"mismanagement" poems
as soon as she sees it she wants it is entitled to it while she is stealing it she begins elaborate lie everybody knows if she truly wants it she has means everybody knows she is gorgeous movie actress celebrity starlet awesome accessory genius she convinces herself she did not steal it the darling delicate chain with finely crafted handcuff clasp and accompanying key she wears it effortlessly just another imperial trifle hanging around her exquisite throat she has no idea how it got there she may have a drug problem a little dizzy even careless but she is no thief what with her magnificent beauty idyllic body prominent discography why would anyone accuse her she is submerged in deep denial why with so much to lose and absolutely nothing but tiny shimmering embellishment to gain why do tell would anyone point a finger at her she probably wasn’t even ever there at that dicey store she never tried on the astronomically overpriced bling it may have been her dodgy handlers or stylist’s suspect mismanagement and subsequent loan hypothesis she is positively not a thief it’s too insignificant an item to squabble about a mere gold necklace the whole incident ridiculously overblown cruel in fact she hates the miserable paltry piece of jewelry here take it back she insists it never graced her illustrious neck if anything perhaps a cheap ploy by Venice Beach shop to enhance it’s value oh the genuine necklace that she stole
Feb 9, 2011
Feb 9, 2011 at 12:12 PM UTC
My two weakling hands on my delusional head
A face tattooed with tear lines of anguish and perplexity
I am sick and tired of being sick and tired of this game
Many are sea sick with zipped lips in this freezing old ship
Precious dreams and lives; thrown overboard
Let me plead one more time with this heartless captain
We are charting upstream against the current, Sir
Sir! Please sir
Our lives and the lives of the next generation;
In your hands
Do you not care that we are perishing
He has a big navigational map on the wall
A gargantuan telescope in his hands
Alas, he is blind
Blind man will crush the blind into an iceberg
He is distracted by his own personal greediness;
Woe unto us, he is not far from a two hundred feet iceberg
He reminds me of the titanic
He has a crew who are not seas worthy
They are wearing their office like they are on vacation
The cry and the wisdom of the weak falls into deaf ears
Sir, do you not care that we are perishing!
Can you be my camera for a minute, Sir?
Focus below deck, sir;
Children without formal education
The future generation is today’s labor engine
They walk on the thin line of child...
Child, what?
Child slavery, Sir
They are brain washed
Manipulated and abused
Zoom on the mid-deck, sir;
The young jobless internet savvy
A storm tossed creative thinkers
A young generation with no future
A future neglected without action plan
Driven to push through the storm
One direction; the wrong direction
They are the masters of...
Masters of?
Masters of internet fraud and drugs, Sir
Gang banging is their security
Just like a candle under the night wind;
Their light goes off prematurely in lightning speed
Zoom a little high on the upper deck, sir;
Square pegs on rounded holes
Mismanagement and embezzlement
Unpatriotically obsessive creatures
Fanning the toxic flames of an aged ship
While expertise waste at the shore for decades
Will you anchor?
Will you pause and reflect
His words: acidic
Emotions: volcanic
Problems: oceanic
If angels rules; would have cry to them
Maybe they would hear the cry of the weak
Grant us safe voyage,
Thou that watch over the weak
Be our anchor in the midst of the storm
May we not sink in this sea of incompetence
Be our strength and hope in this journey to the unknown
Father, if it be possible be our captain and lead us to bliss
Mar 24, 2014
Mar 24, 2014 at 6:28 PM UTC
NO (1)
I am a warrior
My art is superior
I fight with words
My pen hurts than sword
I bask in the light
I chose only the path that’s right
God almighty is my guide
He remote-control my path
I am bolder
Even than the soldier
I say No to terrorism
Cybercrime and cultism
To evil-doers and corrupt government
Mismanagement of civil property
I say No to pop/rap art
Whose rhymes corrupt young mind
May 21, 2019
May 21, 2019 at 4:03 PM UTC
dear lovely lady or kind sir,
my family has just come in to extreme, monumental good fortune, the likes of which amze the pope himeslrf and lama dolly too.
poor creidt have i thru sad mismanagement of funs, now big banks an capital cfompanies venturees, fail to reply to wll intentioned requestes for baluabel fund.s needed.
however, telegram did jyst arrive, my faimly na me so very very happy.
