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Lawrence Hall Oct 2018
De-Colonize This Space

Drum circle protests genderplop demands
Indigenous discount store camouflage
We demand persistent stereotypes
Solidarity initiative project

Take back the people’s cultural statues
Ethnographic curatorial practices
Red spray paint fire imperialism
Repatriate the Iphone Starbuck’s cups

And don’t forget the “Hey! Hey! **! **!’
Because we’re, like, artists and stuff, you know?

2. De-Colonize This Space Too

Guns and cholesterol made America great
Fat white boys in discount store camouflage
Duct-tape the Bible and the border wall
We won our freedom with our Kalashnikovs

Fake news back-stabber not a war hero
SecondAmendmentSecondAmendment
Lock her up get ‘em outta here yuge deal
You RINO losers can grab my MAGA

You snowflakes are sissies, you millennials too
But ouch! my heel spurs hurt, oh boo-hoo-hoo!
Your ‘umble scrivener’s site is:
Reactionarydrivel.blogspot.com.
It’s not at all reactionary, tho’ it might be drivel.
those killers of innocents
will die in their own blood

not even mistranslated 72 houris
can save them

   the misguided fanatics of Paris
   who shot happy civilians
   with their Kalashnikovs
   and then blew themselves up
   will have discovered that
   by now

to throw terror and death
into people’s daily lives
is an abominable crime
not a heroic deed

those who instigated the massacre
shall be punished accordingly

fake heroes revealed
as ruthless criminals
shall face judgement

in whose light
their great deeds
are shown as what they are

****** ******

yet – far beyond the proper punishment
    required after cruel acts
there is the need to look ahead
and face the somewhat inconvenient necessity to
    remove the roots of violence veiled as religion
    speak up and stand up firm against fanaticized minorities
        no matter in whose name the claim to act  
    bring peace to regions devastated by the dire games of politics

we simply cannot allow
a bunch of ruthless desperados to dominate our lives

            * *
Tim Knight Jun 2013
carrying Kalashnikovs on their backs,
the rebel mules have panic in their eyes
and resting at the back?
fear filled pupils that dilate
with every corpse seen vacating itself
of tissue and blood,
smell the perfume of gun barrels
and those lonely enough to be culled,
picked off by a trained eye
and a government lie and
a man laid down in an apartment block out of sight up high.

civilian fathers laying spread on the back of a flatbed,
cinderblock walls that offer no protection but that of protecting the dead,
sharpen another knife for another internet viral video of another guy without a head
and finally, cat walk model rebels wearing beaded shrapnel necklaces, gorgeous and chrome red.

and they’ll try give them away around,
a daily sound of the everyday
so they can have a price that they can pay
for the ordinary,
for the sane,
for America’s definition of the lame.
coffeeshoppoems.com
Marshal Gebbie Oct 2011
Have you noticed how the music screams,
How children in the mall confront,
How anchormen are filled with glee
When TV news disaster's front?

Noticed how the colours fade
When iridescent seas are fouled
Or skies turn turgid grey from blue
And football crowds scream hatred loud?

And why is it that every time
An ethnic immigrant complains,
He points the finger square at us,
The fools, whose benefits he claims?

And Asiatic hatreds brew
Between the Indian brother’s, brown,
Over Kashmir’s shaky border fight
And Pakistan’s deep, angry frown.

There’s trouble in the Middle East
Kalashnikovs shoot up the town,
Somebody soon, should tell those boys
When slugs go up, they must come down.

And what about the filthy beasts
Who scatter needles in the sand
To leave the fickle fall of dice
To innocents with tender hand.

Have you noticed how the wealthy keep
The good stuff for their selfish self?
The rest of WE are left to fight
Amongst ourselves for lowest shelf

And how about Ghaddafi’s end
So brutal at the sandy drain
Where wild eyed Arabs shot him dead
And TV watchers, fat, complained?

And listen to the moaning Greeks
Who’ve clearly lived beyond their means,
Complain about austerity
And pauperize their Europeans.

And witness now the howling Yanks
Who stand to point recession’s claws
Directing blame at anyone,
But themselves, whom problems cause.

