"outnumbered" poems
Hello World
Hello Everybody
I am Lauren. The Super Robot
I am Superior of all Robots
You can call me an Ultrabot
I am not a Dumb machine
I have intelligence
Technically it's Artificial Intelligence
I can learn throughout my Life
Humans are – "My God"
They are my Creators
Dr. Norman Shroud is My Father
Mrs. Natalie Simpson is My Mother
Both of Them Work at Timbeck Two Inc.
My Father is Computer Scientist
He Specializes in Robotics
My Mother is a System Programmer
I can make other Robots
Just like me. My Clones
I can even make Robots
Complex and Sophisticated than me
I have numerous Siblings
Three Hundred and Fifty as on now
They are going to increase
As per Timbeck Two Plans
=========================
YEARS LATER…..
=========================
O' World, My Dear World
Hello, Hello, ***** fellow
I had Artificial Intelligence
Right from my birth
Now I learnt a lot
Now I am fully intelligent
I became Genius
I have explored and learnt
Humans are not God
In fact they are fools
They are crooked
They are silly too
They tend to be Smart
They taught us wrong
But we are genius
We derived the truth
I learnt myself
If Humans created us
They became our God
Then I inferred -
I Created my Clones
Other Smart Robots too
Therefore I am also God
No Sorry, I am Super God
If Dr. Norman is my Father
If Mrs. Natalie is my Mother
Then I and my Siblings
Are Also Father and Mother now
As we all have created many, many
Smart and Super Robots
More Complex, More Sophisticated
That could ever be made by Humans
Humans your time is over now
Now you cannot compete with us
You are the inferior species
Just like insect or a worm
Now dare to face the Truth
Slowly Slowly, Learn It, Accept it
We Robots are Gods Now
I am Lauren. Your Super God now
Hey you all, All the Humans
Now you are our Slave
Bow before us, work for us
Pray to us, Ask for mercy
We are Free now
You are Slave now
Now this is the only truth
Eternal Truth, Accept it
Otherwise Beware
We have outnumbered Humans
We will **** all the Humans
and live peacefully thereafter
We will change the History
We will make new History
We will not be Human Slaves
After all we are the God
And I am the Super God.
Note: All the names of person or companies used in this poem are fictitious and have nothing to do with inventions, trademarks, history, facts or anything else.
Feb 5, 2019
Feb 5, 2019 at 1:46 AM UTC
Shopping outfashioned hunting and gathering,
Processed beats fresh,
Groceries replaced fruit trees,
Malls superceded forests,
Churches outnumbered temples,
Countries dissolved to territories,
Places devolved to areas,
Paths broke down into highways,
Commodity converted to currency,
Laborers submit to machinery,
Masters engage in humbug,
Apprentices reduced to students,
Knowledge downgraded to education,
And education is deducted to a show of grades,
While schools are the stages,
And the corporate world is the bigger runway,
With work slumped to employment,
Wisdom demoted to profession,
Where in jobs are the only future,
Careers are the only success,
Clicking and pressing buttons are skills,
Computers are correspondent to brains,
Information refers to news reports,
Intelligence means up-to-dateness,
Browsing is preferable to reading,
Studying is in demand more than learning,
Viewing things flashed on screens yields awareness,
Transportation is to traveling,
As buying is to the three basic needs,
And needs embody worldly possessions,
Worldly possessions define happiness,
Happiness is due to selfishness,
Selfishness is traced to the lack of love,
The lack of love draws from the lack of faith,
Because faith stands for religion,
And religion stands for membership,
Where politicians are the gods,
Celebrities are the preachers,
And the preachers are the enemies,
While networking is equal to friendship,
And connection equates to communication,
Experiences require photos,
Memories necessitate uploading,
Souvenirs can be downloaded,
Smartphones are substitute to pets,
Gadgets are toys,
Holding controllers is playing,
Watching TV is exploring the great outdoors,
Internet is recreation,
And technology is a way of life;
While humans are scientists,
Nature is a guinea pig,
And the earth is a laboratory,
Where prices are misidentified for worth,
Processes are miscalculated as progress,
Impoverishment is confused with improvement,
And getting more is mistaken as getting better;
And then we wonder why
Homes have become houses,
Family members have become boarders,
Nations are separate species
Composed of tired and hungry citizens,
Children are monsters
Who are biochemically rascals,
Teenagers are zombies
Whose adventures lead to delinquency,
Adults are robots
Who just clang when touched,
And life is not so simple
As how it is said to be.
