Long Thug Poems
Long Thug Poems. Below are the most popular long Thug by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Thug poems by poem length and keyword.
What Democracy
Democracy, in Britain is nothing but a lie.
From the dictionary the word should be deleted
Whilst democracy’s the slogan that politicians cry
The majority of us feel that we’ve been cheated
With political correctness forced upon us every day
Just in case the casual word may cause offence
If you have a strong opinion be careful what you say
Even though you may be talking perfect sense
When we joined the E.E.U. I’m sure we took the view
It would give a larger market for our trade
Yet now our mighty nation has a legal obligation
To abide by regulations Brussels made
The referendum was denied, the politicians lied
These decisions were decided by the few
It was no doubt understood, M.Ps thought it would be good
With a total disregarding of our view
MP’s pull out all the stops to try to fill our shops
With G.M foods that we don’t want to eat
Whilst cameras check our speed on roads where there’s no need
We’d be better off with coppers on the beat
If when confronted by a crook you land a good right hook
You may think that he deserved it, it’s his fault
When he is on probation you’ll be locked up down the station
To appear before a jury for assault
When travellers leave a mess, you’d be spot on if you guess
That authorities will turn an eye that’s blind
Yet drop a *** end in the street and before it hits your feet
You will get an instant ticket and be fined
If asylums what you seek and English you can’t speak
Benefits are paid for your welfare
But if your British and your old, your property is sold
To pay for any time you are in care
If you chastise your child, because he has run wild
That law will on your collar give a tug
For no matter what you say, do-gooders rule the day
Even though the child may grow into a thug
In the interest of fair play referendums are the way
The majority decide just where we go
We shouldn’t change our laws or take part in futile wars
To massage a political ego
When we are due a big election, parties vie for our affection
Promising the things they have in store
It fair gives us the hump, they should take a running jump
They must realise we’ve heard it all before.
It is hard to understand who governs our fair land
Or who it is that makes up all our rules
Our politicians bore us, or totally ignore us
Democracy in Britain! It’s for fools!!.
.
Form:
A Determined Devil -
As I lay another cedar beam plumb for our home
smoke plumes, serpentine and sulphuric, interrupts the sunshine,
I look below the ridge, Eve standing silent
with weapon in hand,
a woman so grand,
panic has no rest in her person, fear has no finger on her pulse,
I move like lightning, to war by my Lady's side,
Valley vandels have come, scortching field fruit,
searing insidious signs into our peach and apples trees,
incarnate, the Devil disheveled with a defunct posse of three
approaches me, hailing not from a city of Angels but from a ghetto of ghouls,
mean and ugly like ignorance injured by the ivory tusks of innocence,
a madman desperate for the destruction of Divinity,
unskillful and wishful for lies to come alive,
he's a scribbler scribe, a dribbler riddler
a stereotype simpleton, frontin' and gruntin'
fallin short of the great gangsta idol,
just a stereotypical imbecile, a pencil with no lead,
burpin chicken feathers claimin them to be the silk quill of Angels,
I turn to Eve now
with eyes saying now is the time for demise,
briefly, before I strike steel across the throat of Hell itself
our first promise to each other repeats in my memory,
"I forever fight for you"
as her brown eyes convince me of loyalty, love royal,
she rips her blade through his groin
as I open a river across the throat of this terrible thug...
Raising A Tribe -
Eve, this land is already populated by persons whom seem like us,
although different too, like seasons in soul,
divergent in their dreams for dynasty,
they have dialects from a depth of Dawn
that awoke long before we arrived to thrive here,
customs peculiar as shapes to stones,
Father never spoke of these klans
who strive to survive outside the mercy of His guarded Garden,
competitive as clouds in a shrunken sky,
I met a merchant, a servant to trade,
he told of banners and blood, laws and legacies
cultures savage and cities of crime,
gleamed from telling stories of wealth and wonder,
said they worship their Gods more ways than gold folds,
consider what we have encountered Luv,
will our children slay or be slain, war or work
love or get lost in conquest,
you, as a Woman of God's glorious gambit
have a harvest of futurity's face in the balance,
will you deliver the destiny of our union into this drama...
