En.Citatepedia^®.ro

Laughing in the Yard

A lad is stopped by roving cops, who shoot in disregard.
His face is black, he's on his back, a breeze is breathing hard,
He bleeds and dies, his mama cries, the screaming sky is scarred,
The sheriff and his squad at hand are laughing in the yard.

poem by Terry O'Leary
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Shot The Sheriff

By bob marley
I shot the sheriff, but I did not shoot the deputy.
I shot the sheriff, but I did not shoot the deputy.
All around in my home town
Theyre trying to track me down.
They say they want to bring me in guilty
For the killing of a deputy,
For the life of a deputy.
But I say:
I shot the sheriff, but I swear it was in self-defense.
I shot the sheriff, and they say it is a capital offense.
Sheriff john brown always hated me;
For what I dont know.
Every time that I plant a seed
He said, kill it before it grows.
He said, kill it before it grows.
I say:
I shot the sheriff, but I swear it was in self-defense.
I shot the sheriff, but I swear it was in self-defense.
Freedom came my way one day
And I started out of town.
All of a sudden I see sheriff john brown
Aiming to shoot me down.
So I shot, I shot him down.
I say:
I shot the sheriff, but I did not shoot the deputy.
I shot the sheriff, but I did not shoot the deputy.
Reflexes got the better of me
And what is to be must be.
Every day the bucket goes to the well,
But one day the bottom will drop out,
Yes, one day the bottom will drop out.
But I say:
I shot the sheriff, but I did not shoot the deputy, oh no.
I shot the sheriff, but I did not shoot the deputy, oh no.

song performed by by Eric Clapton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Shot The Sheriff

--chorus--
I shot the sheriff
--chorus--
Verse one:
I had to shoot the sheriff it was justifiable
He mistaked me for somebody who was liable
For all tha many murders l.a and war fields
We keep makin war shields
Streets keep souls
Young brothers loose control
I seem to maintain through this
Watch where ya kick it theyll put you in a twist
And it aint nobody like my down ass hommie
And tha police always tryin to pin some bullshit on me
I keep away from fools
They do crime and it attracts cops
Cops got guns and cuffs
And cells to stuff you in
--chorus--
Verse two:
They tryin to stick with some bullshit that I did not do
You know who
The boys in blue
There they go with they assumpitons
Slaverys over let us have somethin
Why you wanna pull me over?
Cuz Im bumpin?
I just made a new song
My profession is music
Your profession is protection with gats
Then use it on him when hes tryin to take my life away
Im just tryin to live my life today
So I keep away from fools they do crime it attract cops
Cops got guns and cuffs
And cells to stuff you in
--chorus--
Verse three:
I shot the sheriff
I didnt shoot the deputiy I didnt have to
Cuz in this game they always tryin to blast you
And leave it to tha cops to find out who did the murder
They harrase tha wrong clan and arrest tha wrong man
The hommie day-dog got strapped but thats okay
Cuz Im gonna work for life
So he can see another day
A hommies a hommie
A fake is a snake
Straight game from tha pen from tha hommie jake
So I keep away from fools they do crime it attract cops
Cops got guns and cuffs
And cells to stuff you in

song performed by by Warren G
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Earth Dies Screaming

A warm dry wind is all that breaks the silence,
The highways quiet scars across the land.
People lie, eyes closed, no longer dreaming,
The earth dies screaming.
Like scattered pebbles, cars lie silent waiting,
Oilless engines seized by dirt and sand.
Bodies hanging limp, no longer bleeding,
The earth dies screaming.
The earth dies screaming
The earth dies screaming
Your country needs you, lets strike up the band.
The earth dies screaming
The earth dies screaming
Despite all odds we must defend our land.
Half eaten meals lie rotting on the tables,
Money clutched within a boney hand.
Shutters down, the banks are not receiving,
The earth dies screaming.

song performed by by Ub40
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Triple Homicide

I'm glad the fighting's stopped
the house is silent
empty
this is how I like it

no yelling
no fights
no broken glass
silence

when they're both gone I'm happy
but when they come home
I go straight to my room
I try to be quiet
as I listen to music in the closet

the fight begins
there screaming
this time I hear my name
I ignore it
not wanting to join the fight

my dad bursts in yelling for me
my window left open he screams
he thinks I'm gone
I thought quickly
as my mom ran in

silence
silence
silence

my dad yells again
at my crying mom
I cry silently
as she's pulled from the room
screaming

