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Lawrence Hall Feb 2018
Lefttard fascist libtard Russian troll loony mother * *er freaks stupid idiotic childish rant Antifa **** troll comrade idiots like you tide pod generation snowflakes * you Marxist serial felon MSM useful idiots street justice fanboy alt.right * dunal trumpf lunatic leftist *phile ** * in your * your ****** loser freak pos pack heat ammosexuals smh screwball lefties community organizers trumptards professional agitators if we could ban idiots like you you donkey *s you lying * comrade Lefttard fascist libtard Russian troll loony mother * *er freaks stupid idiotic childish rant Antifa **** troll comrade idiots like you tide pod generation snowflakes * you Marxist serial felon MSM useful idiots street justice fanboy alt.right culy dunal trumpf lunatic leftist *phile ** * in your * your ****** loser freak pos pack heat ammosexuals smh screwball lefties community organizers trumptards professional agitators if we could ban idiots like you you donkey *s you lying * comrade Lefttard fascist libtard Russian troll loony mother * *er freaks stupid idiotic childish rant Antifa **** troll comrade idiots like you tide pod generation snowflakes * you Marxist serial felon MSM useful idiots street justice fanboy alt.right culy dunal trumpf lunatic leftist *phile ** * in your * your ****** loser freak pos pack heat ammosexuals smh screwball lefties community organizers trumptards professional agitators if we could ban idiots like you you donkey *s you lying * comrade Lefttard fascist libtard Russian troll loony mother * *er freaks stupid idiotic childish rant Antifa **** troll comrade idiots like you tide pod generation snowflakes * you Marxist serial felon MSM useful idiots street justice fanboy alt.right culy dunal trumpf lunatic leftist *phile ** * in your * your ****** loser freak pos pack heat ammosexuals smh screwball lefties community organizers trumptards professional agitators if we could ban idiots like you you donkey *s you lying ** comrade

*Employ all caps and strings of exclamation marks ad lib
poetrylover17 Jul 2014
heavy bags,bouncing busses n sweaty days.
Is what i called ****** school life.
Obnoxious teachers getting their ways.
Rules,regulations and continuous strife.
i had decided to stick to studies coz fun doesn't last anyway
Finish off school being invisible coz friendship is but for a few days
what i didn't know back then
Was in d end ill have these idiots i call my friends
Idiots who made me laugh wen i wanted to cry
idiots who changed my point of view making me realize

That good Friends do not get replaced
They just make their way into hearts n make their own space
m not even kidding when i say
These r professional idiots in every way

Like he_ for example cant get enough of screaming my name simply for fun
But i know that if i had to pick the sweetest concerned friend,she would b the one
she's an all rounder, amazing at everything
with her, fun is always present even while studying
People who annoy u r d ones who care most
is what i try to believe when it comes to this dost
who Even after she dies will probably haunt me as a ghost
Ni
_ wont even budge if i say get lost
and great gh_ believes she's the only one who can b rude to her friends
and if anyone else dares the same,off with their heads!
A thriller movie is life according to her Highness
Her laughter echoes with pure childish innocence <3

These idiots may tease me till there's nothing left
But r also bodyguards of my deepest secrets
Their jokes n sarcasm will have u in fits
it is true i love these idiots to bits
idiots who add up to my best friends list
Idiots i consider as priceless gifts

Coz They r special in so many ways
coz They r bandages to my wounds, Brought back my lost smile
they're The 'start button' to my new life
coz They accepted me d way i was
N mostly Coz,
since my heart was no more
These guys aimed for my soul

N they got it.

:) dedicated to my frnz in IIS
Luv ya gys :)
obaraye Efosa Mar 2017
The other guy stood in front of a bus
He knew that wasn't a line to cross
But still his coins he tossed
Lost in thought, he just stood
Idiot they call him
But I beg to differ

The girl followed her friend
She didn't know the trend
Their needs she would tend
She didn't know when this would end
Her ways she'd bend
Idiot they called her
But I beg to differ

Every time he spoke
He sounded like he was high on coke
But we knew he was broke
Coke won't give him stroke
His words were like those the bicycle spoke spoke
Idiot they called him
But I beg to differ

Abstinence is good
*** could be crude
For some it's food
Others it's just rude
But then we know what is crude
about what is good
that is food and could be rude
Idiot they call us
But I beg to differ

wise ones exist
Idiots persist
From the truth they desist
The truth they resist
Idiots they call them
But I beg to differ

Yes I am surrounded by idiots
But no am not an idiot
Cause am wise enough to learn from them
Let their foolishness give me a view of my future if I follow them
Wise men are known for what they say
When wise men stop saying wise things they become idiots...
To be continued in the book...

"I am surrounded by idiots" - 10 things idiots won't tell!
Pre-order your copy of this ebook by Osagie Alex for N2,500, Payable to First Bank 2021249019. Call 08036666845
you're all idiots
don't get me wrong, i am too

but i had to let you know
what you are

i love you dearly,
my idiots

if you're wondering why i'm harsh
listen here

the more you surround yourself
with negativity

the deeper you bury yourselves
**** it all

just like me
you're idiots

stop it
for me

help me do the same

let's stop being idiots today
Brent Kincaid Dec 2016
This is the tale, too often told
Of the idiots and the bums
And why those silly fools applaud
Whenever the apocalypse comes.
When things get good for common folk
Those in power get extremely worried.
They fear people will discover where lies
All the freedoms the rich people buried.

They were aware, while the populace isn’t
Of the changes they made in the laws;
That the elite put in place corruption
Where opportunity so recently was.
The poorly-named Conservatives
Quietly  un-conserved the truth
In order to tie the hands of men
And proselytize our gullible youth.

They vilified and imprisoned those
Among the un-bribed journalists
And went right on stealing from us
And having their illicit trysts.
Those who knew they could not rule
Unless they made villains of heroes
Bought their way to power with
Wiith numbers and many zeroes.

The populace was fed huge lies
About how horribly poor we all were,
Implying we were no better off
Than cavemen wearing only fur.
They taught the stupid among us
All of the idiots and the bums,
That they had the only answers,
That they could reverse the sums.

The idiots are easy to understand
They are looking for some answers.
The bums sit back and let it happen
And never get their stuff together.
The bums decide everything is fine
Until they lose their jobs and houses
And then the *** and idiot both;
What to do? He whines and grouses.

Meanwhile even more of the wealth
That it would take to fix our land
Rotated even more back and forth
Between the same few hands.
This is what happens every time,
This is the cycle that repeats here
Defeating progress and smashing hope
Year after Conservative year.
Lo and behold! The idiot has returned
      The people ask why
      I shrug and head turn

There he walks with his idiot stance
      I watch him angrily
      As he does his dumb prance

I remember his mind, so simple but true
      We talked a lot in the past
      I think his IQ is less than two

Great Scott! I cry for this hurts me so
      He should be executed
      Or have his ******* cut off for show

I am filled with anger every time he breathes
      How did he live this long?
      He should just stand in a busy street

Alas, there is nothing I can do
      What a shame
       I think he needs some counseling too

Good grief! I don't thinks his parents did well
      Raising a half-wit delinquent
      Oh isn't that just swell?

May this be a warning to you and to all
      Be wary of idiots
      For their brains are small
If the shoe fits, wear it.
E Lynch Feb 2015
Idiots don't do drugs.
Think about the statement,
you may disagree initially
but the more you ponder it,
the more you will realise it is true.

Sure everyone experiments,
smokes a joint, pops a pill...
They have a good time,
they leave and go home
thinking 'Yeah that was fun'.

You won't find the bodies of idiots
going into decay
from addiction to a substance
that they need in their life
to escape from the weight of reality.

