Short Hooligans Poems
Short Hooligans Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Hooligans by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Hooligans by length and keyword.
north and south
don't give mouth
we're Americans
we're not hooligans
black and white
must unite
only race
human race
now we call them thugs
they used to be hoods or hooligans
home invasions are their new playgrounds
selfish narcissistic dangerous creeps
no matter what we call them
Overcrowded prisons,
brings joy to early released criminals.
Taxpayers may be happy,
but there's predators at playgrounds,
rapists at bars,
stalkers, stalking,
violent hooligans back at matches,
abusers contacting their exes,
jealous lovers beating new spouses.
Mobs on the streets,
will only bring mayhem,
unless vigilantes rise,
whilst the police hide.
Who will protect the traumatised victims?
I see him being beaten
kicked
trampled
strangled
and
finally
killed
I keep quiet
because -
this was for the freedom of these
who beat, kick, trample, strangle,
and kill others now
and for these
who are beaten, kicked, trampled, strangled
my forefathers gave their lives
and died
earlier
and
this fallen one…
who is beaten, kicked, trampled, and strangled
has been cheering for
these hooligans
once
Scars been stricken on their face
The game is called, the green is dressed,
They shout, insult, drink and curse
(no rhyme of course, and seldom versed!)
We’re the blowing hooligans of the side
Swift and smooth as Jell-O Bratwurst,
Soccer warriors admiring the slide.
No matter who has lost or won.
Don’t you see the beauty of the game?
A seat, a bottle and that sissy figurine
Fly, knock, and hit any without a name
Till scars bleed on their face.
Each one of those hooligans is up for a caper.
I see the trees are filled with toilet paper.
They pelted my car with eggs in the driveway.
I should have parked it in the garage today.
The pumpkins are smashed in front of my yard.
That’s the typical mischief night calling card.
Somebody smeared soap all over the windows.
It is all the stuff that usually goes.
Those vandals must think all of that is dandy.
They will all be back tomorrow night for candy.
the wretched burnt-orange sun
beats down on my broken car
as she thumps mindlessly through potholes
with windows down
we gaze at clowns
and the derelicts
and the dirty tricks
as they crawl
across the pavement
the lively beauties walk
amongst jackasses and Gemini's
confused hooligans steal
from random pedestrians
to feed addictions
fulfilling a need, though
they mean you no harm, indeed
despite their transgressions
we're all devoured
by our own deceptions
Here I stand in the gift of time
The present, living in false evidence
My existence breaths between rhyme
Truth be told, facts I fold
Shame in shold' are hope's hands holder
Hideous hooligans hide heaven helps
Here I stand in time gifted
These are the last days scripted
Souls for sale, picture pervs pale
Righteous today's stale
Unfashionable statues walls
But this promotion isn't for malls
'Cause the devil's lies I comprehend
Watch presents I stand.