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"infiltrators" poems
What a strange title When I went to Aden (South Yemen) in 1964 It was to fight infiltrators from North Yemen How to spot where mines had been laid Where ambushes could take place Trained in how to **** at long and very close range But nobody mentioned the bugs Camel spiders almost four inches across Now they gave us great fun because we would catch them Then bet big money on the outcome of a fight with Another spider or a big scorpion Most times the spider would win but would then die But by then the bets had been paid Stephen E Yokum and Jonny Angel And thousands of American and British ex military Know about bugs Centipedes 9/12 inches long and stinking like you'd never believe Get one of those crawling on your skin and pull it off the wrong way and bingo You end up with a permanent tattoo Because their feet dig in We did have the good ones though Chameleons, we would keep them in our tents And feed them crickets and in return they would keep the flies down We learned to live with BUGS
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Oct 4, 2014
Oct 4, 2014 at 4:21 PM UTC
Bugs and other Bugs
Daisies in a garden full of weeds Have you ever seen such an ugly thing? Daisies may look like flowers But look how they steal our sunlight Look how they steal our soil They are not flowers They are infiltrators This is a garden full of weeds This land belongs to us Now look at those selfish Daisies Showing off their ugliness beneath our sunlight Wasting the nutrients in our soil Look at how they taint our community Look at how they defile our home We are incompatible Their crimes are intolerable Are you with us or against us? Hesitation is treason This is a garden infested with Daisies Take them all away And set them ablaze They can never steal our sun again Classify Symbolize Dehumanize Organize Polariz­e And Prepare One to six It can be fixed Seven to eight It is too late Exterminate And Deny Deny Deny You could have stopped it if you tried It was all advertised For just a limited time Before it was taken off the shelves A limited-edition opportunity To step in and intervene But the event has already passed Daisy? What the hell is that? It was all advertised For just a limited time You could have intervened A limited-edition opportunity That never happened It never happened But it will happen again And you'll see a product you recognize In limited-edition But no, you won't buy Not until it's taken off the shelves Then you'll finally miss what's gone If you have the luxury of a memory But even then Will you be believed? One to six It can be fixed Seven to eight It is too late Now all you can say Is Never Again Until Next Time
0
Sep 27, 2025
Sep 27, 2025 at 7:59 PM UTC
The 8-Stage Marketing Strategy
Daisies in a garden full of weeds Have you ever seen such an ugly thing? Daisies may look like flowers But look how they steal our sunlight Look how they steal our soil They are not flowers They are infiltrators This is a garden full of weeds This land belongs to us Now look at those selfish Daisies Showing off their ugliness beneath our sunlight Wasting the nutrients in our soil Look at how they taint our community Look at how they defile our home We are incompatible Their crimes are intolerable Are you with us or against us? Hesitation is treason This is a garden infested with Daisies Take them all away And set them ablaze They can never steal our sun again Classify Symbolize Dehumanize Organize Polariz­e And Prepare One to six It can be fixed Seven to eight It is too late Exterminate And Deny Deny Deny You could have stopped it if you tried It was all advertised For just a limited time Before it was taken off the shelves A limited-edition opportunity To step in and intervene But the event has already passed Daisy? What the hell is that? It was all advertised For just a limited time You could have intervened A limited-edition opportunity That never happened It never happened But it will happen again And you'll see a product you recognize In limited-edition But no, you won't buy Not until it's taken off the shelves Then you'll finally miss what's gone If you have the luxury of a memory But even then Will you be believed? One to six It can be fixed Seven to eight It is too late Now all you can say Is Never Again Until Next Time
Continue reading...
69
Do you find it boring to spell out the word "subconscious"? Not the way I spell it. Many step onto the first "S" as if it were a ***** rain puddle, but I'm sufficiently alert and can see that one must dive into the word's application, nimbly rummage through the annals of its history before conducting one word in or against its favor. Glide downward through the rhythmically breathing curves of the voluptuous prefix, "sub-", as you begin dreaming further down towards the comatose of the rickety construction that is your superego, to the "you" no one knows about in clear daylight (even the mirror). Minor turbulence may occur within the rest, "-conscious", just a few jagged rocks stirred into Cloud Nine to alter your perceptions like a face hit by a bus. This is the meat of your matter, the acidic ruptures that only the most cunning infiltrators can identify and nudge with their index fingers using a painful precision, the ***** band of undergarments that always seem to loiter behind in the town laundromat. But a jagged rock is a jagged rock, never eternally bordering the outline of the planet, just lodged within the corners of your comfort zone, their presence a necessary evil for the times you must steer through the swarms of cataracts and endure the exrcuciating agony of becoming a better human being. You launch yourself from your adolescent crutches like the roots of teeth erupting from the base of the jaw and prevent single definition, hack away the tentacles of emotional paralysis, by remembering to mend the tear between two polar halves, "sub conscious." Under your false promises, your Freudian timeline, your ever-quivering Id... every single one of you.