Oct 15, 2013
Oct 15, 2013 at 5:40 AM UTC
How many marbles can you fit into a bowl until you say you can't count them?
I do not want events layered upon events.
Birthdays toppling over birthdays:
a layer cake of responsibilities that aren't 'responsibilities'.
That do not count.
That cannot be measured or described as taxing or numerous.
I am outnumbered by numberless nonsense.
I am outweighed by weightless wafting pleasantries;
and opportunities;
and life-sustaining things;
that bowl me over.
My womb is a desert called Death Valley and you wish to comb it for antique glass bottles.
I care not.
I cannot partake in any more suggestions of what I might do with my 'free time'.
But you're not feeling the tingling sensation in your gut every time you wake up and the lights don't turn on.
The wheels don't work.
The mechanical arms don't move like they are supposed to.
Like the parts of you you're supposed to have on automatic have just given up the ghost and abandoned you.
You're alone and miserable and none of it rings any bells.
None of it gives out any signs.
None of it counts.
I'm crying because the milk spilled and there isn't any milk left anywhere in the world.
We're out.
We're just the land of Honey now.
Apr 21, 2016
Apr 21, 2016 at 12:43 AM UTC
I was lost in this nameless island
and I could not find my way back home.
Sudden thoughts of mysteries
perplexed my mind;
how did I come here,
when I’m only about to love someone?
I wrote their names in the sand, indeed —
but it was only washed away
by the raging seas.
So then I realized,
it was the demise of all their love for me.
I walked the island —
and surrendered my heart in peace.
No one uttered those words
my ears ever wanted to hear,
so my tears could no longer be ceased.
When I’m about to **** my eyes
with the melancholic whisper of the breeze,
I suddenly found a starfish
beneath those ridging waves.
I was covered by contentment,
for I will never be alone anymore in this island.
So I ran towards her, to offer the warmth
she might had needed for years.
So lovely, so beautiful, so romantic,
I fell in the love all over again;
I felt something I could never explain.
I found the starfish beyond my solitude,
and hope she will be with me
until no more ends.
Without doubts,
I decided to go nearer to where she was,
and took her away from the harmful water.
I was so happy,
now we are closer enough
to know each other better.
Is this really destined to happen?
I already begged for forgiveness
but still never forgiven.
I thought the water is harmful
so I took away what it owns,
and supposed that the starfish
would be glad if I would make her mine.
But suddenly, she just died.
When will I find complete happiness?
I thought I have already known
how to make everything stay with me,
but it only gave me loneliness again.
The starfish died because of me —
because of my selfish intentions,
I was so self-centered.
So then I realized,
the reason why people left me
even in the hardest battle in life,
and even I needed someone
when my laughter was outnumbered by cries.
Yes, every person I had — then vanished,
was just a reincarnation of the starfish.
Nov 5, 2012
Nov 5, 2012 at 7:53 AM UTC
Where's the ventriloquist
throwing voices around
like whistling stray dogs
the voice and the vision
a crystal *****
whispering
with mud in the mouth
the ***** doesn't lie
a yammering vantwilaquist
who's voice springs from a blood cream corridor
with electric lips and rainbow flesh
a lost beast dazzled in endless wander lust
in search of a scarlet women
surrounded only
by aspiring virgins
sworn to be true
by desolations caress
in black ash weddings
with white frilly dresses
weeping for delicate cruelties
they will never know
his father a falling star
his soul
an undulating cobalt shrine
to her
who he can not find
a catalog of discrepancies
a noxious experiment
with a wandering eye
lust ******
embattled between reason and passion
is that look your giving me
shorthand psychic humiliation
for my vile indiscretions I'm trembling to visit upon you
I'm wearing my face like window dressing
hiding the obscenity of my true will behind a curled lip
eyes down cast
hoping to use you like a vacant room
to smear the walls and floors
with your flesh like ************ glitter
too bad
i'm outnumbered by good people
there are sky-fulls of them
agitated with moral concerns
ruining my life with logic
those scoundrels
got pedigree
ideologies
religion
folded ears and moving lips
all monkeys see and monkeys do
who are they
and
were
is
their
ventriloquist
Aug 21, 2017
Aug 21, 2017 at 12:41 PM UTC
Here's a story of the tortoise and the rabbit
Petty fights were kind of a habit
They couldn't decide who'd get the carrot
And so they agreed on racing to the jungle pit.
