"dumbing" poems
Rap is crap
Can be written while napping
By simply slapping words like zapping
Up alongside trapping and wrapping
And suddenly you’re a rap star
Driving an expensive car
And before your coffee is cold
You are draped with gold
Maximum bling
But it doesn’t mean a thing
Other than money because honey
If your ‘song’ lyrics are still known.
When ten years are blown by
And you are no longer a famous guy
Whose words are forgotten
It is because they are misbegotten
And liked by the current batch of airheads
Who think this is music when instead
It’s a beat they can feel in their feet
And if they don’t read the words
Printed in the album, what is heard
Is a lot of screaming and percussion
Not worth discussion in Billboard.
Someone could cut the microphone cord
And all anyone could hear would be drums
And the audience spilling their beer,
And nothing worth humming;
Lyrics for the dumbing down of the race,
A major entertainment disgrace
That destroys the ears and means nothing
That will ever be revered like Sinatra
Elvis or The Beatles have done.
It may be number one today
But when time passes away
It will be nothing but the shouts
Of a bunch of untalented louts
To an audience one has to fear
Was born with a tin ear.
Brent Kincaid
6/1/2015
Jun 1, 2015
Jun 1, 2015 at 10:52 PM UTC
I hope she knows what she's getting herself into.
I hope she knows what your heart sounds like after a night of
comparisons between her handwriting and mine.
I want you to know that I am through with dumbing
myself down to fit inside your god complexed hands.
Don't tell me I never tried to save us.
I wrote you songs with knives on my palms
and your ears were anything but listening.
I had a dream about you every night since you told me
you didn't know how to love anything with a heartbeat and hope.
I started sleeping again when you came back, and oh when you came back...
I am not sorry that my temper is as short as the lifespan of us.
I am not sorry that your smile is the only one that ever made me
want to wake up in the morning.
I am all pain and long long longing and she has always been
a storm with a heart dead set on your stillness.
Our problem is that I never stop shaking long enough for the dust to settle.
I've been writing with the same pen for four years and
you still only recognize my words when she plays them back.
Let it not be confused, foggy or incomprehensible-
you were the one.
Until the one became none and I stopped being a number when you stopped counting miles.
I hope she loves harder than a woman with dementia, relearning parts of you every morning
in the places you reserved with my first and your last- maybe next time.
Maybe next time, maybe next life will be different.
Maybe I'll be patient, stronger, I'll stop covering my smile. You'll stop pretending to be in love.
I will stop shaking and the dust will settle and her poetry will make you sick.
Her poetry will sprout evening primroses and she won't know that you always fall asleep before midnight
or that you're allergic to flowers that bloom when the sun is down.
Apr 26, 2014
Apr 26, 2014 at 8:55 PM UTC
We are free like a tree in the valley with nothing to see but pesticide dreams.
If you were free, what you speak wouldn't end with prosecution.
If you were free, you wouldn't be dumbing down your senses with alcohol pollution
When nature provides more than enough to lift you as a clear solution.
If you were free, the green pieces of paper would be "My notes",
and not "Federal Reserve Notes" that we owe interest back to.
If you were free, then the walls of the matrix we could crack through.
If you were free, you would be able to choose who could lead your country,
Instead of falsely participating in which dictator puppet reigns supreme in the best interests of the Rich and powerful gaining land resources and money.
If you were free, you wouldn't be on your knees bobbleheading at all the media tells you.
If you were free, you would not accept any leader who actively kills the innocent, and does not say Why, or even show proof.
If you were free, you would stand up, for what's morally right.
If you were free you would look at those in your peripheral
and join them rather than work against in spite.
If you were free, we could actually pride ourselves for being a country all about freedom.
If you were free, you would say NO to RFID chips, already being used on middle and high school kids in Texas, numb, to what is free.
I can't free you, you must free yourself and wake up to the mirage and bombardment of lies Raining down our existence.
