Long Urbanme Poems

Long Urbanme Poems. Below are the most popular long Urbanme by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Urbanme poems by poem length and keyword.


Do Pets Die Here?

I met a little fellow; at the local shelter;
I inquired as to the where-when-and hows;
That were required to adopt him.
   Having demonstrated my ability to provide shelter;
  And income necessary to feed him;
  They proceeded to critique my way I loved and disciplined.
So I interrupted the Spanish inquisition and asked this;
If I’m qualified and deserving but lack the cash can I get the pet anyway?
Of course the answer was no and I commented how very human that seemed.
   That night on the computer; I found out Purina pet food would pay;
   My local S.P.C.A. was indeed on Purina’s list of participants;
   And while at the shelter I noticed all the food being given was from Purina.
   They denied knowledge of such an organization. 
Turns out I really don’t have the cash on hand that it takes;
And by the time I do poor little Wilbur could well be BURNT ASHES.
And me the senior citizen; becomes yet one more victim of pretentious bull-****
   This really wasn’t a poem now was it; but I don’t have a blog-site anymore;
   But I’m guessing not only can we take poetic license; but also express injustices;
   After all is it not life’s twits and turns that make up the jest of most poetry?
And now the piece of resistance people; this micro chip they demand is installed.
I’m sure there’s whole bunches of you all out there who will defend this;
But me I smell the stench of some ill conceived virus.
   Such a virus that could eventually take away our inalienable freedoms;
  A form of control and sounding much like; “Introduction to Big Brother 101”
  Tell me they won’t cross reference to find a “Criminal” or a “Christian” or?

Take it in the forehead; take it in the hand;
Don’t try to get away from it; there’s no way that you can.
    Give it to your pets for now; till we get it up and running
    It’s for the good of all of us; or we’ll maybe miss his coming.
Something’s happening here; but what it is ain’t exactly clear;
Me-I’m not interested; I don’t roll dice nor do I play follow the leader.
   So God bless poor little Wilbur; I’m sorry they caught you and I love you.
   I’m sure you deserve better then you’re getting; but forgive them they don’t know.


The Art of Storytelling

Facedown on the carpet I just knew that I would die, 
the red obscures my vision as the blood dripped in 
my eye,

I never saw it coming, tell me, how could I have 
slipped? But let me back it up a bit and tell you bout 
my trip.

My mother was the type who gave me food but fed 
me lies, the woman gave me life October 5th of '85,

while growing up I always knew that something was 
amiss, my 16th birthday's when I found out true lies 
do exist.

October 2K1 my goodness, it was such a time, I 
lived my life the 'seat of pants' way, out there runnin 
wild,

my b-day gift from Uncle Sal which I was blown 
away, a nickel plated 22 he called a 'throw away'.

Mom Dukes was straight addicted to a lithany of 
drugs, my father died absorbing quite a lithany of 
slugs,

I thirsted for the streets and no amount of love could 
quench, to now possess a firearm, it all now 
seemed a cinch.

I had some people over to the crib to celebrate, my 
little cuzzo Pop and plus my homies Rell and Nate,

we had the PS2 because that Madden game was 
heat, you know how things occur sometimes when 
you expect it least?

It seems that day my mother really snorted up some 
blow, she had assorted stains of snow which 
showed around her nose,

when Moms got high the sky could fall and she just 
wouldn't know, she also had a case of real loose 
lips because of coke.

Now everyone was chillin, plenty happy times for all, 
then Moms approached my Uncle Sal, the rising of 
my fall,

she then just spoke out loud enough for everyone to 
hear, 'Why don't you claim your son right now while 
everyone is here? !

The music stopped and pinheads dropped I'm 
thinkin who the F? Now cheery Sal with teary smile 
embraced me to his chest,

'I'm sorry it was done this way but yes there's 
sumthin true, I have 2 sons see Pop is 1, the other 1 
is you'

I fainted, dropped my brew and don't know what I'm 
gonna do.......