Justin A. Bordner...J.A.B. 2021
Bullies are the politics of this universal world
who enjoy the smell of war inflicting endless pain
Who put others down in the presence of others
leaving you to bleed out stranded in the rain
Bullies only bully for they refuse to understand
what it's like to go through something and fail
Through choices they made leading up to that point
leaving them a drift in the wilderness to sail
Bullies attack you with broken hearts caused by
how they were brought up as no one really gave
Them discipline to teach them without abuse to know
the dangers of creating a political wave
Bullies will try and make you change the way
you think and feel about opinions regarding you
The most hateful words without any description
of explaining why they feel those words are true
Bullies are like wolves some as wild as bears
animals that are hungry always looking to feast
Off the people who they see as weak or vulnerable
as if your a lifeless person who has already been deceased
Bullies think that their power is beyond any person who
is trying to progress and move forward to make
A better life for themselves so others can see that
it isn't impossible to turn from a past or present mistake
Bulllies walk with pride in the seeds that they sow
apon others when really they are the ones that
Say you are ugly, no good, uneducated, mind twisted,
a wanna be thug, you're race or call you fat
Friends a bully is a person who has a life like you
though they try to believe they are better in some way
Yet they don't realize that karma really does exist
which will come back on their life somehow one day
Let no words from a political bully bother you for
their words are meaningless with nothing but hate
Which is something we as people shouldn't let at all be
a self label from others trying to predict you're own fate
Bullies be prepared shame on all of you that go
around thinking you're all that with no good news to share
Being the one who doesn't take life seriously or simply
become grown to the point that you really don't care
About what you say to others or how you treat them at times
regardless of anything you choose to do or claim to speak
Words that are foul with judgement that seems so everlasting
towards people who are really strong who you only think are weak.
Written By: Joseph Darryl Boca
For many days, I am yearning with my pastime longing to bargain for a mountain
Even though I am not knowledgeable about that marchant, for a dealer of that, then.
I long , I wish I could meet
A payment payable for the price, never could cease any upcoming, though hitchhike
I have a river of my own.
I would exchange that for the mountain
Who else is there, not knowing that the mountain costs less than the river
A mountain static, a river enchanting undercurrent for evermore, meandering trail
Yet, I will prefer the mountain in lieu of the river
I would buy
As I will be the thug, trying to be an equitable mug end, a moron.
Even Though the river, bought earlier was possible for a deltaic plain
During my childhood days, I had a brief, accountable memory
of the deltaic plane, free from any obesity
Enriched with the fullest swings of Butterflies, innumerable
When I reached my adolescence, the deltaic plane turned a misfit
Not one size fits all as the demand shows. Rather I loved the running undercurrent of the river.
Friends said, “In exchange for that small delta, this big river!
A deed, indeed!”
With full churns, I used to feel sheer Joy! Then!
Then I loved the river, with all my truth.
The river used to answer many questions of mine,
Such as, “Please inform about the weather forecast of this evening,
Will it rain today?”
Regarding that, the river replied, “Today, here it is a hot and humid northern breeze, passing through."
Only there is incessant down pouring rain over a small delta
What a rain it is! Seems like a festive eve!
I am no longer able to return to that delta.
He knew that! Everyone knows that.
No one is able to return to childhood days.
Now I yearn to buy a mountain.
The foothill of the mountain will be about dense forestry
I will travel along the forest, and then
This will all be all hard mountain trail
To the top, up close
The sky, hung, close, the lowly world underneath
An agonizingly ruthless silence, with no one nearby.
My voice will not be heard there, audible to no one.
Facing the world with the happening entity, I shall speak
Everyone is here for boasting, here I am a loner in my perceiving try
Instead of a victory, here, I beseech in mercy.
O my world! I am not sinful
Have mercy on me!
