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Dog's head out of a car window
Jesus will save you on the bumper
what's coming around the next corner?
an oversized poodle in a massive jumper

Mrs Murphy's washing line's damp
cotton hanging saturated and forlorn
"******* to brexit" adorns a wheelie bin
the brown one containing stale popcorn

Straight road narrowing to angry bottleneck
a static metallic jam, day in day out
oldies remember when this was a field
when they lived for Saturday's twist and shout

Everyone's sinking in shrinking time
dashing and clashing, texting and vexed
endless queues to be a reality star
with limited talent you could be next

A rolling **** Jagger gathers no moss
a mother's pram always finds dogshit
ignorance is bliss for car horn offenders
caring not for others, not one little bit

I scratch my head when I understand not
confused, bemused when I walk the streets
people are strange, some are even stupid
they wipe ***** shoes on bus and train seats

What's it all about, this bizarre life?
ever stopped to think once in a while?
probably not, too few hours in a day
even without the ousted Jeremy Kyle

Sometimes I sip from a white tea cup
sometimes I gulp from a black coffee mug
rareIy I have sweet moments of clarity
mostly I live in a befuddled fug
Written after walking in my locality today
Yenson Aug 2018
Its a scam, its a scam, see the Crimson Gang deftly scamming them
They by sleight have befuddled gullible masses Moral Compass
Made them see wrong as right twisting their brains from the stem
With deceitful guile they shepherded them all to the fools' campus

Slander and fake News galore fed to vacant hungry masses scrum
Knowledge is power the reprobates declares, do not let it pass
We're the majority the bullies screams, knowing they're just scums
Worthless charlatans who rob successes and **** without cutlass

They take a foregone conclusion and coat it with fool's gold crumb
A victim with no intention of going after an uninterested lass
Dumb masses fed fake news fooled into harassing actions dumb
A non-event becomes a show of the controlling might of our class

Crimson gangs interpret a non-events from his deluded sad drum
Creates a warped sick drama round a hapless victim for laughs
Gives street theater actions to masses, these will oppose and numb
Whilst poor victim subjected to 'voiding' madness wonders past

The Crimson leaders laugh so much like pirates drinking ***
Look how we manipulate the masses, they are so simple and crass
With our devious twisting propaganda they eat out of our ***
We simply use them to nail and crucify our victim to the cross
Gang stalking is simply a form of community mobbing and organised stalking combined. Just like you have workplace mobbing, and online mobbing, which are both fully recognised as legitimate, this is the community form.
Gang stalking is organised harassment at it's best. It the targeting of an individual for revenge, jealousy, sport, or to keep them quiet, etc.

It's organised, widespread, and growing. Some describe this form of harassment as, "A psychological attack that can completely destroy a persons life, while leaving little or no evidence to incriminate the perpetrators."
rgz Mar 15
She shines like a rainbow at night
With a light unbounded and free
The bluebirds have all taken flight
Befuddled by her majesty

Her flasher coat and slapper heels
The Devil would break a thousand deals
And that, I did, for just a taste
Laid this lustrous creature to waste
It's a sick kind of respect
I met a girl at the market
Near the frozen foods
She reached into her pocket
She said she had some news

She tells me she likes roses
She speaks of things not real
She’s seems to be dramatic
But she’s got *** appeal

I ask her for her number
She asks me for a pen
Just tell me what the digits are
I’ll remember it in my head

After our encounter
I headed back to home
I got to fantasizing
What the future holds

I spoke to her this morning
We finally set a date
To meet out for some coffee
At the local neighborhood cafe

She was tentative at first,
She finally agreed
I picked her up at seven
In a limousine

She seemed to be befuddled
As to what was going on
I handed her some roses
Then told her to c’mon

We went and had a real good time
Her smile was infectious
When it was time for us to leave
I asked for her attention

I reached to kiss her on the cheek
It was then she started blushing
A simple kiss that’s all I ask
Our lips together touching

She agreed and so we kissed
Things started to get heated
It was then she bit my lip
Something I wish were not repeated

I took her home and said goodbye
Thanked her for a real good time
She said I’ll see you soon I guess
Maybe for some wine

She stole my heart
She robbed me blind
Inside my chest
You could not find
A heart that’s beating
Yenson Apr 15
They weren't born with a silver spoon
only an umbilical cord tied round their necks
alas this stopped enough oxygen getting to their brains
creating minds full of mumbo jumbo ideas and fantasies
and a bleeding wound that gives them pain without relief
reminding them all the time they are low and never good enough
cause they were born without a silver spoon on a dusty ***** track