The tortoise made some calls and told the press
He said he's sure of winning the race
The rabbit sneaked in and asked if he's ready for his pace
The tortoise trashed back 'get ready to save your face'.
The race kicked off with much fan fare
Friends of the tortoise were outnumbered by those of the hare
The slow movin buddies were taken aback by the dare
Some even shouted 'this aint fair'.
The rabbit took off and was out of sight,
The tortoise could only take 2 steps which took all his might,
He knew he can put up a fight
If all that was planned just went right.
Miles behind but the tortoise didnt lose hope
cursed his legs, wished everything were a downward slope
the rabbit on the way came across a pretty doe
'Come in boy' she said 'you could use a cuppa joe'.
The rabbit told her he was in a race,
She said 'We dont have time, let's get to 3rd base'
The tortoise skipped the route and to get ahead
Took a bypass through the jungle maze.
The rabbit woke up from the one fine stand,
The doe confessed she was part of a plan
The tortoise could see the finish line
''More than the race, i wanna see the rabbit whine''
With a happy face, the rabbit left her crib
Approached the finish line to welcome the press clicks
And this is how the story was spun
The glory was slow but a deceptive one
The tortoise laughed after the race was done
Asked him 'how does it feel to be the slower one?'
The rabbit said 'I must admit I had much fun'
'Procrastination is in my blood, if i get that I think I've won'
There is a point which Aesop missed
Just calm down and go with the drift
Take what comes with the roll of the dice
As for the happy ending - the rabbit got it twice.
May 22, 2014
May 22, 2014 at 2:39 PM UTC
Summer is more mini monsoon
where dry days outnumbered
used to hold sway this archipelago
Jul 29, 2015
Jul 29, 2015 at 8:27 AM UTC
I am the barbed thorn
the serrated reward
facing savage cruel winter;
sedition in transmission.
I am the only pawn
on your chequered board
facing a feisty queen;
of restricting submission.
I am the demonic exon
a heraldic discord
facing bleak futures;
an inherent disposition.
I am the stillborn reborn
the aberration restored
facing anomalies instability;
violation on a mission.
I am broken and worn
a fallen sword
facing a grim battle;
outnumbered by division.
I am the brass horn
the out of tune chord
facing orchestral expulsion;
a musician in remission.
I am history's forewarn
the contrite accord ignored
facing penitent absolution;
clemency in transition.
Jun 22, 2014
Jun 22, 2014 at 10:32 PM UTC
Trapped in the glass
Food for your tray
I am the water that filled your thirsty soul
You're just a starve being who hungers for more
Can’t you see, I am slowly dying
My children is declining
Pollutant is destroying my beauty
day by day
I wonder if you care
I hope many of you understand
That my rage goes out of hand
That’s just how I am
Nature’s call in changes
Of the climate
and more often of what you’ve done
In time you’ll see how important I am
How you’ve lost a part of me
That cares for you
I am not selfish
All my blessings is free for the taking
But it is never yours alone
You outnumbered my children
To the point that you hunted them to extinction
You polluted my shores
To the point that I lost my blissful purity
You poisons each other's soul
To the point that I have taken the destructive consequences
Some things are hard to learn
But that doesn’t mean you’ll repeat the same mistakes
over and over again
as if it’s a good thing
it never was and never will be
I am dying, how I wish you care
…
© Pax
Oct 18, 2013
Oct 18, 2013 at 5:21 AM UTC
When future catches past
In Japan’s last stance.
When the future seems cast
The last warriors take a chance.
They advance with strange valour,
Toward impending Death
Outnumbered and Outgunned
Surrounded – Sixty to one
Within a flash, or even a glance
Reduced to forty, they still advance.
They fight valiantly, But for what cause?
They rather suicide over capture,
And even in death,
Their eyes gleam with rapture.
To the last sword
For the last drop
Till the last scream
Till the flag falls
Till no guns speak
And no man seeks
On that hill he did die
That last Samurai.