I hear a gunshot and I jump
grabbing a pocket knife
from my jacket

the cries stop
then another shot
a loud thump
as a body falls

I climb out of the closet
knife in hand
blood pouring out my
parents bedroom door

silence

I open the door and see two
bodies on the floor
a gun in my father's hand

silence
silence
silence

then sirens
and cops coming around the corner
so I take the gun from my dad
hold it to my head
a loud pop
then
silence
silence
silence
t he cops would
call this a triple homicide
or double homicide and suicide
but I call this
a family
who needed help

poem by No Reason To Care
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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When you shoot a zebra in the black stripe, the white dies too; shoot it in the white and the black dies too.

South African proverbs
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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It seemed to me... that the only valid people to deal with crime were cops, and I would like to make the lead character, rather than a single person, a squad of cops.

quote by Evan Hunter
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Not A Poem

It's flush left,

The first letter

In each line is

Capitalized, and

I use a simile, but

It's more police report

Than poem.

At just past 7 a.m.,

On a Saturday,

My father slapped my face.

He slapped my face

Because I didn't eat

The scrambled eggs he made.

It was easy for him to slap my face

Because it reminded him

Of the people he hated.

He hated my face.

He slapped my face so hard that

My heart stopped beating,

I stopped breathing, my eyes

Bounced around in their sockets, and

My cheek was pushed hard

And deep into the empty space

Where a tooth was.

Then he quickly went back up to his room,

He was always going back up to his room,

And he slammed the door.

My face was numb, my arms went limp

And my legs buckled. I watched

The squares on the kitchen floor go up

And down. The bicyclists

On the wallpaper moved.

My heart became bloated with sadness.

More than ever before.

It dropped, like a water balloon

Falling to the sidewalk

From a second story window

With a never ending anticipation

Of destruction.

poem by Francis Santaquilani
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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From an Upper Verandah

What happier haunt could the gods allot
For loftiest musing to sage or bard?—
Yet I would that this upper verandah did not
Look down on my beautiful Neighbour's Back-yard!

I stir the afflatus: Descend, O ye Nine!
Let the crystalline gates of the soul be unbarred!
No. My thoughts will keep running in one fixed line—
The clothes-line that hangs in my Neighbour's Back-yard!

Let me gaze on the hills; let me think of the sea;
Of the dawn rosy-fingered—the night silver-starred:—
(What dear little feet must the owner's be
Of those stockings that hang in my Neighbour's Back-yard!)

Let me tune my soul to a measure devout:—
Ah, the musical mood is all jangled and jarred,
While things with borders, and things without,
Keep flutt'ring down there in my Neighbour's Back-yard!

Are the True and the Good and the Beautiful dead,
That I win not one gleam of Pierian regard?
(Does she suffer, I wonder, from cold in the head?—
Such a lot of mouchoirs in my Neighbour's Back-yard!)

Comes the fit. While it sways me, high themes would I sing!
Prometheus! Achilles! Have at you! En grade!
Alexander the Great—(oh that I were a string
On that apron hung out in my Neighbour's Back-yard!)

I will shut my eyes fast—I have hit it at last,
Now my purest Ideals flit by me unmarred;
And odours of memory rise from the past,
(And an odour of suds from my Neighbour's Back-yard!)

Ah, yes! when the eyelids together are prest,
Every vestige of earth we throw off and discard.
(These are flannels, I think. Is she weak in the chest?—
There! I'm looking again at my Neighbour's Back-yard!)
Since the Muses back out, let Philosophy in:
Let me ponder its problems cold and hard.
Ah! Philosophy dies in a celibate grin
At that bolster-case down in my Neighbour's Back-yard!

Oh shame on my rapidly silvering hairs!
Oh shame on this veteran battered and scarred!

I to be witched with these frilled—affairs!
Confound my neighbour! Confound her Back-yard!

Why seek for the blossoms of Auld Lang Syne,
When the boughs where they budded are blasted and charred?—
Faugh! the whole concern's too alkaline—
It's washing day in my Neighbour's Back-yard!

poem by James Brunton Stephens
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sister Friend, Why

Sister, Friend, Why!
Sister, friend, you are so beautiful.
Why do you let him put you down?
Yelling, screaming, hitting, insults, cries of pain.
Sister, friend, you are a child of God.
When are you going to let go and give it to God?
Start walking, run, don't turn back.
Jesus is holding His hand out, smile and say, I am free.
Go, sister, friend, positive energy, laughing, smiling,
Beautiful face, tall and erect stature.
Welcome back, there goes my friend.
Welcome back....