You won't see below average people
question their ideals
or moral standpoints
you won't hear them questioning
the world around them either.

You won't find a stupid person
crushed from self doubt
and turning to a substance
to feel better for a time
because they simply don't think that way.

These people don't do depression
or mental disorders
on the contrary
I've found many an idiot
claim they don't exist at all.

It's a frightening thing to think
that a ****** addict we pass on
the street could possibly have the answer or cure
to world hunger, cancer or aids locked
away in their brain and even scarier that it will die with them.

I fear for our society
idiots are taking hold
and so full of confidence
that their ideas are great
while brilliant minds fade away without a trace.
Madeline Thetard Apr 2018
Today I told someone hello.
2. They didn't say it back.
3. Today I smiled at someone in the hall.
4. They didn't smile back.
5. Today I looked in the mirror to see if I was invisible.
6. Turns out I'm not invisible -- then why can't anyone see me?
7. Today I made a fake Instagram account under a trendy name from the 1960s to see whether I knew any people who had real Instagram accounts.
8. All of the accounts were private save for one.
9. Today I forced myself to be happy for a particular past crush who posted lots of pictures on Instagram with his new girlfriend. Hurrah.
10. Today I looked at everyone's smiling faces and wondered why I wasn't smiling with them.
11. Today I wondered why some people are complete idiots.
12. Today I wondered why my skin tone - white as milk - should make people believe that I can't handle spice, or make people believe that I am stupid.
1. Today I told someone hello.
2. They didn't say it back.
13. Today I comforted someone who said she had no love life.
14. I didn't have the courage to tell her that I've never had a love life and probably never will.
15. Today I told someone I write poetry and they laughed at me.
16. Today I cried in front of a mirror while singing a made-up song that wasn't even sad.
17. Today I told people I was fine when I really was not.
5. Today I looked in the mirror to see if I was invisible.
18. I wish I was invisible.
19. If I were invisible maybe it wouldn't hurt so much 'cause I know I'm here but people refuse to see it.
20. Can I please just be invisible?
1. Today I told someone hello.
2. They didn't say it back.
Not in a fantastic mood right now.
Johnathan locke Jun 2015
I am allergic to idiots.
When their around I get mad.
When I get mad,
I'm scary just a tad.

The sky is blue!
How do I tie my shoe?
How to stay silent,
I have no clue.

Oh, how so frustrating!
Why do they have to try to be annoying?
Stupid questions, left and right,
With my patience, they are toying.
jeffrey conyers Oct 2012
Sometimes I'm amazed by things people say.
But then again.
I've said some stupid things.
But to constanly do it again and again.
Only means, I'm livin' in a world of idiots.

We know lies gets twisted around.
That they sounds like truth.
We know the smartest people acts dumb.
To the point that they rub off on you.
That only proves your point.
We're livin' in a world of idiots.

From regular folks to politicians.
We're livin' in a world of idiots.

We know that those with the business sense.
Sometimes operates around false pretense.
It's just the pressure they are under.
They got to answer to the stockholders.

These are the ones that states they care.
Until their stocks begins to fall down.
Then again you know.
We're livin' in the world of fools.
Who hadn't met one of them too?

We're surrounded by them.
From every direction.
Deadwood Haiku Apr 2015
people angry at
their difficulties act like
******' idiots
Bullock
Michael W Noland Sep 2012
[A] is for
An
Archer with
An
Arrow through his
Adams
Apple, very
Applicable, to the
Ample
Amounts of
Amiable
Attitude,
Adorning his heart, in
After
Action
Attributes, that impart, the
Admiration, of
*******, in this
Acting out of
Arrogance bit. he is,
Astute, in his
Allure, and
Aloof, in the
Air, of
Aspiration, in which, he was
Alienated in the
Agony, of
Asking
Assassins, the
Aforementioned. lights, camera,
Action. recipe of the
Ancient
Admirals of
Avian
Aliens, that
Attacked, with the
Arms and fists, of
Arachnids, now
Aching to be
Activated in sudden
Allegiance to the
Answers, of the truth.
Accumulating wealth for
Anarchy's of
Abating
Angels in
Atrophied,
Alchemical
Academies of the ever
After life .. . of silence.
****** strengthens in these
Accolades of violence, in
Alliance to
Appliances
Appearing in the
Arson of
Apathy, happily, to
Anguish in the
Amputation of my
Abdomen, if it meant i'm a real
American, even, when, only
Ash, remains.
Acclimating in its remains
Attained, the
Articles of my pain, in
Affluent shame, next time ..
Aim... oak
[A]?

[B] is for the
Bah of
Black sheep, and
Big
Bit¢hes, fat cats,
Bombarded in the
Blasted,
Bastion of
Blackened
Benevolent
Blokes,
Berating the
Blasphemous,
Be-seech, of
Brains, to feel
Bad, about the
Blotching of
Binary codes, erroding, the
Blanked out
Books, of
Belittled
Bureaucrats,
Bowling
Back the
Bank rolls of
Betterment, from the
Back of the
Blackened
Bus, as i'm
Busting guts, in the
Bubbling
Butts, of *****
Benched, but
Beautiful, in the
Battle, in the
Bane, of existence.
Baffled, in the strain of
Belligerence, in
Beating the
Beaming
Butchery into
Billy's
Broken
Brains, in
Bouts, of
Battering
Bobby's for
Bags of
*******
Before, affording to
Build
Bombs, is just
Beyond
Breaking
Beer
Bottles on the
*******
Benefactors of
Boulder
Bashing with the
Beaks, of
Birds, with no
Bees. just a
Being, trying to
[B]


[C] is for the
*****
Courting the
Choreography, in
Computerized
Curtains,
Circumventing the
Cultured,
Contrivance of
Chromatic
Cellars,
Calibrating, to the
Contours of
Calamities,
Celebrating the
Cyclical,
Cylinders of
Cyphered
Calenders,
Correcting the
Calculations, of
Crooks
Coughing, in
Courageous
Coffins of
Canadians,
Collecting
Cobble stones, from
Catacombs, in the lands of the
Conquered,
Capturing the
Claps of thieves, sneaky
Cats, of greed. its
Comedy. oh
Comely, to my
Cling of
Cleanliness, and for your self
[C]

[D] is for the
Dip *****, as they
Delve
Deeper in the
Deliverance, of
Deviant
Deities,
Dying to
Demand
Dinner
Delivered in the throws of
Death,
Deceiving
Defiance of
Darkened
Dreams,
Demeaning that which
Deems the
Dormant of the
Dominant, to be
Demons of
Deviled
Devilry,
Dooming us for
Destruction.
Deploy the,
Damsels in
Duress.
Defiled and
Distressed,
Detestable and
Dead. in the thump of
Drums,
Dumbing down the
Debts of,
Dire regrets.
Dissect the
Daisies of,
Disillusion, in the current
Days,
Diluting night into
Dawn,
Disconnecting the
Dots of the
Dichotomy, and arming me, in the
Diabolatry, of,
Demonology, as i watch me
Dwindle away, the
[D]

[E] is for
Everything in nothing,
Eating the
Euphoric
Enigmas of
Enlightened
Elitists,
Exceeding in the
Extravagant
Essence of
Esoteric
Euphemisms,
Escaping the
Elegance of the
Elements in the
Eccentricity of
Eclectic
Ecstasy,
Exhaling, the
Exostential blessings, of inner
Entities, and renouncing the
Enemies of my
Ease,
Easily to appease
Extraterestrial
Empires,
Extracting the lost
Embers of
Enlightenment, in
Excited delight, but to later
Entice, the fight, and
Escape, like a thief into the night of
Everywhere,
Entering the
Exits of
Elevators leading no where, to
Elevate, this useless place,
Encased in malware in the
Errant
Errors of
Every man,
Enslaved, of flesh and
Entrails,
Enveloping the core of
Everything, that matters,
Enduring, the chatter, of
Evermore,
Ever present in
Everybody
Ever made to take
[E]

Funk the
Ferocity of
Foolish
Fandangos, with
Fanged
Fanatics,
Fooled in the
Fiasco of
Fumbled
Fantasies,
Falling through the
Farms of
Freely
Found
Fans,
Flying in the
Fame of
Fortune.
Fornicating on the
Fallen
Fears of
Fat
Fish getting their
Fillet of
Fills.
Feel me in the
Frills

Granted with
Generosity.
Giblets of
Gratitude and
Greed,
Greeting the
Goop and
Gobbled
Gore,
Gleaned from the
Glamour of
Ghouls in
Gillie suits,
Getting what they
Got
Going, in the
Gratuitous
Gallows of a
Game
Gaffed by
Giants.