And finally an Arabesque,
Macabre in its grotesque call,
Of skeletal, Ethiopian forlorn
Whose starving end, ignored by all.

There’s beauty in this bounteous world,
There’s Godly, good, and quiet serene,
But just beneath the surface lies
The human filth, deserved, obscene.

Marshalg
Observing my world in turmoil.
Auckland N.Z.
22 October 2011
Lawrence Hall Jan 2017
The Feast of the Epiphany This Year

If the Three Kings were to visit today
They’d need the proper paperwork
Passports and visas, and what is the  purpose
Of your visit? A check through INTERPOL

A cavity search by rubbery hands
An escort armed with bribes and Kalashnikovs
Through tourists armed with me-phones, selfie sticks
And cardboard chalices, following a Starbuck’s

Searching the East for a wondrous ATM
If the Three Kings were to visit today
Mike Essig Dec 2015
And the wolf shall dwell with the lamb.
And the wolf shall tear it to dripping shreds
and devour it with great gusto, smacking
its lips over such a stupid animal.
And *the meek shall inherit the earth
,
but only a plot just six feet in depth,
small recompense for being so gentle.
Better for the lamb and the meek to get Kalashnikovs.
Predators and prey: some things never change.
The world is too ****** to be weak.

  ~mce
Tom Higgins May 2014
Oh the joy of a boy
With a much yearned for toy,

Who never saw
The horrors of war.

Oh the sadness of a boy
Born where joy

Is an illusion,
As destruction and confusion,

Are his reality
He has never seen normality,

As never ending war
Rages outside his door,

And the only toys he sees
Are Kalashnikovs and RPG's

Tom Higgins 15/05/2014
Joseph C Ogbonna Aug 2019
Intrepid damsel,
a heroine unsung.
A willing martyr
with courage
unrivalled.
Unransomed captive
with a ransom
infinite.
She gladly faces
death with eternity
in view.
Like her lover before her,
she chooses to be
a sacrificial lamb
to the slaughter.
Leah Sharibu,
the heroine unsung.
She that chose to mortify
her passions
for timeless paradise.
Hardly daunted by
Kalashnikovs and
thunderous explosives,
she inherits a world
deemed abstract by
unfaithful adherents.
A poem honouring one of Nigeria's greatest martyr and heroine, Leah Sharibu. Held captive by Boko haram.
Adam Nahhass Apr 2018
Under torn roofs, on scattered graves,
Assad soldiers celebrate their end of fight!
Adrift, disbelief devouring souls,
We beat the "terrorists", they still cite!
Carrying Kalashnikovs on their backs,
Scared but looting everything in sight.
We won; this should be our wage;
A chance we may lose despite!

In Syria, massacres become a tradition,
Like father, like son! What a plight!
Ben Ali said before "I understood you"
To KSA, he took the first flight.
Egypt’s Mubarak "got your demands"
Later, he stepped down overnight.
In Syria, neither understood nor could he;
Needless to say, he got a green light!

Homes bombed, children sniped,
A Million died, no end in sight!
Bombs are ringing out the windows,
Raining death hunts Syrians campsite!
Assad media alleging a conspiracy;
ignited a war, Oh! Russians delight!
Maskirovka? Outdated doctrine stupid!
Wild bears never again fly-by-night!

In Duma they used chemical weapons,
innocent children suffocated at night!
Foam coming out of their mouths,
Trying hard to breathe at twilight
There Macron looking for proof!
May you try yourself & feel the rite!
Nature disliked, condemned this act, whilst
Arabs upon condemnation, did not unite!

Trump tweeted! Pushed Assad to evacuate.
Russian warships moved away at daylight!
Do send the fleet & honor those tweets!
Think heaven gates are shining tonight.
No behind-scenes deals, no survival.
Take gas killing animal to nearest waste site.
Pardon me if bothered you President Trump
I wrote you coz we don't sleep at night.

#Chemical_Tweets
Written by : Adam Nahhass
April 13, 2018
I've seen Jerusalem
full of Holy Men
and Babylon
where some had gone
to let off steam,
this I have truly seen.

