Poems by Jordan A. Leturgez

In the town of Springfield, mischief stirs,
Where Bart Simpson's pranks, his legacy reoccurs.
With a twinkle in his eye, and mischief in his tone,
He dials the phone, in his realm, he's never alone.

"Is Mr. I.P. Freely present?" he asks with a giggle,
His voice mischievous, his spirit never too little.
A master of disguise, his pranks unfold,
Leaving everyone in laughter, the truth untold.

From "Seymour Butz" to "Mike Rotch",
Bart's creativity knows no blotch.
With each call, a new character born,
In the world of his making, the rules are torn.

His laughter echoes through the night,
A prankster's delight, a mischievous sight.
In every call, a tale to tell,
Bart Simpson's pranks, a comedic spell.

So raise a toast to this mischievous lad,
Whose antics make us smile, never sad.
In Springfield's world, he reigns supreme,
Bart Simpson's prank calls, a humorous dream.

In shadows deep, beneath the moon's pale glow,

A teenage heart beats with a primal flow,

Through windswept nights and forests wild and free,

A transformation stirs within, a mystery.

The beast within begins to rise and roar,

A teenage werewolf, craving something more,

With hungry eyes and feral instincts keen,

A world of darkness, waiting to be seen.

The moonlight dances on his fur, alight,

A teenage werewolf howls into the night,

In wilderness untamed, he finds his place,

A creature bound by neither time nor space.

Beneath the skin, a battle rages on,

A teenage soul, a beast to be upon,

Yet in this clash of selves, a truth is found,

A teenage werewolf, wild and unbound.

So let the night embrace his savage grace,

A teenage werewolf running in the chase,

For in his howl, a soul that longs to be,

Wild and fierce, forever wild and free.

In the city streets where silence weeps,

There roam the gents without a cent,

Their weary eyes hold tales untold,

In their hearts, a resilient lament.

Their shoes worn thin, their pockets bare,

Yet dignity stands tall and true,

Amidst the chaos and despair,

A quiet strength shines through.

They navigate a world unkind,

Yet dignity they still uphold,

In every step, a silent prayer,

In every breath, a story yet untold.

For in their faces, you may perceive,

A beauty that transcends the pain,

A spirit that refuses to grieve,

A hope that dares to remain.

So let us see beyond the lack,

And recognize the wealth within,

For in these gents without a cent,

Resides a treasure, pure and keen.

In the heart of the jungle, where vines entwine,

There lies a presence so fierce and divine.

A sanctuary of strength, beauty, and grace,

Where the spirit of the female finds its place.

In the jungle's depths, she roams free,

A force of nature, wild and carefree.

Her eyes gleam with the wisdom of ancient lore,

Her spirit was untamed, a lioness at its core.

She moves with the rhythm of the earth's beating heart,

Her presence commanding, a work of art.

In her jungle kingdom, she reigns supreme,

A vision of power, a mesmerizing dream.

Her roar echoes through the dense green canopy,

A primal call that stirs the soul within me.

She is the queen of the jungle, untamed and wild,

A fierce goddess, nature's beloved child.

In her realm of shadows and sunlit glades,

The female jungle dances, never to fade.

A symphony of strength and beauty combined,

In the heart of the jungle, she forever shines.

Beneath the Roman sun, where sand meets blood,

Brave souls arise, in the echo of the thud.

Gladiators, forged in fire and in fate,

Their hearts beat fierce, their destinies await.

In armor glinting, they stand, resolved,

An ancient pact; their fates entwined, evolved.

With each fierce clash, the crowd's roar ignites,

A symphony of valor, of daring fights.

They dance with death, in a waltz sublime,

Each strike a story, a heartbeat in time.

Fingers wrapped 'round swords, bright with hope and pain,

They carve their legacies in the bloodied grain.

Faces marked by struggle, the lines of despair,

Tell tales of triumph, of love laid bare.

For in that circle, where glory meets the grind,

They fight not just for the crowd, but for what's left behind.

A brother's shout, a lover's name,

Each breath they take, ignites the flame.

For every fallen hero, a ghostly cheer,

Resonates with the dreams of the ones held dear.

Oh, magnificent warriors of the sunlight's grace,

In your savage artistry, we find our place.

You rise from the ashes, like phoenixes of old,

Our hearts entwined in the stories you've told.

When evening falls, and the cheers subside,

The echoes remain, and the spirits abide.

In the legacy of legends, where honor may fade,

The poetry of gladiators is forever portrayed.

In the heart of a city where shadows blend,

Lies a place where the weary find solace, a friend,

Club Solar, where laughter weaves through the air,

A sanctuary shimmering, a haven so rare.

Walls echo whispers of dreams long unfurled,

Canvas of hopes in a vibrant world,

The soft hum of life, a rhythm divine,

With every heartbeat, the stars align.

From beams of sunlight spilling wide,

To voices entwined like the ebbing tide,

In this gathering circle, we dance and we sway,

With the moon as our witness, we chase night away.

Here, poets and dreamers share verses and tales,

Each word like a comet that paints cosmic trails,

With ink on our fingers and fire in our veins,

We speak of the beauty, the losses, the gains.

