"outraged" poems
So lets get this straight:
An armed, white man walks into a school,
kills 17 students and teachers with a tool
that can be bought at just any store
by a 19 year old, insane, fool,
before being caught, all on Valentine's day,
Marking the 30th mass shooting just this year
And it's not time to talk about gun control?
If they had been black, you'd say "more police"
If they had been Mexican, you'd say "build a wall"
If they had been Middle-Eastern, you'd say "travel ban"
But they're not, they're white, they're mentally ill,
so "Report the disturbed" our president says
"It's about mental health!" our congress says
"But it's not time to talk about gun control"
You send your thoughts and prayers,
while we're pleading for your help
You want to know my thoughts and prayers?
I thought our country cared about us
I thought our country loved us more than guns
And I pray that my school won't be next
That my friends won't be mourned on the internet
That we might be safe in our unsafe unchanging world
Because you won't talk about gun control
But you know what?
***** you if you think that's all we're gonna do
We're taking this horse by the reigns
Knock some sense into that old brain
We're organizing, rising up and wising up
Taking a stand, and taking a walk
Making our voices heard, better watch for that 10 o' clock
We will not be complacent in our friends' deaths
We've done it before and we will do it again
They say "when we're older"
I say "why wait till then"
These laws are going to change now
These deaths have got to be dwindling down
Everyone knows kids can be one loud crowd
And no, we won't calm down
Until no one ignores our outraged sound
We will make the politicians come around
And finally, gun control will bring peace to our towns
And finally, me, my family, and my friends, can feel safe, with long lives ahead,
and we can go back to school together again.
Feb 19, 2018
Feb 19, 2018 at 3:32 PM UTC
Birds in an open cage
I’m outraged they aren’t outraged
They’re happy to be enslaved
They have the minds of slaves
Chirp, chirp, on demand
when the master commands!
They holler and stomp their feet joyfully.
Insane, like they have pea-sized brains.
They clip off their own wings
They don’t want to be free!
Aug 18, 2018
Aug 18, 2018 at 5:41 PM UTC
Compliments, compliments, compliments.
This girl loved compliments
And she received a lot
The sun would tell her she glows every morning.
The moon would cry when he had to leave every night.
The frogs would gossip about her eyes.
The cricket would whisper about her lips.
Fire would blush,
And Ice would sweat.
Death gave her extra time.
Life would stop and admire.
Summer would visit her in winter,
And Flowers just like to say hi.
Compliments, compliments, compliments.
This girl loved compliments.
The only person who didn’t compliment her was the
girl in the mirror,
she said
“The sun doesn’t know what glowing means
The moon has something in his eyes .
The frogs have a bad cough
And the crickets lie.
The fire was having a heat stroke
The ice was merely melting.
Death doesn’t give time to anyone,
And life doesn’t stop for no one.
Summer can’t visit in winter
And flowers bloom for only the bees.”
Compliments, compliments, compliments.
This girl loved compliments.
But every time the girl in the mirror had something to say.
Outraged I was to counter every point she made.
So all day I waited,
and waited,
and waited,
and waited,
and waited
I met the boy in the mirror instead
Who agreed with every compliment said
Sep 3, 2021
Sep 3, 2021 at 8:37 PM UTC
The Christmas rush has started, and the countdown has begun
Advent doors are opened, but look what you have done
You've ridiculed the Bounty bar, and your spoiling all the fun
Why buy a Celebration, if your not happy after one ?
What's behind the cardboard doors, what did you all expect
A gold ring perhaps, or the keys for a corvette?
Why bother with an advent, when you have no respect
There's no need for chocolate genocide, or coconut neglect
You shouldn't be so outraged, with your Christmas Celebrations
I don't understand the malice, or the advent hesitations
If you don't want a bounty, buy heroes or sensations
It's hardly a matter for Interpol, or the united nations
Celebrations are your choice, there's no cause for your regret
The outcome is quite obvious, why are you so upset
Are the pictures not a clue, to what your gonna get ?
No rarity of Bounty hunters, so don't mess with Boba Fett
Are Maltesers that much lighter, in a Galaxy far away
Maybe you will find Mars, in between the Milky Way
A Twix or Galaxy Caramel, they we're for a different day
But you've dissed your celebrations, and no longer want to play
Some YouTube clips have surfaced, and I have read the blogs
I think it's just pathetic, seeing chocolate thrown down bogs
Your creating your own misery, as well as yule time logs
You won't be very happy, when your toilet blocks and clogs
On day two you still complained, and you wanted to resist
Is that because the chocolate, was not on your Christmas list
Would you be pleased with mistletoe, if you never did get kissed
Christmas spirit has been lost, with your Snickers in a twist
Some people are just morons, that's the message that they've sent
Their expectations are to high, and cruel jokes are never meant
Why is Bounty not as good, to start of an event
A Snickers in your calendar, doesn't mean a ruined advent
Dec 13, 2018
Dec 13, 2018 at 1:58 PM UTC
Her soft leaves tremble as
the clouds clash and collide
above, revealing their deafening
roar.
