#vandalism
a[ɛ]m I going psychotic in my **** mind
or ma[ɛ]nkind is on a deranged ride
[in fact, I prefer the word "humankind", but it doesn't fit with the rhyme pattern]
on an armored train? like that power-cray
North Korean son of a bo[ɑ]mb afraid
of his own ******* shadow, for it, ju[ɪ]st like
this cocks#cking fatso's order, is quite
terrible; on a reckless ride that's
go[ʌ]nna take
the highly developed kind back
fro[ʌ]m the age
of reason to the uncivilized past's
darksome days
["dark somedays"]
(probably the latter)
————————————————————————————————
should be in a mental asylum watched over (why?)
off my "meds" like some iron-grip jE̲rkwad
[the meds were mostly video games]
in power striking a wA̲r up
an indescribable U̲rge to wreak destruction & ******
[mostly lyrically]
as if I were a horse-riding enforcer of the Apo[ɑ]calypse or a
jihadist supporter of the IslA̲mist new order
heading to a spot with the public galO̲re to
turn up at; I'm highly avE̲rse to
autocracy, but tyrant-like to[—]ward a kindergartner-like verser
half-a## writers, conformers, & allies of usurpers
better put on something fire-sound or go underground
like the Camorra or Johaness Arnesson, fO̲r I
["for I" is supposed to be read/pronounced as "fora"]
[Camorra is a part of the underworld]
[Johannes Arnesson (Owl Vision) makes underground type of electronic music]
am, like when a living victim's hide's being bU̲rned to
muscles by a hob O̲r a cutting blowpipe, a fierce torcher
["torture"]
and if there were, like Ivan the Fourth, a
terrible tsar & a murker, like a hitman satisfying hit orders
[the reign of Ivan the Terrible is infamous for, inter alia, tortures]
for me to take my pick like a **** 𝑓𝑜[ɔ]𝑡𝑘𝑎
["pic."]
I'd, like the wight-like equine rider
direct my sight on the former (scythe); you hardly can stI̲r up
[Death, the pale one of the 4 horsemen of the Apocalypse]
a spark, I've come to the taiga & stI̲rred up
a violent inferno; while in the wilds, I've discerned a
couple of male old-timers encircled
by some guards & cam workers; a fire fiend, for the
restless mind is like a flamethrower
which this corruption-plagued world su—
—pplies with fuel like a "Flying J" servo
don't get this wrong, I can't be bothered re[eɪ]
which kai is fave by which state, but I'm afraid
autocracy is, in the China vein, on the rise today (on the rice)
but, for the sake of a fighter plane
laying f#cking waste to a ride or train
with an autocratic ******* aboard
what is a singular someO̲ne that ain't
a well-savvy hacktivist nor
a sick gunfighter, like Max Payne
to do when the disbalance between a civil society
and a regime in some abysmal auto[ɑ]cracy
is so grave there's nothing safe
and rock-solid, like a tungsten *****
to do to undermine this state
of affairs? apply the cre[i]do of yours
to whatever at which you are versed
that's why I'm engaged in my anti-autocratic rhyme crusade
[previously to this one: "punishment of an autocrat"; "надвигался 2022-ой" ➔]
[➔ "all the worst to autocrats" & anti-authoritarian fragments ➔]
[➔ of some other rhyme pieces published by me]
I might lO̲O̲k to be an evil-minded skate
now, but, seizing the opportunity
like some viced ***** gained
a role O̲f a rU̲ler with
an unchecked political might & aimed
at establishing a tight-grip reign inside the state
there's something I'd like to say
I hhhooock... thooo... spit on tyrants' graves
and graves of their compliant aides
without the slightest shame, I, like a crane for construction, raze
["raise"]
their heads—tones by a mace from the knightly age
bet taphophiles ain't gonna like the way
in which I behave; ones who're enviro-cray
better get fire squa[ɑ]ds awake like a rite that takes
place after someone's life has waned
wholly (a wake), 'cause I get mY̲ hands laid
on a pulverizer with spirits of wine & spray
it on those scheissers' grave—yards, then make
'em go, like the face of someone laughing so wildly they
are about to split their sides, ablaze
and I've barely gotten underway
lyrics-wise, I'm gonna give a harsh time
to a power-blinded, nazissistic go[ɑ]bshite
a sort of tea party which you'll no[ɑ]t like
'cause there's a billypo[ɑ]t rife with steaming splo[ɑ]sh I've
got in the pipeline, like oil, & will be pleased to slo[ɑ]sh right
into your filthy mug, swine, so here's a piece of a[ɑ]dvice
better get equipped with some wipes
and something chilling, much like
a horror game when you sit without lights
and with earphones on in the middle o[ʌ]f night
it may seem now as if I'm a kitchen cart guy
and you're at an eating spo[ɑ]t (why?)