If you were free, you would be a threat, everything they don't want.
It's everything we need, with persistence.
Let go of the fear of fear.
When that time comes, just as a flower becomes unfurled,
There will be a triumph for all that's good in the world.
Open your mind, stop the chatter, and wake up. Free Yourself
Sep 5, 2012
Sep 5, 2012 at 3:15 AM UTC
piercing my right eye from within
daggers, sharpened with blame
fly true
through the blue
into faces of lying dry-cleaned faces
puffed and crimson
spittle gathering
hate speech teachings
reaching beaches far from informed shores –
new ***** blesses the young
shoveling modified nutrients
smiles beam
glistening sweat runs
internal furnace matching
warm glow of planned dumbing-down
vaccination zombie
mercury poisoned baby rocks silently –
embryonic images
in laboratory dishes
sample size offering a slight variance
right-wing politicians eagerly await
the first course
stem-cell soufflé
desperation sets in as reality takes hold
the shift already happened –
glancing at a dime-store wristwatch
plotting an afternoon of debauchery
slowing pulling off the square
admiring the show -
Jun 4, 2014
Jun 4, 2014 at 11:36 AM UTC
"Oh, murmur, murmur me again to peace!"
(from the libretto of Handel's Semele -
opera.stanford.edu/iu/libretti/semele.htm)
think of your ears as an
ever alert, high pitched,
sensory tuning fork,
an aural radar, searching for that
acute, oblique,
perforating and poking phrase,
that lost airplane of solace
buried and too well hid
in the vastness of
empty, characterless searchable seas
that rarely yield up their
comforting finery
when discovered, tripped upon,
instant recognition pleads
"write me down,
write me up,
delve me,
determine me,
make me more!"
t'is a thrumming vibrato
interfering with mind,
that phrase, that phrase, that phrase
"Oh, murmur, murmur me again to peace!"
content coursing through the eyes,
piercing veils of hum drum dumbing down,
a life spying drone eliciting excitedly
a high value target,
an unexpected mission,
camouflaged amidst the
chit chat droning of the
choking ordinary and commonplace
*murmur me, with soft downy charms,
these words discovered
recoursed and intended well to
pointedly offset and contradict
their very own
tumultuous discovery uncovering,
tear tongue me
with calming, lapping word wages,
hymns harmonious and fine homilies,
a call, a request,
a bequest
to sedate my shrill life,
You
murmur me again to peace*
even the words
be prepared to sacrifice, surrender,
but promise me that
the Justice of
-just-
thy tone,
thy inflections,
will gentle
the infecting turbulence
of being a plain, tried and trialed human
let me not
catalogue the onerous,
the burdening barbell weights,
we carry for no purpose
Give us
our daily bread of a singular
phrase~prayer~poem,
our verbal bond, modest sequest,
honey oatmeal, cut up strawberried
jewel,
give it, me this day,
my daily soothing
"Oh, murmur, murmur me again to peace!"
Mar 14, 2015
Mar 14, 2015 at 8:24 AM UTC
Cellulose, stalagtite, cellular device
Short term abbreviations, quick talk slows the nations.
English language spread so wide,
Multiple meanings for them to lie and hide.
Dumbing down the whole population
Dumbing down the whole generation
Dumb corrupt slavery nation
So many frequencies in these feeble heads
Which ones are they ******* with to make us do something else instead
Drone ants marching all day
Building, munching, texting our intelligence away.
Dec 5, 2011
Dec 5, 2011 at 7:50 PM UTC
Mouth agape
Shoving food into your mouth that you can't even taste
Expressionless face
Focused on colors dancing around in that empty box
Forgetting to blink
You're in a trance and unable to think
Dumbing you down for decades
With it's detrimental façade
Apr 3, 2014
Apr 3, 2014 at 12:47 AM UTC
Internal poetry while doing
Yoga.
I don't mean practicing
Yoga. I mean doing it.