Adrienne Clark Strachn
For my special girlfriend

poem by Adrienne Clark Strachn
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Back On My Feet

How many days will the wet weather last?
I want know will the clouds
When they roll back
Reveal a man in an old mac
Living on a park bench
Sitting on his own?
Cut the rain as it runs down the glass
Eventually through the lightning and thunder
We see a man going under
This is how it happens
This is what he said
I dont need love
Though temptation is sweet
Give me your hand
til Im back on me feet
Youre always telling me about my misery
Ive seen things you will never see
Dont pity me
Focus in on the breath of a man
Who takes a brown paper bag
From his knapsack
Between his whispers and wise cracks
Hes looking for permission
Screaming at the sky
I dont need love
Though temptation is sweet
Give me your hand
til Im back on me feet
Youre always telling me about my misery
Ive seen things you will never see
Dont pity me
Ill be right again
Be upright without you
Ill stand up again
Kick up a fuss again too
Cut back again to a girl walking by
Until the feet that are all shoes and no socks
Climb an invisible soap box
Laughing at the traffic
Shouting at the world
I dont need love
Though temptation is sweet
Give me your hand
til Im back on me feet
Youre always telling me about my misery
Ive seen things you will never see
Dont pity me
Ill stand up again
Kick up a fuss again too
Ill be right again
Be upright without you
We see a life through the eyes of a man
As he live and he dies
By a simple tattoo
Ill be back again
When I land on my feet
Ill stand up again
Kick up a fuss again, wouldnt you
Well there you go, though we tried hard to know him
Its there on his face
Hes a case where theres clearly no hope
Give me your hand again
til I land again
His face starts to fade
As we pull down the shade
And the picture we made
Is in glorious cinemascope
Ill be back...

song performed by by Paul McCartney
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Mama Pelosi

The depths of shallow conquests,
Are as blatant as those of little boys and girls!
But...
Mama Pelosi is in the 'house',
Making sure no one slouches on their chores.
She's making sure this cleanup will be sufficient,
And no one is 'mama' going to ignore!
Restoring order is her main concern.
And putting the 'V' back into values...
Is what mama P adores.
All will learn!
And...
Those prepared to invoke jokes with pokes,
Are not laughing
At the hard hitting strokes of mama!

She's not there to play nice.
Prepared she is to exterminate all rats,
And field mice!
'The business is accountability! '
Are just some of the 'hints'
Mama drops as advice!

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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My Heart Cries For You

(words & music by sigman - faith)
If youre in arizona, Ill follow you
If youre in albuquerque, Ill be there too
Well have a little chance to start a-new
Because my love is endless for you
My heart cries for you
Sighs for you, dies for you
My arms long for you
Please come back to me
An unimportant quarrel
Is what we had
We have to learn to live with the good and bad
Come together da da da la dum....
This loneliness is driving me mad
My heart cries for you
Sighs for you, dies for you
My arms long for you
Please come back to me
My heart cries for you
Sighs for you, dies for you
My arms long for you
Please come back to me
Please come back, come back, come back to me

song performed by by Elvis Presley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Mama Liked The Roses

(words & music by j. christopher)
Oh, mama liked the roses she grew them in the yard
But winter always came around and made the growing way too hard
Oh, mama liked the roses and when she had the time
Shed decorate the living room, for all us kids to see
When I hear the sunday bells ringing in the morning
I remember crying when she used to sing
Oh, mama liked the roses but most of all she cared
About the way we learned to live
And if we said our prayers
You know I kept the family bible
With a rose that she saved inside
It was pressed between the pages
Like it had found a place to hide
Oh, mama liked the roses in such a special way
We bring them every mothers day
And put them on her grave
Oh, mama liked the roses mmmm
Mama liked the roses

song performed by by Elvis Presley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Drunkards (Story-Bullying)

There was three of them in an old pickup truck
After drinking all night at the GOLDEN DUCK.
As the sun was coming up they was screamin and cussin
As to what to do next - they was fussin.