Copyright © Tamanna Ferdous | Year Posted 2024
MINNESOTA OG
by BambiLynn'14
We need to bring some OG back to the game
They say only playas change, the games stays the same
But that ain't true, and it smells bad too
I've watched and thought and come up w this notion
Staying true to me is failing thug devotion
OG principles need to get back in track
Stop violence and hate, bring respect, g.p., and true hustling back!
All this hatin and violence can hit the door
Let's define what OLD SCHOOL GANGSTAS stood for
There was standards and rules for all OG
And to fit in the circle, you had to be...
True to the game w caliber and class
Not recognizing popcorn, gorilla, gutter, or trash
No one took from their home to invest in the game (insane)
You put your all in your home then hustled to come up or keep yo standard of living the same
The game kept severe poverty out of the life
Especially for kids whose dads walked out on their wife
Back then the only out was to play ball
Working only for a few gifted and tall
OG's didn't hate, had each other's backs
Supporting and competeing a little in building stacks
No pulling guns If one in the circle did wrong or violated
It was worse when OG's shut them out into starvation
Paying in shame, and being left out and without
Teaching a lesson instead of ending lives is better without doubt
Violence puts everything in the spotlight
Stopping all hustle, all money, having to set it down out if sight
When you take a life, you end yours too
Original purpose defeated, no life, no money you fool
When our own turns on itself~something's terribly wrong
Bring some OG back is the point of this song
Treat one another with love and respect
Deaths only a heartbeat away, on that you can bet
Stop all this killing and hate, have each other's back
Burning your own bridges isn't the right fight or attack
No hustle or game should be how you live
Or the legacy passed down to your kids with nothing to give
It should only be used as needed to come up and do more
Making things better for our families, not killing them to even the score
Don't take from the kids, settling for gutter and trash
Be true to you and the game, with caliber and class
Do what you do to come up, but keep growing past the game
Fight to be better, not each other, keep home and family sane
Dear Poetic War
I'm here to inform you to change your name to (War Shoe.)
Warlock doesn't even fit you!
I have many ways to insult you.
I have to play nice, can't you see all them evil eyes!
Poetic Warshoe the only talent you poses is the word LOCK!
No need to try and crush what you can not see
All you are is another loser who can't let me be.
You silly jail bird, you sound more like a game of Monopoly
Its my turn and I hold your ticket to get out of jail for free.
Don't worry Warlock, Board Walk is owned by me.
Washing your couplets down with a cup of tea.
I laughed so hard your words almost made me pee.
Warshoe, why are you jumping on me like a little flea?
The only stinger you have belongs to a bumble bee.
Poetic thug you are messing with the wrong killer bee
Sorry I told you I share my fate with Nate!
Go grab some more help from your psychotic mate.
Raid I will spray on your strategies you poetic bug.
You have no class to be a Warlock.
The only thing you master is being a poetic thug.
Go back to playing dominoes, cards, and chess.
Your poetry smells like potpourri.
My demons will hit you with an epic battle of success.
Hunting me is the way you want to waste commissary.
I will enslave you to worship the grounds my feet caress
Challenging me will be the best thing you've had in 5 years.
First I will send you this letter with a small request.
Look down first before you think you pushed me over the cliff.
I own the crown causing massive damage to your quest.
You will never dominate my battlegrounds, I will end you in a swiff.
Your sword will be conquered in my arena, bringing you down to a rest.
I will make you suffer begging for mercy and forgiveness.
For trying to step up to the best.
Warshoe you already failed my test.
In this game you will never beat me at my own contest.
Your heart I won't eat I will feed that to my guest.
Warshoe its time to rip you out of the shadows where you hide.
I will LOCK you in my WAR of hell.
Shackling you in a fetal position as we collide.
Your fear will spread for everyone to smell.
I will end your poetry with no pride.
I will post venom in your abyss through out your cell.
A poison so rough now bend over and open wide.
Warshoe by the time this is over you will bail.
And I P.D. will still have you under my spell......
by;P.D.