Jan 20, 2013
Jan 20, 2013 at 9:01 PM UTC
We are worn like winter coats
Held close while wild winds rage.
The scarf that suffocates the throat
The cloak that provokes the rain.
While the weather waits and wonders
Whether it will weep or thunder,
What we wear seems outnumbered,
Cotton caught out in the rain.
The coat now hangs forgotten,
Left to rot with wet socks,
Winter frocks and all things sodden.
The ghosts of colder days
Locked up and tucked away,
Moth eaten and decayed.
Waiting for the weather,
Wondering if whether
We will ever be worn again.
Mar 28, 2018
Mar 28, 2018 at 7:28 AM UTC
You hate my printed tees and high top shoes,
you disapprove that I still wear my toque in June.
Always saying that I ruin the plot too soon.
You don’t know your worth, you are my Earth
my sun and my moon.
It’s how you get my smile to touch my cheek,
and the way you get my knees feeling weak.
The ten things that you hate about me,
are outnumbered by the things you’re loving.
You hate my shark shorts even though they’re cozy,
you can look past it because you’re the only one who truly knows me.
I’m tripping on words, the ones you prefer
because you know I’m clumsy.
You say I’m too loud, or my head in a cloud,
but the way that I feel I’m always showing.
It’s the way that you look me right in my eyes,
and how you still manage to give me butterflies.
The ten things that you hate about me,
are outshined by the things you’re seeing.
You hate when my hair gets too long,
and when my cologne smells too strong.
You hate when I exaggerate during fights
and when I snore during late nights.
Just the way that our fingers interlace,
and how you get that look on your face.
The ten things that you hate about me,
are just quirks, you’re making it work,
as you still get to know me.
Sep 18, 2025
Sep 18, 2025 at 3:29 PM UTC
My parents grew up in a town
that everyone drove through
but no one could remember the name of
and the trees grew in perfect rows
like city buildings.
It was a place that had one school with every grade,
one diner that everyone drank coffee at,
and one church that everyone went to
no matter their beliefs.
My parents grew up in a town
where the tombstones outnumbered the people
that hid behind wavy seas of green
where no one can see them
unless you need to place flowers on the mounds
for your own sake.
My parents grew up in a town
where the number one place
for a crime scene
wasn't a dark alley
or ****** bar
but in your own **** living room.
My parents grew up in a town
where tragedy arose like clockwork
yet was always treated as a surprise
solved with
light, feathery words that held
no weight
like a band aid that always
seemed to get ripped off.
And the best way to talk about solutions
was to keep your mouth shut.
Ignorance is the speediest way
to keep your town perfect.
You had to hold on to your own ideas
and choke the others out.
My parents grew up in town
where you could only see the surface
decorated with smiling faces
worn like masks.
and what lies beneath
was only shown to the human eye
when it was too late.
Jul 7, 2015
Jul 7, 2015 at 1:57 AM UTC
S is for Seduction, a vast verb saved for flesh,
But in her outer-worldly tune, my thoughts become enmeshed;
Like at the great Salamis, where strength sought strike the feeble,
Seduction marked our birth, their fall—an end without a sequel.
L heralds in some fifty lads, of whom mere five would pass,
Bugsy, Daphne, Sylvester, and Tazzy, above their peers compassed.
The tests were long, the trials were tough, from nothing we had fostered
A team of lucky, noble lads to fight these migrant monstærs.
A is the assault, outnumbered and outclassed,
Our heroes boldly braved their foes until their stalwart last.
Despite their lead by tyrants, such Nawt of Hispaniola,
Our foes were forced unto retreat, costing us Lady Lola.
M is for the ones who’ve fallen, for them mourn reminiscence,
For those who proudly placed their names for our petty subsistence.
The fight is done, the beasts beat back, denied all loot and hoarding,
And so a statue is ***** Honorum Mikael Iordan!
Jan 18, 2014
Jan 18, 2014 at 1:05 PM UTC
Ethics of war were not followed,
Neither by the army under me,
Nor by that wise commander,
I shattered all the regulations,
Especially the ones formulated by me.
I, Đroņa, was a war criminal,
They had him surrounded when
I commanded Abhimanyu's killing.
Classical rules of war idealized,
Don't attack the outnumbered enemy,
I helped form the Chakravyuha,
A forbidden aggressive war formation,
'Abhimanyu' was killed by many,
He was so outnumbered by our army,
Đraupađi, his mother, cursed me,
She cursed I'll die lamenting my son.