Writing, because although
Yoga
Calmed my racing thoughts
And high electromagnetic frequency,
Additional
Judgmental,
Highly observant,
Rather foreign thoughts
Are returning.
The pirates pillaging
Sanity within
Are no match for the
Ancient Indian
And pre-Indian
Yoga and poetry.
In this day and age,
Yoga is heraled
For the stylish, revealing pants
Used for practicing.
As well as the many classes that reek of ego.
Poetry, on the other hand,
Has more or less gone obsolete.
They killed all the poets.
They have become replaced
By social media
Featuring those unsocialized with writing.
Now, when I need to hear the wisdom
Of a guiding angel,
All I hear
Is the pathetic language
Of the less fortunate in poetic freethought.
These discombobulated ghosts
Haunt me
When I hear far too many
Voices
And need stillness to compensate my illness.
These voices of the day, I fear,
Manipulate me in most unpleasant ways.
And being thinker, as I am,
Drawing conclusion and meaning
From everything I can,
A blessing and a curse --
Which, then again, are blessings nonetheless --
I cannot help but wonder
If this is part of a plan.
Orwell wrote of so not fifty years ago.
The language now constantly spoken,
As well as read,
As well as written,
Dumbing us down.
Losing touch with words of wisdom
In most trying of times.
This is what happens when
You **** off
All the poets.
Mar 31, 2017
Mar 31, 2017 at 10:25 AM UTC
I hid my feelings inside a book
Reason for this would be because an epiphany took,
see I'm one for cheesy smirks and all the perks of socializing with people of my age. But it just seems like a dumbing down of me because no one in my generation reads if it's not about gossip or vampire teens. While I'm stuck between the borderline of reality and books. Literature has surely become dominant and is the addiction at foot. But still the issue being that my peers would rather throw their life away in an intoxicated haze especially with little to no education is what makes me sick. Guys after *** girls flashing their **** and all for publicity. Infamy which has very little time in the limelight before it becomes a bore. Drugs are what they crave, *** is what they're all searching for, and I say this with great abhor.
I hid my feelings inside a book,
Reason for this is because an epiphany took.
No one in my generation reads but this rant is something I wish they'll heed.
Aug 16, 2014
Aug 16, 2014 at 12:53 AM UTC
I can never find anything to do anymore
I am ALWAYS bored
I drink another soda as fast as I can
Boring
I smoke another cigarette as fast as I can
Boring and bad for my health
I used to drink and do drugs
It caused a lot of problems but I had fun
At least then I had something to do
At least then I could make myself stupid
Do stupid things with an excuse
At least then I could be interested in menial things
The most interesting thing I did today was take a shower
I was actually kind of happy standing there under the water
But only an idiot would stand in the shower all day
I could take up ************
That might be fun
I could do that in the shower
I rarely smile anymore without faking it
I smile when I see a small child smile
But I don't have children around me that often
and when I do, they are not always smiling
Often they are screaming
Screaming children are not fun
Some people seem like they are happy all the time
How do they do it?
Is it because they are stupid?
I like to think so
I like to think that I am the norm
Nobody should be happy too often
I just want to be happy a little bit
Find a few things to do that don't bore me to death
I wanna be interested in life
I want to have a reason to go to bed early
I want to have a reason to wake up
I want to have a reason
Today I will just have to settle for being bored
For being uninterested
For being unhappy
But it would be nice not to have to dumb down to cheer up
I am sick of dumbing down
I am kind of sick of life
Maybe tomorrow I will remember a good reason to live
Maybe tomorrow I will find something new
Maybe tomorrow somebody will suprise me
Maybe not
But I do still have hope
That just maybe things will change
Mar 31, 2013
Mar 31, 2013 at 10:27 PM UTC
Do you listen to the song the dolphins sing?