Tremors ripple through her,
beginning at her roots; the
poignant sky tears straight through
her rind.
Vicious tears fall from melancholy stars,
and she quakes under the bellow
of the outraged clouds; she is
alone.
Turbulent,
irate,
ferocious,
but she will remain.
Feb 18, 2016
Feb 18, 2016 at 10:14 PM UTC
It was a dissonant melody that made the lonesome mole weep from his blind eyes
and there were mascara stains on the face of a pensive ********** lady in the streetlights
When the orchestral waves wound up at the shores of a sandblasted city
the denizens were too afraid to speak out against tyranny, and they died
Wistful wonderment in the souls of the children as they walk hand in hand
and experience the crumbling of wonton rocks in the skies of their homeland
A celestial boom, droning on the streets, and the women are beat
Are you outraged yet?
May 13, 2013
May 13, 2013 at 7:55 AM UTC
Toned, muscular, powerful beasts.
This is the way the world chooses to see.
Outraged, aggression, and dangerous too.
Scared one day, they might bite you.
Not even a second, by the looks, instant fear.
This so called 'reputation' makes us tear.
Continue to breed,
Continue to Buy.
Opt. to put them on a chain so tight.
Opt. to make them fight.
Judging them, at just first sight.
Not bad dogs, just bad owners.
When will the world see the light?
Toned, masculine, powerful features.
Beautiful and intelligent creatures.
Ever so loving, ever so loyal.
So goofy, and eager to please.
Eager to love, Eager for affection.
This is the way the world should see.
A family dog, a protector.
A comedian in ways.
A runway model with natural beauty.
A visitor, for those in pain and lonely.
A caregiver for rehabilitation.
A simple, lasting smile,
A kind that sparks and stays for awhile.
A partner against crime.
A team mate whose there all the time.
A worker, a player to love you at best.
A companion beyond special.
A dog, beyond the rest.
A love, in life, with whatever is next.
A best friend, to say the least.
A Staffies not A beast.
Staffies are the best.
Feb 27, 2012
Feb 27, 2012 at 8:03 AM UTC
Cocky?
I beg to differ
There is someone out there
that is much better than me
So I don't believe, for one second
that i'm...
Conceded.
A word applied
To the beautiful people without
beautiful minds, embraced
by the ones less intellectually fecund
than they are...
Brazen.
Polished? I am.
Your feelings? Your worries?
******* I disregard not with brashness
But with angelic cause as my own problems
are significantly more...
Tectonic.
Shifting focus from
your meager existence
as my shear presence fills this page
Outraged? You created these proems
when daily topics I...
Eclipsed.
Full moon rising.
The lighthouse to your sinking vessel
I am not the best, but I am the best of
the better of you and your kind, lower-class
no offense, I speak...
Truth.
And the pain it brings
I don't worry about such things
I don't discount, but I do surpass
Their muggle mind with poise and sass
Dare I say I'm not cocky, just...
Confidently better than you.
Mar 24, 2011
Mar 24, 2011 at 12:29 PM UTC
I stare at the television news....
Assaulted by violence
Stunned by the inhumanity of a
Godless society
I listen to the radio....
Embarrassed by ads that tout
Promiscuous pleasures
Outraged by the thinly disguised
Decadent discourses of the shock jocks
I read the newspapers and magazines....
Cuckolded by corporate America a
Loser in the games politicians play
Violated
Shamed
Cheated and
Betrayed
I try to turn it all off….
but like a bitter pill the distasteful images linger
nor can I go along with eyes shut and ears muffled
living
or not
in a padded room of my own making
I cannot function without information….
tho my senses are
Wounded by the
Brutality of the media
I yearn for thoughts to ease my distress....
like a mother’s soft whispers to her crying baby
like the beauty that shines from faces that know love
I don’t want the perception of reality that the media rapes me with....
I want the truth revealed by God in His creation
Oct 1, 2016
Oct 1, 2016 at 9:06 AM UTC
October's bellowing anger breaks and cleaves
The bronzed battalions of the stricken wood
In whose lament I hear a voice that grieves
For battle’s fruitless harvest, and the feud
Of outraged men. Their lives are like the leaves
Scattered in flocks of ruin, tossed and blown
Along the westering furnace flaring red.