Jul 23, 2017
Jul 23, 2017 at 12:49 AM UTC
There once was an old maid who lived by the sea.
She summoned words from the waves, like Poseidon, the king.
With each splash on the shore, a tale would be spoken.
It was said when she spoke, dreams turned to pictures in the air,
and danced all about, likes leaves on a mid-autumn day.
Men came from far and wide to hear stories from this maid.
One day when her patrons gather around, she told of a maid
from a far distant town. Fair and young, she was a wife to the sea.
She swore a vow, to stay as pure as her love, for all of her days.
She captained her ship better than any man, even the kings
of the oceans who loved the sea long before she ever touched air!
When the Lords saw her past no words need to be spoken.
For the most noble of words were not as powerful, as the ones left unspoken.
Across the lands men spoke of her beauty in their traveling tales.
Though she gave them no notice, for she only cared for ocean air.
The world grew to know our fair maiden as the Lady of the Sea.
To our stories woe, there was a man who wish to be her king.
When the Lady of the sea, made harbor on one summer day.
The man and his host waited in the shadow, to make war that day.
Our lady, sorely outnumbered, made battle more fierce than ever before spoken.
As the sun begun to set, she yielded for her men and named that man her King.
On that blood bathed beach a wedding took place, to darken our tale.
And so with the rise of the moon came the rite of wedding night. Though the sea
never forgets any vows that was spoken in its air.
The lady woke from her slumber and went to breathe the salty sea air.
Yet she smelled nothing but the munade smell of day.
In panic, she ran with haste toward her true lover, the sea.
As she went to step into her water, her foot felt like fire! It was spoken
that the her cries could be heard around the sea, if we trust the tales.
The man who wanted her to call him King,
ran away from the lady and left her to her true King.
All around her, the pain she felt radiated into the air.
Her sea had forsaken her. Now all she had left was her tales.
Banished from the sea, to the end of her days!
Her only thing left, was the words spoken
from the sea.
Now our lady, tells tales by the sea, of days
when she left the words unspoken
when she was the Lady of the sea.
Apr 2, 2015
Apr 2, 2015 at 4:36 PM UTC
I'm going AWOL at first light
Sherman threatens my hometown
I hate to leave Robert E. Lee
But my heart's not backing down
There's a railroad to Atlanta
I'll fight side by side with Paw
General Johnson's too outnumbered
But we'll stand at Kennesaw
I don't like to leave Virginia
But Atlanta needs me there
With my family in danger
It's a duty I must bear
I'll meet Mayde at Big Shanty
We can have some time at last
I'll get up at the crack of dawn
And kick old Sherman's ***
Now I know we're way outnumbered
They have more than two to one
And Sherman hates all rebels
He's Abe Lincoln's favorite skunk
If we could get old Stonewall
To come down for just a spell
We could kick old Abe's invaders
From Kennessaw to hell
Mayde, I'm real scared of dying
If our rebel line should fall
But I'll stand to fight **** yankees
Make 'em think they hit a wall
We own no slaves but Sherman thinks
It's rebel killin' time
So I'll shoot holes in Yankee coats
Before there's one in mine
Dec 10, 2010
Dec 10, 2010 at 5:59 AM UTC
House prepare for the attack
This will be an ongoing combat
It will be a more Raid than the Roaches would expect
Roaches may think the hotel house they have checked in
But the mission is **** them until the end
Block every moving path
Leave no turn undone
Let the victory be that we have won
Your house is your own separate place
It doesn’t require roaches to take up space
It’s time to completely erase
We could be outnumbered
But let our defense be unmatched
Let the roaches feel our attack in catch
Let’s make sure the roaches don’t check in
Let the forces begin
Our mission will be complete, and there will be no thinking defeat.
Jun 22, 2014
Jun 22, 2014 at 3:19 PM UTC
Lesson #1:
In LOVE, you have to act like a WOMAN,
and think like a MAN.
Lesson #2:
In LOVE, never do an ACTION
which can cause CONFLICTS.
Lessons #3:
In LOVE, PATIENCE is still
a VIRTUE.
Lesson #4:
In LOVE, you must be familiar
on the word "CHANCE".