To Be Continued......
Form: Rhyme

The Funky Train 3

In the funky train,
 All the hoo-ha-noisy end in fisticuff;
 As the crumpled greenback hand-out cough,
 The law has nothing to handcuff, 
  
 Maneuvering on the sloppy storey hill
 A frantic dance of dead-drunk crazy masquerade;
 Man-handling the dare-devil by weary drenched soaked in
 talisman man,
 Springs from a ream hole in the floor
 Hand-shuffling on long iron pole gear,
 Wrestling with reckless white knuckles of steering wheel;
 A nipple for torch-light knob looking tough headlamps,
 A bare-face speedometer, a mare decor;
 Rear is bare, except fanning out putrid fart in
 defecating vulva;
 And a pumping brake failure refused to catch,
 Disaster looms down a glitch away,
 Marijuana induced braggarts, bang at the battered dent
 body;
 All acted in the climatic anti-climax role in the tragic
 play,
 As horn and side mirrors, villains make do,
 Ghastly farewell garland to stranded passengers on
 departure;
 Welcome to hellish shore of grimacing dismember carcasses,
 
 
 From the extinct scratched my backside please dense
 Bolekaja view,
 Stigmatized masses muck arranged tight,
 File in wooden slavery mule;
 And the pompous promise land looks a light years away,
 Now on the garish cold rusted cut steel,
 Buttocks crammed on planks for seats;
 Knees folded to gangrene stroke roost, 
 Pillaged and pilloried, rasped and gasped for a slice bread
 of life,
 Staled sweats seeped and poured decayed stench on forms;
 ***** squeezed queued on narrow alley,
 Romancing buttocks swell sips to bursting through;
 And the lushing rhythmic beating drum
 Re-enters lock and brake,
 
 Dilepa dilepa dilepa duro nube o!
 Omokunrin kan ti daran nube o!
 Ofowo kanmi loyan me solo!
 ofowo kanmi nidi me solo!
 Toku toku lona nkan boyi o!
 Komo ipe kolokolo lahere wa!

Ladder of Hope

I'm the livest survivalest
Some say I did it to death.
I feel like I'm taking my first breaths,
on this blessed quest.

Down south it's heating up.
Fire is burning.
With this knowledge I'm striving so much hire.
Prepared to earn more than ten armies require.

I'm the flyest, wildest, livest, survivalest.
Several times the devil tried to buy this.
He might as well call it quits.
This country boy aint selling it.

The ladder of hope.
I could float to the top, 
Alone on these tears of promise.
Forget Osama and Obama,
we don't need no more drama.

Slinging these stones,
if definitely crippling, 
its got me questioning 
everything...

From all lifes lessons
Good, better, bestest
Every piece is the one
that will carry me the restest.

Far from settling.
Even when I'm at the top
I will continue my quest 
for a higher notch

Between now and then
forward progress will never stop.
not till I take that 
six foot drop

Persistently, persuing, perfection.
Never let it rest,
Till your good is better,
and your better is your bestest.

I'm the flyest, wildest, livest, survivalest
several times the devil tried to buy this
he might as well call it quits
cause I'm not selling it.

Enjoying the little things in life.
Always thankful for what I've got.
Never worried bout what's not
when he calls I'll be in the perfect spot.

Always's grateful, but my searching hasn't quite stopped.
Hurrying, but not rushing.
Rung after rung...
Mind racing,  steadily pacing, my way,
rung after rung...
Feet shuffling, honestly hustling, positively bustling,
from time to time,
Shucking and jiving, persistently striving, and climbing my way
back to the top.
Rung after rung, rung after rung...
Form: Lyric