Hello to the
Horizon of
Hellish
Hilarity, in
Hope of
Happy, to
Heave from
Heifers, to
Help the
Hemp
Harshened
Hobos in
Heightened
Horror, to
Honor the
Habitats of
Hapless
Habituals,
Herbalising the work
Horse, named
Have Not, in the
Haughtily
Hardened
Houses of
Happenstance.

Ignore the
Ignorant
Idiots, too
Illiterate to
Indicate the
Indicative
Instances of
Idiom in the
Irrelevant
Inaccuracy of
I,
In the
Intellect of
Idle
Individuals,
Irritated with the
Irate
Illusion of
Idols
Illustrated upon the
Iris,
In the
Illumination of
I.

******* the
Jobless
Jokers, and
Jimmy the
Jerkins from their
Jammie's, in
Justified,
Jousting off the
Jumps, in
Jokes, and
Jukes of
Just
Jailers,
Jesting for
Jammed
Jury's to
****
Judgment from the
Jitter
Juiced
Jeans of
Jesus.

**** the
Keep of
Khaki-ed
Kool aid men,
Kept in the
Kilometers of
Kits,
Kin-less
Kinetics,
Knifing the
Knights of
Kneeling
Kinsmanship,
Keeling over the
Keys of
Kaine, with the
Karmic
Karate
Kick of a
Kangaroo.

Love the
Levity, in the
Luxurious
Laments of
Loveliness,
Lovingly
Levitating in
Level,
Lucidly.
Living in
Laps, of
Lapses,
Looping, but
Lacking the
Loom of the
Latches
Locked with
Leeches of the
Lonely
Lit
Leering of
Lightly
Limbs, that
Lash at the
Lessers in
Loot of
Lost letters,
Lest we
Learned in the
Lessons of
Liars.

Marooned in
Maniacal
Masterpieces,
Masqueraded as
Malignant
Memorization's of
Motionless
Mantras, but
Merrily
Masking
Mikha'el the
Mundane, who is
Musically
Mused of
Monsters,
Mangling the
Monitor, but
Maybe just a
Moniker of
Marauders.

Never to
Navigate the
Nautical
Nether of
Never
Nears.
Not to
Nit pic the
Naivety of
Nicety.
Notions
Neither take
Note
Nor
Name the
Noise of
Nats in the
Nights of
Neanderthals
Napping in the
Nets of
Ninjas

Ominous in the
Obvious
Omnipotence of
Oblivious
Obligatory
Opulence,
Of
Other
Oddly
Orchards
Of
Offices,
Ordaining
Orifices in
Offers of
Ordinary
Ordinances in
Option-less
Optics,
Optionally an
On-call Oracle, in
Optimal,
Overture.

Perusing the
Pestilent
Pedestals of
Personal,
Parameters,
Pursuing the
Petty
Plumes of
Piety with the
Patience of a
Pharaoh,
******* on the
People with the
Penal
Pianos of
Port-less
Portals, in the
Paperless
Points in the
Palpal
Pats of
Pettiness.
Poor, but
Prideful.

Quick to
Qualify the
Quitter for a
Quick
Quill in
Queer
Quivering of
Quickened
Questioning,
Queried in the
Quakiest of
Quandaries.
Quarantined to a
Quadrant, of
Quagmires.
Questing the
Quizzing of
Quotable
Quartets.

Relax in the
Relapse of
Realizations, and
React with
Racks of
Rolling
Rock to
Rate the
Rep of the
Rain-less.
Roar in
Rapturous
Rendering of the
Random
Readiness in the
Ravenous,
Rallying, of the
Retinal
Refracting of
Reality.
Realigning, the
Righteous
Rearing of the
Realm, and
Retrying.

Steer the
Serenity in
Sustainability, and
Slither through the
Seams of
Slumbered
Scenes.
Secrete the
Solo
Sobriety of
Sapped
Sassys,
Salivating upon a
Slew of
Stupidity,
Steadily
Supplied in
Stream,
Suitably
Slain in the
Steam of
Sanity.
Sadly, i
Still
Seem,
Salvagable.

Topple
The
Titans in
Tightened
Terror.
Torn
Territories
Turn
Turbulent in
The
Teething of
Totality.
The
Telemetry of
Time,
Tortured of
Torrent
Theories,
Told in
Turrets of
Transpiring
Terribleness, from
Tumultuous
Tikes unto
Teens,
Trading
Toys for
Tea.
Thrice
Thrusted upon by the
Tyranny of
Tanks.

Unanimous is the
Ugliness in the
Undertones of
Undreamed
Ulteriors
Undergoing the
Unclean in the
***** of
Utterly
Upset
Users,
Uplifting the
Unfitting
Ushers in
Underwear-less,
Ulcers,
Undergoing the
Ultra of
Uberness.

Venial in
Vindictive
Viciousness of
Vindicated
Venom,
Venomously
Vilifying the
Vials of
Villainy in the
Veins of
Vampires,
Validity of
Valuable
Violence, is
Valiant in the
Vaporous
Vacationing of
Vagrant
Vices.

Why
Whelp in the
Weather
When you can
Wave to the
Whirling
Wisps,
Whipping Where the
Whimsical Were
Way back in the
Wellness of
Whip its,
Wrangling my
World,
With
Waterless
Worms, as
War shouts are
Wasted in the
Wackiest
Walks of
Waking
Wonder.

Xenophobic
Xenogogue, of
Xenomorphic
Xeons, turn
Xyphoid, in the
Xenomenia of my
X, my
Xenolalia of
X, to
***. im lost in the
Xenobiotic zen of
Xerces, on a
Xebec to the
X on the map.
Xenogenesis, in the
Xesturgy of my
Xyston
Xd

Yelling
Yearned from
Yelping.
Yard
Yachts
Yielding, to the
Yodel of
Yeah
Yeahs, to the
Yapping of
******
Yuppie
Yoga
Yanks, over
Yonder.
Yucking it up with the
Yawn of a
Yocal.

Zapped from a
Zone i
Zoomed with
Zeal in the
Zig and
Zag of my
Zapping
Zimming
Zest, upon a
Zombie-less
Zeplin.
Zealot,
Zionist, or
Zoologists,
Zeros or ones, just
Zip your
Zip locked. and
Zzzzz
Zzzz
Zzz
Zz
Z
Zero
this is a work in progress
Molly Mar 2014
If you are a girl and you are bisexual,
you're really just a ****.

If you are a boy and you are bisexual,
you're really just gay.

Bisexuality isn't a real thing,
it's a phase. You're confused.

All girls are secretly bi.
You're just more honest about it.

Bisexuals like everyone,
they don't know how to have real relationships.

Bisexuals are looking for attention,
They're dramatic,
They're confused,
They're *****
Idiots
Sinners
Immature.

