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.
Those BURMA SHAVE signs used to give us kids something to do,
As down the highways and byways in our 1935 Dodge we flew!
The chef-d'oeuvre from the quills of very creative poets flowed,
Nailed to fence posts for our cultural enlightenment along the road!
Take note of this sign young reader as you pass this way!
In just a little while you too will be hoary and gray!
And like your Pa with steady hand be true and brave,
As you wield that straight razor usin' BURMA SHAVE!
She told her beau, "You remind me of a thug,
With that scraggly stubble sproutin' on yer mug!
If its my hugs and kisses that you crave,
Best ya start usin' BURMA SHAVE!"
The feller tried over and over to get a job,
But potential bosses thought him a slob!
Never apply for work looking like a knave!
Use gobs of BURMA SHAVE when you shave!
With her feller Mabel had a beef.
Claude's stubble caused her grief!
Said she, "Yer wreckin' our romance!
Ever thought of usin' BURMA SHAVE by chance?"
If on your mug you are well endowed
With stubble of which you're not proud
In the mornin' after yer kisser you scrub,
Liberally slather with BURMA SHAVE, old Bub!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(c) All Rights Reserved
My mind was once tranquil lavender...
An equal blend of blue and red.
Sometimes a tone darker or lighter depending upon the issue at hand.
Recently it's blooming only one color.
Because I've been told over and over.
To shut up-to not think independently.
To follow in lockstep the smoke and the bleating.
Think only like the riotous others...
And to this, the louder I'll speak.
I've been scolded and told I was born a racist.
Because my plumage is snow white.
But I've never painted a black person a thug.
I only judge by how one leads their life...
My heart has always been with the underdog.
Until they revived Jim Crow law
until they ran their mouths
shouted me down
kicked my heart about
like a rusted tin can.
I've been muzzled for endless months.
via a masked campaign of corruption and deception.
Been quarantined -jabbed again and again.
With marginal medicine and shady remedies.
They've threatened both livelihood and liberties.
My freedom and right just to be...
They've treated me as an animal.
Branded by their political blade.
Across the nape of freedom.
For the sake of power and
the God almighty dollar-
My Second Amendment is always under fire.
From the rose colored, self-righteous rioting crowd.
Now I wear a perpetual-conspiratorial frown.
My tongue inflamed with high-caliber rounds.
You've poked the eagle-ruffled its nest.
Now it's been fully awakened by the blowtorch
You've rammed inside its once peaceful head,
Its long dormant talons slowly unfurling.
Honing its beak on the starry stone of liberty...
Because for decades you've force-fed it.
A concoction of plastic-philosophical blues.
Now it's crowned in a shade of blood red.
It flies even higher and calls ever louder.
Because you've poked it -prodded and mocked it.
Until its patience completely bled out.
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
He wore a hoodie, she had an attitude
He wore a hoodie
So you immediately assumed he had a weapon
He wore a hoodie
So you immediately assumed he was on the way to a drug deal
He wore a hoodie
So you thought he was hiding something
He wore a hoodie
So you thought he was a good for nothing criminal
He wore a hoodie
So of course your racist self would assume he was a thug
He wore a hoodie
So of course your racism is showing
She had an attitude
So you labelled her as rude
She had an attitude
So you saw her as aggressive
She had an attitude
So of course you called her ignorant
She had an attitude
So of course you called her uncivilised because she paid you no attention
She had an attitude
Because she didn't smile at you
She had an attitude
So of course your racism is showing
He wore a hoodie
Because he wanted to be invisible
He didn't want to be judged
He didn't want people to 'mistake' his facial expressions for an act of violence
He wore a hoodie
Because racists criminalised his skin colour
He thought he could hide
He thought this was the best way to survive
That was until they shot him and then he died
She had an attitude
Because she was instructed from when she was old enough
To not make eye contact
To be emotionless
So they wouldn't see her as a threat
Which could possibly end with her death
She was exhausted
She had an attitude
Because earlier that day on her social media
She received a comment
Calling her slurs
Using the hard 'er'
She had an attitude
Because it didn't matter if she was smiling or frowning
They would always label her a threat
She was tired
She knew no matter what she did
She would probably be followed and murdered
He wore a hoodie and she had an attitude
For protection against racism
But not matter how hard they tried to please the system
In the end they couldn't win
All because of the colour of their skin
BILLIONAIRE BLAIR AND POOR PIPER
Ice cold world, late night rain fog,
Thought I saw, coming at me, a lone thug.
