demolish the
Palace on accounts of the terrorists
providence. They'll tame their hearts,
They'll tame their wealths. They'll
tame their consciousness,patience,love
and mistake them for cleverness' Vice.
I've heard them talk of it.
I've seen it happened.
Rats now are braced with
heart pouncing powers. I haven't
heart of this before; Rats with
Bewitching 6-packs,luring hearts
Into corruption. Very soon,
They'll say,the terrorist have
consumed '1000000 dollars' before
His arrival. They'll say,yea,they'll
fashion a qoute from their glottis company;
"None can be underestimated,even rodents
are now terrorists."
Hmmm...... This Jesters!
17:28:08:15:16
Too much for today's society
Too many deaths in the family
Too much violence in the streets.
Too many hostilities by the police
Too many deaths by the police
Too many murderers in the streets.
Too many innocent victims
Too many in the wrong teams
Too many are lost in the reams.
Too many hostilities by the police
Too many deaths by the terrorists
Too many bad things in the streets.
Too many criminals are on the loose
Too many murderers in the police force
Too many innocents on the crosses.
Too many elephants on the horses
Too many deaths in our family
Too much for today's society.
Too many unsolved murders
Too many slimy perpetrators
Too many cadavers in the craters.
Too many hypocrites in our democracy
Too many bullies are roaming the streets
Too many crazy ants are warming up the seats.
Too many are crying, weeping and sobbing
Too many are protesting, yelling and wailing
Too many are suffering silently and yowling.
Too many cries
Too many lies
Too many spies.
Things are now out of control
Too many officers are on parole
Too many vultures on the pole.
Too many innocents are sitting in jail
Too many bad cops are out on bail
Too many snakes are lying on the rail.
Too many bad laws for the masses
Too few students are attending classes
Too many judges are acting like foxes.
Too many children are lost in the system
Too many leaders do not give a damn
Too many will do anything for an iota of fame.
When will these mayhems end?
When will we see justice on this land?
When will we write peace in the sand?
Too many cops are on parole
Things are now out of control
Too many vultures are on the pole.
Things are now out of control
Too many deaths in the family
Too much for today's society.
Hebert Logerie Monday, December 15, 2014