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"boomers" poems
1995 saw the start of Generation Z, the ‘iKids’ with a knack for this new-fangled technology, Millennial 2.0, caught in the limbo of the World Wide Web development and Rose Gold iPhones. They say we’re adaptable, but apparently we can’t make our own decisions about anything. They say that we don’t care about anything except for our tiny little screens, but they forget who put them in our hands, and they forget who they run to for help when they forget how to troubleshoot. They forget what kind of technology we need to keep sustaining life in the Information Age, Caught in a crossfire because Yeah, we’re 90s kids—but the 90s never really actually ended until 2006, the only difference between two decades being how much neon versus how much chrome, and just how expensive accidentally opening the internet app on your mom’s blackberry phone was. We’re nostalgic for all the things we can’t quite remember, and half these high schoolers weren’t actually born until 2000 or 2001. Most of us aren’t old enough to even remember 9/11, nothing outside of the news clips that our teachers show us in history class every single September. I was born in the same year as the Columbine shootings. The United States has not been at peace for a year of my life. We are always fighting— fighting for everything. Human equality, posing arguments about micro aggressions and refugees, seeing the inhumanity in the past that we’re living. None of us are older than 21, under such hard scrutiny while Baby Boomers Wave 2 still run our country. We inherited the Millenial’s exhaustion, the generation before us spending our childhood fighting for all the things that we have never really believed in. Fairytales. Generation Z. The ‘iKids’ who are going to one day be making leaps and bounds with technology, the generation to nurse this dying planet back to health, Millennials 2.0 who know how to learn from our forerunners’ mistakes, who know how to adapt from Sidekicks to iPhone 6S Plus in less than a decade. We’re the kids who have realized that fun is found in safe spaces rather than invading each other’s personal spaces. They say we’re too sensitive, but at the same time they claim that we’re desensitized. And I thought we were the generation that couldn't make decisions.
0
Apr 11, 2016
Apr 11, 2016 at 9:21 PM UTC
generation Z
1995 saw the start of Generation Z, the ‘iKids’ with a knack for this new-fangled technology, Millennial 2.0, caught in the limbo of the World Wide Web development and Rose Gold iPhones. They say we’re adaptable, but apparently we can’t make our own decisions about anything. They say that we don’t care about anything except for our tiny little screens, but they forget who put them in our hands, and they forget who they run to for help when they forget how to troubleshoot. They forget what kind of technology we need to keep sustaining life in the Information Age, Caught in a crossfire because Yeah, we’re 90s kids—but the 90s never really actually ended until 2006, the only difference between two decades being how much neon versus how much chrome, and just how expensive accidentally opening the internet app on your mom’s blackberry phone was. We’re nostalgic for all the things we can’t quite remember, and half these high schoolers weren’t actually born until 2000 or 2001. Most of us aren’t old enough to even remember 9/11, nothing outside of the news clips that our teachers show us in history class every single September. I was born in the same year as the Columbine shootings. The United States has not been at peace for a year of my life. We are always fighting— fighting for everything. Human equality, posing arguments about micro aggressions and refugees, seeing the inhumanity in the past that we’re living. None of us are older than 21, under such hard scrutiny while Baby Boomers Wave 2 still run our country. We inherited the Millenial’s exhaustion, the generation before us spending our childhood fighting for all the things that we have never really believed in. Fairytales. Generation Z. The ‘iKids’ who are going to one day be making leaps and bounds with technology, the generation to nurse this dying planet back to health, Millennials 2.0 who know how to learn from our forerunners’ mistakes, who know how to adapt from Sidekicks to iPhone 6S Plus in less than a decade. We’re the kids who have realized that fun is found in safe spaces rather than invading each other’s personal spaces. They say we’re too sensitive, but at the same time they claim that we’re desensitized. And I thought we were the generation that couldn't make decisions.
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What? well don't be shocked, it's genetic coded, drilling for dimples my parents did it to me, down the food chain, for a millennium, Baby Boomers, Millennials, Gen X, Gen Y, Gen Z it will be done forever, auto-naturally place the pointer finger gently upon each cheek, commence so soft digging, twisting for the oil of human smiles, the reward, astonishing! a shocking discovery made this morn! *you can do it too "going up the stairs," to Grandmas, Nana's, if you catch them, and with extra care spent, soft so soft when they are just waking up, when their inner kid is sleepy showing* drill a dimple, drill, baby, drill, if your baby/is six or sixty, at any age, kissing an unexpected smile, most worthwhile!