Shattered Hearts To Be Mended

Shattered Hearts To Be Mended

When we first met each other,
it was all fun and games
til' we took a better look
We knew we had to exchange names.
I couldn't get past you,
to the next block of New York Street
My mind was racing and my heart skipping beats.
I was stunned like a dysfunctional robot
with you in my view, as you approached me so politely.
We were building our book of memories
for those first eight months on 9th street.
as the heat between us grew stronger
affectionate but slow, what was lust turned into love
and it followed us to Henslow.
From henslow to 21st coming up from the dirt
things started getting shaky and soon enough, you were hurt.
I didn't hurt you intentionally.
but yet you still looked at me suspiciously
and said to me, "just when I was about to give you my all."
I broke your heart; it was all my fault 
I take the blame for the pain, that I caused you to go insane
Nine and ten passed and your mind was made up.
Month eleven then came; it was revenge just the same.
Of course, there's no such thing as good luck
so no evidence was discovered until the 12th month.
I had the worst feeling, which sent me straight to the morning of Henslow...
First knock, second knock, third knock...no answer, I got cold.
forth knock, fifth knock, sixth knock...
my body went numb and legs locked, as if I were going through shock.
my heart fell to the floor and shattered all over.
I couldn't pick it up, but I had to stay sober.
so, here we are, after the one year line...
after all is said and done, I'm still yours and you're still mine.



By: Aleasha A. Martin
Form: Rhyme


Thug, Outlaw, Infamous

I'm not afraid of jail
I'm not afriad of Hell
Im comfortable at home
As well in a cell
Disregard for every rule
Nickname me cruel
A.K.A. crazy
My rage never gets lazy
Is it obvious I'm so immersed in hatred
I have some sympathy inside me but nowhere permanent to place it
Lets face it 
Im a rolling stone
Bad like Michael Jackson(R.I.P.)
Bad to the bone
I think the devil fears me
I know He hears me
Eyes dry like the desert
So I don't get teary
That's probably why ghosts won't come near me
I chase down them zombies
They trudge away in fear but won't get away from me
I'm that evil
Yea that evil
Words cut like a knife
Yes sir my poems cleave you
Law enforcement doesn't deserve respect
Authority assassin
Watch closely as I grasp the FBI by the neck
People get so curious
As to why I'm so furious
Then they start to question about my rage's secret weapen
R.A.G.E. stands for Richard Always Get Even
This is way beyond realization
Beyond believin
I was bred this way
Anger entered my home with intentions to forever stay
It's ok
Because as far as I can remember glee and joy was scarce
A rarity
I used the rest of my happiness so I donated it to charity
As for dyin I'll be content to meet my maker
No love for any being
Girls call me heartbreaker
Guys call me headbreaker
Make them all pay for leaving me
How could this be
Which is worst: Being stranded
Or being abandoned
Maybe I'm just both
In-between
Pure mean
Go to either heaven or hell and do a one-man raid
I'm not afraid
Because I'm a thug, outlaw, infamous
me
Form: Rhyme

Fate and Fortune

This northern city with headlights-eyes
Has buried me in its cold and gloom;
You'll see this place in a dreadful guise
And once sweet home will seem a tomb
Once you're aware there's no way out,
Once dreams of youth say goodbye and grin.
It goes farther and makes me doubt
In all the things I have ever seen.
Its blood has turned into ice and snow -
It's endless winter in every heart.
The winds of grief never cease to blow,
The art of grief is the greatest art.

And once in this cradle of dirt and despair
A wandering stranger demanded my mind.
He asked me about this damned northern air
I'd better not breathe - I would leave it behind. 
He said: "I'm in love with this misery, miss.
Destruction is right what we need to create.
True art is in grief, I've been dreaming of this.
My yesterday's fortune's tomorrow's fate.
I know all secrets my destiny knows,
So this boring dwelling won't be a surprise".
I thought: "He's my twin, and it clearly shows".
That evening he opened my widely shut eyes.

