Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Trefild Apr 12
no matter how he's telly-sold
in connection with the country he's running
the toilet hitter's hella cold
like in that game with hiding & hunting
he plays the calm, but so scared of what's
after he vacates the throne that makes a pol–
–troonish immunity-vesting law
not to mention a name he's all afraid to call
one making snow piles get taken care of; al–
–most like what one of the Kremlin primary hobbies
is about; things may go ball–
–istic like missile launching
off like the '99 bombings
it's that Navalny that bugs him
so much that he's gotten
put in–to a pen; enclosed
in it like an ink cartridge
a chain of events the whole
blue marble is watching
since that poisoning prior to the 2020 fall
"look, the pants of yours are on fire", - goes a decrier
"they aren't mine", - retorts the old-timer
bugged like the Kremlin halls by a sterling mole
every luster, every wall, even where you pay a call
hence a note: beware of jaw–ing, it's not safe at all
[jaw in]
call it Hunt in the game because/Ethan Hunt operation 'cause
it's duck soup
[hunting/eat and hunt; the Kremlin scene from the "Ghost Protocol"]
and yet there are still ones getting pro–
–Russian-TV-fed & those
not plugged in like a telephone
the whole point of the outrageous syst.
is in the Idokopas dwelling told
to belong to that ex-KGBist
[cagey/cage a beast]
[was] rather whelmed with gold
[had] a Las Vegas taste to it
by dint of a gambling zone
[had] a lounge with a stage equipped
with a metal pole
something's gonna get raised, a tip
like an extra dough
as a form of favor; get
some shots for a centerfold
if you fancy getting a prize (skrrt)/don't wanna end up empty-handed
but with jesting aside/jesting sh*t abandoned
he must think he's exceptional
to him & his men that hold
their henchman roles, all those nether folks
are nothing but expendables
Ylzm Jul 2020
Gideon with torches and trumpets routed nations
mightier and more numerous than his 300
Putin with the vanity of Trump and his believers
is now king of mighty USA without need for war
Àŧùl Jun 2020
It's such a beautiful feeling,
In my heart and my mind.
It's not a thought just fleeting,
In my life it's a deep thought.

I want you for my dear life,
Putting all my efforts for you.
I see in you, my future wife,
A trump card I found in you.

Together, we shall win this war,
You just keep loving me, my friend.
Together, we shall make eternal love,
Keep blooming, oh my best friend.
My HP Poem #1859
©Atul Kaushal
Shofi Ahmed Mar 2020
Buy the top guns in the world
now all in one same album.
Trump, Jinping and Putin
their ode to the public
now meticulously is one same lyric.
Get in, stay in, the home is big!

Believe it or not, it's big
Bigger than Times Square,
Palace Square or Tiananmen Square.
But how they are so sure
have they seen my home or yours?
Yes they say and surely not alone
in one voice they sing, love it
or loath it lockdown is sweet
they saw the next big thing.
Dare not follow their coronavirus lyric
it could be the grave the next we step in.

What we see now, what are we to learn?
When the Almighty wants to whisper
there can be no other power broker.
In no time the sky can turn upside down
and lo back to the basic home flies the lark!
Current British poet laurate wrote a poem on the same theme see below. Two poems eyeing on the current lockdown phenomena from a different perspective. His one is more consoling while my poem insists more on taking a note on our dependence on God.

The question is, comes a catastrophe and of course we should try to overcome it by all means. At the same time, we may pass on without diving deep, without downloading the attached massage that it may come with. We can just skim through the email. But how long can we survive before seeing another catastrophe unfold on us? Because we might be ignoring an attached message.

Lockdown by Simon Armitage
And I couldn’t escape the waking dream
of infected fleas
in the warp and weft of soggy cloth
by the tailor’s hearth
in ye olde Eyam.
Then couldn’t un-see
the Boundary Stone,
that ****-eyed dice with its six dark holes,
thimbles brimming with vinegar wine
purging the plagued coins.

Which brought to mind the sorry story
of Emmott Syddall and Rowland Torre,
star-crossed lovers on either side
of the quarantine line
whose wordless courtship spanned the river
till she came no longer.

But slept again,
and dreamt this time
of the exiled yaksha sending word
to his lost wife on a passing cloud,
a cloud that followed an earthly map
of camel trails and cattle tracks,
streams like necklaces,
fan-tailed peacocks, painted elephants,
embroidered bedspreads
of meadows and hedges,
bamboo forests and snow-hatted peaks,
waterfalls, creeks,
the hieroglyphs of wide-winged cranes
and the glistening lotus flower after rain,
the air
hypnotically see-through, rare,
the journey a ponderous one at times, long and slow
but necessarily so.
two leaders once met in Helsinki
for talks that looked somewhat *****
as it turns out
                still nobody knows
what they were talking about
and that indeed smells rather stinky
Apropos D. J. Trumps frequently confessed love for Putin and their kind of mysterious talks in Helsinki in July 2018.
Gary Brocks Feb 2018

Make me a room in the Kremlin,
Vladimir, make it nice,
for all the money I’ve laundered - but please,
no *****, soda water with ice.

Shower me with gold,
it's the least that you can do;
I’m having to flee indictment and jail,
for all I’ve done for you -

and, the deals I'll make with your allies,
the Chinese in time will be served;
that's where the money is these days
and where I’ve put my reserve.

Nixon said, “Money makes you ******,”
Coolidge, America’s business is business -
my mistake was made employing
a covering trail of family witnesses.

Should my children go to jail?
Or a father admit to the rap?
Make me a room in the Kremlin to live in,
save your asset from this trap.

Copyright © 2018 Gary Brocks
Next page