Ratchet Poems | Examples

Different Whips

Lil mama in a Q50 infinity 
Known to handle drama
Pulls up any vicinity
know a broad in a Amg
we hit the drive through theater 
And we blow on trees
I know a hottie in a Beamer 
She fiends for the d
Trying to have my baby 
in a swooped up m3 
Another shorty in a Tesla 
Always smoking gas
Pulls up just to charge up
We loving in the back 
Now I’m in a jag 
This chick loves to brag 
Ratchet ass hell 
She ain’t got no class 
Mama in a v dub 
Fly mamasita 
Use to be my dealer 
Now she on flea
Cruising in a cooper 
I’m with a fine cougar 
Taught me a couple lessons
I call her my tutor
Freaky ass shorty in a 
Honda accord 
Open 24 she use to take me to store 
If you see me in a corvette 
You know she a war vet 
Every time she pulls up 
She meets me at my door step
I’m in a nine eleven 
Clutching on her thighs
Mashing like the dash board 
She texting with her man 
Big body hellcat 
But shorty was petite
Lets me take the steering wheel
While she gets in fleek
Lifted I’m in a tundra 
A dike mutha lover 
She pulls on all the females 
I’m with her in the summer

Sans Stilettos

Nancy took a tumble
And went falling down the stairs.
The slickness of the marble
Must have caught her unawares.

Yet who at 84 years old
Wears shoes with 4-inch heels?
Though since a hip replacement,
There’s a photo that reveals

That Pelosi, back at work,
Left her stilettos in the dust.
She’s sporting clogs, a look to which
She might have to adjust.

We all make compromises
As we ratchet up the years,
Though despite her new flat shoes,
She still will tower o’er her peers.

Overheard in the Ob-gyn Ward

   Hey, ‘Nurse Ratchet,’ handle with care! ~
  
     The next Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. is forming in there

Grateful for your Love-

Grateful for your love
Ratchet old cottonwood tree looks dried out and dead to me
Winters temperatures scavenger cold long Robin perched above
O' behold what a wonderful God who provides for them and us
       --Always

So thankful
I AM soul grateful for His love

2/11/24
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr © 2024

Gentrified

Ratchet Gentrification 
Sneaky Dislocation 
A People Sank Deeper Into An Abyss of Desperation 
No Lubrication....
In Summation....
Screwed... 
Without Consideration
of The Deprivation of Unaffordable Habitation 
Nostalgic Disintegration 
Of Memories Nesting in the hearts of Generations 
Shameful Demonstration of Humanity...
Straight up Insanity...
Sad to Say
Failure to Realize Damage Done Today...
Create a Price Future Offspring Will Pay....

Ma's Soup

'Dinner won't be long, Dear.'

Burt puffed up his pillows and squeezed one out.

'Better wash your hands, now'.

The armchair smothered his glee.

Wallaby faggots, 

Brown rice juices,

Lentils,

Barley and rye.



Jumbo  morels,

Whatever she sells,

Liquid fish stock,

Brussels and hock,

Tranches of offal from Thebes!



Chilly jam and

Fruity brown sauce.



Round and round

The rotten rump,

The rancid ratchet rasped.

'It must've been that onion jus',

Was all that I could gasp.



Round and round

The rotten rump,

The rancid ratchet rasped.

'It must've been that onion jus',

Was all that I could gasp.

Crossroads

Crossroads to where life began
Fear of dark cold round me again

In the twilight before the morn
Scattered grass iced, forlorn
Silence in the air ash orangy dawn
Fire burnt out like clouds in storm

Life in vain for a purpose lost
Empty pockets, wealths secret cost
Deamon woman in dress and frock
Promising warmth and unto a lock
Of hair as token for a dark ratchet
And chain that binds me
binds me, Dimond in shame

A voice to horse a cock to crow
A secret pact
That turns flame into snow
Frosted word said in delight
Was only a death raven in deaths final fright
 Cleansed faith leads fire into gold
 Flaming far below too tired to behold
 A stare  too long at likenesses 
of Medusa's state 
my heart turned cold ash stone of hate
The bellowing witch apon the air
Blaspheming deamon dog's a-bark
Unfair
Reminiscent of the dead fell lark
Scolding sweat pearls,
Dressed by earls
Jokers queens and kings horse driven cart
fear fast wet waged tears acids came
Between life death shame pride greed and blame.