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Nov 15, 2014
Nov 15, 2014 at 8:03 AM UTC
Drill, Baby, Drill! (Dimples)
Millennial Millennial Millennial Some idiot coined that for those of us that weren’t born yet What happened? To the baby boomers Groovy hippies Manson getting married, what about me? Generation X Generation Hipster Assassin **** yourself Nobody said that I was a millennial until I read it from the internet Something that should be shot dead like those on TV “Everything was better when we were young” No it wasn’t It wasn’t me it wasn’t me I didn’t mean to die because you hated me for what I was Are you still racist? Prejudiced in America? Millennial Millennial Millennial Narcissistic who are you calling self-obsessed when you were always dangerous we didn’t want to live from the womb which was like our tomb Catastrophe Legacy ( I spat out some computer wires today and I’m not going to apologize for it as I’m a millennial, we got to call Frank Black tonight) Millennial Millennial Millennial Millennial I’m in over my head We speak in acronyms and random slang She had a baby and the baby’s going to be apart of the next and final generation We’ll be dead we’ll be dead we’ll be dead Millennial Millennial Millennial Millennial
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Nov 19, 2014
Nov 19, 2014 at 8:39 PM UTC
Millennial
Each generation’s majority makes choices that usher change Lost pined for simple peace Depression lived for human survival Silence spoke for equality in a civil voice Hippies fought war with flowers Boomers drove for mad knowledge of self Grunge nodded honesty from suburban garages Y baptized Science as god Mobs then anointed Orange Man as king Down at the crossroads as means to their ends For taxes, for borders, for babies, for guns, for Right Trading truth, communal values and united dreams for their causes How will we be remembered As we watch this Heyday bloom What will be this generation’s rallying cry Will there be one A culmination of past generation's trusted change Lost, depressed, silent, free, self-aware, honest, doubting Us Here now Strong Watching the flames Will we quietly turn away As our world burns Or will we tap a new strength To face the fire Together © 2019 MJL
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Apr 1, 2019
Apr 1, 2019 at 8:40 AM UTC
Heyday for Orange Man
We have many ideals, but we do not seem to have idealists anymore. We have droves of problem solvers, but we do not seem to have solutions anymore. We have endless media discourse, but we do not seem to have dialogue anymore. We have unrestrained capitalism, but we do not seem to have money anymore. We have innumerable drugs, but we do not seem to have treatment anymore. We have scores of Baby Boomers, but we do not seem to have elders anymore. We have unlimited vacation days, but we do not seem to have days off anymore. We have incalculable amounts of information, but we do not seem to have facts anymore. We have regular, established elections, but we do not seem to have elected officials anymore. We have America, but we do not seem to have a nation anymore.
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May 3, 2017
May 3, 2017 at 3:20 AM UTC
America Anymore
In Brooklyn, in these hectic times, if Mom-hood gets you down you need a little pick me up so you won't fret and frown. When we boomers were just babies Mom might have a glass of wine. Just enough to take the edge off and leave her feeling fine. But Generation X and Y are more like Cheech and Chong when baby gets your dander up It's time to light a **** A little **** of Mary Jane gives Moms a pause to sigh. "Good night Moon" is a gripping read when Mom is flying high. Put the little Prince to bed before Mom has a fit. Motherhood is stressful she just needs to take a "hit" When the" little terrors" get you down Just think - "this too will pass" sneak off and roll yourself a joint We know you have a stash.
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Dec 26, 2011
Dec 26, 2011 at 7:58 AM UTC
Joint Custody ( comic)
inside an early morning the sky flipped around cart wheeling above lightning bolt flashes big thunder boomers some clouds fostered the rain which leaps onto the earth just as Zeus flushes the toilet and the entire world stops to listen for him to zip.
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Sep 29, 2016
Sep 29, 2016 at 5:13 PM UTC
Zeus plucks his chin hairs on a Sunday
baby boomers' education was creative back then everyone was so imaginative considering the economy was inactive our perspective isn't the perceptive. we were made from the earth's clay from our mother's conception day into the world we millennials came treated by parents like we are so lame. our technology is more advanced millennials are so very benevolent i guess it is such a bad expectation s/o to my ***** Richard Dawkins. they say back then we called friends we say today we text friends they say gas was worth 35¢ a gallon we say gas is worth $3.35¢ a gallon. they say we had black and white tvs we say ****** we got colored tvs but there is a paradigm masterpiece it just makes you stand to your feet. considering our generation escapades theirs created the existence of AIDS now we millennials are not to blame that is what made their time so lame.
