Crime
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Ten years ago today, four innocent people in a pharmacy were shot.It took just thirty something minutes for the murderer to be caught.The two employees survived but the pharmacist and his customer died.
When a surgeon had to operate on a man, she was pissed.She botched the operation because the patient was sexist.She learned he was sexist and botched the operation so that he would die.
Laying in bed,
Conflicted,
Sleep not entering your head,
Twisted.
Thinking of what,
Tomorrow brings,
Thinking of what,
Tomorrow could lead.
It's a Step up,
Have you ever did a crime?
Of wasting your time
Shut your mouth when you read this poem
Because if little one hears it will be poem crime
Have you ever did a crime?
Did you killed a person?
El eterno silencio
Es la muerte
A menudo decimos bajo este cielo
Donde los enemigos están en todas partes
Incluso entre matones y tontos
Death is
The eternal silence
We often say under this sky
Where the enemies are ubiquitous
I make money that is not real.I love to make counterfeit bills.I have a contact who steals the paper that the government makes.My counterfeit money looks like the real thing, I make no mistakes.
I was so angry that I wanted to give my wife a slap.She went to the mall and a baby was kidnapped.She kidnapped the baby because we couldn't have one of our own.
Playful naughty girl I was an innocent age,
I committed many crimes in my life
But I could only get through
Because of my innocent age.
So Let Me Quickly Advise That This Set of Rhymes...
Has Repetitive Lines For Those Who Don’t Like...
......... Reading Verse of This Type ............ !!!
So How Many More Times Will Humans Act Surprised...
Time was like water but you were like wine
Sweet ocean, bruised, black, and bleeding the times
Yeah, time was like water but you were wine
I cant remember when you were mine
I'm a stealthy robber
rummaging through your house
I walk past the long hallway full of trophies
I walk past the open safe on the dining table
I walk past the many certificates leading upstairs
Walking down the streets of my city
Fearing for my life
Fearing that I might not live until tomorrow
Fearing that I won’t be able to succeed in life
Ya Know ... Big Virge Words...
Are Built To Merge With ... " The Purge "...
As In The Flick That TRULY IS ... SICK... !!!
But Here's The Trick...
This Flick Has Some TWISTS That May Well PREDICT ...
At times
Certain moments
My blood boils at the very mention of your name
Does it make sense how easily you drive me insane
All I think is wrapping my hands around your throat
Is it Such A Crime To Speak Your Mind … ?
Because It Seems To Be If You're NOT WHITE ... !!!
I Hear This Said So MANY Times … !!!
"Virge, you scare folks with words you rhyme !"
A Report I've Read Today ...
Has Left Me Feeling Quite AMAZED ... !!!!!
Are You The ... "Top Man" ... ???
Or The ... "Middle Man" ... ???
Or The Man below Wanting To Be Them ... !?!
I'm NONE of These I'm Simply ... ME ... !!!
What On Earth Is THIS ... ???
SHOOTINGS Now In ... " Harvey Nic's " ... !?!
Students POLICING Campuses ... ???
DOCTORS Who Are Now HEALTH RISKS ... !!!!!!!!!!!
Bruising it with a knife
healing it with a cut
Brushing it with a sigh
breaking it with silence
Silence I hear it
so deep it could stop it
I'm scared of letting go
I'm scared to be free
What if it's not like
like what I've dreamed
Pathetic naive
that's not the least
Come on get out
get out of me
Respect is dying everyday !
The old dismay
cos' the young display
a lack of respect
in their crazy ways !
So ...
Pay close attention
this isn't wordplay !
Leaving London... ? I Can Understand Why... !!!
Cos Things Aren't Safe... On Streets At Night... !!!
MORE Gunfights... As Children DIE...
Why..... ?????
Metal rings placed
chains laced
around my
hands, legs, feet and waist.
How many times will I let this happen?
How many times can I let my family
be disgraced?
Aphrodite looked at me in the hall today/
she looked in my eyes/
she looked in my soul.
Aphrodite smiled at me in the hall today/
her smile lit me on fire/
and I am burning for love.
How is this news in a country where most of the youths don't know where their next meal is coming from?
All I have to do is paint a portrait of somebody being dead and he or she dies in real life.I've painted portraits of my former boss, my in-laws and I also painted a portrait of my wife.
Could You
September 11, 2018 ~ Tuesday
I’m gripping tightly
Onto that which makes me all I ever was and needed
The words I heard and heeded
The church bells all are clanging
Like the beating of a drum,
But still my heart feels empty
Like a sky without a sun
I tried to call the warden
To show him what I’d done
She needed someone to lead her out
of the fire
but instead she got folks who just wanted to
lock up the arsonist.
