Squatters Poems | Examples

A Multitude of Michaels

Inhabited by check and counterfoil,
my head is full of squatters – what a mob!
One Michael’s eager for his daily toil: 
another Michael can’t abide his job.

There’s one of me who’s frugal, prudent, wise,
and one you wouldn’t trust to walk the dog:
one version tries it on with petty lies,
while one’s as stable as a fallen log.

One talks like Robin Williams on a high,
but one’s as muted as a manatee:
so how can I my inner self descry?
Establish which, of all of them, is me?

Slab City

“Squatters’ Paradise”
contains concrete remains of
               an old training base
head west where trailer life reigns
          and vanish into freedom

1600 Sutton Lane

1600 Sutton Lane had not seen people for years
expect mice, raccoons, maybe squatters
why do this?
Why? Why? Why?

No one would go with me
Fearful of dying
I laughed
Halloween is a joke for me

A bet is a bet
this one would be lucrative
pay for wedding flowers
I was all in

first couple of hours were fine
a bit dusty
some sneezing
no big deal

a flash to my right startled me
it began to zoom around the room
an entity of some sort
my heart was beating overtime

blanket went over my head
I could not calm down
frightened to death
I am silent now

The Flood

NewArc.ai is an online service that helps designers turn their sketches into images in various styles such as photos and 3D renderings. Designers upload a sketch, choose a style, describe what they want, and quickly get a dozen of generated images.

It came in torrents and it came like a down pour 
drop by drop it filled the streets with water
Rivers of rain so heavy you can't see the floor 
cars floating by a bridge devoid of squatters

A reminder of a time when Noah did adhere  
with an arc full of animals, God's pioneer 
As water chaos drew close what we feared
was a land that we could no longer steer 

It came in sheets of wet, cascading down us all 
inch by inch it jammed the streets, we watched  
Some of us swam some of us began to crawl 
as we watched the storm kick it up a notch   

Recalling the events of the past I can only sigh     
as Mother Nature weeps another raindrop falls   
I am praying God sends us an arc without A I
we need a basin full of love, not Niagara Falls. 

Do you get the picture?

Haiku: Little Songs of Nature

"O blessed Java Sparrows mostly, the rare Opals then the plentiful Greys--palm frond squatters, and the ever so oft, Mejiro birds, a.k.a., the "Japanese White-Eyed," chartreuse bodied against the legendary red Lehua blossoms of the Ohia tree," ... by the Poet's House

Negligible motions, Java Sparrows,
haiku artisan, deep in thought, attends,
dawn break wings flapped--an idea narrows,
wake unassumed thoughtless emptied pretends.

Shelved packaged bird seeds feignedly addressed,
bird tray absence spilt seeds stretch, preached as well,
slight spread outwards, fashioned spawning impressed,
near and far, Meijiro's numbered midst swell.

Shunned Java Sparrows, aimless namesakes,
Meijiro's not pleased, their own--true Zero,
starved be-trayed craftsman sentiments opaques,
overburdened, labored--the birds, ditto!

Food fills the starving, and water quench thirst,
pleased chirps harmonize--receptive mind, versed.

Exile and Death

The price of decency in today’s world
Is the same as it has always been:
Your liberty or your life.

If you give a moose a muffin
After all
Next you’ll have to invite them in
For a glass of milk.
And we all know how difficult it is
To get a moose to leave your kitchen.

And so it goes for the illegals
Flooding the open borders
Or the squatters trespassing
Into empty homes
Or the homeless and hapless
Stealing and vandalizing with impunity.

If you’re a decent person today
The lawless will walk all over you.
And those who enable and encourage
Such lawlessness, remain protected
Whilst whistleblowers of all stripes,
From Julian Assange to Seth Rich,
End up in exile or simply dead.

There you have it.
Exile and death.
The future of human decency.

(3/22/24)

Trespasser

Pain you don't have squatters rights. This is not where you belong. So hurry up and pack your things. Disappear yourself, be gone. 
Why you came here to begin with, is something I don't know. You came here uninvited. Now I'm demanding that you go. The fact that you're not wanted here. Should be obvious to see. You need to quit trying to stall and get off my property.
If you don't go now I will have to take action of a different course. I'll invoke my anger and remove you from here by force.
Once you leave don't come back. Your squatting here has come to an end. Don't you ever trespass on my property again.

The Labyrinth of the Muse

There is no design wall to entrap the spirit
Inventiveness is born to last
free of prosody or syllable count
coordinated refrains hide bareness, a virtue
purity string belt for blooming worshippers
sleeping quietly in squatters' glades
who swoons poetry pads?