0
Apr 29, 2010
Apr 29, 2010 at 10:53 AM UTC
Spelling Bee
Do you find it boring to spell out the word "subconscious"? Not the way I spell it. Many step onto the first "S" as if it were a ***** rain puddle, but I'm sufficiently alert and can see that one must dive into the word's application, nimbly rummage through the annals of its history before conducting one word in or against its favor. Glide downward through the rhythmically breathing curves of the voluptuous prefix, "sub-", as you begin dreaming further down towards the comatose of the rickety construction that is your superego, to the "you" no one knows about in clear daylight (even the mirror). Minor turbulence may occur within the rest, "-conscious", just a few jagged rocks stirred into Cloud Nine to alter your perceptions like a face hit by a bus. This is the meat of your matter, the acidic ruptures that only the most cunning infiltrators can identify and nudge with their index fingers using a painful precision, the ***** band of undergarments that always seem to loiter behind in the town laundromat. But a jagged rock is a jagged rock, never eternally bordering the outline of the planet, just lodged within the corners of your comfort zone, their presence a necessary evil for the times you must steer through the swarms of cataracts and endure the exrcuciating agony of becoming a better human being. You launch yourself from your adolescent crutches like the roots of teeth erupting from the base of the jaw and prevent single definition, hack away the tentacles of emotional paralysis, by remembering to mend the tear between two polar halves, "sub conscious." Under your false promises, your Freudian timeline, your ever-quivering Id... every single one of you.
Continue reading...
77
Tethered with a flimsy cage of marrow, I sit, stand, Padded with a layer of softness. And the things that seem too real Every germ, bug, every word that penetrates me that wiggles through my pores I cannot stop them, I cannot hold up my arms and scream "Take me!" I can only lay still as they lift my lids Infiltrators tugging my lashes The familiar sloshing as they march through my eyes, ankle deep in the wet jelly that guards my dreams And I blink twice but they're already in they're broken through They've set base in my retinas Looking out from the inside, Pointing in awe at my star freckled fear.
0
Nov 7, 2010
Nov 7, 2010 at 7:58 PM UTC
Brigade
I'm fighting a war in my head, Plant few armed forces there too So that they can separate the infiltrators crossing the mind border...
0
Jan 13, 2021
Jan 13, 2021 at 6:17 PM UTC
War in my Head
Q has infiltrated the infiltrators. Uniting US in conspiracy. WWG1WGA I know, because Q told me I needed to know. You are Q. Because Q is no one and no one is everywhere. Q is the code AND the decryption algorithm. You believe Q ? So what. The DEMONS believe Q... and they tremble. Blood and fire await those who spurn Q's boundless mercy. Q has so subtly crept into your consciousness that YOU, foolish one, think Q is a groundless conspiracy theory, thus validating and acknowledging Q's presence in your inner sanctum. Q knows who you are and where you live before you lived there. Q shall do exceedingly and abundantly beyond all that Q can conceive. Prepare to take up arms for Q (apocalyptically). Clean your weapons and load extra magazines (metaphorically). Sharpen your combat knives and prepare to strike (symbolically). Hide the explosive charges and set the timers (allegorically). Slay all who oppose Q and fill the midnight graves with their twitching corpses (emblematically). Cleanse the nation of all corruption (spiritually). We await Q's dictates unto death and beyond. (Q taught Q's mother-in-law EVERYTHING she knows.)
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Sep 13, 2020
Sep 13, 2020 at 5:50 AM UTC
Quorum
Lesions from battle Scars of attacks Legions of Infiltrators Knife you in the back. No one is left simple, pure or devout. Capturing the unsuspecting before they. Could run out. Run. Run. Run out and away. There is no love for you here today. It comesfir you when it pleases, not when you are deserving. This long life of mine feels so disturbing. Im tired of defending my borders and standing face to face with tyrrants. I should just fall indefeat, et i never have stayed down. I have felt the urge to stay on my feet.
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May 2, 2018
May 2, 2018 at 12:57 PM UTC
Feeling Scars 4/9/17