'cause you're about to get served
scuzz, I'ma strike
a lyrical skewer through your mouth & your stern
just like a swine
————————————————————————————————
it is night-time, like the pre-enlightenment E̲[i]poch, but I'm
["knight time"]
like a ballista sho[ɑ]t flyi[—]ng
the target's way, in the open air & quite away
like an anthracite aflame/ablaze
["(a) vay" (Malagasy) - "(a) glowing coal"]
nearby the gates of your sublime estate
a mite ashamed to say this, but I might be ta'en
for the Russian state or the "Hamas" brigade (why?)
these premises are like Ukraine
or Israel, respectively, inasmuch as they
are gonna be violated sI̲m. to a victim of a ****** finna
penetrate your villa like the agent Fisher
[Sam Fisher from the "Splintel Cell" video game series]
which is gonna be made much quicker
than you, a[ɛ]nxious geezer, would make a lady stimu—lated I̲nto
the ****** state; your security system & lights are way
like a surgeon who's armless, they no longer o[ɑ]perate (ha-ha)
'cause I have an EMP device in play; the weather, by the way
is trash, raining, just like Hussein in his presiding days (trash, reigning)
but your cap-cladded daw[ɑ]gs remain
outside despite that & an adage Russians say
that a dog keeper that is mindful ain't
gonna let his dogs be outside at the time it rains
or when some other weather that's bad becomes the case
but thA̲t's, un—like the sign that's made
of metal & acts A̲s an
indication that it's a co[ɑ]p you face
not a bother; like a register that has an
["buzzer", in the sense of "police badge"]
abundant range
of info about a vile regime's pieces of crap having
rank slides, such as their addies, mug sho[ɑ]ts, & names
a specialist, the black-cladded
["special list"]
crusader from the Norsefire-tyrannized UK
in the Guy Fawkes mask strapped with
[V from "V For Vendetta"]
a blowgun with darts, like the pirate claimed
the title of an assassin
[Edward Kenway from "Assassin's Creed IV: Black Flag"]
by which I sedate those diletta[ɑ]nte[—]s ordained
to guard your place as I slyly make my ******* way
forth like a farcE̲U̲r coming out
of behind the stage
lock pick the door of your house
then walk inside like a pro[ɑ]mena[eɪ]de (walking site)
while touring around
the pretty so[ɑ]lid place
of yours, I encoun—
—ter your do[ɑ]xy draped
with a corse[—]let-like towel
not far away from the room in which you shower, bathe
with her bo[ɑ]dy shape, to one whose mind's unchaste
she's like a va—cant front seat to one whose sight's debased
hard not to try & take; but, given the time & place, I try to stay
away from these broad thoughts like an ex-cock-bawd (thots)
besides your inviting bae
like a ship-parking space nearby a pirate-obliging place
["inviting bay"]
I descry your maid nearby the kitchen-dinette; they
both get tranquilized, like someO̲ne who came
for a massage, & chained to pillars of a ba[ɑ]lustrade
with their gobs sealed with parcel tape
arrived a mite hungry, so I knife a slice
off of an icebox pie I came bY̲ inside
the fridge of yours, then eat it sE̲rved on
your high-cost plate
using your silver fork &
your table knife engraved
with a rhomb grid adornment
(some would think you're a perfectionist, like me when I undertake)
(rhyming like an Eastern person)
["ramen"]
(but, in accordance with what my mindset says)
(it's more likely you're just pretty corny)