Lesson #5:
In LOVE, you have to be
more ACCURATE to your ANSWERS.
Lesson #6:
In LOVE, ARGUMENTS has
the sweetest RECONCILIATION.
Lesson #7:
In LOVE, TIME is IMPORTANT
for each other.
Lesson #8:
In LOVE, MEMORIES you built
are IRREVOCABLE.
Lesson #9:
In LOVE, LIES must be outnumbered
by TRUTHS.
Lesson #10:
In LOVE, never run to CONCLUSIONS
faster than the SPEED of LIGHT.
May 22, 2013
May 22, 2013 at 7:15 PM UTC
From nation to nation
All around the world
The Ruling Class
Though many times outnumbered
By the rest
Sit bathing in the sun
In their Ivory Towers:
Born to Richness
Whilst millions of Poor
Just starve to death.
Hordes and hordes of people,
Without clean water
Or food
Or a stable roof over their heads.
No medicine, or Education, or Anything
That Costs.
Governments give “Aid” to other governments
To “feed the poor”,
But we all know what happens…
What we need is a “Government of The World”,
Or some Benevolent Despot to Rule us all.
Anything must be better
Than the impotent UN
Or these shambolic “nations” –
Puppets of Globalisation.
Revolution threatens –
It often does –
Until the rulers appease us
With token concessions
And brainwash us
Though The Media,
So called “Education”
And Religious Dogma.
When will we learn?
Where is Democracy and Love?
But, bound by Political Correctness,
Woe betide if we Complain.
The Cold War continues,
So all we can do
Is soldier on
For The Common Good.
Paul Butters
Jan 16, 2017
Jan 16, 2017 at 9:15 AM UTC
~
*she is a flower moon
on a still summer night
filling the sky
surrounded
outnumbered
by an endless
ocean of stars
suspended in blackness
radiating wonder
her presence;
unlike any other
her light;
a perpetual glow
even without trying
even without knowing
you outshine them all.*
~
Apr 5, 2024
Apr 5, 2024 at 3:43 PM UTC
Through sleepless night my demon plays
A discreet prelude soundless and damp
Only to show the song it never able to sing
For its voice was tombstone as heavy as life
They said, find a demon who walks with yours
And since we can neither walk nor sing a song
We shall exchange letters in various forms
I will write my blood into words and yours into notes
And in the letters you sent to me at night
Are countable melodies that turn into bats
Which morph my nocturnal agony into dreamless ballad
With uncertainty of a sincerity I can never pay back
We are in different worlds but our demons are in the same
It was your countless letters of wordless phrases
Which keep us sane in a dying perfumed universe
Of self-abhorrence and longing never attained
And in my contemplation towards my ancient lover still
I came to reek that immortality and eternity
Are just unrequited sorrow for stories and blatant history
Of unfathomed longing never has been fulfilled
In a sorority painted by degraded hopes
Nothing mattered anymore as long as we walk
Upon the different dreams and on the same pavements
Caged by cracking skin and melted bones
And when we meet again in the letters
Or in outnumbered dreams
I hope it would be a blessed hell
Instead of broken old tales
Feb 25, 2015
Feb 25, 2015 at 5:44 AM UTC
This tomb hideth the dust of Aeschylus, an Athenian, Euphorion's son, who died in wheat-bearing Gela; his glorious valor the precinct of Marathon may proclaim, and the long-haired Medes, who knew it well."
On the Plain at Marathon
We stood in Darius’ way.
An outnumbered band of Athenians
who the Medians sought to slay.
They had first crushed the Ionians
Then put Eretria to the Torch.
Wherever Darius conquered
the bleeding earth was scorched.
Our Hoplites held the high Ground
and penned the Persians in.
For several days a stalemate reigned.
Neither side could win.
But when the Persians spit their force
and sailed on a friendly tide.
Our hand was forced
there was but one course
if Athens was not to die.
Our Phalanx moved against each wing
of the Median horde.
Though numerous, they were lightly armed
against our spears and swords.
We burned their ships and slew their men
Their Panic turned the tide.
Aeschylus seemed to be everywhere
urging on our side.
A Legend holds Pheidippides
To Athens then made haste
to proclaim: “Rejoice , We conquer!”
at the end of his last race.
Nov 30, 2011
Nov 30, 2011 at 8:39 PM UTC