Certainly a sin for a billionaire like me going to meet
a friend at late hour, walking off this street.
Then I met old wraggled poor Piper,
Out of the fog, crawling up on me like a viper.
Then I said to homeless poor Piper:
"Aren't you cold outside, you're not even wearing a coat!"
He replied, "I don't have a coat,
I'm used to rocking my own boat.
The cold got nothin' much on me, I'm used to it.
Enough fire in me to power my head to my feet".
I said, "Ok.Wait for me, I'm going home to get you a coat."
My words of assurance kept Mr Piper's hopes afloat.
Got to my penthouse and got really busy there,
forgot about the poor man who's lurched in dispair.
The following morning, I remembered poor Piper.
I rushed out to locate him but found Piper's corpse
Due to the cold, and then from my eyes tear drops.
But Poor Piper left me melancholic short notes:
'When I had no warm clothes, I had mental strength
To fight the cold, survive and go on at length.
But when you promised to help, I clinged to your promise
And it killed my mental power, I couldn't but compromise'.
The corpse gazed at me, frozen to death with horrifying stare.
It's worthy to say that Poor Piper
wasn't killed by the cold but I, Billionaire Blair.
Vick Manuel Poetry {VMP}
Copyright©August2022.
You were a Man who had a tough exterior,
Even having street mentality your Heart was superior.
Like a Knight on a shiny steed,
You were there for everyone who
was in need and treated Women like a Queen.
Although the truth on why you were taken from us is and most likely shall remain a mystery, Inside of the hearts and minds of many You left behind your legacy.
You were looked at as a gold hearted Bear, Should anyone have messed with the ones you love you'd become a Nightmare and instill fear.
You now ride in the sky under a new label being dubbed a Guardian Angel, Your unborn child will be protected by those who you deemed faithful.
May you help your fellow Brothers and Sisters be mindfully at peace, Chyno The Thug Ryder may you always Rest in peace.
By: Shawn Munoz
Old Bobby lives next door to me.
I’d never been inside his home
till yesterday when he disclosed
why he’s alone and prone to roam.
Through tears he told me when he was
a well-known, wealthy businessman,
his greedy, grasping wife and sons
came up with a horrendous plan
to plant him in a six-foot hole
and claim the life they’d long desired.
They’d lived quite well but wanted ALL
the money. Then the “thug” they hired
turned out to be a cop. They served
long prison terms. He moved the day
he learned about their treachery.
Heartbroken, Bobby lost his way.
He spent his hard-earned money at
the poker games and liquor store,
but that was many years ago.
He’d find a better path, he swore.
This satisfied old handy man
now shuffles on from job to job.
He makes enough to live the way
he chooses. I admire old Bob.
His story’s not unusual.
Some people value money more
than lives. Thoughts of their evil make
me dizzy, shake me to the core.
Date: August 21, 2019
Contest Title: Bring a Character to Life placed 2nd
Sponsor: Richard Lamoureau
Once upon a time, I was a beautiful queen, innocent and radiant.
Sparkle with beautiful gold and diamonds.
One of Africa’s top models.
Until they come from different lands and cultures.
Raped me, took my innocence, and made my children slaves.
They stole my children’s inheritance, emptied my fruitful uterus.
My children know to take only what they need.
Respect me and always be grateful.
Doing the rain dance to say thank you.
These evil people left their spawn behind.
Plundering, taking everything that is rightfully mine.
After years their reign was abruptly stopped.
A new boss was coming from prison.
My children thought they would finally be free.
That he will fight for them and me.