O martyred youth and manhood overthrown,
The burden of your wrongs is on my head.
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Silly humans, why can't they see,
The web I weave so carefully?
How will my children ever eat
If they don't control their clumsy feet?
Why can't they see as they walk?
So wrapped up in their silly talks,
Into my precious web they go,
With their loud squaks and bellows!
They scare my children half to death
Why can't they be quiet instead?
No respect for the home they destroyed;
In fact they leave feeling annoyed!
So self righteous these humans are
With that attitude, they won't get far.
Surely evolution will wipe them out!
All they do is shriek and shout.
There they go into my web again
The one I rebuild with such care and pain,
Not a thought given to my efforts!
This selfish race really should suffer!
I'm outraged by this behaviour
Oh other insects, please be my saviour!
They squash and trample us all the time
I'll give them a piece of my mind!!
Friends, there's strength in numbers
Their underestimation is their blunder
Slowly, I'll let my evil plans unfurl
Soon, the cockroaches and I will take over the world!
Aug 30, 2014
Aug 30, 2014 at 3:08 AM UTC
with apologies to Aaron Sorkin
The atheist starts off with,
“this is silly.” I think I see
him sense the abrupt change
of atmosphere walking through
the threshold into a chapel like
plunging into lake water naked.
When the actress kneels, the atheist explains
how God shouldn’t be so vain, I think of
the actress and whether or not, with her real
kneeling in the fake chapel, she actually prays.
She says, “You don’t kneel for Him; you kneel for you.”
The atheist storms out saying that “This just doesn’t
feel right,” The atheist is outraged that a mother is bleeding
to death, her baby may have no father, and someone’s
little brother is being held hostage by Islamic fundamentalists.
I remember two conversations:
Courtney telling me that God wasn’t saving me
when my brake lines rusted out in the TGI Fridays
parking lot instead of on the 74 bridge.
River telling me that she feels blessed that God has watched
over all the people in her life who have attempted
suicide, because they failed. She hastily tries to add
that God was also watching over Jenny, but is too
worried that she hurt me. Right before the scene switches
The actress looks upand tells God
that the atheist “made some good points.”
Dec 27, 2010
Dec 27, 2010 at 5:22 PM UTC
Outraged am I,
At the markings on my face,
Tiny red pimples all around,
What a disgrace!
I'm too self-conscious right now,
It manages to take over my skin,
It hurts and itches to the limit,
When will a new day begin?
Feb 3, 2013
Feb 3, 2013 at 2:15 PM UTC
Well… here we are again.
I went out for drinks at the local pub,
thinking maybe I wouldn’t be invited
because you’ve been happier with other people.
And I know you’re happy with them…
but I feel like a dog chained to a post,
no sign of its owner ever coming back.
Left behind by you. Again.
I’m sad. I’m angry.
But more than anything
I’m numb.
Numb to what I give,
numb to what I am.
Because you’ve shown me, time and time again,
that I contribute nothing.
Absolutely nothing.
I’m useful when it suits you,
and invisible when it doesn’t.
Used when it’s convenient,
discarded when it’s not.
My chest aches like a wound,
a pain that refuses to heal.
Do I really mean nothing?
Am I even anything at all?
What worth emotional, monetary,
Do I hold in your eyes?
Maybe something,
Probably nothing.
You’ve shown me in your absence of care.
And now, worse
You’ve crossed a line.
That I thought friends at least
Would never cross
You hurt me. Physically.
I showed my best friend the bruises.
The one person I trust most in this world.
They were outraged.
I cried into the phone
as their voice cracked with anger for me.
And I am terrified
terrified you’ll do it again.
Terrified the bruises will grow into something more.
Maybe that’s all I am to you
a bag to be punched.
A thing to dig your nails into until I bleed.
A stool to climb on,
a vessel to pour your relief into.
Every time I ask
to share something,
anything as simple as a film,
or a meal,
you say you’re busy.
Already have plans.
But then I see you.
See you watching a film,
ordering food
with someone else.
Someone new.
And I’m done begging.
Done giving willingly,
When I only see you in scraps,
in borrowed moments,
in the silence between your excuses.
I’m mourning a loss
That hasn’t even been buried yet.
I’m close.
So close to walking to the river,
Again.
To swim into the void,
to sink into the end that should have come
long ago.
These last few years
the best and the worst
will have been my everything.
And maybe in my absence,
you’ll finally gain something.
Maybe then,
I’ll have been worth… anything at all.