(like rappers whose lines display their consumerism-governed brains)
(and whose body of rhymes is shaped in an unenticing way)
once the meal's finished, like a rival/fighter slain
in a "Mortal Ko[ɑ]mbat" fray, I leave your tableware defiled, same
as that pious place, in which ***** Riot made
a protest performance
pU̲t on, like that unashamed
co[ɑ]cky, a la desert soldiers
["khaki"]
autocratic swine that reigns in the north-east mo[ɑ]bster state
some high-octane tunes fro[ʌ]m a play—
—list of mine, then start to make your hideaway
[it's supposed that the EMP effect has gone by this time, so electronics are able to function]
look like it faced the wildest rave that mustered skates
who have, like a wrE̲cking ball
a disorganizing trait
towards stuff that's ta[ɛ]ngible
and are prone to territory-marking, same
as what's done by a[ɛ]nimals
or bY̲ street ga[ɛ]ngs
quite an effortful
jo[ɑ]b awaits your unlucky maid
or whoever you're gonna choose to invite & pay
in order to neutralize the may—hem caused by my stay
————————————————————————————————
such a misfortune you, *****
are away from your glorious castle
which is, like a brutal ******
that you are, looking nO̲[ɑ]t so
["nutso"]
glorious now if you look insI̲de, *** (ha-ha)
you stupid shI̲teball, ***** you, li̲ke bolts
Nov 20, 2023
Nov 20, 2023 at 5:59 AM UTC
Vandalism
an angry lens
a prism
focusing
on
an eruption
of mindless
destruction
Jan 10, 2021
Jan 10, 2021 at 3:04 AM UTC
What do my memories taste like? There lies on my tongue—
An atomic bomb:
a purported speck, with no chicken pox skin situated upon such.
I spat it out; I wobbled on and on, stomping the microscopic intensity into the sludge.
No one sees; how pleasant…
My shoe’s underside slit it— a paper cut broiled to the infinitude degree—
Preposterous conundrum! Slam!
I fulminate! I screech, the needy baby I am!
My guttural heave strews in the wind:
deformed limbs on the newer generations, an abysmal thread.
Supposedly bland, but then: a guzzling bleed from you and I gushes on and on; but oh, was it needed!
Listen to my writhing! Soak in my curdling roaring!
I am the mafia mastermind, but I plead to guilt!
The vandalism cannot be grated, but I will
revamp, spot clean, and hunt for a vaccine.
I cannot cure a scored scar, but rest assured:
I will endeavor to solidify the clot.
Aug 29, 2020
Aug 29, 2020 at 4:31 PM UTC
It was Halloween night but I had no candy.
But I did have an air rifle and it came in handy.
Because I had no candy, some punks started vandalizing my house.
Just because I shot them with my air rifle, people called me a louse.
I pumped the air rifle ten times and shot one of them in the *****
The **** juvenile couldn't walk back to his house, he had to crawl.
I put pellets up their ***** so that a valuable lesson would be taught.
Before they vandalize another man's house, they will have 2nd thoughts.
But the cops came to my house and I was the one who was placed under arrest.
Apparently it was illegal when I shot them in their ***** ***** and a girl's left breast.
Sadly, shooting the girl was an accident, I shot her as she was walking past.
After I got out of jail, her dad paid me a visit and put my arms and legs in casts.
There was a valuable lesson that those juvenile delinquents learned.
I shoot people who are vandals, that's why none of them have returned.