Beneath the disco ball's shimmering glow,

The stories of past, the seeds we sow,

Together we rise, with our spirits ablaze,

In Club Solar's embrace, we wander in a daze.

For in this warm refuge, no judgment, no fear,

We find kindred souls, and our purpose grows clear,

With each whispered secret, each song sung anew,

We turn hopes into galaxies, timeless and true.

So let's gather our memories, a luminous feast,

Celebrate together, from greatest to least,

For Club Solar is more than a place on the map,

It's a heartbeat of love where we find our way back.

In the hush of morning light, they gather,

Soft whispers fold between the pages,

Crinkled tales of hope and dread,

The pulse of a world, fragmented, aged.

Ink-stained fingers trace the headlines,

A tapestry of stories, bold and brave,

Where sorrows are etched, and triumphs shine,

Each article a wave upon the vast grave.

In the city's heart, they spill like secrets,

Crumpled destinies in black and white,

A mother's plea, a soldier's testament,

Lives woven in newsprint's tight embrace,

Each word a lantern glimmers in the night.

The fickle hand of time races by,

While history's notes inked in urgency,

Unfolding humanity's fragile cycle,

A mirror reflecting our epiphany,

The chaos, the beauty, a collective cry.

But in between the stories spun,

Lies the quiet ache for things unsaid,

The love unspoken, the dreams overshadowed,

Voices lost in the silence, blood-red.

Oh, bearer of truth, hold us dear,

For in your embrace, we are both alive and dead.

So as we sip on our coffee's warmth,

And scan the stories that paint our day,

May we remember the hands that crafted,

Each line a heartbeat, each phrase a ray,

For newspapers cradle our very essence,

A testament to those who dared to say.

In shadows deep, a father's betrayal lies,

Like a tempest brewing in a stormy sky.

Once a beacon of strength and guiding light,

Now a figure shrouded in deceit and blight.

A daughter's heart, once warmed by his embrace,

Now aches with the wounds of his disgrace.

Words once spoken with love and care,

Now twisted into daggers of despair.

The bond they shared, now torn asunder,

By the cruel hands of betrayal and thunder.

The pain, a heavy burden to bear,

As trust and love dissolve into thin air.

Yet amidst the darkness and the pain,

A glimmer of hope still remains.

For wounds may heal and hearts may mend,

And broken ties may find their mend.

So let us hold onto hope and grace,

And seek forgiveness in this bitter place.

For though a father's betrayal may sting,

Love's enduring power can still bring healing.

In twilight's shadow, where time softly fades,

I ponder on life's wandering serenade,

The dance of years, a melody so fine,

A poetry of staying sharp in old age.

Once sprightly, I leapt through youthful days,

With vigor and fire, in naïve displays,

But now, the gnarled hands of time embrace,

A humbling reminder, life's gentle grace.

Oh, let me ponder, let me intertwine,

The wisdom of years with this heart of mine,

For age is not defined by count of years,

But by the depths of wisdom one reveres.

The mind, a blade, once quick and keen,

Can still forge pathways through the silver screen,

Each word, a chisel, to sculpt stories untold,

Breathing life into memories, bright and bold.

With every verse, my spirit takes flight,

Defying the encroaching gloom of night,

The ink, a potion, preserving the mind,

Shielding it from the ennui of mankind.

So, let me sharpen, let me never rest,

For words are my armor, my very best,

And as the sands of time continue to pour,

I'll thrive in the beauty of forevermore.

I'll tether my thoughts to the poet's quill,

As I dance on the precipice, spine tingles still,

For within this rhyming tapestry I weave,

The essence of youth forever I'll cleave.

Now, as I traverse life's labyrinthine maze,

My poetry will guide me through the haze,

Staying sharp, I'll wander through endless times,

A testament to the old age's prime.

May my verses ignite fires in others' hearts,

Fanning the embers, rekindling their own arts,

For in this poetry, we'll find unity,

Knowing that age cannot constrain the free.

So, let us celebrate the silver strands,

The wisdom that flows through our aged hands,

For within our souls, like a phoenix, we rise,

A poetry of old age that forever defies.

My emotions is flowing as deep as the ocean
But unlike most men, I don't want to be in the top ten
Every woman wants only a one of a kind
so I feel like i'm number one in my own mind

Heavenly father, I'm troubled. No One notices my struggles
How can I stay focus on the game when No One loves you
Over the years, it's like putting a cast on
While the pain keeps getting passed on

I asked myself where is God when I need him
Everyday I say forgive me father for I am sin
From morning to night, is everything alright
I have fallen until I have came out of sight

I only want the best and never settle for less
The only thing that matters in life is success
I'm blessed. By the god of the universe
My past is a memory just like the Converse

I got nothing but love for the ladies
I was raised by one, but she was so shady
Every woman in my life was like a queen
But in the end of the day, they're nothing but could have beens

I believe you must be born again, John 3:16 is true
The old life can be washed away, Everything made new
I try not worry about the past
Because the one thing I do know is that my honesty will last

You know it's hard to get a win
When everyday struggles starts over again
So when you know how to control your sins
Then your time of living happy will soon begin

When I was young, I was dumb at certain points
But I did avoid messing with any kind of joint
The man from above can judge me only
That's why there's only one Ballin' J-Money