Maybe…
Sep 11, 2025
Sep 11, 2025 at 4:33 PM UTC
In the dunes, the dust raises a dirge
echoing in the nooks of Qardu:
prophet of the pasts, a ghoul
who led an arc on to the mountain
singed by the daystar where now,
men cut their hands to quench infant-thirsts.
And outraged women wail into the nights.
All for this? All for this? The anguished
song in the valley in an archaic tongue
that the Spirit stands surveying
that called out a fire off a bush, leading
a nation out of wilderness. Now, who
delight in murdering children.
The emperor of the world, is busy playing ball
offering the slaughtered heads to Quetzalcoatl,
and a beating heart plucked out
of a terrified infidel does not move him
as much as the stench of oil. Black
is the song of despair whispering in the smoke
blighting the reign of K'inich Ajaw,
all for this, Marya, all for this?
And the chief of Angles is dismayed, the
spoils of crusades blow back as young men
disappear from your homes, emerging
as butchers in black baying for slaughter,
journeying to the worlds end with
Gilgamesh along the Tigris.
Aug 21, 2014
Aug 21, 2014 at 5:51 PM UTC
When I was stationed at Enoggera, as a young platoon sergeant with 9 RAR, a Merino ram was offered, and accepted, as the Battalion mascot. The diggers called him Stan. The brigade RSM of the time was outraged because he viewed our adoption of Stan as a direct and improper play on his surname, which was Lamb. And, of course, he being as bald as a coot the diggers called him Curly. As I recall, Stan was a lively, ill disciplined beast with little respect for the niceties of service life, hence:
When Stan-the-Ram met Curly Lamb a fracas did ensue.
For Curly stood beside the road just outside B.H.Q.;
His Sam Brown belt so shiny, his pace-stick 'neath one arm,
The RSM of our brigade was used to war's alarm.
But Stan, although a raw recruit and barely chewing grass,
Unimpressed by Curly, charged and knocked him on his ****
"It's contact rear" cried Curly, as he struggled to his feet,
Turned about with arms akimbo his assailant for to meet.
Meanwhile Stan's poor handler looked ready to desert
'cos Stan-the-Ram whilst in his care had Curly eating dirt.
I guess he felt embarrassed, which was natural, wouldn't you?
If involved in such a fracas outside of BHQ.
Your questions are but natural and in answer I can swear,
As these events unfolded I was marching off the square.
Having Just dismissed defaulters I was feeling rather mean
But my despondency was lifted by that ****** glorious scene.
And in the mess that evening rang out laughter clear and loud,
For I'd told them all my story and of Stan we felt quite proud.
There was Sutherland and Massingham, and Peter Cowan too
And Tim Daly called **** Gordon from his room, well, wouldn't you?
And when **** heard my story he poured port into a glass,
And we drank a toast to Stanly putting Curly on his ****
Mar 10, 2019
Mar 10, 2019 at 1:45 AM UTC
So Im alive,
But I died a little inside.
Because I am dead
And now alive and reborn
Into a thousand words never written,
I will become no one again.
Did you metaphorically cry?
Sad as thinking how well
You truly knew me?
" But we were poets!"
And so you live and die by the
Stroke of the passionate lie
That are the words that well
Up inside like a brutal indignity,
Outraged at my shamelessness
Did I ever truly puncture your heart?
I am Ded inside,
And I dont know you,
But I just love your poetry!
So we sever the ties from reality
And divorce the facts
In a hopeful serenade to the deaf,
See how I magnify the ignorance
With brazeness?
Such splendid grandoisity!
And a poem is just a word,
There is no poem without action.
I am me,
No metaphor needed,
Just who the hell do you think
You are?
Nov 28, 2015
Nov 28, 2015 at 1:17 PM UTC
If you cannot be outraged into disbelief
No matter how evil the matter reported
How can you believe in a Good God?
Do you not say to yourself what kind
Of a god allows this-Not Mine! Does
A loving parent no matter how liberal
Ever knowingly allow his child to do
A grave injury to his fellow people?
I think not. Freedom has its limits
That our true nature is grateful for.
Let me ask would you prefer that
There were no Holocaust deniers or
That there we no Holocaust. I know
The Argument that we must Keep
Evil in our memory so as prevent it
Ever happening again. How does
The saying go: No news is good news-
But it doesn't sell papers. I am not
Against fiction just glad that it is
Fiction. But you say: What of the
Truth? When Pilot asked Jesus
What is the the truth? Jesus made no
Answer except by His silence. Yes
Silence is Golden. He did not answer
Neither should you or I. I know this.