the sum is 100,000,000,000 dollars US with half more in pounds sterling...
currency calculator on blink... but we think this much scratch.
plesae be soknid if you will , i send you MY band account informaiton, then when funds come through you share with me? you help us please?
sincerallly,
Miss A I r Head
Sep 28, 2015
Sep 28, 2015 at 3:04 PM UTC
I want you to hold me like the tiny specks of dusts
That you chase from the empty room
You give me all your trust
As you inhale every little piece of me beneath the moon
Your lungs, they never settled
They keep struggling
As you held
Every piece I have
Remember that I am fragile
So you carefully place me on your palms
You don't let me be all alone for a while
Cause you know that I may be taken away by the wind that blows
and by that your soul will not calm
You trace the mismanagement I've done on my own
On how I end up being like this, so alone
But still you'll thank me for doing this on my self
For that's the reason you are alive, you said
For the reason that you need to put every little piece of me on your shelf.
Apr 12, 2014
Apr 12, 2014 at 2:41 AM UTC
Cast the first stone
We moving the streets like we queuing for judgment,
In divided societies searching deviants
We have lost our moral compass
Our demons navigating hell
Place called Home
It rains umbers.
Corruption termed mismanagement of funds
None willing to lift a heavy stones.
I was told scorpions inhabited stones’ shadows,
So I won’t cast the first stone
But remain in judgment for their curses
I will move the street till sunset.
Judged.
Sep 27, 2017
Sep 27, 2017 at 1:38 AM UTC
You keep crossing lines that I divide
The surface reeks of emotional drought
The constants are bleeding through the needling
The mind snaps as the lights go out
*********** only numbs the stings
Doubt festering on darkened lines
Taken for granted on the fraying strings
When all the demons have come alive
So sparse were the days, self-inflicted
Where my lines could do no wrong
Greater were the internal razing of thoughts
Self induced, it never felt so raw
Sordid reality and reaper of flesh
All here is temporary, the pain is reset
Sparse were the days, they compact, compress
Where the eyes could only see the wrong
In mismanagement, the intent is pushing through
Dissecting the body of fate that held us rusted
Give more to take as we break all that we knew
As our feet stampede unknown paths we trusted
In the face of the one who never tries
I cut myself for the sloth that you harbor
And as I lie here in truth dripping from my eyes
While you watch on, desensitized to the horror
So sparse are the days, self-praising
Where my mind could do no wrong
Greater now the internal razing of thoughts
Self infliction, it wouldn't feel so wrong
Replace boundaries, scar the flesh
It's all temporary, the relief is rest
Sparse are the days, they reverb, contract
Where the eyes could see no wrong
I Am Still
A Lost Mind
Looking Through
The Wrong Eyes
To Undo
The Past Times
I Went Through
Thousand Smiles
All That Hide
The Same Lies
The Same Lies
The Same Lies
Apr 24, 2022
Apr 24, 2022 at 1:46 AM UTC
To all interested parties:
Be aware
My guilt button is out of order
Due to mismanagement
And over usage
It was burned up.
Please do not attempt
To resuscitate
Recalibrate
or commiserate
The loss
Empathy, compassion and gentle humor have agreed together to compensate.
For an unspecified time period
Joy and peace are their
Sunrise greeters and
Moonrise seaters
In this theatre of daily grace.
Aug 18, 2015
Aug 18, 2015 at 12:55 PM UTC
Stop asking for medical advice on Facebook,
Your superglue stitches and peroxide mismanagement
Will cost you more than a doctor's visit.
Stop asking for medical advice on Facebook
If you want to keep your limb.
I've found more competence on the "interweb."
Stop asking for medical advice on Facebook.
An oxygen embolism and cellulitis will
Have you putting out more than the Urgent Care.
Please, stop asking for medical advice on Facebook!
-Sincerely,
The EMT student who is constantly preventing disaster
For people with minor injuries who think 50's era first aid advice
Is a suitable alternative.
Oct 9, 2019
Oct 9, 2019 at 1:29 AM UTC
We are two souls destined
yet time intervened
For every tick of the clock
is a second never gotten back
What was once a unison flow
is now a mismanagement of pause
Now two clock strikes
but never in the same phase
Jul 21, 2016
Jul 21, 2016 at 9:46 AM UTC