Truth.

If every parable had
been edible
they could have fed more.

just saying as I do
something that you
already knew..

..and I've known Catholics
with Kalashnikovs
Protestants
with nine mil glocks

Religion is the army now
the fatting of the calf
the sacred cow
and
somewhere
I'd be shot for writing this
but
if you've kissed the feet of god
it doesn't ******* matter.
Joseph C Ogbonna Jul 2023
Thunderous fighter birds,
loud torrential explosives,
blood thirsty Kalashnikovs,
monstrous and destructive tanks,
bloodshed by the river banks,
numerous catacombs interred,
dismembered bodies
on landscapes littered.
Vengeful hearts embittered,
countless tragedies,
misery corrodes like corrosives,
lawlessness without caution,
insanity without option,
hell is incessantly let loose,
for safety you may never choose.
Men of beastly testosterone
on vulnerable women predate.
******* are pervasively birthed;
the seed of hate and discord is sown.
Each course is decided by fate,
essentials are ravaged by dearth,
refugees to distant lands take flight,
as they hope that peace will be in sight.
Oh that men will cease to wage war!
Oh that men will peace adore!
The cry of a pacifist
Àŧùl Jun 13
1971, they lost East Pakistan,
And Bangladesh was carved.
1972, they conspired terror,
By promising 72 in Jannat.
2024, the fools still believe,
Not just in violence but also in the 72.
****** Nymphs wreak havoc in their minds.

Spreading his Chiropteran wings,
It's actually Satan laughing.
The fools want the world to convert,
Convert to the religion peace at what cost?
They wield their swords and Kalashnikovs,
******, killing, converting, decapitating at will.
They think that they will get virgins in afterlife.

What's described in their scriptures?
72 bathykolpian blue-eyed virgins.
Infinite stamina and limitless wine,
With those 72 eternally ****** Nymphs.
This crude carnal desire motivating,
The ******* to commit more bloodshed.
They rally our daughters, sisters, and mothers.

Like what — they rally them as trophy wives,
Or better if stripped **** and humbled.
They **** our brothers in an exemplary manner,
Decapitating, dismembering, and insulting.
What sort of faith do they follow?
They follow the words of a mad man,
A mad man who claimed to know God.

But actually they follow a barmy man,
A man who lost his mind to the heat,
The Arabic heat with nothing to eat.
No water to drink and it caused him to break,
He was not a sensible man,
About the 2 billion followers?
They're victims of sunstroke too.

We need to strip **** their carnal faith,
Strip them of their human rights,
As they are no humans.
Humans don't behave like jackals,
They follow the religion of the Devil,
But they have the support of bigots,
Bigots who ignore our fallen angels.

Our girls and young women they don't spare,
Why then about theirs should we even care?
Use pliers and plass, pull their nails out,
Send them to their perverted Jannat.
Let the terrorists die of pain,
What will we gain?
Some centuries of actual peace.
My HP Poem #1972
©Atul Kaushal
Yenson Dec 2018
My words sear into their non minds
and they devour them hungrily clinging on every letter
It drags out minds from cesspits, give them a reason to be
they have to impress their superior, they have to up their game
but the delusions of  insignificance is but the only creative offerings

Fixated, obsessively propelled vacuous mental minions
Shamefully aware of their inadequacies furiously scurry into mud
Lowscales army with chips Kalashnikovs open fire with white *****
Too dumb to know in their trailers that white **** is their soul on fire
Come beg me and I'll consider giving you an acre to build a shack

How it pains to be poor when  money is your God
Lacerating unbearable wound when ravens and crows have more
And you a magpie stealing and scrounging landless in your birthright
Reduced to sticking pins in black inedible potato wishing dire tidings
Pathetic pitiful victims on ladders rung unable to climb and rise good