Wrong.


Bisexuals are people.
This bothers me to no end
Love is a joke between two idiots
Who do not understand it just cuts
Fake certificates declare illiterates
This is how they make their huts

When they go through its real fire
They immediately bound to retire
This is how they think and aspire
They term their love just their desire

Love is just an idiots tale with trail
This is how they always just fail
What is love where beauty is to hail
Only pleasure is together they sail

Col Muhammad Khalid Khan
Copyright 2016 Golden Glow
Torin Apr 2016
I'm not afraid
Of idiots
Because I fear only that
Which I can never understand
And idiots
For the most part
Are pretty simple

I only fear
The idiots
Because they outnumber me
And my kind
And I'll never understand
Or find a reason
Why

Let my words go over your head
And fear me
You were never meant to understand anyways
Arson Nick Jun 2012
Run

                     Run you wide-eyed idiots

              Run while your stride still carries strength
       And purpose

Run as far as the roads will allow
              Absorb experience
                            Expel assumptions

                                                 Run over broken and uneven surfaces
              Adjust your pace as needed
                                                        Alter your course as the terrain demands
                     But retain momentum

       Run
              Til the sun bleeds crimson on charcoal skies
And the cooling ground tempers your callouses

                     Run you wide eyes idiots
       While your blameless arrogance still empowers you
                                          While you undiscovered mortality keeps you safe from harm
                            While you still know everything

       Run alone
              Or in groups
                     Til your breath fails you
                            Or your legs fall off
                                   To catch up with your future
                                          Or to escape your past
                                                 With pride
                                           Or prejudice


                     Just run


                                                                                              
                                                                                        You'll be a harder target
Arlo Disarray May 2015
We all know it, but pretend what we write is genius
Like we're special and our words should mean something

We're a bunch of narcissistic idiots
And we all believe our **** doesn't stink
but there are green waves flowing off of our ink

And all the fresh ideas have turned rotten
Gelatinous gunk that's been long since forgotten

Nothing we say matters

But we keep spitting and shouting anyway

Huffing and puffing until we turn blue
Hoping our words will reach and inspire you

But poetry is a dying art
And poets are idiots
I'm proud to be one of those idiots, though.
Daylight 4U2C Dec 2014
Maybe I don't have a mind,
but at least I'm not crazy.

I fallen so many times,
so I'm so experienced.

I've been cheated and left behind;
I know my friends and enemies.

I hear the echos of memories;
they see how far I've come.
So I know I've come so far.

Don't have a lot of friends,
so music's number 1.

Would **** for solitude,
but then where is the fun.

Maybe it's complicated,
but that makes an adventure.

Sometimes the darkest times,
are ones we gladly venture.

Optimist living for a life we understand. We were never idiots; we have the upper-hand. Notice their all falling down the depths of agony, but we optimist live strong, proud, and free.
ryn Sep 2014
Life throws at us the worst practical pranks
Some call them challenges... I call them sick ironies
With challenges you might emerge victorious, and slide up the ranks
Ironies are just mean, bad jokes; locks with no keys

Call me godless, sad and trodden, bitter man
Call me a cynic, call me all including jaded
I've arranged it all in various permutations, much as I can
But my view at this point cannot be compensated

Allow me to illustrate...

•It's funny how you feel very certain or strongly
About the bog of sadness and depression you wade in deepest
You know it's real, you fan it with strength your mind could carry
When it could be better used to rise from when you're weakest

•What's this about having to crash to your fiery death
Into the realm of darkness; into the belly of hell
You'd have to almost die and lose your last breath
Before granted an epiphany, a slim chance that you could turn out well

•When life throws you in the deepest end
Fills your lungs with copius amounts of bad water
Tries to **** you before allowing time to mend
When if we were first taught to swim, it would've been much easier

•Sure... A treasure trove of splendours, life does offer
But like a spin of the lottery, you mightn't get even if you deserve
No matter how far you reach into it's elusive coffers
No matter how hard you worked to get ahead of the curve

•Life is like Christmas at times when it feels like giving
Like the gift of love much coveted by most individuals
Gives us all these fanciful things that need extensive assembling
But mischievously hoarding all the instruction manuals

•Fraught with grey areas and blind spots to fight
Presents ample opportunities to find the place that you'd belong
You go through shitloads of wrongs to get a right
And finally you think you're right, in actuality, you're dead wrong!

"More", you say?

•Friends during good times but not the bad
•The perfect red apple hosting a worm inside
•Faking a happy smile when you're deep down sad
•Putting our blind faiths in politicians we know who've lied

•Achieving superstardom only after death had ensnared
•Using heavy machinery to rid the Earth of impurity
•Shooting your mean motor mouth and wonder why no one cared
•Starlets dying for attention but crumble under scrutiny

•Health warnings on cigarettes but still sold for revenue
•Acquiring your sought after sports car but drive within the limit
•Promotions to idiots in suits who haven't got a clue
•Stretching up for the stars even when you know you'll never reach it

Well...

I could give more examples but I've typed enough
Life is but a game we're all playing; a circus we're all living
We can't help being helpless when unable to read and call its bluff
All we can afford is to keep siphoning water out of our boat that's sinking
I know I have been whiny in my recent writes. I also know that living a hard life makes you stronger... When life gives you lemons, make lemonade... Blah blah, yada yada... YAWN... SNORE... Zzzzzz. I know these already and I'm sure they're true to a certain degree. Just want to rant and complain. Please forgive my whining.
the word thief Jan 2014
this is about how positive thinking is a stupid waste of time
well, not all positive thinking is *******
like, if you have a goal and you are trying to meet it
then of course it behooves you to be positive about it
it behooves you to say
yeah, i am going to get to that point
or i am going to get as close as i possibly can
and that is like
positive thinking that is proactive -
the kind of positive thinking i am criticizing
are the kind of people who think that all the worlds problems can be solved simply
by the act of being happy
or being upbeat and positive
cause it seems like in a lot of ways
i belong to a generation of people
that are so focused on the silver lining
that they miss the ******* giant *** storm cloud heading their way
you know, it's good to see the bright side
but if you only focus on the bright side
how can you ever address the real problems that face you
not every situation should be turned into something positive
there are certain things in life that just are negative
and they need to be confronted not with the power of positive thinking
but with the power of intelligent thinking
and the power of taking action based upon intelligent thinking
but most people in this country are just inert idiots
they won't act unless they are acted upon
they won't think unless you spoon feed their thoughts into them
that's why you have all these idiots listening to ******* Rush Limbaugh
they'll just sit there and nod their empty ******* head like
"yeah,Rush knows what's up"
Rush doe's not know what's up
Rush is a ******* idiot
look, our generation has some serious, serious ******* problems to face
climate change and the ensuing ecological disasters
couple that with over population
there's going to be scarcity of resources
if you live in america you are also going to have to deal with things like
growing income inequality cause you know they aren't going to pass some new minimum wage thing
in the near future
because we also have in this country an infestation
of social conservatives who become increasingly more aggressive and obstructionist
as they realize they are losing their grip on the country
that's just a FEW of the problems that our generation is going to have to be the ones to face
and right now all i'm seeing from people is
"we need to stop fat shaming people" "people need to be comfortable with their own body image"
and "we need to get more rights for gays"
look,
that's fine
that's wonderful
that's a good start
but those problems are insignificant compared to what awaits you
and i don't ******* think you people are ready
i think your sitting there with your thumbs up your *** thinking
"well the world is just going to work out as it does and i'm just going to sit here and just kinda go blumby blumbly bluuummmbb and imma think happy thoughts! maybe if i think happy enough thoughts, i'll turn into peter pan and fly away to ******* neverland and i won't have to deal with any of this ****"
well sorry, THAT'S NOT A ******* OPTION!
your stuck here on this planet like the rest of us
you might want to take some interest
you might want to stop just looking on the bright side and start looking at the ******* dark side
because the dark side is bigger
and it's going to get bigger and bigger and bigger
unless you think
unless you do something about it
and when i say you i don't just mean you
i mean me too