Fans will be amazed
that lauds syncopations of dazzling pleas
metaphors were constantly shaped and sealed
It's a sparse universe
for those who can't fly inside their walls.

Outside praxis, quill grows from seeds
creating a mental image not visible in a set
It's a voyage without doctrines.
the vibrations within rejuvenate the page
separate thoughts seek an upswing.

1st Place contest winner 


Written: March 16, 2022

A BRIAN STRAND 1090 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Brian Strand

My Favored Season

My Favored Season…

Exploding fragrant blossoms invite…
 flying newbies to share space 
squatters to temporary home 
buzzing news for the times.

Original poem: “My Yesterdays, Todays, Tomorrows”
November 30, 2020 
Liberum Divisa 3 Poetry Contest

What Was That

With sage hoot owl on his shoulder, the Jack-o-Lantern King
Scared off every goblin the haunted house could bring.
He gave them the wind, and the shutters popped and slammed.
The owl gave them an eerie hoot that scared the flimm and flamed.

There had been four squatters living in the King’s haunted manse.
Skeleton, witch. devil and pirate, who had electrified his fans.
They had been making supper when they got scared off down the lane.
The owl and the Jack-o-Lantern king enjoyed their fudgy sugar cane.

What do you think it was? The Pirate asked his comrades as they walked.
I have no idea, the witch said, but did you hear that terrifying squawk?
That popping gave me a headache, the devil said holding onto his crown.
The pirate said I do not know, but let’s not stick around.

Christiania

A hippieish community
You enter through a gate
Is Christiania, to which 
Some people can't relate.

Mosaic art is everywhere
And sculpture made from goods
Abandoned or discarded from
The outer neighborhoods.

A market sells necessities 
For credit cards or cash 
And Pusher Street (no photos, please!)
Has different strains of hash.

The residents inhabit
What began as squatters' pads
In varied styles of funky,
Though now home to moms and dads.

The lifestyle's very different 
From the city* right outside
But the Christianians see what
They've built with joy and pride.

*Copenhagen

No Chorus

3/13/15

To many my words were gloomy
But it was absolutely groovy
As I continued to speak truly
Whether or not it was seen as spooky

They said I needed a chorus
And help from the thesaurus
Or else it would effect my performance

But I wanted to paint my own portraits
With a style that was different from anyone before this
Considering how life is gorgeous
While traveling through enormous gorges
On the outskirts of the forests

As a young grasshopper
I poured out some beer from a can of lager
For my grandfather
Even though others continued causing manslaughter
Despite all the possibilities that this land offers
There are still places with bad water
And far too many damn squatters

It's fairly suitable 
To maintain relationships that are mutual
While pursuing energy sources that are renewable

Don't you dare be delusional
And speak to me about what is unconstitutional
Because that is inexcusable

Especially if you want to talk about the crucible
As if it is provable
I just look at you like you're unusual
But pay very little attention because this place is far too beautiful

A Talent Discovered

The pink haired,
queen of the runway,
couldn’t handle
spiders in her boudoir.

When flying arachnid’s
trapeze was disrupted
for the fourth time;
arachnid moved into her 
favorite hatbox and laid eggs.

Upon discovering the squatters, 
Pink hair’s scream and subsequent faint,
sent eggs flying everywhere.

When she came around,
she quickly mastered…
tap dancing,
without one single lesson.

Fold the Tent

Pop the top
and cut the cards
Pushing all your chips to the center of the table ...
Fifty large
You see a lot of mean bluffs,
and beads of sweat
on the side of weak hands
Maybe they know something
you're not supposed to know
But in a few tense minutes,
their fortunes will be gone
Shifted your way ...
sitting on the right side of wrong
They made a fatal move trying to fleece Mr. Card Sharkey,
wrong decisions can be costly
Time for you to collect the house rent,
time for the card squatters to fold the tent
Then go home to the missus,
and explain where the bank savings went
Chumps always think they got the best bluff scheme,
but they lost from the get go,
'cause hardcore gamblers ain't afraid to lose everything
You tell 'em sorry boyz, it's time to rise and exit empty
with lint pockets, 
wrists without watches and credit bent
It's time for this gypsy gambler to move on,
so throw him your car keys when you fold the tent

Squatter

there is a village where
everyone a squatter
everyone a traveler
no one is permanent
rich or poor none is
a child each person is
but all have no mothers
all do not have fathers
but each child is father
of  the father’s father
each child is mother
of the mother’s mother
yet no one is  parent of the other
the tag of imaginary parenthood
hangs around each neck
and yet none is orphaned
interesting that as squatters
squatting is a taboo for all

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