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Apr 6, 2014
Apr 6, 2014 at 7:22 PM UTC
Comparison Poem of the Baby Boomers to the Baby Boomlets
--Hand serenity manually entered The automatic response system Alerts red light blind blinking Her excited isotopes fly, entropy askew The 'A' stands for ready, willing and Able-bodied Feather boa leather boy and scarlet adultery Tucked neatly in the back of her dresser Under bloomers and pictures of young baby boomers --A civil masterpiece-- "I would love to," she says with a careless car crash And a shaking ****** serial slave smile Blowtorch full of propane and limp-action lidocaine She cuts chronic through a slice of Hollywood layer cake --Serves it skintight
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Oct 28, 2011
Oct 28, 2011 at 6:57 PM UTC
The Tale of Hester Synn
My friends a hypochondriac, doctor twice a week. He looks so strong and burly, but feels so sick and meek. He heard there is a cure out there, that heals what ails him so. I just don't have the heart to tell him, he's taking a placebo. My friend is big and mighty, and the sugar pills do work. He says he's never sick now, no aches, and nothing hurts. I'm happy for him, really, though I wish he'd known much sooner, that sugar pills have what it takes, to heal the kids of boomers. Our parents taught us to be weary, as they had had no means, to heal themselves in the time of war, when they were all just teens. But times have changed, and we can now, heal most every sickness. But still there are hypochondriacs, needing sugar to cure weakness.
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Dec 5, 2014
Dec 5, 2014 at 3:10 AM UTC
"Hypochondria" - 6-Minute Poem Series
Jeweled.. map... talk Wipe her... teardrops... He summoned her       Braveheart "The Hipster" starry eye Commando Chief Trampled the hot item        help!! *     *     *     *  Rubies in the Paradox Pep-talk thief Fox *     *     *     *     * Red Rhapsody Hey, Buster, on the Tip of the "Ice Queen" "King Speech" Her lips Practice what your eyes Preach whats inside his lips Lip marooned force Afterfight doomed       "Divorce" He tapped took a bite   So vamp lit her lip Apple stumbles Mr. Cobbler Lips got caught to be crumbled Clicks movie flicks *     *     *     * Physiological College of chicks On her Demon laptop lovesick Sisters of the Sentinel Fingers clicking like quicksand   Ancient lips touch the shadow Of his smile Does anyone have a soft spot for Angels The psychotic broken wing on the verge The lip pledge Demon Give him a shot lip bullet glass "Red Electricity" he smiled Certain lip she deserved The floppy disk Sweet breath His baking whisker's Those baby boomers Top of the lip rumors the right kiss "Emmy" Jet set trips Their chattering lips Niagara falls duty calls "Lip Shoutbox" Her lips touched on A nerve schemingly He blew up like the Cherry bomb we will succumb dreamily Could blow his lips down How she wore the red velvet bustier A+ lip magnet He's the connoisseur La Luna melancholy "The World Is Dying" No apology The symphony in line With the lip up His chin down is lying But when your smiling A poem knows what your lips are saying   Are you in way too deep Lips like cold cuts the paparazzi mob sheep The movie cut Deli line Race her the Italian Mazzaratti be mine Demon jungle no plain Jane's lips Hurry up your highness lost his taste for goodness Do angels die her lips went___? Angel confession another revelation One lie please "I am the Angel" we never live to die
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Feb 7, 2019
Feb 7, 2019 at 8:05 AM UTC
Demon liptalked Angel
Jeweled.. map... talk Wipe her... teardrops... He summoned her       Braveheart "The Hipster" starry eye Commando Chief Trampled the hot item        help!! *     *     *     *  Rubies in the Paradox Pep-talk thief Fox *     *     *     *     * Red Rhapsody Hey, Buster, on the Tip of the "Ice Queen" "King Speech" Her lips Practice what your eyes Preach whats inside his lips Lip marooned force Afterfight doomed       "Divorce" He tapped took a bite   So vamp lit her lip Apple stumbles Mr. Cobbler Lips got caught to be crumbled Clicks movie flicks *     *     *     * Physiological College of chicks On her Demon laptop lovesick Sisters of the Sentinel Fingers clicking like quicksand   Ancient lips touch the shadow Of his smile Does anyone have a soft spot for Angels The psychotic broken wing on the verge The lip pledge Demon Give him a shot lip bullet glass "Red Electricity" he smiled Certain lip she deserved The floppy disk Sweet breath His baking whisker's Those baby boomers Top of the lip rumors the right kiss "Emmy" Jet set trips Their chattering lips Niagara falls duty calls "Lip Shoutbox" Her lips touched on A nerve schemingly He blew up like the Cherry bomb we will succumb dreamily Could blow his lips down How she wore the red velvet bustier A+ lip magnet He's the connoisseur La Luna melancholy "The World Is Dying" No apology The symphony in line With the lip up His chin down is lying But when your smiling A poem knows what your lips are saying   Are you in way too deep Lips like cold cuts the paparazzi mob sheep The movie cut Deli line Race her the Italian Mazzaratti be mine Demon jungle no plain Jane's lips Hurry up your highness lost his taste for goodness Do angels die her lips went___? Angel confession another revelation One lie please "I am the Angel" we never live to die