So familiar and so distant
Let me sing to you of the soft blooming and the dumbing down of rust
The deep darkness sleeps, as your eyes clinch
Linger the fold away with not another blink
Inhale the moist stench of pity's salty breeze
I'm standing on the vanilla frosted mountain you can not reach.
Aug 11, 2010
Aug 11, 2010 at 12:53 AM UTC
**media holocaust dumbing down society
matriculating detachment's spineless dump,
weapons of mass distraction's convergence
assimilating adaptation's explored transmissions
in conversions of auxiliary's pseudo-redemption
anxiety cast in embittered expulsions of
ubiquitous foghorns flailing in numbing flat notes,
off key in theatrical productions' translation
failure to cease & desist standby sub-humanity,
close-captioned in radioactive hieroglyphics
on the walls of expectations' exasperation**
Apr 17, 2015
Apr 17, 2015 at 4:34 PM UTC
And we're purging to be pretty,
and smoking to stay thin.
Starving until our bones feel light as air.
Wearing make-up like a mask,
using clothes to advertise the goods, to
make the boys want us
Mistaking life lessons for soul mates.
Physically putting out and
emotionally shutting down.
And we're dumbing ourselves down.
Acting stupid because it's cute.
Hiding our wit because it's unattractive.
They want lady in the streets and
freak in the sheets.
But on their schedule, not yours.
But the lady has to be a *****
And the ***** has to be domestic.
It's a trap.
And we're used up
Washed up
Fed up
****** up**
We're twenty something and giving up on the world.
We're twenty something and dead inside.
And taking it all in stride.
Dec 9, 2013
Dec 9, 2013 at 2:10 AM UTC
1
This is the song of you leaving
It is the lead finally soaking into my brain
Dumbing me down
This is the de-evolution
To perfection
Turning me into the animal
I knew I always was
Taking us back to the state where
True communication is the sound of something primal
You don’t have to be human
To understand the sound of desperation
It echoes off of lead paint walls
When we are left alone
It is the sound of my heart
Used as a door jamb
A last ditch effort to stop you from leaving
2
This is the song of quaking
The rhythm of helicopter blades over head
Rattling my windows
It is the sound of a faulty foundation
Reminding me all things are breaking down
3
Break me down to beastly
Howl my heart to heaven
You never misunderstood the rumble of my hunger
After the deep breathed sighs of my lust
The salivation of sizzling fat on a skillet
4
I always know where to hide
When the crack of bullets go off again
It is the air raid sirens of ghettos
It is the goose-stepping thunder
Of misled solidarity
5
I always know to walk the other way
When I hear someone crying
To hide my head under a pillow
When I hear weeping coming from another room
6
These pleads for help are wordless
But tug at my heartstrings
As painfully as any music
Only now the speakers are speechless
And the sound is without pattern
And the dancers are still
Fear is the sound of the quiet
Listening for a reason to move
Waiting for nature’s echoing bass drum
Telling you to run
7
Scatter you new found animals to safety
And lose your need for love
This is the sound of my saddened clatter
Keyboard key’s snare drum
It is the sound of a final poetic solo
Because as for being human
I am done
8
This is the song of me leaving
Wordy as it may be
Living a lifetime
Thinking this body is the pinnacle
This body is the tip of the bell curve
Before the hourly gong of descent
This is the song of becoming perfection
The song of de-evolution
It is me
Finally becoming an animal
Again
Dec 9, 2011
Dec 9, 2011 at 3:50 PM UTC
Can someone please explain?
The world has gone insane.
Where have our morals gone?
Near-extinct, dare I say?
The radio is filled,
With people of low skill,
That speak only of *** power, hundred-dollar bills.
*** is everywhere,
None of it's subliminal.
No one even cares,
Self-respect is on a minimal.
Just look at bars and clubs,
The behavior there is criminal.
Women dressing up,
Dumbing themselves down.
Women dress like *****
Guess that's the norm now.
But that shouldn't be the way,
Now don't you miss the days?
When we would compliment the cheeks on a woman's face?