Unfortunately, he was providing for his own needs.
Let the world believe he is a genuine king.
He waited until he accumulated enough to provide for his family and
himself.
Threw my kids for the wolves again.
They are name and shame.
“Kaapse kleurling”, “Colored. ‘Malou”,
Not rightfully as Khoi-San.
They fell into despair, why is life treating them not fair?
They fought for him to be free but he only provides for his people’s needs.
Then he gave his title to someone new,
He visited more other countries than worried about his own.
To him, charity does not begin at home.
Incompetent indeed lifted out the seat,
But why replaced by a thug who only sees to his greedy needs?
Married every year to a new woman, thinking with his and not his brain
Had a clown as his sidekick who barks at the wrong trees.
Saying stupid things while stealing millions.
For years they were raping and betraying me.
Until he was caught wanting to sell me out.
Now I am governed by an entrepreneur.
Who thinks he is smarter than all the other oppressors here.
My children endured so much pain and disappointment.
They are looking for a cure.
Seeking the answers in a bottle, needle, or pipe.
Fighting each other daily with knives and guns,
Gone is humanity.
I pray that one day they will come back to reality.
That greed is not the answer but Humanity is.
Open grave, but didn’t die just omitted
Storms on conflict and conditions apply
A Mother gave birth
Goodness of Earth
A Mother who didn’t want nor care
Death knocked hard and the conceiving at the same time
Someone was going to lose out
Death loss the battle
A Mother who never took the time to know her child
She was too busy having fun and didn’t want to be among
Love never was home, and love not having a heart
Plenty of uncertainty and drowning at the surface
Mystery through the wonders
Tears would fall like waterfalls growing up
Felt like an ugly duckling
Having no purpose
Thinking a promise denied
Raised through the Grandparents theory
This is where good and plenty became the story
Teachings in my wonder years glory
A child’s life from beginning to present feeling like an inspiring novel
Refreshed life with committed words
Friendly breezes whispering not alone
A Mother who was Ghetto quo
Additions of although
From complexity to simplified
A child could have become a Ghetto Thug and become a Jail factor
It turned out to be a different approach in subtractor
Yellow brick road of positivity
A Mother who the child doesn’t love, but gives respect
A child’s life well put in
No pretend
Life Almighty
Through the boundaries of pain and suffering
Preparation granted
Living the the way it was intended and created with a purpose.
...The two toughs turned, both their eyes went wide,
then as one they stared in laughing,
“Look at this fool, he thinks he’s a cowboy!
I think his head must’ve taken a rapping.”
They advanced with their blades, not worrying,
from the look of him they judged him insane
Maxon had seen this often before,
modern folks often saw him this way.
He took aim at the thug on the left,
and fired a slug straight into this knee,
the enforcer went down, screaming aloud,
the other thug froze in disbelief.
Maxon pointed the gun, carefully took aim,
the thug dropped his blade and sprinted away,
behind them both the beaten man arose,
he sputtered, unsure of what to say.
He looked at Maxon, his horse and his gun,
his white hat and his vest and his spurs,
he said,”W-who are you? How can this be?”
Everything about it struck him as absurd.
Maxon said,’I’m a man who had many sins,
committed so many years ago,
but the Man Upstairs thought I was worth saving,
so this is the life that I now know.
“This is what He chose to be my fate,
Mm way of paying back all of my debts,
I know some day He will say it’s enough,
but that day has not happened just yet.
“You are not the first that I’ve had to save,
but I warn to you to make better choices in life,
because in fourteen decades of doing this,
I’ve never saved anybody twice.
“Get out of this town, away from those thugs,
from the vices that have taken their turn,
most criminals don’t end up like me,
they just get tossed in the pit to burn.”
The young man just nodded, too stunned to speak,
then scampered off past Maxon’s horse,
he prayed to God that his words had hit home,
then with a heavy sigh, altered his course.
The burning in his gut had subsided,
no more shooting would be done this night,
so Maxon loped off on his ageless stead,
to continue his long, ordained ride.