Bu we know in our hearts what Love
Would have Be. Thy Kingdom come
Thy will be done on Earth as in Heaven
That is Our prayers that it be so Forever
Oh God Help Us to Lift up our hearts.
And When have we ever been prevented
From doing wrong by hearing about it
.its just
Plain wrong.
Aug 6, 2018
Aug 6, 2018 at 1:59 PM UTC
I rarely get on Facebook anymore. But when I do, I'll change my profile picture or banner-- maybe post a witty status update, maybe not witty, just something to let people know I'm alive.
It's like repositioning the arms on a stationary mannequin to depict a different scene. Except lately I just don't care anymore. It's just that-- a mannequin. An object, an image, a lifeless entity with which I used to feel real-- a dusty mirror.
I see that the line between the idea of a person and the reality is being blurred and crossing over into something all-together different. It's as if people are starting to wake up and realize the objectivity of their reality. But that brings into question the basis for which we define reality.
We have become a, “Look but don't touch” society in which we click a button to show our appreciation as opposed to genuinely reciprocating human emotion and energy. It is extremely isolating and dangerous.
Packed subways and sidewalks have fallen eerily silent with faces illuminated by their cellphones. Most everyone wants to be heard, appreciated and recognized and social media has provided an outlet for that.
But there comes a point at which your platform becomes your prison and your voice your warden-- and everything you say is modified to be pleasing to the ear and 'likeable'.
But I like dislikes. And if you're not ******* anyone off-- you're probably not doing anything important, and if you're not outraged you're not paying attention.
Jun 23, 2014
Jun 23, 2014 at 6:15 PM UTC
No fancy words, no subtle metaphors.
No unnecessary rhyming, no forced stanzas.
No charming characters, no outraged emotions.
No known beginning, nowhere to reach to.
No false claims, no stories to declaim.
No pretentious wisdom, no poor philosophies.
No insightful analysis, no blind remiss.
No powerful principles, no meek cries,
A plain simple poem; read it as it is
before it dies.
Jun 14, 2015
Jun 14, 2015 at 10:25 AM UTC
The following statements of truth were brought to you
Not through, but circumnavigating fated parameters
Of insane, yet normative, largely uninformative
Mechanisms that formally give birth to ********
And instead, strategically splicing said bounds with
Ideal variables derived from the courageously quixotic,
Unrobotic, and outraged agents of, and for, capital Real:
The train of corporate reasoning derails so fast
To follow is to snap the head backward,
Far past angles within measures of pleasurable fit
And open gates to deluging tangled circular
Failures of logic that trick and co-opt the proletariat.
We are Present-Ambassadors with broken flux-capacitors
Demonstrating a consistent tendency toward error
In efforts to obtain diplomatic access to a future where
The same reemerging deficits do not manifest unfixed.
One of said deficits may include all positive freedoms.
For the record, it shall be noted that civil society
Currently arrives implicitly to find it compliantly fine
To promote systems of labor designed to illicit behaviors
That will eventually undermine the actors of exhaustive work
And make benefactors of those complicit in crime.
As case studies of this paradoxical paradigm, we observe
Nations signing trade agreements aligned with
Selling more of the goods whose extractions have
Cataclysmic exactions upon locals contracted not to resist.
Those who take issue with this are directed to appellate institutions.
The projected scarcity of over-consumed poisons causes fear
Which leads to faster hoarding and more ex(t/p)ensive death.
Thus, most human behaviors presently inflate pricing, popularity,
And rapidity associated with committing system-wide suicide.
As shackle-some power consolidation bends toward a transnational peak
I hereby slide-tackle these forwarded trends, seeking goals of the rational.
Feb 19, 2013
Feb 19, 2013 at 4:16 PM UTC
1102
His Bill is clasped—his Eye forsook—
His Feathers wilted low—
The Claws that clung, like lifeless Gloves
Indifferent hanging now—
The Joy that in his happy Throat
Was waiting to be poured
Gored through and through with Death, to be
Assassin of a Bird
Resembles to my outraged mind
The firing in Heaven,
On Angels—squandering for you
Their Miracles of Tune—
1.8k
Hyphenated-Last-Name had an opinion.
Hyphenated-Last-Name felt threatened as well as outraged.
Hyphenated-Last-Name spoke for all women everywhere.
Hyphenated-Last-Name took a bold stance for the marginalized.
Hyphenated-Last-Name spoke truth to power.
Hyphenated-Last-Name felt that strict measures were called for.
Hyphenated-Last-Name had her head up her *** and did not believe in GOD.
Aug 18, 2018
Aug 18, 2018 at 4:30 PM UTC