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Amor Prohibido

Underground Poems

These are some of me all time favorite poems. If ya got one ya really like, and wanna me to put it up, email it to me!

-Dann Lewis

We are the night
It consumes our being
We reveal its delight
In sightless dark, we are the seeing

We cling to the shadows
And hide in the caverns
And beneath tranquil meadows
We frequent your taverns

We are the outcast
We prey in God's land
We, the sure and fast
We plot against man

We cannot stop the hunger
Our bark pales to the bite
We'll rip your place asunder
Because we are the night.



I shave my legs, I site down to pee
I can justify any shopping spree.
I don't go to a barber, but a beauty salon
Can get a massage without a hard-on.

I can balance the checkbook, can pump my own gas
Can talk to my friends about the size of my ass.
My beauty's a masterpiece, and yes, it takes long
At least I can admit to others when I'm wrong.

I dont' drive in circles at any cost
And I don't have a problem admitting I'm lost.
I never forget an important date
You just gotta deal with it, I'm usually late.

I don't watch movies with lots of gore
Don't need instant replay to remember the score.
I won't lose my hair, don't get jock-itch
And just cause I'm assertive, don't call me a bitch.

Don't say to your friends, "Oh yea, I can get her"
In your dreams me dear, I can do better!
Flowers are okay, but jewelry's the best
Would you look at my face, not at my chest!

I don't have a problem with expressing my feelings
I know when you're lying; You look at the ceiling
Don't call me a girl, a babe, or a chick
I'm a WOMAN. Get it you prick?!



Mommy... Johnny brought a gun to school,
He told his friends that it was cool,
And when he pulled the trigger back,
It shot with a great crack.

Mommy, I was a good girl,
I did what I was told,
I went to school,
I got straight A's,
I even got the gold!

But Mommy, when I went school that day,
I never said good-bye,
I'm sorry Mommy, I had to go,
But Mommy, please don't cry.

When Johnny shot the gun,
He hit me and another,
And all because Johnny,
Got the gun from his older brother.

Mommy, please tell Daddy;
That I love him very much,
And please tell Chris; my boyfriend;
That it wasn't just a crush.

And tell my little sister; That she is the only one now,
And tell my dear sweet grandmother; I'll by waiting for her now,
And tell my wonderful friends; That they always were the best;

Mommy, I'm not the first,
I'm no better than the rest.
Mommy, tell my teachers; I won't show up for class,
And never to forget this, And please don't let this pass.

Mommy, why'd it have to be me?
No one deserves this,
Mommy, warn the others,
Mommy I left without a kiss.

And Mommy tell the doctors;
I know they really did try,
I think I even saw a doctor,
Trying not to cry.

Mommy, I'm slowly dying,
With a bullet in my chest,
But Mommy please remember,
I'm in heaven with the rest.

Mommy I ran as fast as I could,
When I heard that crack,
Mommy, listen to me if you would,
I'm not coming back.

I wanted to go to college,
I wanted to try things that were new,
I guess I'm not going with Daddy,
On that trip to the new zoo.

I wanted to get married,
I wanted to have a kid,
I wanted to be an actress, Mommy,
I wanted to live.

But Mommy I must go now,
The time is getting late,
Mommy, tell my boyfriend,
I'm sorry but I had to cancel the date.

I love you Mommy, I always have,
I know; you know it's true,
And Mommy all I wanted to say is,
"Mommy, I love you."

-Charles Causley

I saw a jolly hunter
With a jolly gun
Walking in the country
In the jolly sun.

In the jolly meadow
Sat a jolly hare.
Saw the jolly hunter.
Took jolly care.

Hunter jolly eager
Sight of jolly prey.
Forgot gun pointing
Wrong jolly way.

Jolly hunter jolly head
Over heels gone.
Jolly old safety catch
Not jolly on.

Bang went the jolly gun.
Hunter jolly dead.
Jolly hare got clean away.
Jolly good, I said.


a sould no angels watchover,
a soul no devil will claim,
a soul that wanders all over
a blossomin field of pain.
a soul that longs only for Death's soft embrace
crying out loud to a pitiless face
fears not the reaper, satan of God
a soul now in chains, the heart hatred-shod
the shell of a jester
the shin of a clown
the lips curl up
the sould curls down
Death now appears and stands by my side
love disappears
sanity dies
me and the reaper
look down on the crowd
madness cuts deeper
and somehow, I'm proud.

-Robert Louis Stevenson

From the bonny bells of heather
They brewed a drink long-syne,
Was sweeter far then honey,
Was stronger far than wine.
They brewed it and they drank it,
And lay in a blessed swound
For days and days together
In their dwellings underground.

There rose a king in Scotland,
A fell man to his foes,
He smote the Picts in battle,
He hunted them like roes.
Over miles of the red mountain
He hunted as they fled,
And strewed the dwarfish bodies
Of the dying and the dead.

Summer came in the country,
Red was the heather bell;
But the manner of the brewing
Was none alive to tell.
In graves that were like children's
On many a mountain head,
The Brewsters of the Heather
Lay numbered with the dead.

The king in the red moorland
Rode on a summer's day;
And the bees hummed, and the curlews
Cried beside the way.
The king rode, and was angry,
Black was his brow and pale,
To rule in a land of heather
And lack the Heather Ale.

It fortuned that his vassals,
Riding free on the heath,
Came on a stone that was fallen
And vermin hid beneath.
Rudely plucked from their hiding,
Never a word they spoke;
A son and his aged father --
Last of the dwarfish folk.

The king sat high on his charger,
He looked on the little men;
And the dwarfish and swarthy couple
Looked at the king again.
Down by the shore he had them;
And there on the giddy brink --
"I will give you life, ye vermin,
For the secret of the drink."

There stood the son and father,
And they looked high and low;
The heather was red around them,
The sea rumbled below.
And up and spoke the father,
Shrill was his voice to hear:
"I have a word in private,
A word for the royal ear.

"Life is dear to the aged,
And honour a little thing;
I would gladly sell the secret,"
Quoth the Pict to the king.
His voice was small as a sparrow's,
And shrill and wonderful clear:
"I would gladly sell my secret,
Only my son I fear.

"For life is a little matter,
And death is nought to the young;
And I dare not sell my honour
Under the eye of my son.
Take him, O king, and bind him,
And cast him far in the deep;
And it's I will tell the secret
That I have sworn to keep."

They took the son and bound him,
Neck and heels in a thong,
And a lad took him and swung him,
And flung him far and strong,
And the sea swallowed his body,
Like that of a child of ten; --
And there on the cliff stood the father,
Last of the dwarfish men.

"True was the word I told you:
Only my son I feared;
For I doubt the sapling courage
That goes without the beard.
But now in vain is the torture,
Fire shall never avail:
Here dies in my bosom
The secret of Heather Ale."