Was grabbing the perpetrator in a timely fashion
more agreeable than saving his victims?
It has taught me expression,
but not through hate, anger, or ridicule.
It has taught me to show my feelings,
without foul language.
It has given me an outlet,
to express my hate towards society.
You were my fellow soldier in a darkened city
and when we both got popped and dropped
and rolled over all bloody and gritty
and the cops came and asked everything
over sirens blaring: "what were you wearing"
The memory of the day it all went wrong:
she had been with her husband when
the ground was ripped from beneath her.
She was with her husband when
the detectives slapped the cuffs on him.
The question I ask myselfWhy they look at youAs if you're half nakedWhy they look at youAs if you're a piece of cake baked
Rainy days with a cigarette in hand. No better feeling
Outside water taps on the roof
In the living room smoke floats up to caress the ceiling
While the poet just sits. Aloof
Since when does one become "evil"?
Is it my pride that broods you?
Or my age of wisdom and fairness
No one
Not even my little sister
Could ever succeed?
Journalism was my focus
But nowadays media stories leave me hopeless
Oh, what a world!
When babies die, innocent lives are slain
A person can shoot up a crowd then plead they're insane
I see my people walking through the streets covered in a graffiti of shame and pain,
A depression that came from the time of apartheid,
Walls covered in memories of frustration,
It’s time to stop chasing the money, cars, clothes and society’s materialistic goals.
There is no stability in those nor Kim’s big fat homes.
Why not within your means?
Then you will see there’s more to be Than on TV.
She's breaking
quickly with each passing moment.
Her hands are shaking
for he is potent.
She's crying
as softly as a sleeping baby.
Her mind was blurred as she was lying
We live in a world where football is important
Where balls getting deflated get a fifteen-minute news segmentAnd military personnel getting shot by Al-Qaeda or ISIS get five
"Hello this is the Plum Wood Police Department. How may I help you?"
"I'm calling because there is a dead woman in the woods by highway 77. She has no face or eyes."
"Who am I'm speaking with?"
There are boots in the dark
behind him in the night
like the stone cold end
to a brave, stupid flight
The boy runs quick
as only a boy can.
This little boy
still thinks he’s a man.
The ugly duckling named vitor wanted to shoot up his ducling school because he had
no friends and he hacked peoples computers to make them shut down so he wanted to \
What makes you happy?
Is it waiting for innocent victims in a dark alley?
To rob them off their security?
Or is it waking up early,
And make your hands dirty,
As you toil for your family?
I hear piercing screams from the burning village.
From scared women, adults and underage.
Oh! The terror of this pillage!
I am standing behind the muzzle of a smoking gun,
And I can’t stop firing, “Bam! Bam!”
I think it's officially my lifeI hear original narratives and think of all the people going through strifeIt's plaguing their lives and here I am writing about my #FirstWorldProblems
~Spruce Street~
Loud and noisy
Neighbors talk and arguing
A playground two blocks down the street
The scorching fire of the summer heat
Dismannered teens
Runs on people property
I had a math teacher
When I was in eighth grade
We' d hang out at his house
And play video games
I thought it was a little strange
I thought he was weird
But, he let us smoke weed
They say he is a product
Of his environment.
Stastics show he will
Reoffend,
He will be regurgitated
By the prison digestive system,
Come in as ground beef,
Shit out, repeat.
Food.
Water.
Love.
Hope.
People say these things keep them alive. And they do.
They make life worth living. They give hu-
mans the spark they need to continue on.
But when they’re gone,
I have been beaten, broken, and blamed
I have been disregarded and ashamed
but by the digging through the light of the untamed
A crime each day
Took care of by people
What should we pay?
Should we go more to the steeple?
Why do we do such things?
How can we be mean?
Hear the church bell ring
I was one year oldCould barely see my toesthrough the fat thighs
I was barely three years oldCouldn't even see myselfthrough the mirror above the sink.
did you think to say "free my brother"
while he was doing his dirt
gang banging,drug slanging,and selling that work
you never thought to say "free my brother" of the chains he's bound with
Each one of them is a suspect,
The air is thick with suspense.
The verdict wasn’t decided yet,
So the anxiety of all is immense.
They all look so uneasy,
A man broke into my house and killed my entire family.Because of his corrupt lawyer, he was found not guilty.He killed another family and was found not guilty a second time.
One day I'll catch you pick pocketing my chest cavity.