Apr 19, 2012
Apr 19, 2012 at 2:01 PM UTC
We sip our coffee and cream
and drink our whiskey and beer
Then listen to wolves
dressed as doctors
with deaf ears
and big empty eyes
and blood stained teeth
Who tell us to dull the pain with pills
and drown emotions
in prescription prayers
refillable
at the small cost of our souls
And we sit in front of flat screens
and smart phones and insta-gratification
and press the illusion of our face
between pages of a metaphor
disguised as a book
And the imagined life is better
than what is really going on
so we script our day to day lives
and step into the ring
and wrestle like big men
pretending its not just
another form of ballet
We've doubled down on dumbing down
and we're losing more than we're gaining
but we keep spinning the wheel
and the barrel
and pulling the trigger
playing the game
of suicide
and Russian Roulette
There is two bullets for every name
and a bomb of every size
waiting for its time to go BOOM
and war is just a business
for the rich
payed for by the innocent
and the ignorant
Death is big money
and blood is cheap
pump up the world population
and the rise of inflation
keep education at a minimum
as well as a wage
Keep the poor hunger
and give them an illusion to hate
divide and separate
fear is the season of reason
needed to segregate and dissipate
any sympathy or empathy
or kindness or love
We live in a nation of sheep
being lead by a pig
and it sounds like fiction
but it's horrifyingly real
and he tweets and he oinks
and he huffs and he puffs
and he is just a sad little man
having a bad hair day
day after day
The world is watching
and laughing
a nervous laugh
Maybe it's nothing to worry about
maybe I'm just late for my pill
and my beer and my whiskey
and maybe I just need a little
cyanide and cream
to lighten the mood
of the black coffee news
Jul 1, 2017
Jul 1, 2017 at 8:58 PM UTC
Teachers are problem,
Never mind the dumbing down,
God's intel design.
Oct 7, 2012
Oct 7, 2012 at 8:56 PM UTC
Sit back, relax
Everything will be fine
Enjoy what you see on T.V.
Forget the daily grind
We're here so you'll feel better
Make it all alright
Use the slightest bit of truth
We do it all the time
No need to concern yourself
With the government's affairs
What you don't know want hurt you
If your left unaware
We'll tell you who it is you are
And what it is that you should think
Don't pay attention to the other guy
He ain't like you and me
What he says is mumbo jumbo
Not like the elite that are in the know
He'll upset the apple cart
If you let him take control
So hold on tightly to your chains
Your in for the ride of your life
Who's going to pay for this loony trip
It'll come out of your hide
There's no need to concern yourself
With the government's affairs
What you don't know want hurt you
If your left unaware...
Jul 7, 2013
Jul 7, 2013 at 7:24 AM UTC
I see you see me through the seams and beams of time and space
Long-Haired tall pale one
I acknowledge your efforts to communicate with me telepathically
Telling me about a world within a world
that on this Earth there is a space
which is a haven for light beings and truth seekers
in this world threaded with beams and bolts
where evil is spread like chewing gum
where man is turned into sheep through dumbing ***
I see you sitting on a cliff
in a world stars and skies away from ours
I heard you say that buildings would fall
I heard you say that beings from under would stand out
I see your hope for the human race
and if the Divine still believes in us we have a place
But this is a fight that must be fought with spirit
Weapons are merely instruments to destroy figments of chaos
the true instruments are in the heavenly basement
where worlds were dreamed
and it started with a band you see
big bang the ****** void opening
polarization with a band member rebelling
and a universal game created
and galaxies were governed
councils were formed and there were uniforms
hybrids created to mediate
across the planes, planets colonized
some beings unevolved and lost destroy, others preach the Law Of One Rise
******* or star dust
an interaction of fusion far beyond our understanding
it was music that began it all
harps and all strings, the rainbow piano
it started with a band and science calls it a bang
but merely a ****** as worlds are created within the creation continuum
and the greatest message from the long haired tall one: "Speak the truth, find your whole, defend the music for for your race it is home".