When seeing this sixteen year old riding her bike to school
They started acting like the drunken fools.
They started screaming and howling and giving wolf cries
As the girl rode on by.

They wasn't just satisfied with their howls and cries
They wanted her by their sides.
They turned the truck around and cut her off
They was going to show her ' who was boss'.

They tried to grab her from the back
But she was prepared for any sneak attacks.
She had her guardian angel with her from heaven
And she had been learning KUNG -FU since the age of seven.

When the first one reached out to grab her
She grabbed his wrist and pulled his hand straight up and back
Till she heard his wrist crack.

As the second one came running up
A round house kick in his face
Sent him flying into space.

The third one came at her with a tire iron in his hand
As she crotched down and took her stand
When he was about two feet away and open wide
In his crotch her kick did fly.

All three men lay on the ground
as she picked up her bike without a sound
Put her bike on their pick up truck
With this girl they was s- out of luck.
Then drove the truck into town
and told the sheriff where they could be found.

They was charged with 'drunk and disorderly manner'
And on the high school there flies a banner.

'Protect yourself and don't give in
Being a bully you will never win'

poem by Louis Rams
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Celia

Cherry, cherry,
glowing on the hearth,
bright red cherry….
When you try to pick up cherry
Celia’s shriek
sticks in you like a pin.

When God throws hailstones
you cuddle in Celia’s shawl
and press your feet on her belly
high up like a stool.
When Celia makes umbrella of her hand.
Rain falls through
big pink spokes of her fingers.
When wind blows Celia’s gown up off her legs
she runs under pillars of the bank—
great round pillars of the bank
have on white stockings too.

Celia says my father
will bring me a golden bowl.
When I think of my father
I cannot see him
for the big yellow bowl
like the moon with two handles
he carries in front of him.

Grandpa, grandpa…
(Light all about you…
ginger… pouring out of green jars…)
You don’t believe he has gone away and left his great coat…
so you pretend… you see his face up in the ceiling.
When you clap your hands and cry, grandpa, grandpa, grandpa,
Celia crosses herself.

It isn’t a dream….
It comes again and again….
You hear ivy crying on steeples
the flames haven’t caught yet
and images screaming
when they see red light on the lilies
on the stained glass window of St. Joseph.
The girl with the black eyes holds you tight,
and you run… and run
past the wild, wild towers…
and trees in the gardens tugging at their feet
and little frightened dolls
shut up in the shops
crying… and crying… because no one stops…
you spin like a penny thrown out in the street.
Then the man clutches her by the hair….
He always clutches her by the hair….
His eyes stick out like spears.
You see her pulled-back face
and her black, black eyes
lit up by the glare….
Then everything goes out.
Please God, don’t let me dream any more
of the girl with the black, black eyes.

Celia’s shadow rocks and rocks…
and mama’s eyes stare out of the pillow
as though she had gone away
and the night had come in her place
as it comes in empty rooms…
you can’t bear it—
the night threshing about
and lashing its tail on its sides
as bold as a wolf that isn’t afraid—
and you scream at her face, that is white as a stone on a grave
and pull it around to the light,
till the night draws backward… the night that walks alone
and goes away without end.
Mama says, I am cold, Betty, and shivers.
Celia tucks the quilt about her feet,
but I run for my little red cloak
because red is hot like fire.

I wish Celia
could see the sea climb up on the sky
and slide off again…
…Celia saying
I’d beg the world with you….
Celia… holding on to the cab…
hands wrenched away…
wind in the masts… like Celia crying….
Celia never minded if you slapped her
when the comb made your hairs ache,
but though you rub your cheek against mama’s hand
she has not said darling since….
Now I will slap her again….
I will bite her hand till it bleeds.

It is cool by the port hole.
The wet rags of the wind
flap in your face.

poem by Lola Ridge
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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In The Ghetto

As the snow flies
On a cold and gray chicago mornin
A poor little baby child is born
In the ghetto
And his mama cries
cause if theres one thing that she dont need
Its another hungry mouth to feed
In the ghetto
People, dont you understand
The child needs a helping hand
Or hell grow to be an angry young man some day
Take a look at you and me
Are we too blind to see
Do we simply turn our heads
And look the other way
Well the world turns
And a hungry little boy with a runny nose
Plays in the street as the cold wind blows
In the ghetto
And his hunger burns
So he starts to roam the streets at night
And he learns how to steal
And he learns how to fight
In the ghetto
Then one night in desperation
A young man breaks away
He buys a gun, steals a car
Tries to run, but he dont get far
And his mama cries
As a crowd gathers round an angry young man
Face down on the street with a gun in his hand
In the ghetto
As her young man dies
On a cold and gray chicago mornin
Another little baby child is born
In the ghetto

song performed by by Dolly Parton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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In The Ghetto