Once, there was a father
Who loved his children completely
Nothing fractured or missing
Withholding nothing for the greedy
Everything flowed to and from
Without interruption or wrinkle
Til a child pulled back
Creating a hold that crinkled
....into time
For the first time, a new word appeared
MINE, it is alllllll MINE
Ownership grew quickly
Separating LOVE from mankind
Oh, how the father wailed and mourned
But he always had a plan
He took out his heart from self
And spoke it into WOman
...as a seed
The gift met up with faith
And created a child, Love without fear
Death chasing all involved
Trying to make LOVE disappear
He fought all the fears that swirled,
Around the lies, whispered by the snake
That "father" will always give
But he will also take, take, take
....whatever HE wants, whenever HE wants
As the LOVE heart walked the road
That brought him to the giving tree
The crowd gathered 'round, yelling,
"LOVE will NEVER have a home....here!"
He kept nothing for self
As water and blood poured from His side
Speaking, to the children, truth...
The snake lied
...to enthrone your fears
................silence.............darkness
.................................deep shaking
That took humanity to the end of days
Where we heard the message loud and clear
We must engage the LOVE inside
To fight and conquer all our fears
That Daddy God is selfish and unkind
Taking and making as He pleases
Our Daddy God moves heaven and earth
To pour our gifts that releases
....chains, shackles, and all binding devices
We are free to LOVE all who lack
Holding nothing for self, yielding back
The liquid LOVE flowing upwards to Daddy God
Never alone or forsaken on any road we choose to trod
Shall we miscarry our baby
With the belief that LOVE has spent its best
And He has no original LOVE
Only what is left
....over
There is no such thing as leftover love
With perfect love that casts out fear
He is always pouring out on us
Trying to draw near
...for a hug
......this father, is not a thug
............He is the God, whose name is LOVE
Written by Trudy Schrader on 06-26-2019
note: I don't like this poem, just like I don't like the feeling of leftover love.
“Only girls cry!…Boo hoo!”
"Look at you" he taunted me, (as big brothers often do)
Making a mockery. He kept teasing me, heckling me,
as I whined, and cried, and planned revenge
Neither of us would have won a prize, for being Mom's angelic pride,
of Kirby street that hot July...
“You Thug!”..I cried,…a laughing stock...his mocking me,
and worst of all, our bitter brawl played out for all the world to see.
No recourse, no remorse..(poor me!!)… As the butt of his demeaning jokes
By then my temper had been stoked, he had poked me once too often!
So HUGE, was my disdain for his smug, big thug, that grinning face,
in retaliation, for my humilation, (as an enraged little sister might do..)
I grabbed one of his model airplanes….and threw……THREW HARD...
It broke into shards, big shrapnel pieces…I dashed for cover...
Hovering behind the hedge…waiting for his own revenge!…
Instead it left a gash, a bloody angry wound, I was aghast....!
Well, of course our Mother got involved.. .
It was resolved by iodine and bandages
And a tongue lashing...
“You could have put out his eye!! ….and then we cried, …the two of us
Well we would repent, and spent the day becoming friends...
The afternoon out in the yard….
One sudden, unguarded moment ….
there was a car,.... came ‘round the bend
and as our game was 'bout to end....his dog, (his mongrel friend) was hit
....and then....
all time suspended........
My brother’s sweet dog, who slept on his bed, was gone
The next hours painfully hung…and long is the memory that still weighs a ton….
Ending with me alone in my bed..
Mute with grief ….remembering his words….”Only girls cry”….
Hearing his sobs……all through the night..
And my parent's cooed comfort, the soundtrack to this tragic movie
That still plays in my darkest theater….all these years later
I shudder still, have a lump in my throat…how that faint little scar, can still emote…
such feelings of tenderness I felt on that day.
Over the years…we have shared many tears…
we have leaned on each other, me and my brother
Big girls will cry, just as little girls do…and big boys can cry,
..and hey,..that’s okay, too
A sheriff I was in a small town,
seen fifty years, and earned no renown,
when Black Ken and his gang did come down
to Mick Callahan’s big saloon.