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All us children of the Millennial awaiting an omen, seeking out the last augury, weaving among the boomers who present us with a forgery. Stay strong, my children! We are the last missionaries, the last lost lovers, are the rarest breed indeed, above us a genuine gospel hovers. Stay authentic, my friends! Set out with unmatched veracity, imperfection glistens these days but, we see through the deceiving fog with rectitude, we refuse to be mislead. Steer the course, my children! These maps made for us yield no sensible shape or design when traced, we forge our own compass. Forgetting north south east west, undulating inwards with a steady pace. "We are the lovers, we are the last of our kind, so hold my hand and keep your chin up and I swear we'll be just fine." We desire no recompense, only truth. On sour soiled presidential soliloquies we muster strength again and again to chew, repeatedly breaking a tooth. With roots above and branches below, we capture our affections in nature's photo booth but, furrow our brows in a sordid mirror reflection. Stay clean, my sweet princes! Dart ahead to meet me and my words I will not mince. Hold steadfast to the healing hope hovering above our masts, steer this ship with steady hands, fear not the undertow. A voyage which is long and treacherous, but this is no ship of floating fools. Be proud, my children! We have sailed successfully into the millennium, leaving in our wake the outdated value systems of the past. We are the strong We are the brave We are the lovers The last of our kind
0
Nov 3, 2015
Nov 3, 2015 at 5:44 PM UTC
millennials
All us children of the Millennial awaiting an omen, seeking out the last augury, weaving among the boomers who present us with a forgery. Stay strong, my children! We are the last missionaries, the last lost lovers, are the rarest breed indeed, above us a genuine gospel hovers. Stay authentic, my friends! Set out with unmatched veracity, imperfection glistens these days but, we see through the deceiving fog with rectitude, we refuse to be mislead. Steer the course, my children! These maps made for us yield no sensible shape or design when traced, we forge our own compass. Forgetting north south east west, undulating inwards with a steady pace. "We are the lovers, we are the last of our kind, so hold my hand and keep your chin up and I swear we'll be just fine." We desire no recompense, only truth. On sour soiled presidential soliloquies we muster strength again and again to chew, repeatedly breaking a tooth. With roots above and branches below, we capture our affections in nature's photo booth but, furrow our brows in a sordid mirror reflection. Stay clean, my sweet princes! Dart ahead to meet me and my words I will not mince. Hold steadfast to the healing hope hovering above our masts, steer this ship with steady hands, fear not the undertow. A voyage which is long and treacherous, but this is no ship of floating fools. Be proud, my children! We have sailed successfully into the millennium, leaving in our wake the outdated value systems of the past. We are the strong We are the brave We are the lovers The last of our kind
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We remember the fallen, The generation that fought, That answered the calling, Giving each generation after the war, A mind, a voice of a second thought. We won't remember the fallen, Of this generation, respect them not, The answer to the offensive, Lies and giving each other fake hope, Who in this generation can scream I will stand on the defensive line, In War and not on the we are insulted line. Yes, born 1990, known as a millennial, I have no respect for most of them, Even most of the Generation Z. Respect for the Boomers and Generation Alpha's, They have a hard life, no Technology, Educated and well traversed, Survived and shaped the World, as we know, With mistake made and learned. Where the technology age, Leaves the uneducated and cursed, Creating and shaping the world into a wasteland, Mistake are maded and not learning.