(words & music by scott davis)
As the snow flies
On a cold and gray chicago mornin
A poor little baby child is born
In the ghetto
And his mama cries
cause if theres one thing that she dont need
Its another hungry mouth to feed
In the ghetto
People, dont you understand
The child needs a helping hand
Or hell grow to be an angry young man some day
Take a look at you and me,
Are we too blind to see,
Do we simply turn our heads
And look the other way
Well the world turns
And a hungry little boy with a runny nose
Plays in the street as the cold wind blows
In the ghetto
And his hunger burns
So he starts to roam the streets at night
And he learns how to steal
And he learns how to fight
In the ghetto
Then one night in desperation
A young man breaks away
He buys a gun, steals a car,
Tries to run, but he dont get far
And his mama cries
As a crowd gathers round an angry young man
Face down on the street with a gun in his hand
In the ghetto
As her young man dies,
On a cold and gray chicago mornin,
Another little baby child is born
In the ghetto

song performed by by Elvis Presley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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What my mama utters in her deathbed

She is dying of diabetes, all her organs
Malfunctioning
On sugared complications,
Except some portions of her brain
Still asking questions,

Where is Leonora?
She is in the office mama still working
And where is Betty?
She is on your bedside mama and she is crying
Why? Is she sad? Did she pay her debts to the china man?
And where is Marcelino? Mama he is in Nigeria working
On a foreign ship and he has no way of coming,
his company is
Not allowing him to take his leave,
But his wife is here.
I don’t want her here

Who are you? Mama, I am Ric your son,
I am your favorite, don’t you
Remember me anymore?
Hold my hand; I am seeing some ghosts of your grandpa and grandma
And they hated me, hold my hand and hug me, I am cold, get me a blanket
And where is your papa? Mama, papa will be coming in a minute, but he
Is still drunk, but he loves you mama,

Who are you?
I do not know you; I was never a part of your dreams,
Leave me.

Mama, I am holding you, you are not cold you are warm,
Mama, just sleep

And she goes away just like that, sleeping on a travel, just like that,
And Betty cries,

Did she love her? Did he also love her?

when she died, some of us were there,
but i know she would have been happier left alone
to figure out
death herself

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Grave of the Fireflies

The strong, brave soldier man
Marches off to war
One hand on a gun, resting from work
The other is bandaged with scars
Far away a woman cries
With photographs in her arms
She wishes she could be there with her baby boy
To protect him from harm
The daughter and the son
Mournfully dress in black
Because they know, although he’s not dead yet
He’s never coming back.
A fellow brother of the squad
Clutches dog tags in his hands
He’s just another soldier
Lost in the desert sands
And the little ones kneel
Beside their bed and pray
That they’ll see their daddy
Up in heaven one day

Dedicated to the families of fallen soldiers.

poem by Amanda Thurman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Come Together

One, two, three, four!!
Shoot me!
Shoot me!
Here come old flat top,
He come growing up slowly,
He got jo jo eyeball,
He one holy roller,
He got hair down to his knee.
Got to be a joker, he just do what he please.
Shoot me!!
Shoot me!
Shoot me!
Shoot me!
He wear no shoeshine,
He got monkey fingers,
He got hairy arsehole,
He one holy roller,
He say, "i know you, you know me.
One thing i can tell you is you got to be free."
Come together,
Right now,
Over me.
He bag production,
He got walrus gumboot,
He ono sideboard,
He one spinal cracker
He got feet down below his knees
Hold you in his armchair, you can feel his disease.
Come together,
Right now,
Over you.
(shoot!)
(shoot!)
(shoot!)
Ow!
(shoot!)
He roller coaster,
He got early warning,
He got muddy water,
He one mojo filter,
He say, "one and one and one is three."
Got to be good looking, he's so hard to see.
Come together,
Right now,
Stop the war!
(shoot)
(shoot)
Come together,
Come together,
Come together, right!
Come together, hey!
Come together.

song performed by by Yoko Ono
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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