I Must Be Black

Because once a time in a round mud hut
at the edge of the bottomless of pits,
I know that a three- or four-year-old roars with his gut
And he wipes snot with a broken jersey that barely fits

Because on the ratchet corners and bended streets
A growing child runs dust on tracks that gone bicycles drew;
And on his shined cheeks a laugh draws and sweeps
And he basks in the pastoral sun like a songbird and crew

Because the year is 2000 or 2001
And a child’s barely grown father must run to the city.
He must beg— (for working’s sake) ‘til pride comes undone—
The city that spurn him benches, toilets, parks, opportunity

Because ghosts of the ghoul that a people slayed
still lurk and parade office parks and boardrooms,
a child’s barely grown father must wade relics of Apartheid
In spaces of bigheads where he dances mops and brooms

Because a three- or four-year-old is now twenty
And the heirloom in his father’s stock is but lack;
I must work the same zero and struggle as plenty.
I must be black.

Socket

Comeback God sacked a craft sassed to last / 
Grasp no slack or sag with the rap slap/ 
Pressure the bag and tip of the cap /
Coder crack hat and lift that latch /
Off the docket and out the casket /
Almost a tragic trashed hit had him cashed in /
Dodged that tactic now have the out to last kit /
Hoss’s odds lodged a socket to play with any ratchet

This Thang I'M In Not That-No More Reality Please-

just jumped over the hurdles;
Been restricted down to the borders;
Now I'm even flowing further;
As my course is being laid out,
 transfigurated something was left out;
No more reality please
As my Uber ran out of gas;
And Google was lost;
I found myself ratchet covered in dross;
Unrefined on the internet intersection of life;
Abused abandon and without;
Nomore reality please; 
This Thang I'm in not that--

1/29/23
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr 2o23

Numb

I lost the closest thing to me
And it's trapped in my head
Wake numb to no emotions
It's feels like I'm dead
Knew love because he taught me
Still it ain't fair
How could love me and death take him
Nothing can compare
He always taught me to love others
Yet surrounded by snakes
In a world so cold and cruel
Yet still I can't break
Daddy told me don't let them get you
A hundred in my face
Lost a real one by an opportunist
God know the fake.
If I told you then it's deep
What I see in my sleep
Numb to what I want to do
To God my soul
He keep
Loyalty only blood my blood did he shed
Numb to this emotion
Can't wish he was dead
I got a child to feed any and all costs
He boasting she bragging
Claiming she boss
Game got so ratchet
God only take losses
If I spook on this emotion
The devil would see red
Numb to this emotion
I work go harder
Don't let her see me weep
Taking chances on others blinded loss
In my heart God see him bleed
No emotions

A Town Survives By Fishing Early Light

My horse's haunches sway,
Saunter up hillocks and down a valley path,
Above a ridge off and on: a village where some people fish,
Phosphorescent flotsam washed ashore. 

Green embers breathe as if through shriveled lungs.
Wax in contrast to the gloaming dark that's coming on.
Shrubbery shadows lengthen, enlarging blacknesses.
Crickets ratchet down their temperatures.

The earth cools in wan mirage.
Time lapsed, the stars make
A slow, quiet carousel of lights.
It circles far above us disengaged.

Wings of crows scoop pools of air,
Then dive down open maws
On tiny, furred crawlers shocked stock still.
Crows chalk their caws across the night.

A copse will grow into a stand of oaks.
The vintage children like to climb.
Gnarled limbs reminding them of fiction sailing ships.
Hand over fist to where the topmost rigging is.

For now, people and trees are bottled tiny on a shelf.
At dry dock like some whittled models are.
Until the oak is christened keel and frame
And of agers live lives and make their livelihoods at sea.  (9/18/22)

Twilight Settles In

Twilight settles in
     after the wind drops off
   when the lightning bugs
     flash on and off
   and the crickets
     ratchet up their screeching

   later, still as a cemetary
     ~ dead of the night

To Borrow, Means To Return

To Borrow, Means To Return
Miracle man
6-4-2022

I often lose tools through friends who hijack,
so if you borrow my tools please bring them back.

Missing tools can create a hardship when tasking,
and causes me, the embarrassment of asking.

Some must think age is a synonym for fool,
people I hire,(often innocently) take a tool.

A wrench or ratchet that remained in their clutch,
they don’t see a friend, but just soft touch.

I believe a person reaps from seeds they’ve sown,
my simple solution would be to buy their own.

Then they’d ask to borrow the money for that,
They never show up just for a friendly chat.

A Darling Love

So I embrace her with the arms of God ;
I sing to her but with the mouth of angels choirs;
Staring  at on horizon with eagle eyes;
 I walk on the water floating like swimming swans;
For she is the heart that I love;
Enhance future tense one day will fly above;
Like two sparrows rising high;
Ratchet raptured up alive to meet Jesus in the sky;


2/22/22
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr © 2022

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