Long Colombian Poems
Long Colombian Poems. Below are the most popular long Colombian by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Colombian poems by poem length and keyword.
The Don, the Boss, El JEFE, El Patron mas feroz.
Born and bred to relinquish the rules, exploit the fools, and elude the FEDs
Andando sin cuerda en los calles de Medellin, Don Pablo nacio con hambre y
sed "Pues Claro mijo, por que yo no soy ningun estrella bonito. I came to
conquer this world, an d steal from Los Ricos." He'd say, thus being his
mission objective.
Medellin, Colombian wasn't you're everyday plot of Land or tale of glory.
Mountanous landscapes, alarmingly temptuous women, and love stories.
Cocaine paid the drug Cartels en route to the most lucrative drug trade
Escobar swore that he would dig his own grave, if he wasn't a millionaire
by the age 22, so he stole and he killed with cold-hearted skill engraved
into the Soul of a man possessed by El Diablo mas bravo que el Fuego.
El nino Pablito, un nino de Cielo... Gano todos sus Exitos sin nada de miedo.
Yeah, yeah, yeahh. He killed, he robbed, his thrill was the mob! So WHAT??
He was a sick man, a smart man, could form a mile of sand into contraband.
He was N-U-T-S. Pues si, claro caballeros, mas que todo Loco pero mas que
nadien Astuto. He bought land, he bought planes, he negotiated business
just by the drop of his Name. I won't judge, and I won't budge, the fact is
the man made so much money that FORBES had to nudge, he was rated.
In retrospect, history teaches us many lessons concerning human behavior.
You take a man from any walk of life and fill him with a tenacious Ambition
and it won't matter how the chips fall, because if he isn't holding the Ace's
he's strategizing to rig the deck of cards, already ahead of the races. Look,
Im not the guy you puts these guys in cuffs, and I ain't the guy that honors
this stuff, But I will tell you this -- Pablo Escobar understood something that
the rest of the world won't, or can't. Fear in the presence of action can and
will override ruling powers and force their submission. Lo llamaron un "Robin
Hood", y El Patron De Mal. Indeed, he figured out a way to divide and Conquer.
Across the Atlantic ocean
They have a pedantic notion
Quip us Brits have a frantic lisp
Did slip..meant to say chip not crisp
Semantic antics causing a commotion
Misunderstand our land’s devotion
To the sensory explosion that is a crisp
So why the linguistic demotion
Respond to across the pond & beyond
Have donned a wig of blonde
Seem fond of being conned
They need to be told
The reason Brits abscond from the fold
Will break the mould
Skip this blip and let rip
A chip is hot and if not.. is cold
Such umami gold is actually factually
A crisp!
Our gung ho American foe
Will still crow..slimy Limeys
We’re the aficionado…so no bravado
Must surely know a chip is always
Made I’m afraid of purely potato
(unless I guess if its chips at a casino)
Displayed for trips in dips
Not just crud dud spud chips
Bud..could be made of wheat
Sworn am often torn
Could be swayed by corn
Synthetic aesthetic can’t beat
Heart attack in a pack food p*rn
If Polenta is the mentor.. its a chip
But if some parsnip you did flip
In oil then it is definitely…definitively a crisp
Got a hunch that if for
Lunch.. earlier at brunch
Or just for a munch
Thick or thin as a wisp
If it does go crunch
Then it’s crisp
Not being trippy.. dippy or too lippy
Don’t be hasty and haughty
Nothing beats..tasty treats
Seriously salty.. deliriously naughty eats
That's why we say crispy.. not chippy
P.S ..The only crispy beast feast
Where’s there is no hackling
Tackling or shackling
A snack as a chip or a crisp
No cackling…is when it’s crackling
Oops somehow a new row hatching..isn't
Fried pig skin..a pork scratching
But Colombian cronies are dispatching
Such phony baloney..there's no matching
The show ponies that are chicharrones
though you may not be a trucker
never have driven a semi with your CDL
never
ever
even thought of coasting up above the open road
putting thousands of miles beneath your cap
to the tune of
“east bound and down”---
you may have, in your short time on this planet,
walked into a diner &
ordered yourself up a deep cup of
trucker’s coffee.
strong & without ulterior motive,
the trucker’s coffee will stare you right in the eye
and tell you
“look man, you can either add milk & sugar to me,
or you can take me straight, but either way---
we gonna be waking your ass up!”
trucker’s coffee is not made by truckers,
its not brewed only in trucks,
and it certainly doesn’t come from some island that
only truckers can get to---
but it is an honest
drink---
you know it when you see it &
you see it when you smell it.
it doesn’t offer up the slightly bitter mystique of your
french roasted arabica or the pleasant aromas of
any of those classic
coffeehouse
concoctions,
it doesn’t even qualify as quality colombian,
but it may very well kick you like
kona.