Dec 6, 2013
Dec 6, 2013 at 11:17 PM UTC
People poison have been poisoning your mind since you were born.
schools say they will work with your childs creativity, probably the biggest lie ive ever heard
they teach you how you're "suppose" to act.
there is no proper way of acting, we are meant to be ourselves.
they brain wash us then they poison us with all this false hope
they make things that shorten your life span hoping you wont catch on.
notice that *** and anything that helps with creativity and allows your mind to grow are illegal,
though tobacco and alcohol are legal even though they **** you and brain cells.
they're dumbing us down, not letting us think for ourselves
but I am a free mind
I fill my lungs with poison
I drown my liver with liquor
why, why not
life will be over someday
I may aswell get wasted and just watch the days pass while I hav the time of my life.
using these poisons although dumb, they can be used to put me at peace with everything slowly
Death.
Jul 26, 2013
Jul 26, 2013 at 11:08 AM UTC
Im tired
Of dumbing
Down
Im better
To let
It out
Let the chips fall
Where they may
Im trying
To stay
Afloat
Im trying
To find
A rope
To climb out
But its too high now
Im too high now
Waiting for the water to rise
Im trying
To speak
Clearly
Im trying
But growing
Dreary
Im tired
And getting
Weaker
Im better
Down here
In the mud
My love is a river that dried up
Just enough to reach the edge
Im better
To have
Suffered
Im better
To have
Recovered
Im tired
Of trying
For better
In the mud
Where love
Was a river
I couldn't
Live up to
Where love
Is the river
Of blood
And youth
Dried up
To the banks
Uplift me in scars
Shower me in shame
I will be the man i'm meant to be
Sinking
Floating
Defining
Denoting
My love
And my suffering
Make me
Make me
Beautiful
In the pain
Make me
***
In the river
Of my love
Dry me out
Make me drown
In the mud
Mar 25, 2013
Mar 25, 2013 at 3:36 AM UTC
the reactions we've had to this year's differences are a predicament
they will have an effect for year's to come
friendships lost because of opinions
opinions established by the social dependencies we retain
the dumbing down of real news
as we come to the end, be one to pause and reflect
look back and determine where you fit in, in this spectacle
Brian Hill - 2020 # 292
Oct 23, 2020
Oct 23, 2020 at 10:26 AM UTC
250 squats is more than 250 steps... as i said before, with god dead the dietician is deemed respectable as topic of every conversation.
raffaello baldini
dante alighieri
umberto fiori franco buffoni
milo de angelis,
none sing
a ciao bella! not one;
bleaching is the process
of cultural invigoration residing with only
one ***** donation; oh hell, raise one
up yourself - i can't be bothered,
i just ate a pâté & meat with fat sandwich,
am i to hit the treadmill? i don't think so...
but i know you are;
i was never going to be a Japanese tourist,
i.e. a pensioner.
otherwise in England: mind the personal space,
mind the personal space... don't touch me! don't touch me!
mind the personal space... you're not the narrator,
don't enter my personal space! don't touch me!
Jane Austen neurosis... mind the personal space...
don't dare touch me!
fine... fine fine fine, the rolling hills of Yorkshire
and ************ was inspiration for
Herr Roach Hair in Ashtray -
the countryside girls became such a bore
when they entered urban environments,
all the adventures prior became one hour engagements
in terms of ******* the adventures
of homily... make a nag nag nag blah remark...
a n'ah n'ah n'ah nagging gesture...
queen's wave... whatever that means,
Elisabeth the Second
became disgruntled at having
the clock and bridge named after her
but no Shakespeare to parallel her reign,
only the dumbing down to mind, hookah hooray!
Charlie's waiting to tie the knots for his Lawrence
escapades into Arabia.
Jun 5, 2016
Jun 5, 2016 at 10:00 PM UTC