*T.J.
Kagami Nov 2013
Silent crackle, tingle,
The smell of a sticky must. Floating dust in
An abandoned attic, where the rats roam and the dead skeleton of a fish
Still lies in an empty bowl of moldy rocks and plastic plants.
Yet, despite the emptiness, a girl curls up in the corner, black
Running down her face as she weeps for the things she longs for most.
She looks out the *****, broken window at the cloudy sky and imagines it
Blue. The brightest of skies with only few hints of cirrus.
A blanket on the ground and the man she loves, nothing else in sight.
The expanse of green in her head is contrasted to the rotting floorboards she lays
On, dreaming. The steady beat of Boy in Static thrumming through her headset
As she struggles not to scream and jump, finishing the job on the window
From troubled teens years before. The sound reminds her of VHS tapes,
Press rewind, take a turn and start over. But she can't, when something has changed.
The boy she knew, looking down with his hood not up, but covering his face, shielding
Himself from her. She knew he had a ***** in his head, but she just looked away. He never answered anything she asked. He was unable.
But her heart still dropped, she smiled her best. An amazing actress, fooling everyone, makeup allergy keeping her eyes dry. She just read Huck Finn as though nothing was wrong.
Now she sits in her room, writing and shaking her head. This line is not right.
Her walls were full of color and poetry, but her mind kept wandering to that attic.

She was there again. Blankly staring at her star charm anklet. A simple blue ribbon.
And the throbbing of her heartbeat through that one spot on her thumb,
That pressure point that hurts more than anything. But one thing could be worse.
Being left. Just like the broken rocking horse in the corner and the baby's cradle
Lined with blue silk that was shoved into a box. That baby is probably dead. Just like all
Of the others who lived there, burned by the fire. Goose flesh raises, prickly
Hairs on her legs from a week of no shaving. Scratch. Scratch. Scratch. Bleed.
Change the song. Bleed Like Me. Perfect. She draws on the peeling walls, two hundred
Years of wallpaper and lead paint, chalk barely leaving a mark. She sketches a masterpiece.
A child that she wishes she could have. Impossibly too young, but still...
A daughter she could raise better than her mother raised her. A chance to do something right.
More than the mechanic life she has lead, empty and useless.
Confused and pathetic. Like the broken grandfather clock that ticks backwards.
Three, two, one.
Ding-****, ****-ding. Grandfather never taught me anything. He was not a wise man.
He was a fool. Knew too much and too little, no room to know what was right.
She let another raindrop escape and suddenly it began to pour. Lightning crashes as a glass
Slipper collides with the picture drawn of her dream. Thunder as she releases a
Bloodcurdling scream. "Why!?"
Why her? The pain in her back is unbearable. She slouches too much, and her eyes burn.
She is not Cinderella; her ball gown does not glitter.
Piano is her least favorite instrument, but it somehow gets to her. Small hammers
Striking her heart strings, low notes reminding her of his voice and the soft, feminine
Voices radiating, remind her of when she was young... Immortal. She has aged since then.
Too quickly. Her entire life has been a masquerade ball. Unskilled idiots dancing
Around her and stepping on her toes. Shouldering her in the stomach,
Breaking her ribs. Beats of music guide her skilled toes, swerve around falling raindrops that
Her own eyes emit. And she crashes through the floor of that dismal attic. Broken free,
But she is still trapped. The walls are charred down here.

But the walls are not painted black. They were once a mint color, green and cheerful, healthy.
Until a psychopath lit a match.
"I didn't mean to do it." It was all in her head. The house.
She set it aflame.

She sits in her room, writing and shaking her head. This line is not right.
Her walls were full of color and poetry. It isn't worth it to stare. Nothing will change.
She is still just a girl in a glass box, being stared at and judged. Trapped and ridiculed because her eyes bleed and bless the onlookers with bad luck. It's amazing the things
That people don't know. Drifting deeper into a pit of endless darkness. A candle won't
Live down here. No oxygen to let it breathe. But one lit self portrait hangs in the air.
Years ago, drawn in pencil. Symbolic, it wants to be erased. To die.
And the ******* the page is wearing a mask. The girl in the parchment is me.
Medium length hair and a tear painted, permanent. A Parasite. Capitalized for its meaning.

A demon is running through me, singeing
My tissues, blisters on the insides of my bones. Swelled up, show through
My skin. Waves on a shore. But I am not a beach. A ***** maybe...
Still, I hate it. The hate killed whatever flowers I had left planted in my mind.
Tainted me with the horrible visions of a tear streaked face of paper mâché.
She was the one in the attic. Her whole persona
Wilted and ashen, grey. A silent movie might mask it; the hurt, I mean.
The grey lines on the screen hiding the bags under her eyes and the redness of her nose,
Get rid of the twinkling shards of glass frozen on her cheek from crying in the dead of winter.
Slip up once, and everything goes to hell. Well, I must have slipped years before I was born.
Few smiles are left on this dismal timeline. And I shall use them wisely. But, for now,
I think I will just weep, sleep forever and hope that you don't give up on me and pull the plug.
I am still here somewhere, just dormant. Please wake me up. Get me out of this charred cabin,
This glass box. Pull me out of my warped sense of everything, teach me again what
Love feels like. I have forgotten amidst everything that I have felt and remembered.
There is no more room for things to be learned. Only for things to be repaired.
I will give you a hammer. Come inside and fix me; that ***** in your head couldn't have taken your knowledge away. You are the only one that knows.

Use this never ending lightning and bring your bride to life.
Madeline Hatter Jul 2015
They* say that silence is golden...whatever that means.
They say that "no news is good news."
They say that to really understand someone, you need to "walk in his shoes."

Give me a break; cut me some slack; take a chill pill.
Who are they? And what gives them the right?

The silence I'm in is black.
It is not golden.
It does not shine with light.
It is empty, earth shattering heartbreak.
That is my silence.

No news is not good news: this doesn't even make sense as a math or logic problem.
No news is never good news when you're dangling off of the edge of your emotional downfall-- holding on by your fingertips.
No news is not good news when you're struggling to keep your head above water, but your body is becoming heavy with doubt.

And my shoes? They don't even fit me properly half of the time.