mind you,
this coffee is not for the weak stomached---
it is not the light brown water that you get offered politely by your
neighbor,
when you come over to discuss the fact that their kids are
too damn loud
when they are playing in their backyard at the crack of dawn on
any given
work day.
it is brewed with the crappy water that only
diners can muster,
where no matter what tap it is poured from,
it still tastes thicker & harder than any water you
have ever sipped from another---
there may or may not be grounds still floating in it,
and it’s overall warmth may range anywhere from
scalding hot to luke warm,
but the fact remains,
at one, seldom changing price,
regularly falling below $2.00 &
free refills,
you can’t go wrong &
you will be awake
very soon.
https://www.thestar.com.my/news/world/2017/11/24/dog-abandoned-in-colombian-airport-dies-of-broken-heart/
Dog's Heaven
How sad for a Man's Best Friend.....
To have wandered all over in vain...
Lonely and lost in its abandonment..
Death exacts its toll, time finally to enter Dog's Heaven....
Poor doggy, listlessly wasting away each day....
Sniffing away air travellers coming her way....
Hoping to chance upon her master there at the airport...
Bewildered why her master was nowhere to be found...
Lost her appetite, worn out by its patience and its fading hunger..
Poor doggy, her heart yearned only for her master.....
When came the rescuers, they pitied and felt her misery...
They tried their best but cannot mend the broken heart in this doggy....
Now, all that remains, a requeim to remember this sad doggy....
Lost in abandonment, she had pined and suffered in lonely misery...
One solitary abandoned doggy, looking all over for its owner..
Lonely, hungry, miserable and abandoned, broken hearted in its silence....
What a sad ending, but a new beginning somewhere in Dog's Heavens.....
A new angel of a doggy, called back to duty in Dog's Heavens...
Brings to my mind, the melancholic tunes of the song Jealous of Angels....
There can be no other conclusion, this doggy has to be the latest angel....
Finally recalled back to join the others at the round table of canine angels..
But sadly here on earth, none mourn the ascent of this latest angel to Dog's Heavens....
Im scared of shadow people on the wall I hope
the phone dont ring at all Im locked down in this
cell better known as ****ing hell
Colombian plant supreme got me wanting to
scream got me wanting to scream got me
Paranoid like a feind Colombia supreme got
me wanting to scream got me wanting to scream
got me Paranoid like a feind
I love it and I hate it How it makes me feel this way nite and day
Cant escape the feelings from yesterday the pain and deppression
the overwhelming obsession the tales you will never know at my descression
Colombian plant supreme got me wanting to
scream got me wanting to scream got paranoid
like a feind Colombia supreme got me wanting
to scream got me wanting to scream got me
Paranoid like a feind
I feel it deep down in my soul this
white ***** finally has control I cant
escape the thoughts in my head maybe
im better off dead
colombia supreme got me wanting to scream
got me wanting to scream gotme wanting to
scream got me paranoid like a feind
It was something like night time;
half past nine o'clock and fully dark--
I remember how the winds blew,
the trees outside shook with winter
and it was cold for quite a while--
I watched how the frost nibbled
at the oncoming guests, none alike,
holding onto their gifts so proudly--
I wonder, what was even so important
that they would wade through snow?
The smell of grandma's home brew,
put my mind at ease, never bitter--
never once bitter, or too strong,
or too mild, it was as if she knew--
the troubles I would endure.
All my cousins, and their cousins,
uncles, aunts, nephews and nieces,
three and four generations together--
dishes and furniture would break
and all together, a hypocritical chant.
These pretenders and false believers,
like vultures that glide for a meal--
I shake my head, my hands tremble,
I long for rest though it is hours away,
another piece of cake and a smile.
Another sip of the Colombian blend,
the taste is sweet, my throat, soothing--
my lips feel honest and serene,
nothing can take this from me--
no, not even this empty crowd.
There is a great deal to speak of,
judgement is passed with the salt--
I do not wish to hear their voices,
for their problems are all my fault--
and I, must seal up like a vault,
more ripples in my cup of coffee...
The morning greets me with birds at my window
They peck at the glass,
they chirp and harass,
"The sun is up, the grass smells clean!
The flowers so pretty they must be seen!"
I pull the covers back up to my chin,
the cold cotton pillow feels good on my skin.
But the longer I lie here the more I realize,
the coffee is calling; I really must rise.
With eyes barely open, I saunter about.
The kitty is purring and happy as trout.
My shepherds come running, their tails wagging fast.
They want to go outside, and go running past.
I open the door and nearly knocked over,
They run off the deck and into the clover.
I walk to the table,
all dressed with pink roses,
waiting for barking, and kissed by wet noses.