It's a blemish that can never be erased
even with a million lucre they still feel small and stained
you can take them out of the manger not the shame out of them
they always believe and know that those others are better than them
with stunted-brains and raving-angst they never see the world right
its us and them burns the burning passions in conflicted sad minds
life long struggles for the struggle to find that silver spoon never had

Their leaders had a brilliant idea in time
mind without a silver spoon their brains always suspect
find all the silversmiths and **** them all and then nationalize silver
one called Stalin killed millions because he saw silver in their teeth
one Pol *** decided he saw silver in the educated and killed them all
this Chavez took all the silver and gave it all away now they are poor
and Fidel says we'll share equally but I and my brotha will only give

The Silver searchers in the some of the West
decided, we should just fight and talk and hold rallies and hate
all those born with the silver spoon must be punished to kingdom
but look says some, you can have silver if you only apply yourself
that's a trick says them of the befuddled minds and complexes bad
let's just be nuisances and hate and holler and torment and harass
Looking closely all their leaders had silver spoons but that's OK
Come on, don't be a sourpuss all the time, you gotta laugh while the revolution rages, We may not have silver spoons but at least we should keep our sense of humour, ain't it so, comrades.  Down with the Royals, no nookie for them, except Harry, Charles, William, Andrew, Edward, definitely NO to Philip and ehh......that black one......
Yenson Aug 2018
But why do they do all this, I asked, shaking my head pitifully.
Its unimaginable  the amount of time and efforts they expend,
over nothing. Not to mention having the inclinations for such

She leaned in closer and whispered conspiratorially as she puts
down her glass, while she waved at me to lean in closer too.

Her cute lips barely moved as she whispered theatrically,
" this is a secret, don't quote me."
I nodded.

" POST TRUTH" she uttered, " It's all post truth, they have put
all their people in a post truth world and they all live in post truth now"

"Do you know what Post truth means?" she asked, her eyes glaring inquiringly in a straight gaze at mine.

"Yes I do I replied, basically its, ‘relating to or denoting circumstances in which objective facts are less influential in shaping public opinion than appeals to emotion and personal belief’", I trotted out. Leaning back in my seat, I considered this, and what she had just shared.

My plight has been Orwellian, from the very start, but I honestly wouldn't have believed people would be so gullible in this day and age. But then who was it that said " No man ever went broke overestimating the ignorance of the public".

Internally I processed things again, Welfare spounging Crooks burgled me, I gave them a piece of my mind, crooks call on their Socialist mates, who then launched an unjustified campaign of
slander, vilification, harassment, hounding, intimidation, ruining
my marriage, career, reputation and my health. I, the victim of a fowl crime becomes the villain and the criminals gentrified working class heroes.

It all seem implausible in Modern Britain, this day and age, yet it's all true.

My silence prompted her, " I don't like it myself and you already know how I feel about them, but..... and she shrugged her slim
shoulders and the look of sadness and resignation in her eyes says
it all. I felt sorry for her, only God knows the leverage, inducement,
threats or dirt at play for her cooperation, given the nature of the ***** politicking that's been playing all these while
and the  results of former experiences. Poor thing, I mused,
knowing her private life was at stake now..

In Post truth terms, you are a rich arrogant privileged and greedy chauvinistic parasite who deserve all you're getting and more. 
Their propaganda machine is devious and slick. 

I couldn't help acknowledging the disingenuous politicking at
play here by our Red comrades, the nasty racial undertones of my
plight had been white-washed, the theft of my hard earned possessions is bye the bye, the bullying and intimidation by the
neighbouring criminals and their subsequent gangstalking covered up. now, what remains is hapless me, alone, unsupported and just the heinous distortions, the misinformation, exaggerations, slander and disinformation exists, and all these are falling into receptive ears by the bucketloads. The general public's moral compass has been twisted and befuddled if not totally obliterated.  

I sat in silence and for a short while, we both avoided eye contact,
finally we looked at each other. She knew I had got the picture and
for a second I saw sorrow in her eyes. Then it was gone, you could
almost glimpse this was a sentiment she wasn't allowed.

I had seen that look before from quite a number of others, nobody dares act against the wave, nobody wants to be considered a traitor
or a sympathiser.