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Nov 8, 2020
Nov 8, 2020 at 12:41 PM UTC
Remember the fallen, we won't remember this generation
The Internet arrived; they are confused "Do not trust everything you read online!" They warn us sternly, and even threatened To take away and ban us from the computers . The technology advances, oh so, so very fast Gone is the concept, of a single shared home PC The smartphones, the laptops, the tablets etc. Took the world by storm, and we are all amazed. . And then... Remember what those boomers told us? About being skeptical and fearful of online information? Guess what those hypocritical ******** are doing now!? Fake news fake news fake news fake news fake news! FAKE! NEWS!!! . You nonetheless heed their advice, and learnt fact-checking Yet, gods forbid you try to "show off" with your evidence! "Aiyah, I only forward what was shared to me. I'm just caring" "It seems harmless, so what's the problem??" My absolute favourite must be... "Don't talk back to me! Don't you disrespect me! Be silent! Don't try to show off how smart you are! I ate more salt than you have eaten rice! If you don't believe this, just shut up!" . Gods bless Asian parents . What to do... What to do... #napowrimo #napowrimo2020 #fakenews #asianparents #poets #writers #poems #poetrycommunity #NationalPoetryMonth #false #asianpoets #poetry #factchecking #iamboey
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Apr 3, 2020
Apr 3, 2020 at 6:50 AM UTC
An Asian Son's Dilemma
Dear Boomers Our generation isn't entitled, or lazy So take off those rose colored nostalgia glasses if you think I sound crazy You dealt us this hand, not The WW2 babies or even before them You dealt this to us and we're trying to do better, even though our hope seems slim The fact is only profit concerned you, not the future children that would populate this earth Now we have poison in the air, melting Ice caps, an economy that doesn't work for us, and knowing this physically hurts. You could've spoken up and said "Wait, what will our children have to deal with? " But you chose to get ahead by any means necessary. And you call us entitled and spoiled because we don't think unbridled greed and crushing everyone in our path is hereditary. So to the baby boom generation, you lit this fuse on the earth, and we're trying to put it out. You can scoff, and say we're lazy, we should just go out and get construction jobs that aren't here, and you can try to break us down with doubt But a storm of changes is coming, and I can guarantee you will be caught in the tide. So laugh all you want, because into a better future is where I aim to ride
0
Mar 20, 2016
Mar 20, 2016 at 1:04 AM UTC
Dear baby boomers
the ladies oh the ladies louder now celebrate christmas with a almighty roul you see christmas is the time of the year where we party right like drinking alcohol and get ****** yeah that is quite great you see kids see Santa and ask them what would they like and the ladies buy the men a cordless drill as well as the men giving a ladies a big diamond ring yeah we will party with the song we wish you a jetty christams we wish you a merry christmas and a happy new year christmas is the time of year to Party party party and you get some eggnog and say come on ya ****** smarty oh dudes we will lift up our glassed and sing to the christ child the nirvanaly king you see christmas is the happiest time for a happy dude like me, to enjoy life too silent night holy night all is calm all is bright round yon ****** mother and child once in royal davids city the party is on for young and old as santa goes a travelling through the computer giving presents to everyone there and then on the first day of christmas my truelove gave to me a dollar so i buy a homeless man his tea if that isn’t enough, how about just leave it in his hat so he could add it up and buy many more dinners from all the money he raised away in a manger no crib for a bed the little lord buddha laid down his sweet head he would wake up and say, i control the 3 kings of orient are i bare gifts as i travel afar i am dreaming of a white christmas, well stop cause in Australia it’s too **** hot for it’s the summer weather, the bbqs are lit together as we are a walking around singing a song living in a summer wonderland on the beach we can build a sandcastle and bury poor old patrick in the sand and then he will jump and SHUT UP, why don’t you give your family a ****** woman a ****** hand then we jump in the saddle nice and quick all in there with good saint nick Feliz Navidad i want to wish a merry Christmas i wish you a merry christmas form the bottom of my heart, i lost when my friends treat me like a criminal six white boomers six white boomers racing good old Patrick through the blazing sun then Patrick sent to santa what about the toys aren’t you giving these to all the boys and girls or are you saying that boys are better than girls like a cool kid that you are a pair of hoppalong boots and pistol that shoots,is a gift for Patrick and Wayne dolls that will talk and go for a walk a grift from Joanne and Paula now dudes as i am prepared to party on dude till the break of dawn
0
Nov 11, 2015
Nov 11, 2015 at 5:47 PM UTC
christmas rap