I smell the aroma of Colombian beans,
my percolator singing, while I get on my jeans.
I'm feeling quite artful,
the day has begun.
The birds are still chirping,
the yard in full sun.
The coffee tastes great, and as I sit here,
the birds at my window, the cat in the chair,
there's one place that's calling, with north light galore,
just past the den, where Big Bear will snore.
My studio corner, my wonderful place,
where dreams are realized, and canvas to face.
The day has begun
It's a spring morning
-Mary Susan Vaughn
I LOVE TO HANG OUT IN THE ISLANDS SAILING WHERE EVER IT'S HOT
CAPTAIN AND CREW ON MY SCHOONER GOTTA MAINTAIN MY YACHT
I HAVE SOME BOAT NYMPHS, BLONDES WHO CAN PLAY
HANGING OUT TOPLESS ON MY DECK ALL DAY
I'M JUST A SAILOR HIGH ON THE BREEZE
GOING WHERE I WANT, DOING WHAT I PLEASE
LOAD MY YACHT WITH COLOMBIAN HIDDEN IN A PHONY FUEL TANK
SAIL RIGHT INTO MIAMI, THINK I'LL BUY ME A BANK
OPEN A RESTAURANT, THAT'S WHAT I'LL DO
OR MAYBE A BOUTIQUE OR TWO
I'M JUST A PIRATE TRYING TO SCORE
REMEMBER ONLY SAILERS GET BLOWN OFF SHORE
IT'S NOT JUST A JOB IT'S ADVENTURE
DEALING TO THE RICH AND THE POOR
I'M A TWENTYFIRST CENTURY LEGENDARY
ALTERNATIVE ENTREPRENEUR
LIFE IS FLEETING AND LOVE SLIPS AWAY
AIN'T THAT REASON TO BE HIGH ALL DAY
LIFE'S TOO SHORT TO BE WASTED
AND POVERTY SUCKS THAT'S MY CREED
ALTHOUGH I LOVE SLOW DANCING
I MUCH PREFER TO DO SPEED
MY NEXT ADVENTURE IS COMING TO ME
LOAD A THOUSAND KEYS ON A DC3
THAT'S WHY I HANG OUT IN THE ISLANDS
SAILING WHEREVER IT'S HOT
CAPTAIN AND CREW ON A MAXI
GOTTA MAINTAIN MY YACHT
WIND AND WATER AND THE SUN IN MY FACE
I'M JUST LUCKY TO HAVE FOUND THIS PLACE
I'M JUST A SAILOR TRYING TO HAVE FUN
YOU WANT PARTY FAVORS, BABY I'M THE ONE
Nurembered days
Numb
Dumb
The pain
insane
a breast to suckle
an ear to hear
walking dead
late but prayed
Gods fell asleep
Mortals played
tumors grow
Its the doctors show
Liver or die
Drink my dreams
or do I try
Lettuce and rabbits
seduction and undergarments
exposed in the rain
dancing in pain
rendezvous
cafes and empty tables
candles burnt
loves description like flames
fades away
easy to say
no one to sway
who the hell wants to stay
This world is red
This life is spoked and bloody
Emotions drowned in daily strife
Memories drift
like snow in the wind
Silent dreams
Erotic dancers
Colombian cafes
My head a daze
Long ago, when the piano was tuned
I was a player
I was formidable and great
now
I drink in the last call
fulk the life and I want the hell
do I cry in Belgium
Fabulous
I am not a nice guy
But the metro is here
so goodbye
Suicide tracks
and
Musical notes
chasing the hate of isis tears for fears
Butterflies trump ruby foo’s buffet
for tyrants rant
While fools become gluttons
Tapioca (Free Verse)
I’ll always be thoughtful and treat you well
Mi amor
If you want for food, it will always be there
Mi amor
I’d protect you from the gates of hell
Mi amor
Whatever you desire is yours
Mi amor
But you cannot have my tapioca
Feb. 6, 2003
The Knight’s Crusade (Villanelle)
Dearest damsel, thou art my life
If thou want for food, it will always be there
I will offer comfit and other gourmet fare
Whatever jewels ye desire I present to you
Be it Australian opals or Colombian gold
Dearest damsel, thou art are my life
The ravages of nature may threaten thee
But I’ll cool thee in the brutal heat
and warm thee in the bitter cold
I will slay where all the dragons dwell
I'll protect thee from the gates of hell
Dearest damsel, thou art my life
My strength and resolve to win thy love
I will defy the gods above
Until my labors bring fruition
all these enumerations that I have stated
I promise thee with all my heart
Dearest damsel, thou art my life
But thou cannot have my Tapioca
May 4, 2014
Makeover Contest Roy Jerden
Ralph Sergi March 26, 2015