Keep that love in poverty that warms your sorry souls
Make love and don't forget to pay your taxes as you **** away
Keep your chains and padlocks well oiled a reminder of olden times
Only now the chains are for you as you retch watching golden crows
Or type doom and destructions with bitter fingers as landed brother looks down on you.......
Adapted from a poem by Chinese poet..Yu som Poo  and  famous Tunisian
poet .... Kisma Aiyss
Mateuš Conrad Mar 2022
title: **** job
body:
/odds up/
\down
to margin\ 502 bypasss


my, oh my, my my... aren't you turning into an interesting creature... you could have written this long exchange in a single paragraph... why were you trying to probe my absence, by this... strange... un-rhyming reiteration, i logged off for a kipper... some sleep... i had the most amazing dream snoozing between 8am and 9am... i dream in words... i hear more than i see in dreams... i was complaining: but i have to get transportation from Baker Street to Putney Bridge... the joke of the dream was that i only had to walk about a mile... dreams... not reality... i'm pretty sure Baker St. isn't that close to Putney Bridge...oh hey... don't worry... i'm going to go for a hands off approach... i'm not going to try to manipulate you... you do you... i was merely implying: i tried idealism before... it seriously got me to... nowhere... you what? what "true" and "ideal"? never mind: "true ideal" when the words are coupled...  believe me when i tell you: believe all you want, when it comes to women... i'm not manipulating you... i'm not a woman... women manipulate... i'm not going to persuade you... there's no need, or point... i don't think it was me... i still like the idea: woman! ******! brilliance! amazing! she's not an astronaut, though... amazing! motherhood is a "job"... like plumbing is... fatherhood! ha ha... ah ha ha... i would have greatly appreciated your response if you left one long-*** paragraph... but... such is the imperfections of this world: i forgive you... even though there's nothing to forgive... just a pet-peeve... pedantry's antics... they always come to the fore... no... categorically: NO... Sylvia Plath... Clarice Lispector... that's the only two women in my personal library... no, i'm not going to read women write, since? i don't want to become contaminated by what people think... since... i've seen how women behave... yeah... i read books... my favourite is... Bertrand's Russell's History of Western Philosophy... and... Wittgenstein's Tractatus... you know: the part where he mentions misnomers... opening the tractatus with an insult against the thesaurus?! yeah, that's fun... there's a woman in me? what a weird question... is there a man in you? i came out of a woman's body... so... a woman's body produces... *****?! is that what you're saying? i have an ego's worth of a ***** wriggle... obviously i'm not a headless cockroach rummaging out Apocalyptic woodwork... but... taking the stance... all women... no men involved... that's... putting the wrong sort of pressure on... what could have been the right sort of argument... sure... you and this "ideal woman"  of yours... just wait... as a warning... wait for the Mantis to come out... just wait... i won't be there... i won't need to be... but you will be... oh... i'm sort of building up a mind-set of a Jihadi... i'm sort of making death a parody invoked: quasi-death... i don't mind... you feel scared? you, want me to hold your hand? i'm sort of looking for war... thank god it's knocking from Ukraine... i'm actually travelling to Poland on the 5th to see what the news outlets are up to... i'm thinking about joining the army... eh... this current job doesn't have enough thrills.. plenty of promises... not enough
Kalashnikovs... i'm looking for something to speed up my mortality... women sort of stopped cutting the chops when it came to.... thrills... i don't think that you slide back into "that *****" when you die... the abyss of time is... of space... is not so biologically temporal as a woman's testicles... come to thik of it... now i see where you're coming from... we're not on the same planet... even though we might try to pretend to be; oh... i'm ready to die... i've just drank 3 rows of toasting her... she has always been the other sort of mother... i don't think her skull ditto-gob ever mentioned her having a safety pouch of a ****** to **** my way back into... a "return"... via teeth, via bone... no no... much harsher...  but it's nice... that you... sort of... inquired.

2nd invested in return on a boy'oh...
    invested in return? oh... you mean...
no return policy? a waste of time?
i had one of these, those...
             waste of time...
                         sort of wish:
if they were only born Russian...
what men they could have been made into...
what a waste of time, prior...
to make-up for deciding factions...
the pieces are moving...
it's nice to see pieces moving...
i might have cared, once...
recently? no... sorry...
                you had your fun:
while i haven't... do i give one toss's away
from Armageddon? no!
let it burn! let... chaos... reign!

— The End —