So tell me, who are they?
Because I want to see their golden silence, understand how their lack of news is a positive... and I bet their shoes don't fit me either.
Grant Mailo Sep 2012
racism and stereotypes
I’m not chief keef but that’s that **** I don’t like
especially when I’m judged like when people say that I don’t “look right”
cause I tell I’m samoan so I’m supposed to be big and strong
and playing some stereotypical sport like football
it’s just an ethnicity, like anyone else, relax
but on a more serious note, I feel bad for the blacks
tell me why a few weeks ago, my roommate is walkin’ down on mill ave.
and he sees some girl sittin’ alone so he comes over cause he just wants to chat
but as soon as he approaches her, she gets all tense and afraid
cause she’s over here fabricating some image that he’s some kind of troublemaker, like the dude from the movie crash, you know the one with the braids?
I find that **** ludicrous
that many people out there judge off the color of someone’s skin and think they knew all of it
all of who you are and all of how you act
so you supposed to be a gangsta on the streets cause you young and you black
or the only explanation for the brotha with the beemer is he be workin’ that corner sellin’ out dime sacks from his nike knapsack or maybe he’s just one of those cats that likes to rap and occasionally slangs crack
but no, he can’t be no college educated man
he’s wearing a nike outfit and his skin is all black
and don’t even get me started on all the idiots that judge Hispanics and call ‘em wetbacks
what the hell is wrong with this world?
latinos are arguably the hardest working people around
but jose and carlos must be illegal cause they’re holding a shovel and their skin is all brown
so let’s get a group of racist ******* to push sheriff joe arpaio to introduce sb1070
good job Arizona, you’re now the most hated state in the country
cause we don’t like Mexicans cause they’re taking all the jobs that we could have had
but let’s skip the fact that they’re willing to work twice as hard for half the pay with no insurance to cover their back
how do you disrespect anyone, who’s willing to do all that?
and as we go over these issues with all the minorities
racists begin to develop a sense of hate for those that make up the majority
the white people
this girl in class may have not have been paying attention or got an easy question wrong
so let’s just whisper under our breath that she’s just another “dumb blonde”
let’s just assume that she’s daddy’s spoiled little girl cause she has a coach bag
and that she has a lotta of money, no rhythm, and above all no ***
and her daddy’s daddy’s daddy must have owned slaves back in the day
so I’mma use that against her if she ever misbehaves
and act like the majority of her people haven’t matured past that stage
and since they seem like their living well, it must be safe to assume that they were born privileged
and that they’re completely oblivious to the sufferings of other races and completely ethnocentric
*******
all these stereotypes and racist assumptions, *******
why can’t we,
live in a colorblind society,
where all races can connect without the animosity?
well, the answer is, we can, but it starts from us
stop the racism, stop the stereotypes, stop the hate, and begin to trust
in people of all colors with different mothers
like the cliché goes, don’t judge a book by its cover
so just because he ain’t a brother
that don’t mean you gotta give him the cold shoulder
so, if everyone can, I need yall to do me a favor,
I need you to love you, love him, and even love me
love her, love them, love everyone equally
and as for me? I’mma just be me
regardless of what people assume, I have the right to act freely
cause I’m not trynna be the center of attention or the definition of perfection
I’m just strivin’ to be proud of what I see in my reflection…
spoken word poem I performed at the ASU welcome black poetry explosion 2012 event. wrote this only a few days before the event so it's a rushed job. indulge anyways haha.
Cassia Baillie Jul 2018
Ecstatic tingles keep me alive hoping that someone will cut me like a knife
My buttery redemption deems a perilous pearl
To the fools who fall in love with this treaterous girl
I will break you apart
**** love out of your heart
And pop your joy into my mouth
Like a delicious pop ****
And rapturously smile painting ruin so smart
Your demise is my subconscious impeccable art
I am sorry.
You’re more tempting then heroine
Especially when you give me some tender love to hope in

My spirit animal might be an evil dragon
Or serpent goddess
Or something
Or maybe I’m just trying to fantasize over the fact that
I. Am. Not. Nice
My advice to you- RUN.
Jane Doe Feb 2014
I hate the fact
That I'm surrounded
By irresponsible idiots
Seriously though, people should start taking more responsibility for their actions and work -.-
Angela Campbell Dec 2013
I slam the door,
and sink to the floor
I start to cry,
I can’t take it anymore.

It hurts so bad,
I feel like ****
It’s been so fake.
Love is for idiots.

But I loved you so much,
You were my favorite song.
And now that you’re gone,
I still can’t move on.

I’ve been so blinded,
My eyes were sealed shut
So when reality hit,
I wasn’t ready for it.

I finally open my eyes,
The lights give me a headache.
God, I only wish,
It hadn’t been so fake.


(a.f.c)
No Name Nov 2010
I’m tired of your wit, you know.
Tired of your apathy show.
To think that to not give a ****
makes you a better, (wiser) man!

I’m tired of these gross facades
that you rule the world, that you are god.
Quite frankly you are all the same-
I’ve broken you and found your game.

You add a pause, then charming word,
then smirk as if you’d gone unheard.
And all the books and movie screens
are draining out their blood, it seems.

So give me something beautiful,
without wit, but sparkling with soul.
Give me words that grow like vines
out of this production line.
Frank Brown Sep 2012
Sat eating my lunch and a letter from the student union is dropped onto the chair next to me. I forgot; I’m a student. Why? I don’t even know. I ignore the letter, knowing it will be full of all that fake happiness *******. The thought of it causes my blood to boil. **** that. **** your community, your society based on ignorance, coaxing young impressionable students to become involved, engrossed in your way of life. Do what you want, I don’t give a ****, but don’t try and tell me that I’m not making the most out of my life because I don’t get involved. You can’t understand that there are other ways to live. You go about your business in this world isolated from the creatures and monsters that lurk within the depths of life – that lurk within the depths of yourselves. Suppressing; ignoring; having fun in your sterile environment. You think you avoid suffering, that you’ve found the recipe for happiness. All you’re really doing is suppressing life itself, your existence is incomplete, you are nothing but an effigy, a shadow of yourself.

As I flick through the leaflets and pages of the over-coloured, glossy pamphlets, I am overcome with what I can only describe as passionate rage. It’s just too ******* easy to be cynical about the crap that’s in this letter. Everything can be torn apart, I can see right to the depths of all the ******* they’re trying to feed me. So what if some guy has been elected as the student representative for sports – do I really need to see his face smiling back at me on every page I turn to? Why do I need to know who this guy is? Am I supposed to look up to him, is he the intermediary authoritative figure that I’m supposed to look up to; respect; even admire? A role model for myself, and all the other impressionable young minds arriving at university?

Taking them in when they’re at their most vulnerable. They’re living alone for the first time in their lives, but don’t worry; here comes the student reps to fill that void that is left where your home and family used to be. Come and join in with our activities, drink yourself stupid and forget the pain. We’ve even planned out a schedule for you to follow, each night laid out for you. Don’t even think, don’t use your own initiative and decide where you might want to go. Cram them in, venues at maximum capacity; drinks as cheap as you’ll find for miles, everyone wearing the same clothing styles, forgetting to think what this world is they find themselves in, stick to *****, forget about whiskey and gin. Your life as a student has begun; from now on this is what you’ll find to be fun. Don’t venture further into the depths of life, this is all you need. Your one pound ***** shots used as a catalyst, overcome your awkwardness, get laid for the first time; ****** for the first time. You wake up in unfamiliar surroundings, lost your phone and your wallet, can’t handle the drink, just an unconscious student, why the hell should you think.

Of course, these students are anxious, what better way to ****** them to this way of life. A world of cheap drinks and easy *** with clueless idiots. It doesn’t seem right, but this is what we’re told, better make the most of life, before we got old. Pass me a drink, there’s a girl over there, acting like a fool, but right now you don’t care. In the morning you wake, vision clouded, headache, now you’re a student, an authentic fake.

Rant ******* over. Well no not really, this is a rant that will stay with me till the last star has faded from the sky above. This sickness of society, the disease ****** onto every young mind is a tragedy. The potential for a better world erased, great minds suppressed, left right left right, all well-dressed. Who’s going to paint the great portraits, suggest a way to change the world, play a piece so beautiful the piano weeps? Who will suffer, and live life the way it could be lived? Come to the depths, to that murky world where adventure lurks around every corner and at every door way. This is life, you don’t have to know where you are, and it’s better if you don’t know where you’re going.
Jordan Fischer Jan 2014
Girls are idiots.
Insensitive ******.
They actively try not to see
What is directly in front of them,
What fits their ideal check list

They just sit there and *****
About the guys the do see
Guys that have nothing they want
Except they’re attractive.
Shallow *****.