I tried lifting the mood and changed the topic, we made chit-chat
and found laughter in some places, we finished our drinks and left.

On the street walking I once again felt sorry for her and made a
conscious decision not to see her again. I was a persona non gratia
now, and it's not healthy being my friend. Friends are compromised, debriefed and used as baits or informers. I have become a dangerous person to know and the truth has been murdered, cut into little pieces and then incinerated into ashes.

They had perhaps forgotten that TRUTH lives forever, the truth
is the TRUTH and remains the TRUTH, no matter what you do to it.

Your guess is as good as mine!

Goodbye dear friend, I watched her walk away, there was an unusual slowness in her steps and she looked back at me just as I was turning away, I did not turn to look back at her again,

I knew I will not be seeing her again................
Post-truth politics (also called post-factual politics and post-reality politics) is a political culture in which debate is framed largely by appeals to emotion disconnected from the details of policy, and by the repeated assertion of talking points to which factual rebuttals are ignored.
‎History · ‎Summary of the truth is contained in the poem - WHERE IS JUSTICE on this site..·
Rizna M Rameez Nov 2018
We are of the human race
Born to leave behind a trace
On the shores of Histories

Bless the world with our grace
Upon the weary human face
Befuddled with thoughts of Mysteries

Pondered over stretches of engulfing blackness.

Spark a light of Clarity empowering the darkness to behold.
07.11.2018 Wednesday -
Inspired by a poster saying 'She is human too' (in Tamil). But the poem is generally for all of human kind, men and women.
This is about the clarity of thought and truth that we decide upon (with Allah's guidance) which is bright enough to dispel confusion. I'm not referring to religious knowledge but general knowledge on science, law and society and the universe at large, in general. (But when it comes to Islam, Islam is not just a religion but a way of life, so technically Islamic religious knowledge includes all spheres of life and the universe).
Yenson Jul 2018
Be it not me to tell a fool he is a fool

Does he know he dances naked in Red square

Caked in white ochre he twirls around like in a weaving spool

Spouting delusions nonsensically, he lays his befuddled simple mind bare

As he jumps up then he spins, sways, bends, twists, then pirouette like its cool

Be it not me to say he has a stub for a tool

For many are crazed by this affliction of what's down there

Becoming tin gods, tyrants and oppressors, in a cruel merciless rule

Heaven helps the gifted, for the thimble oppressor becomes riddled with fear

Hurling anger and loathing, envy and jealousy, whilst enraptured with the mind of a ghoul

Be it not me to give credence to the antics of a fool

Plainly, we do not dance to same tune, nor have similar tunics to wear

For even in our world of plenty, many hapless lives are shut down by a little tool

Be it with wicked slander or iron sharpened or blazing fire, smallness knows little cheer

Clothed, naked or dancing in white ochre, a stub can cause insanity not taught in Medical school.
Anonymous One,
The well-woven verse, the brilliant brushstroke,
The singing sculpture, remarkable film -
These are echoes, or so much apple peel,
Sweet, yes, but far from the beauty You reveal.
Reader, imagine if You will, a face,
Beautiful in its proportions, cream-colored grace,
Such as Venus herself might not possess,
But befuddled or bemused, and bodiless.
It might float like moon of white wine on the sea,
Yet it gasps like an asthma patient without an inhaler,
Never knowing even half of what it is to be.
The whole artwork is no less than the entire
Composition of a steady, fulfilled life:
Each gesture, each word, each movement amid strife
Skillfully rendered, each a poem of love,
Or saber fencing with Your beams above.
This poem is included in my book "I Have Been Moved", which is available on Amazon for as little as 14 dollars (paperback).
Graff1980 Jun 11
Little operator,
She brought
all the lost
and painful
back in
to my life.

Took me
from peaceful easy
to anxious
and *****
in seconds flat.

Made my mind muddled,
like an old man
severely befuddled
by modern devices,
the queen of my queer vices
seems to like it
when I struggle.

She knows I
would do anything
for the love she brings
and still my hornet queen

I guess it is a woman’s work
to repay the ages of hurt
my brethren have bestowed
upon her sexes’ fairer graces.
So, she brings tears
to my face
as she moves away,
fluttering fancies
that constantly change.

One minute
I’m in it.
Her heart
the treasure
that brings me pleasure
inches from my grasp

Then in my final gasps
I realize at last
she was just a
shimmering mirage,

a sweet lie
that got me through
these endless nights
to the end of my life.

Oh well.

— The End —