A perfect stranger has built a wall
To be a shield from this gloom and lies,
From endless rains of this city's gall	
That falls on me from the shattered skies. 
The wave of feelings can warm the days
Of dull existence in Bitterland
And melt the ice in this rotten place,
In every heart that it's due to mend.
This northern city with headlights-eyes
Has turned us down in its nasty voice
And... brought together. We've paid the price
Of fate to fortune. We've made the choice.
Form: Rhyme

Second Half of Second Caution

I’ve been to tenements, town houses, towers and mansions
And there are people in each doing what I’ve thus far described as a mission
Sans commission
Walk through a neighborhood that ain’t so good
As you convince yourself you should, you could, you would
And the only other white thing besides me in such a habitat was a white neon light
While we junkies bow to and bless the night
That another day has ended until begins tomorrow’s plight
I’m telling you  people I’ve lived on the right side, the wrong side and the middle of 
the tracks
Praying for me to nod out and not realize a twelve car freight train is speeding my 
way
Because sometimes it’s just too difficult to suffer another day
Another day to go places where children are un-fed
Because daddy’s dealing dope and mama’s charging a john thirty bucks to  give him 
h**d
They hand me my dope and cursed the fact that he didn’t draw a gun
And then my life would come to a blessed end

I’ve seen, gone and done things none of you would dare do
and the mink killing lady over there, especially you
I’ve done things to my  body that shouldn’t be done
Unless, of course you set your course for a pledge a place opf peace, gentility and fun
Alas all too  soon you find that the fun has been replaced by keeping on the run
       Phreepoetree
(So Johnny or Tommy, you want to expend all the energy  having to keep up with a 
habit
Form: Narrative

And Now Her Kitten's Right Eye Just Fell Out, That Cannot Be Good

CHARMING AND ALARMINGLY DISARMING 
A seventeen year old white kid shouldn’t be in such a place
And shouldn’t be in such a lady’s embrace
Yet there strolled I in the darkness of desperation
And all too soon it  became a hazardous occupation

My eyes saw the midnight moon but it mattered not
I went there whether the weather was frigid or hot
Strolling among people so different than me
Yet the lady would not let any of us live free

My eyes widened when I saw what was straight ahead
A lady that could leave me comatose or dead
yet a seventeen year old white kid sat on the street
Craving in the cold and supplicating in the summer time’s heat

A seventeen year old white boy shouldn’t be there
And back then that lady filled people with fear
But I needed immediate relief only she could provide
As I continued to let the lady become my unholy guide

All those years ago among friends I was the only one
I headed for Harlem day by day while she had me on the run
Searching on corners and looking in bars
While a white boy in Harlem may as well have been on Mars

I was a stranger meeting strangers by the score
And had weapons drawn on me a hundred times or more
Because no matter what was happening the lady displayed her charm
And that lady, Ms. Heroin, grew more grievous with every shot in my arm
                © 2011.….Poefree

Silent Tears Amongst Him

As I sit here thinking this couldn't be true, he hits me yet again.... I fear for my life and for 
my unborn child. I see the anger building up slowly inside. I can't cry for he will beat me 
harder if he sees the tears, so as I sit here getting hit over and over again  falling are the 
silent tears amongst him. I think of the life that I had before I went back to the Thug Life. 
Where Blood's were the big issue and everyone turned their head as they heard the verbal 
abuse that he puts me through. Control is his goal and he had just that. Stripping me of my 
dignity and humility. God please let this all be a bad dream. I am just barely pregnant by 
him and yet the way he hits me is like he don't care. Embarrassing me when his homies 
come around, making me walk around in just a top as if I am just some trophy to place upon 
his wall. So scared to write, so scared to tell, so the silent tears fall amongst him yet 
unknown to him so that I don't get hit yet again. The simple thought of I must escape 
crosses through my mind and as I leave I continue to hold my rosary in my hand praying to 
God that if he just lets me get away, then I promise to do right and raise this baby through 
him.... Yet as I still think back in fear the Silent tears fall amongst him as they shall continue 
to do until I can break free of the fear.

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