A guy who makes you laugh
But won’t give you his sweater
On a cold night, and walk you home
Is a ****.
You deserve what you get
For choosing him
You know the guy you want?
The one who calls you pretty,
beautiful,
gorgeous,
The one who makes you laugh?
The one that would walk you home
In the cold
In a t-shirt,
Because you have his sweater?
He is in your life
Now, look around once in a while.
L B Jul 2018
Does love make fools of us?
or loneliness?
Perhaps they hold hands
and skip around like two idiots
in puddles of tears
and sad mud
Tark Wain Aug 2014
The Emperor left his palace
with something shiny on his shoulder
it weighed as much as an apple
but was the size of a boulder
it was the greatest weapon
his workers could build
the town awaited its appearance
even though they had foot the bill

Amazing said the scholar as the emperor passed
so much power but such little weight
this right here can save a country
what you hold will educate
we will teach people
and they will listen
and if they won't
we will show them this weapon

splendid said the old lady as the emperor trotted by
I have been waiting all my life for this
we must end all wars
that is my dying wish
now we can do that
we can fight off the opposition
and make sure peace reigns
while our leaders stay in top position

I don't get it said the kid and the emperor stopped
what could you not understand about my gun?
the boy answered this world is full of idiots
and while you are surely not one
there are people out there
who would **** for that gun
let's not act like one large weapon
can change everybody under the sun
what's more likely is that it will only amplify
the issues that should be regional
we'll proclaim "Our gun is big!"
to justify that our choice is final
the bigger the gun
the more people it could ****
and the more people that can die
the more people that will
Ayad Gharbawi Dec 2009
THE STORY OF SARA






Or A Reflection on Ourselves


Ayad Izzet Gharbawi










2008














Table of Contents



Chapter 1: An Awakening. Page: 3.
Chapter 2: University. Page 12.
Chapter 3: Being an Activist. Page 23.
Chapter 4:  The Hallowed Purification Programme. Page: 32.
Chapter 5: The Party Self Destructs. Page: 55.
Chapter 6: Confusion after the Collapse of my Icon. Page: 64.
Chapter 7 Getting a Job as a Psychiatrist. Page 69.
Chapter 8: Afim: Sick or ‘Normal’? Page: 84.
Chapter 9: Having Children. Page 105.
Chapter 10: Omar Again. Page: 109.
Chapter 11: The Meaningless Existence of My Husband. Page 121.
Chapter 12: My Daughter: Lara. Page 127.
Chapter 13: Getting to the Top in my Job. Page: 131.
Chapter 14: Success & Emptiness. Page 142.
Chapter 15: The Shock. Page: 148.
Chapter 16: The Trap. Page: 153.
Chapter 17: The Punishment. Page 162.
Chapter 18: The Barmaid and the Alcoholic Conversation. Page: 166.
Chapter 19: Old Age. Page: 180.
Chapter 20: Seeing My Son: Noor. Page: 184.
Chapter 21: The Unexpected Visitor. Page: 191.
Chapter 22: Conversation with my Social Worker. Page: 195.
Chapter 23: My Visitor Returns. Page: 206.
Chapter 24: Isolation. Page: 210.

















THE STORY OF SARA



– OR, A REFLECTION ON OURSELVES



CHAPTER ONE:  AN AWAKENING



  
            Sara is my name.
  I feel the need to write down the words, or rather, the connected and the unconnected stories, of my life.
  I wish to say straightaway, that I am not an important person; on the opposite.
  I am, in fact, a no one.
  I achieved nothing meaningful in my life, and I was never famous.

  So, why you may think, should anyone read about my life, considering that I am a nobody?
  Well, I think, that precisely because I am a nobody, people should read about my life!
  Why?
  Because, since most of us are nobodies, therefore, I must be a reflection for a significant number of people.
  I am a mirror that most of us do not see; after all, who wants to see what they really look like?

  You see, if I were famous, then I would be in the minority of the population, and, as a consequence, I would reflect the lives of just a small fraction of the people.
  In other words, if I were rich, and if I were to write about my life as a rich woman, then most readers would have absolutely nothing to relate to such a story.
  But then again, to tell you the truth, I am plagued by insecurities and self doubt.
Why am I plagued by insecurities and self doubts?
  Because life itself is full of doubts and insecurities!
  Everyday there are so many events that happen that you do not fully understand - and so they have no certainty.
There are so many thoughts that come across your mind that you cannot believe in with certainty - in other words, you have doubts!
  Life is made up of events, people and thoughts that are themselves uncertain, vague, indefinite, unclear, ambiguous and ultimately blurred.
  That is why, for me, I found no certainty in my life, no sense of definiteness – and the end result is that my image of my personal reality was a blurred vision.

  I could never see an accurate view of my own reality - because I had far too many flawed characteristics.
  I am extremely temperamental.
  I am extremely impulsive; I speak, behave and act without thinking in a sober, rational, deliberate manner.
  I am not a very good judge of character when it comes to people. I often evaluate people wrongly. I misread who they really are.
  I am often very cold with other human beings; I am unable to sympathise and be compassionate to other people.
  I am not a good listener.
  I am a slave to my irrational passions, my dark urges and my undesirable needs.
  Now I am not saying that I have these characteristics all the time – but I confess that I do have them far too often.

  And all these awful characteristics make me quite unable to focus on myself in a logical, coherent and rational manner.
  I am unable to see my real Self; I cannot see where my rational mind tells me where I need to go with my life, rather than where my dark passions tell myself where to go.
  So, maybe my story isn’t worth telling at all.
  Should I write the story of my life or not?
  Will anyone read it?


  I am a member of the weak and the unknown and the unheard class.
  I am a member of the invisible classes, of what they call 'Humanity'.
  Even though, I don’t know what ‘Humanity’ actually means any more.
  I am one non-entity amidst this ocean of Humanity.
  I am a nothing.
  So, what’s the point of my existence and, more importantly, the story of my existence!?


  Actually, sometimes, when I’m in a good mood, I think, yes, come, do not be timid or afraid, and take a serious gaze at my own face, and I hope you will see yourselves – yes, you, the majority of the people out there, this night; for when you see yourselves in my face, you may learn so much about yourselves, and it seems to me, after I have been living and experiencing so long, you may learn from my mistakes.
  It seems to me, that one of the problems so many of us people out there are facing, is that nobody seems to want to take a serious, unbiased way that they really look like – and this is because of fear.


  But what is this ‘fear’?  
  I know that this fear is one reason that causes a nagging and persisting unhappiness.
  This fear is because we are scared to look at ourselves and find a picture that is severely deformed and far too horrible to behold.
  Do you believe that looking at your own face is an easy task?
  I hear you tell me: Oh Sara, all you have to do is to look at the mirror and you see yourself.
  How easy!
  But, I’m afraid, you are wrong.
  Because when you say to me, that all you have to do is to see your face in the mirror, that is not accurate.


  And that is, because the face you are seeing in the mirror is an image.
  That is not your face!
  That’s an image of your face!
  And an image is only one degree of reality.
  An image is never and can never be the whole reality.
  So, you say, why is it that I am seeing an image of my face in the mirror and not the whole reality of my face?
  Because you yourself are scared to scrutinize and stare so deeply at your own face.
  Fear is restraining you from seeing your own reality.
  You may see your real face and it may be a face that is far too ugly to see!



  Now, when I am in a bad, bleak, hopeless mood, I really believe in the depths of my angry heart, that it is utterly pointless to write anything, precisely, because I feel that my entire life is completely worthless.
  Emptiness.
  I feel my life is filled with emptiness.
  Ha!
  How can you ‘fill’ anything with emptiness!
  You know, I feel like ripping to shreds everything I’ve written, and yes, reader, I’ve done that many times – and, then I start all over again.
  And how dare I presume that anyone out there in the world would be in any way interested to read the life of an empty woman who happens to be called Sara?
  You see, at times like these, I have self hate.
  I confess.
  I hate every single thing about myself.
  And that includes my pointless story.