I'll catch you reaching past flesh without calamity.
I'll catch you, hands stained with red taboo,
We watch this time go by
And maybe we grow
All we can do is sigh
And say, "Where did the day go?"
The Clock goes tick-tock-tick
And it just makes us sick
The way it perseveres
I discover myself contemplating my being
as I linger in an abyss of corruption.
Hiding from the mournfulness that intimidates me as I sleep.
I was never cherished, I was no favorite of anything.
(Situation in Ferguson, inspired by https://www.facebook.com/JayFleadaddieJon who wrote C.O.P,Criminals of Permission)
Note: A short story based of of the Warrior Cats book series written by Erin Hunter.
Why is love such a crime?
Why must people aim hatred towards love?
When a man holds another's hand they look away in disgust
The crack of a cackling bullet
Shattered the life and the sanctum of thought
Which held me up, assisted and created me
But left me when I needed it the most
The scream of a dying soul
He stared
into her beautiful eyes,
even as the tears
of slowly lost love fell.
But he did not care.
He knew what he wanted.
And he took it,
no remorse.
Blinded by
Everyday there's a crime in the body...
The killer strikes on whoever it needs
Never gives you a sign on the next person it feeds
When hurt or failed or pressured it bleeds
Bleeds the emotions that cause you to die
All color and warmth escapes
her skin
seeping into the
lush green grass that
softly caresses her
tear stained cheeks.
Cheeks streaked with
with dark paint that
Heating the cold
Braving the dark
Being bold
Seeking the unknown
Years pass
Memories fade
Gone; but never forgotten?
The old cliche
Stacks of files
Silent whispers
Read me
Bang Bang
3 o clock in the morning gunshots going off
Doesnt keep me up Im numb to it
Bang Bang
I close my eyes and go back to sleep
Wake up, and turn on the news
Wait... Stop... Please?
I beg you to reconsider
You're beginning to fade away
Already one foot in your grave
This life will get you
Pit you in the middle between lions and bears
The Seeing Man,
A chaste man displaced,
Saunters through life
Without a single expression
On his pallor white face.
The Seeing Man
Never utters a cross word
He feeds the hungry
How does he construe these thoughts
that make him act in heinous ways
Ways that few would dare to dream
for the fear of dark reality
How does he acquire his weapons
of greif and pain and evil
What's hard about being an american,
Is when I see a fellow brother begging from a can,
When people pass by just because they can, when they cant even spare a cent, when that could help with someone's rent.
Its crazy how mothers and fathers
Bury their children now days
One day they conceive em
And then their fading away
Out of your life
And out of your way
Got police knocking
At your door
You never had to hit my grandmom
You probably thought your shouts were unheard
So you smacked her until your hand throbbed
You never gave her love or concern
So know, we're better without you.
My community is not a community.
For I see and hear about more violence then anything else on my t.v screen.
Growing up in the jungles of New Orleans, everyone is for himself;
I once did wield
a sword of light
and a crested shield,
these I carried into fight
society's worst nightmare.
I gained, after long, the upper hand
a simple trade it were,
i have my own memories brewed with sin,i did it for my family and i would do it again,one day i spoke with god, i knew it was him,"Son im going to take you where few have been."he took my hand and appered before a huge mansion,dont explain yoursel
This is a money hungry nation and without it you can't succeed,
People havin to suffer for things they need,
Yet the priveleged prosper from their greed,
I'm stuck in quicksand while the rich go full speed,
Seventeen and in pain.
I swear im going insane.
Im living in a society where you'll never be accepted.
You better count your blessings.
You'll never be protected.
The city of “Brotherly Love”
By: Laura Hernandez
As our founder father had dreamt
The city of “Brotherly Love”
My only crime is my religion,
So my sentence is severe;
They’ll declare the death penalty
To my presence on this hemisphere.
They say I’ll have an impartial jury,
In this Land of the Free,
Tell me, Muse, of the boy with the red backpack
Walking with a swagger in the diversity-filled Queens.
Tell me how the bus would take him through the noise
To his serene, tree-lined block just off Hillside Avenue,
Countless words are left unspoken,
Tiny children’s hearts are broken.
The moon is faultless, bright as day,
Whispers are heard from miles away
People lye silently, afraid to die,
The Windy City
Where guns haunt innocent souls
This city is cold
The world claims to care
With more killings than the war
It is hard to sleep
Creeping through the silent streets
Hood pulled far over his face
Relishing in tonight’s take
He has fresh, warm blood on his hands
He isn’t shaking, completely composed