the ladies oh the ladies louder now celebrate christmas with a almighty roul you see christmas is the time of the year where we party right like drinking alcohol and get ****** yeah that is quite great you see kids see Santa and ask them what would they like and the ladies buy the men a cordless drill as well as the men giving a ladies a big diamond ring yeah we will party with the song we wish you a jetty christams we wish you a merry christmas and a happy new year christmas is the time of year to Party party party and you get some eggnog and say come on ya ****** smarty oh dudes we will lift up our glassed and sing to the christ child the nirvanaly king you see christmas is the happiest time for a happy dude like me, to enjoy life too silent night holy night all is calm all is bright round yon ****** mother and child once in royal davids city the party is on for young and old as santa goes a travelling through the computer giving presents to everyone there and then on the first day of christmas my truelove gave to me a dollar so i buy a homeless man his tea if that isn’t enough, how about just leave it in his hat so he could add it up and buy many more dinners from all the money he raised away in a manger no crib for a bed the little lord buddha laid down his sweet head he would wake up and say, i control the 3 kings of orient are i bare gifts as i travel afar i am dreaming of a white christmas, well stop cause in Australia it’s too **** hot for it’s the summer weather, the bbqs are lit together as we are a walking around singing a song living in a summer wonderland on the beach we can build a sandcastle and bury poor old patrick in the sand and then he will jump and SHUT UP, why don’t you give your family a ****** woman a ****** hand then we jump in the saddle nice and quick all in there with good saint nick Feliz Navidad i want to wish a merry Christmas i wish you a merry christmas form the bottom of my heart, i lost when my friends treat me like a criminal six white boomers six white boomers racing good old Patrick through the blazing sun then Patrick sent to santa what about the toys aren’t you giving these to all the boys and girls or are you saying that boys are better than girls like a cool kid that you are a pair of hoppalong boots and pistol that shoots,is a gift for Patrick and Wayne dolls that will talk and go for a walk a grift from Joanne and Paula now dudes as i am prepared to party on dude till the break of dawn
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What's the point Of living in a 600,000 dollar home When you spend 40 hours a week In an office And two hours watching the television every night I don't get Americans Baby boomers especially Forever saving for the future They have to have it all Never really seeing the present Strange these people This way is all wrong Completely and totally wrong They sacrifice their health And drink coffee Their whole lives And take these pills And it is all just ******* I will live frugally And maybe one day buy an RV And drive around the country
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Sep 1, 2015
Sep 1, 2015 at 10:15 PM UTC
Seems Strange To Me
Big Oil the kid at the birthday party who smashed the cake with a stubborn fist, cause he didn’t get enough. Environmentalists nerds studying ants with magnifying glasses radical methods to peaceful madness. Meanwhile webbed chains splash like tired confetti light steeps a seeping cast, sun-blind eyes fret liquid darkness, shadows whisper poison. a necessary evil, when fingers of ink strangle ice puzzles? we say it was not intentional          but selfish risks under laser lights for sonic boomers that will soon die, leave a deaf horizon.
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Dec 8, 2014
Dec 8, 2014 at 4:42 PM UTC
pipeline
The billionaires tend to their garden at the expense of the forest, whilst landlocked towns invest in pine trees and surfboards to sell a notion of escape against the cell of a poorer tomorrow. Religion lost its claim to G-d once the churches locked their doors. The homeless started a choir on the park bench by the chapel once they grew tired of food; fame now the nutrition of the masses. The baby boomers are a dying breed set for containment and greed and rapacious war; the dreadful threat of a next door neighbour- their extinction amongst a millennial wantonness. Heiresses brush their hair in vanity, as does the poet to his white-noise crowd of lunatics and alcoholics. He crushes diazepam into his whiskey sour, then lifts a shaking hand to find the power he is preaching against.
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Nov 21, 2014
Nov 21, 2014 at 3:30 PM UTC
A Cynical Poet
hurry boy, don't doze etch the words before they perish as the situation once again alters coiling around your wrist tugging you to that place sleep every moment dwelling in the blankets soaking in that stale security false impressions attached/removed like velcro ripping in the silence masks on masks on masks on masks on masks on could spend days pruning in the seabed of potential while the salt collects on my eyelashes and the days vanish like eons there are days where the stillness in me quakes my feet into the fervor of rabbit under moving tire and I pound the walls for a train to pass and shake the foundation but the tracks are too far away now, and the stillness creeps dust collects on the fan blades, then the plastic grating, then the intake the thing rattles all night now; loose ***** in the front hardly a substitute for that rumble in your dreams from an archer daniel's car rushing by at four the bed is a lot better at this place though king size, though I'd rather be in california where the water is warm and the memories catch your falls I've never been there and the idea is always better than the outcome kicking sand like a beach bully *** flexing in strut sun burns within seconds of shirtless self-reveals the salt is being washed off of the cars from an illinois winter that the plow conquered to the dismay of the kids down the block who still waited at dawn for the diesel yellow groan the heat is swelling in the season chirps return with the sting of rolled up passenger windows magnifying the clean white light ninety-eight million miles marched to a single point on a pale dot burning that poor gal's cheek but the medicinal effects of the smooch are more than known to generations of the summer awakened, free-falling, reality born. here we are again with showers and flowers, here we are again with cyclones in the alley, here we are again with cocoons and buffoons, here we are again with milk in the valley. this heart pumps as the snow goes rising to the funnels and pillars east-stretched where the baby boomers buy plots and the love begins to reach for an even share.