  And so many times, especially at night, when I’m able to write my story, I think, what if no one is reading these words?
  How frightful!
  Could I possibly be that empty?
  Could I – Sara - possibly be so utterly meaningless as a human being, to the extent that no one could possibly be interested, to give me more than a few precious moments of their time, from their important lives?
  Well, for all you people out there whose lives are brimming with happiness; for all those of you people whose lives are so full and busy, so they never experience the utter tedium of boredom; for all those of you people who never face an inner emptiness, a loneliness within their hearts and minds; for all those of you people who have no fears, no anxieties, and no insecurities – then I can honestly tell you to hurl this book away!

  And, yet, I would like to believe that - in the depths of my shaky beliefs and my uncertain certainties - that I have at least one listener with me!
  You know why?
  Because it gives me so much comfort and peace of mind to think that I have one human who is interested to know me!
  The most horrible thing to me is to live in total isolation.
  And to ease that unique kind of emotional pain, is to know that someone, somewhere in this planet actually cares for you.

  I was born in the City, in a middle to low class neighbourhood, where families tended to help each other.
  It was a closely knit community. You knew everyone, and everyone knew you and so, when there was any problem, people would help each other out. You see, in this way, problems became less heavy than they would have been otherwise, because when more people come to help you, the problem weighs less, as opposed to if each family had to cope with their problems all on their own.
  It was a happy childhood; I adored my parents and I thought no one could be better than them.
  They were my icons.
  As a child, they were good to me, and I could see nothing wrong with them.
  But how long did that last?
  By the time my mind was waking up, so to speak, by eleven or twelve, I began to notice, that what I saw wasn't all that rosy at all. My parents used to argue a lot; Dad would scream and Mother would howl.
  And what were the causes of these clashes?

  Both were guilty of countless faults.
  Dad drank too much; Mom didn't pay enough attention to housekeeping and so our house was rather *****; neither parent paid any attention to us; Dad would always invite his 'friends', and they would be rather ****** in their behaviour and with their jokes (or what they thought were 'jokes'); Mom would go for hours on end to her 'friends' houses, and leave us children alone; so, when they were in the mood to fight, good God, both sides of the trenches had lots of reasons, or excuses, to use as ammunition!
  And what battles do we young children witness!
  Dad would scream: "What kind of Mother are you when you do nothing for the house; you don't cook, and so we never have homemade cooking; you don't clean, and so the house stinks and is always in a terrible mess; and then you disappear for hours to God knows where, leaving us all behind! How much time do you even spend with our children? I’ll tell you how long – you don’t spend any time with our children! Children need love, attention and time spent with them; how do you think that affects our children? Do you think that makes then happy?"

And Mom would scream, at the same time: "What kind of Father are you? You're always drunk, and you're always socialising with drunk, ****** idiots. How do you think our children are reacting when they see their Father interacting with the most lewd, disgusting people? You're lazy in your job – and that is when you keep a job more than a few weeks – and, not surprisingly, you don't bring in enough money, and so we live a miserable lifestyle. And, you dare to ask me why I leave this house for so many hours? Of course, I want to leave this house – it's because I cannot stand the repulsive sight of you! And then, you have the nerve to ask me, ‘how long do I spend with our children’? You **** hypocrite! How long do you spend with our children? Not one minute!"


  I would usually rush off to my room, and hide my body and soul in my pillow.
  And as I grew into a teenager, my parents were fighting against each other even more.
  Who was right and who was wrong?
  Sometimes I felt for sure, that Dad was wrong; and, at other times, I felt that Mom was to blame; while at other times, I felt both were to blame; and then again, at other times, I would be so confused that I just gave up thinking about the whole mess, and just wish they never brought me to this world.
  How could I judge them?
  I could never really tell, because I didn't have the facts, did I? Who knows if Dad really was lazy at his job, and if that was the case, why he didn't he realize that we needed him to work harder, in order for us to have a better quality of life? Or, maybe he wasn't making enough money, simple because his job was a low paying one, and so it wasn't his fault that he brought such meagre wages.


  Who knows why Mom didn't take care of the house?
  Maybe she was depressed?
  And who knows why she went off to her friends' house for hours on end?
  Put simply, when you don't have the facts, how can you possibly judge in a reasonable manner?
  But then, maybe, you, my dear reader, will say I am wrong, because one ought to judge the situation by using one's emotions and not just 'facts'.
  To be honest, when I think of those wretched days, maybe they were both 'right' and wrong'; but in what measures – don't ask me!
  What I do know for sure was this: the fact that both Mom and Dad never spent any time with me really hurt me and made feel insecure. I really needed their company when I was a child and right through to my adolescent years, but, unfortunately, they were never, ever interested to sit with me and talk to me – not even for a minute.

  In my teenage years, I clearly remember that I felt that I needed Mom and Dad, because I remember feeling frightened for the first time in my life.
  Why did I feel ‘afraid’?
  I honestly don’t know.
  Strangely enough, before the age of thirteen, all my parents' fighting did not leave me scared; no, my response was one of sadness only.
  
  So, I tried to talk with Mom and Dad, issues that were bothering me, but I found out, to my horror, that they could not answer any of my questions.
    I would ask my parents endless questions like:
"Should I continue studying in school and go on to university, or should I leave and get a menial job?"
"At what age should I get married?"
“Is marriage worth it or not?"
"Should I smoke cigarettes and drink alcohol – or, are these things wrong?"
  “What characteristics should I look for, when I make friends? In other words, what are the good attributes versus the bad attributes in the character of any person?”
  “What is morality?”
  I remember that my parents were themselves confused by my questions, and at the same time they were irritated.
And, at other times, they were increasingly bored with my unending questions.


  Strange combination, isn't it – to be both 'confused’, irritated' and 'bored' with someone nagging at you all the time!?
  I know why they were 'bored'; that's the easy part – it was because, they gradually found me to be a nuisance or an irritant with my questions.
  They were 'confused and irritated', because they felt stuck as to how they could best answer my questions.
You see, they were, themselves, doing all the wrong things, so how could they advice me to do what was supposed to be 'good'?!
  For example, 'Can I smoke and drink alcohol?'
Good question, Sara, but a question that you shouldn’t really ask your parents, when you recall, that both were heavy smokers and drinkers!
  And, when I asked them: 'Should I get married?' How can they answer that one
Brent Kincaid Dec 2016
You idiots!
You unconscionable poltroons!
Your minds have the intelligence
Of helium filled balloons!
You had a chance to save us
But when it came down to the wire
You chose to let a circus clown
Win the race and play with fire.

Who could know you have learned
Nothing at all from before
When you elected those two morons
Run the show while you snored?
Who could guess that people who
Claim to be so Christian and good,
Would act like from the ears up
They were made entirely of wood?

You imbeciles!
Do you not see what you have done?
You chose a man who seems to think
Lying and embezzling are great fun.
You did not choose the candidate
With experience and knowledge;
You chose the guy who swindled those
Who signed up for his bogus college!

Millions of us with wisdom predicted
This man who praises Vladimir Putin
Would want to start World War Three
Because he is so fond of shooting!
He thinks, without a bit of experience,
He can simply put on another act
And all the rest of the world will
See his mad delusions as facts.

You chowderheads!
You have sold your country out!
Later when it all falls apart
You'll blame someone else and pout.
Now you cheer and chant USA,
And pretend you are so ****** brave
The rest of us fear for the world
And hope there is something to save.

— The End —