"backpedaling" poems
Manipulating information
To craftily plot your lore
Is necessary if you want
To continue an information war.
Specific example: Deny Russian
Collusion and interference in
U.S. elections, and do not stop
Seeking info that you can spin.
After months of denying Russian
Cyber attacks and election meddling,
Then admit the possibility
Through a little backpedaling.
Say that well…maybe they meddled,
But hastily add: so did others.
Say you'd still end all queries
And probes if you had your druthers.
It's vital, of course, that you keep
Bashing the press. Be sure to accuse
Investigative journalists
Of making up tons of fake news.
Finally, say the Russians will
Interfere in the U.S., and that's
How in elections this November
They plan to help the DEMOCRATS!
Why? Because you're so hard
(Wink!) on Russia. You'll be winning.
Your fawning fans will eat it up,
And you will have all heads spinning.
Your friends on your favorite TV station
Will help you criticize and demean
Those who don't agree with you.
Praise to your propaganda machine!
Who cares what the world thinks?
You've got your fans; you've got your base.
There's no match for a stable genius
Who says to the world, "In your face!"
-by Bob B (7-25-18)
Jul 25, 2018
Jul 25, 2018 at 10:21 AM UTC
I want to plant foothills by the stairs. Broad basins on the chipping white paint. Flaking from the ceiling in droplets. Watering the drought of steps of vacated conversation, inner tongues flicking pleasured thoughts. Touches sprawled on black sand paper are compressed by our synced footsteps. Intertwined by laced fingers and hungry thrusts. Backpedaling to the peak, it causes cautious urches. The snowy ridges still chipping off, lips sealed together puzzled by whom will break first. Or if the sprouting seed inside is blooming in the other……….I still can’t figure out when you walk down the steps.
Mar 26, 2013
Mar 26, 2013 at 11:18 AM UTC
The papers are wet with ink.
Russia is losing it's war.
North Korea is swamped with the Covid.
Tucker is backpedaling his replacement theory.
Finland and Sweden are enrolling.
Armament shipments are making a difference.
The Pope is apologizing.
That needs repeating: The Pope is apologizing.
(But why stop with the Aboriginals. Consider the Jews and Irish).
Fossil fuels are on the decline.
(plastic microchips are in our fat)
I can still buy Roundup.
Tobacco is banned in most public places here.
*** is not.
There are more drunks, and more behind bars, and in front.
We have safe injection sites.
I have robots asking me if I'm a robot.
There are more tv stations selections.
TV is not worth watching.
LPs are making a comeback.
Right to Life is Wrong for Many.
... and on... and on
May 17, 2022
May 17, 2022 at 8:59 AM UTC
like backpedaling on a bicycle, after getting my bags and
burning the rest of the kisses you stole from me, you ran
back into me, making my life chaos and showing this ridiculous
front you painted on your face like clown makeup smiling
effortlessly acting like i didn't bleed you out of my veins, like
i didn't train my heart to swear under an oath not to paint you
back into my picture, maybe you know what i'm talking about,
nothing is perfectly in order for me and the tables turn before
i get a chance to come to a realization that the traction between
us is like fingers against a chalkboard, it's back and forth constant
fear of these red strings i can't seem to cut with my safety
scissors as fingers and i am a small miniscule vessel at war with
this violent storm mother nature sheds onto me, coloring
me in blue and black war paint but i will fight back this time
and i will not teeter on the edge and prevent biting my tongue
- kra
Jan 15, 2014
Jan 15, 2014 at 2:28 AM UTC
Maliciously backpedaling, every ripple of pain is a direct puncture.
This tirade is short lived, even before I see the light.
We’ll be fine, for the reflection off your pearly whites,
Gives and ambiguous notion of assurance that serenades my emotions.
To an extent, I rejoice that this distance fills the void,
For weighing us both down would be sinful.
But there is no silicone strong enough to fill every hold.
And this is why my apology rings even louder.
Like a setting sun on the Long Island Sound,
Our harmony asserts superior beauty,
Or a mirror image of what happiness is to be scripted,
Only our act in this Broadway still awaits.
Taps reminds me of our fragile wall,
But doesn’t cover my emotional Spouts.
Stubborn at times, and never with warning,
You’re ruthless, yet gracious, explosion remains unseen.
I long for the opportunity, where this violent
Number reaps no fallout and instead translates to love.
A world where pugnacious affection is welcomed,
We battle with only the weapons of fidelity.
Nov 12, 2011
Nov 12, 2011 at 5:25 PM UTC
“Hey there! Ain’t got no bad dog, do you?”
“Oh no. Just a chicken.”
His nonchalant shuffle forward
suddenly shifted to backpedaling swiftly on our sudden puddles without delay
His throat kind of froze
As he garbled “A ROOSTER?!?“ in great alarm.
“Yeah, but he’s out back, probably still hiding from the storm.”
Jun 3, 2020
Jun 3, 2020 at 4:55 PM UTC
Upon reflection,
we are the source of all tears,
as if naked,
alone,
in an infinite sea,
backpedaling,
breast stroking,
with a limitless blue sky
the only encouragement,
to remain afloat.
Dec 25, 2010
Dec 25, 2010 at 8:22 PM UTC
You write in emergency
But you cause yourself your own problems
Stop saying heavy words to just backpedal on it days later
Quit practicing backpedaling when you're not even a bicyclist.
Apr 10, 2016
Apr 10, 2016 at 3:32 PM UTC
the heat and i'm
sat out on the front porch.
night's still a few choruses away
and the shade's settling in
cooling things down and
bringing comfort in like it's a cool bed sheet.
my head, a mess lately and i wonder
is this the block i feared, silence internally
my writer's fingers frozen solid and nothing spilling?
it's not though, i know this. those words that breathe
inside
the ones that cover page after page and course like heat.
their there...shifting like clothes inside of a tumbled
dryer
reforming and preparing for a new season.
and i laugh, because what is this, if not the product
of such a block?
the backpedaling that plagues the silenced mind
and i am set to cast suspicion and doubt on an unruly
source.
Jul 3, 2016
Jul 3, 2016 at 5:38 AM UTC
Apologies for the apology.
The backpedaling from foolish mistakes.
Traversing the sincere to the desperate,
Watching this world crumble around me.
Sincerely though I'm sorry.
It gives me no right to expect redemption
Nor do I, for I know the damage caused.
And truly that's why I wish this apology.
Could do more than just fill air.
Apr 7, 2017
Apr 7, 2017 at 3:13 AM UTC
When I brush my teeth
I wish I could rip all of them out
Reach down my throat
And drown my stomach in Listerine
to exhale and feel cold air
rolling around my mouth
When I shower
I wish the water would devour my skin
To peel it away like acid rain
So that I could be blissfully naked
And clean once again
I imagine being able
To jump out of my bones
Like a fish swimming upstream
Against the winding current
Knowing it's headed home
Because even while devising lines
Of adjectives strewn together
I vividly imagine tearing fragments
of my hair to be born again
In a plume of Phoenix feathers
If I could crack my neck
and set forth a cleansing vapor trail
My backpedaling steps would vanish
In the path forward left unveiled
If I could step outside the line
of attempted perfection
Maybe I could change my perception
And face my reflection
But the problem is
I've learned to love this Monster
Through our constant battles
So even when I'm seeing clearly
I feel him near me
Sleeping in the shadows
Aug 10, 2019
Aug 10, 2019 at 2:34 PM UTC