He saw I was the only law here,
saw in my eyes a cold, quaking fear,
said, “Boys, relax, and be of good cheer,
take a lady up to her room.
“I think this town will work our just fine,
always wanted a place to call mine,
this lawman seems to have a good mind,
it not, then we’ll just make his dead.”
He had four men, and all were gun-hands,
I was alone, no posse would stand,
there was no power her in this land
to challenge what Black Ken had said.
So I just slunk bank, raised no challenge,
no others rose to bring back balance,
the west was no place for the gallant,
and power spoke with a loud voice.
Ken set his stake in the saloon dim,
and Callahan dared not challenge him,
to draw on Ken meant a future grim,
Mick felt he had no other choice.
A day went by, and a routine was made,
in the saloon they usually stayed,
for ‘protection’ they made the girls pay,
ten percent tax on every John.
They next day they went out to the shops,
into their cup gold dollars were dropped,
a ‘small fee’ so you ‘do not get shot’
from bandits ‘out there doing wrong.’
A week went by, and someone came by,
a sodbuster, supplies he did buy,
in the dry-goods store none met his eye,
“What’s got all of you down?”said he.
Just them one of Black Ken’s men arrived,
said, “Come on Hopkins, you know it’s time,”
when Hopkins paid, Sodbuster said, “Why?
Who is he to claim your money?”
The thug squared up, and said, “Who is this?
Some two-bit farmer giving me sh-t?
Be nice and you’ll live to regret it.”
Hopkins and his wife just ducked down.
Sodbuster just stared with a blank face,
picked up his supplies, walked from the place,
the thug thought it an awful disgrace,
jeers and taunts then flew from his mouth.
But Sodbuster just walked to his horse,
tied up the packs, and cantered off north,
I feared we’d not see him anymore,
a wise man would flee such a scene.
But word came down, he stayed on his farm,
I feared for the man, felt great alarm,
knowing soon enough he’d come to harm,
Black Ken was nothing if not mean...
CONCLUDES IN PART II.
Bully me, yours truly
never ordained, gifted, or blessed
with mien mean characteristic
evoking, jump/kickstarting,
representing, nor zapping
friend or foe courtesy fiery intimidation
if anything aura, charisma, dogma, and karma
emanating, issuing, and oozing out
body electric of one heretofore bookish fellow
immediately facilitates characterization
hashtagged lucubration and manifestation of quietude.
Though true agitation transparent to passersby
soul asylum of sexagenarian beleaguered
with invisible mailer daemons
that hound the psyche
of this doggone muttering bonafide wordsmith.
In argot of polymath author of these words,
(the modestly noteworthy
opportunistic, poetic Matthew Scott Harris)
essentially he describes himself
as a generic simple Simon,
who never met a pieman
his mellow outward demeanor
belies, harbors, and represses
a quaking, raging bull, and seething
tempestuous storm beneath the calm,
which faux placidity
shields a woke monster
(donned in Harris tweed and Scottish tartan)
mashing everything in his wake
courtesy huge feet
resembling puff daddy bear paws.
Though found out later in life
than most muggles
aforementioned humble
human like bipedal hominid
discovered extraordinary ability
to morph from dimwitted dork dweeb
into grim faced, frightful,
albeit gentle unassuming
pygmy up by the petard giant extraordinaire,
which latent superpower
never served him in good stead
to ward off cruel classmates and peers
tormenting teasing taxing
terrorizing treatment til tears
trickled down my cheeks.
Every now and again,
when some nasty brutish beastly lout
dares to utter colorful invectives,
a gradual transformation
slowly but surely occurs
within every baited cell
(automatically summoned, triggered,
and unveiled courtesy a bitterly
deadly force to be reckoned with
deep within these lovely bones)
witnessing sudden bravado and daring do
additionally helped along after I discretely
chomp on powder milk biscuits
(the secret recipe only known
to forbidding Norwegian bachelor farmers)
giving an unexpected
judicious Hawaiian punch
to the loathsome miscreant
(never knowing what hit him)
knocking said thug out in cold blood.