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Mar 17, 2015
Mar 17, 2015 at 10:53 PM UTC
March Melt: Union and Leafland
hurry boy, don't doze etch the words before they perish as the situation once again alters coiling around your wrist tugging you to that place sleep every moment dwelling in the blankets soaking in that stale security false impressions attached/removed like velcro ripping in the silence masks on masks on masks on masks on masks on could spend days pruning in the seabed of potential while the salt collects on my eyelashes and the days vanish like eons there are days where the stillness in me quakes my feet into the fervor of rabbit under moving tire and I pound the walls for a train to pass and shake the foundation but the tracks are too far away now, and the stillness creeps dust collects on the fan blades, then the plastic grating, then the intake the thing rattles all night now; loose ***** in the front hardly a substitute for that rumble in your dreams from an archer daniel's car rushing by at four the bed is a lot better at this place though king size, though I'd rather be in california where the water is warm and the memories catch your falls I've never been there and the idea is always better than the outcome kicking sand like a beach bully *** flexing in strut sun burns within seconds of shirtless self-reveals the salt is being washed off of the cars from an illinois winter that the plow conquered to the dismay of the kids down the block who still waited at dawn for the diesel yellow groan the heat is swelling in the season chirps return with the sting of rolled up passenger windows magnifying the clean white light ninety-eight million miles marched to a single point on a pale dot burning that poor gal's cheek but the medicinal effects of the smooch are more than known to generations of the summer awakened, free-falling, reality born. here we are again with showers and flowers, here we are again with cyclones in the alley, here we are again with cocoons and buffoons, here we are again with milk in the valley. this heart pumps as the snow goes rising to the funnels and pillars east-stretched where the baby boomers buy plots and the love begins to reach for an even share.
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(10 w x 6) ::::: We baby boomers, brought into this world millennials-- strong, persisting, ::::: we're~~~~ peaceful streams ....they're radical rivers... their blood, restlessly stirs ::::: young, fiery courage ..........pulsates within... .......racing, cresting ............upon surf's cusp ::::: ...embracing new beliefs ......to the point of .....defying old school ::::: .....where boomers turn deaf, .........................millennials listen... ......cold waters, sometimes .................... divide... ::::: ......they ought to .....sit down...talk ...........and compromise, ....................or else..... ................................ :::::::::: (In my home, at times, it's the other way around... i become the millennial...my kids are the baby  boomers) Sally Copyright May 19, 2017 Rosalia Rosario A. Bayant
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May 18, 2017
May 18, 2017 at 11:41 PM UTC
Baby Boomers
When I look into the mirror Each morning after dawn To peruse the wrinkled skin And slack musculature drawn, When I snore upon the couch Before flashing TV screen To be woken by my sweetheart For a dinner yet unseen. There’s an overriding likelihood That achievements made to date Will be my lot for evermore.... An admission that I hate! And the scent of hot seduction Though a feature of my youth, Shall be confined to flash of fantasy Amidst pains in nagging tooth. Enduring twinge of aching joints To the whistling in the ears And the apnoea of sleeplessness Which just consolidates the fears. Homeopathy has promise To the happy road to health But pharmaceuticals are farming For my meagre worldly wealth. Though the promise of the afterlife Which held aloft on high, Presents a gaggle of good churches Who will proffer you the sky. Best to form your own religion With philosophy of POW! To say" IT’S ALL ABOUT ME, BROTHER" AND I WANT MY YOUTH BACK NOW!! Marshalg Wielding the Gold Card with an impotent flourish AUCKLAND 25 January 2012
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Jan 24, 2012
Jan 24, 2012 at 8:14 PM UTC
Prayer of the Baby Boomers