Oct 31, 2019
Oct 31, 2019 at 8:25 PM UTC
The love you paint in my heart,
looks more like vandalism than art.
Nov 7, 2018
Nov 7, 2018 at 5:15 AM UTC
Lean not on to me
O' dear one
I am weary and old
All day in the sun
Standing, bearing
The heat and rain
Abused and vandalized
Pinned with pain
My branches shade
To one and all
Now too old to stand
I am ready to fall
No leaves, no greenery
Only dead branches stand
Birds just pass by
As I am stuck on this land
An woodcutter showed
No mercy today
Chopped off all branches
And took all my pieces away
Now I am just rooted
Like an ugly dying pole
Wishing for a great storm
To release my tortured soul...
©sim
Jul 24, 2017
Jul 24, 2017 at 11:22 PM UTC
Let me be the drop of ink
On your ivory canvas
Mark you at the center
Through suction
Came your subduction
Not a claim against your sovereignty
Rather passionate vandalism
From a guest stopping by
To your milky temple
Jul 3, 2017
Jul 3, 2017 at 4:49 PM UTC
This morning, I went into your home
And hung up all the cobwebs
That I had collected.
I dumped a bucket of dust
All over the floors and kicked it
Into the air, making it hard to breathe.
I smeared the mud from my shoes
All over your brand-new carpet, thinking,
"I've done this before, and I wonder
If he will still forgive me;"
That's when you came walking
Through the door with a broom in hand,
And open arms for this vandal.
Oct 21, 2016
Oct 21, 2016 at 10:45 PM UTC
I suppose I could plead innocent to this crime,
But that would be lying.
After all, I knew exactly what I was doing
Each and every time I took you apart,
Ripping your self-esteem and sense of security down
With every cruel word I threw at you,
Like a game of darts with your heart as the target.
You tell me that despite having broken up with me,
You can’t possibly forget me because all your demons have my voice.
I suppose you hoped that would spark remorse within me,
And serve as some sort of proof that there’s evidence of what I’ve done.
But darling, I don’t think you understand;
That was my intention all along:
To leave an imprint in your life.
I’ve always been enamored by graffiti on public property.
I suppose destroying you
Was my way of imitating that;
Leaving my mark on something that
Wasn’t mine to begin with, nor to end with.
If it’s any consolation,
I’m not proud of the person I’ve become.
But at this point I’m afraid
It’s too late to try to change.
Jun 5, 2016
Jun 5, 2016 at 11:24 AM UTC
White walls blind us
Before we get the chance
To vandalise them
The sun's reflection
Is stronger than us both
And thus, we surrender
Apr 15, 2016
Apr 15, 2016 at 12:48 PM UTC
Breaking things is vandalism,
And vandals deserve a 6×9×12 cell,
But what of sportspersons?
They keep breaking records,
Mostly someone else's records,
And sometimes their own.
Shouldn't they be jailed?
Jan 6, 2016
Jan 6, 2016 at 11:51 PM UTC
i live
for messages strangers leave
on sidewalks
bridges
trees
i love
hearts carved into wood
names and dates
that may no longer mean anything
we leave a little piece of our souls
everywhere we go
Sep 13, 2015
Sep 13, 2015 at 4:03 PM UTC
Every day we come and go with the same bad habits hidden behind empty eyes. We litter the world with fake happiness and vandalize walls with angry shouts. When do we make the decision to be happy?
Jul 1, 2015
Jul 1, 2015 at 11:04 PM UTC
The lot is vacant,
My lot surrounds
The pavement.
We are not craven.
We'll smash and bash,
A thrill for me,
A thrill for us all.
The authorities are called.
Objects aren't built to last,
Why does it matter at all?
We're on the run,
Fugitives of a chase,
Before imprisonment comes,
We'll mutilate the place.
Originally written 11/12/09
Revised 11/22/14
(c) 2014 Brandon Antonio Smith
Nov 22, 2014
Nov 22, 2014 at 10:43 AM UTC