12/10/2012: A very mellow day, A day that makes one’s golden years actually golden. Happy in retirement? There’s a joke: You slave like Spartacus in the Libyan salt mines for 30 or 40 or even 50 years, and now you’re supposed to re-calibrate the machine, re-gauge one’s anatomy and metabolism for a habitat so far and away grindstone gone. The muckrakers Studs Terkel and Barbara Ehrenreich remind us: Work is the only thing we can do for 8 hours, other than sleep. Perchance even to dream out that Roman **** or Bacchanal. No, alas, 4 hours is the legal limit for an ******** lasting that long, During all our joy-juiced carnal desires, Be they under the elms or elsewhere. **Cialis! ****** Names already living it up in infamy. A simple truth about Retirement: Stop working and die. A most intense public service announcement, A vast digital image out of Yeats, A very special Spiritus Mundi P-S-A. Targeting Baby Boomers, especially: “You better find yourself something, Or someone to occupy your mind.” Brought to you by the good people at OCCUPY BRAIN STREET, First a national, then a veritable global movement, However so short-lived; Like all the others. Oh, Boomers, your attention span is down to 8 minutes. Your mnemonic links are frayed and tattered, Your hard drive noodle fragmented, Yet still whirring white noise jazz. A New Orleans Dixieland funeral, And Al-Zheim trumpet blast to go out on. Well, I don’t know about the rest of you, But I am relatively well adjusted in retirement. And today—previously mentioned as a mellow day-- Today is one reason why. As is medical marijuana and the sultry voice of Chrissie Hynde, With or without her band of Pretenders. And let’s throw in a lovely bottle of Temecula red wine-- Doffo, if you’re going to get fussy on me, Another blithe distraction cultivated and custom-made for old age. Indeed, a very mellow day.
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May 14, 2015
May 14, 2015 at 3:21 PM UTC
"Retirement Poem: 12/10/2012"
12/10/2012: A very mellow day, A day that makes one’s golden years actually golden. Happy in retirement? There’s a joke: You slave like Spartacus in the Libyan salt mines for 30 or 40 or even 50 years, and now you’re supposed to re-calibrate the machine, re-gauge one’s anatomy and metabolism for a habitat so far and away grindstone gone. The muckrakers Studs Terkel and Barbara Ehrenreich remind us: Work is the only thing we can do for 8 hours, other than sleep. Perchance even to dream out that Roman **** or Bacchanal. No, alas, 4 hours is the legal limit for an ******** lasting that long, During all our joy-juiced carnal desires, Be they under the elms or elsewhere. **Cialis! ****** Names already living it up in infamy. A simple truth about Retirement: Stop working and die. A most intense public service announcement, A vast digital image out of Yeats, A very special Spiritus Mundi P-S-A. Targeting Baby Boomers, especially: “You better find yourself something, Or someone to occupy your mind.” Brought to you by the good people at OCCUPY BRAIN STREET, First a national, then a veritable global movement, However so short-lived; Like all the others. Oh, Boomers, your attention span is down to 8 minutes. Your mnemonic links are frayed and tattered, Your hard drive noodle fragmented, Yet still whirring white noise jazz. A New Orleans Dixieland funeral, And Al-Zheim trumpet blast to go out on. Well, I don’t know about the rest of you, But I am relatively well adjusted in retirement. And today—previously mentioned as a mellow day-- Today is one reason why. As is medical marijuana and the sultry voice of Chrissie Hynde, With or without her band of Pretenders. And let’s throw in a lovely bottle of Temecula red wine-- Doffo, if you’re going to get fussy on me, Another blithe distraction cultivated and custom-made for old age. Indeed, a very mellow day.
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It's not the fascists with their guns. Or the Democrats with their bumper stickers. Or the boomers with their Facebook. Or the leftists with their Twitter. Or the toddlers with their iPads. It's not the billionaires with their minimum wage. Or the landlords with their land. Or the hospitals with their bills. It's not the ocean with its plastic. Or the forest with its fires; no.... The worst part of living in this boring post-modern nightmare dystopia is that even the god **** drugs are poisoned now.
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Dec 2, 2021
Dec 2, 2021 at 6:25 AM UTC
Fentanyl
Put all the elderly eye sores in monochromatic, ammonia scented cages. We’re sick of their unsightly nature, And their unjustifiable hormonal rages. Who care’s what lives they led? What stories they could tell. Let them all go insane, (if they haven’t already) to the sound of a teenage certified nurse’s assistant texting her boyfriend like hell. Let them rot in defecation, and fears. Let them pray to a god who no longer cares. Let us go to work. Chase *** Apply lip gloss, bat our lashes, and drink our beer. Occasionally going to an elderly’s funeral to stare.
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May 5, 2010
May 5, 2010 at 10:04 AM UTC
baby boomers