"quash" poems
The birthday song is not a song it's not even a small ditty
As it is only four lines long it's really rather ******
There isn't a good chorus so isn't that a pity
A catchy tune it has not got and the lyrics are not witty
This song's lyrics are so short and there all the ****** same
Apart from the 3rd line down when you substitute a name
Okay you say "Dear" instead of "To", but its still a basic frame
So this is not a song at all so why has it got the fame
It's no wonder people alter the words with monkeys in the zoo
And looking like these critters and smelling like them too
Or changed to bread and butter in the gutter or squashed tomatoes and stew
Because the song is so boring so what else can you do
Who the hell wrote this song was it someone who's autistic
Come on now lets be frank and a bit more realistic
If I where to write this song producers would go ballistic
I'd get thrown out of the biz and become a lost statistic
Just because it's your birthday I'm not singing about happy
People are compelled to sing when really its just ******
It's not the best song in the world I don't want to sound so snappy
The birthday song is full of crap just like a soiled *****
It's like we are pre programmed even Marilyn Monroe
To sing the ****** birthday song just for ****** show
But honestly this song is crap and it can surely go
And we can stop with the pretence and cease going with the flow
When your birthday does arrive and your expecting a big day
The time will come when you know your ears are going to pay
Cos someone's bound to start it with or without your say
Why does it have to be sung does it have to be this way
Singing the birthday song should not be a life compulsion
Don't succumb to the trend and quash your minds impulsion
Stamp down on the process and enforce a song expulsion
Do away with this song and all of its revulsion
The birthday song is not a song when it's sixteen words long
Half of them are happy birthday that doesn't constitute a song
The wording is so ****** thin as thin as a snapped thong
And the musical arrangement isn't even strong
People should not sing this song not even a small bit
Why is it classed as a song we should stop singing it
Most of the words are the same and there is a lack of wit
So don't sing the birthday song cos it's not a song it's ****
Jan 11, 2018
Jan 11, 2018 at 8:14 AM UTC
Can't see the forest for the trees
Blinded by specificity
Laser sight for **** I don't need
Lending from my sanity
On cranium spending sprees
For all things that should not be
Store them all so perfectly
Like they're treasured figurines
A preserved psyche crazy hard to free
Carbonite Han Solo in deep freeze
No Leia to barter for release
Huttese wont work, no trip to Tatooine
Vader breathing disturbs my sleep
Palpatine "do it" on repeat
My Empire Strikes Back with relative ease
To quash anything that provides relief
Cos I'm not okay, but I am
Film flam tryna find who I am
Hell in a disenchanted dance
All my chemicals romance
Distorting where I began
Never quit, my only plan
Exhausted but here I stand
Hoping soon I'll understand
Why I feel so ****** repeatedly
'Cause red is the new black speaks to me
A funeral for a friend harming me
Bring a celebrant for my old psyche
Now bend my arms to look like wings
So I can fly free from that part of me
'Cause I buried it deep so purposely
It can stay stuck there for eternity
Jul 4, 2023
Jul 4, 2023 at 5:05 AM UTC
Jenifer Garner looked every inch the mom in control as she and estranged husband Ben Affleck picked up their daughters from karate class.
The actress, 43, strode out ahead clutching her cell phone in one hand and car keys in her other as the Argo star, also 43, followed behind with Violet, nine, and Seraphina, six, and carrying a canvas shopping bag.
Garner also had her wedding ring back on, but on the middle finger of her left hand and not the ring finger.
Affleck, though, seems to have ditched his wedding ring altogether.
He hasn't been seen with it on for a couple of weeks at least, although when they first split the pair had made it known they'd still keep the gold bands on around their kids.
Rumors had started to swirl of a possible reconciliation between the two after they were seen leaving couples counseling together in Sana Monica on September 4.
But sources close to them moved quickly to quash any suggestion they might get back together, saying they were simply seeking professional help to guide them through the changes that divorce brings.
Affleck was a doting dad on Friday as he smilingly shepherded his daughters to the car as they snacked on apples.
The Good Will Hunting actor was dressed casually in an olive green t-shirt, black jeans and sneakers.
Seraphina wore a pretty light blue pinafore dress with a matching hairband and her favorite purple and pink Nike trainers.
Violet wore an all black workout ensemble with turquoise athletic shoes.
Not with them was the girls' younger brother Samuel, who's three.
The estranged couple are back in LA after Garner spent most of the summer filming Miracles From Heaven in Atlanta, Georgia, and Affleck was reprising his role as Batman for Suicide Squad in Toronoto, Canada.
With those projects in the can, it means they can focus more time on caring for their children as their divorce moves forward.
Affleck is also prepping his next project Live By Night, a Prohibition-era drama that he's written and plans to star in and direct.
The film based on the novel by Denis Lehane and set in Boston is scheduled to start filming in November.
read more:www.marieaustralia.com/sexy-formal-dresses
www.marieaustralia.com/formal-dresses-perth
Sep 20, 2015
Sep 20, 2015 at 10:59 PM UTC
I know that when I am older, I will no longer be able to throw the harsh truth of reality at ones such as my grandchildren.
Too them, I will live till I’m 105. Standing as the essence of immortality that they strive to experience. This of course is a lie. But, I can longer take it upon myself to destroy the dreams and quash the creativity of the young in a world of Grey.
Walk with me through this verdant street I am going to tell you a story about a strange place...
In this strange place, instead of colour splashing itself against any and every object there only seems to be shades of grey. And in this Grey world, each generation of children receives a red balloon. The red balloon constantly engages the youth with its seemingly magical properties of levitation. But this engagement can only last for so long. Eventually the floating ball of rosa can no longer captivate and mystify. At the crucial point of demystification, the children are deemed “ready” to face the world.
So the children do the only thing left to do to join the rest of society…they let go of that slight bit of that small, rose-colored rubber which, with the help of the wind and its abundant hydrogen molecules floats off to meet the sky.
I am proud to present to you, the saddest moment our society has to offer. The loss of the inner child to the vast machine of the demiurge.
****** of the greatest caliber carried out in the name of growing up and becoming part of "real" world.
But hey,
on the bright-side, the sky gets to play with a balloon
for a few minutes before it throws it back, without magic, without life, and without its marveling child.
So, I beseech you, the reader to forever hold onto that red balloon. Hold on till your knuckles turn white because it’s that tiny, 3 cent, red balloon is the most special item in this infectious process we call Human Society.
Feb 26, 2016
Feb 26, 2016 at 1:39 PM UTC
Autumn's orange
ambassadors
sprawled over
drab suburban corners
a feast of seasonal glory
pumpkin patch fever
for all to behold
corn mazes
stump
so many wanderers
thirsty for the egress
fresh apple cider waits
just around
that perfectly placed hay bale
to quash dry mouths
and energize
tired feet
that press onward
towards
winter’s dreary
debut.
Oct 1, 2014
Oct 1, 2014 at 5:00 PM UTC
Everyone has a dream
brewing inside their head,
wishing to quash
the day-to-day
that we all have to dread:
it’s hard not to feel stuck
inside of a revolving door,
hard to escape
consumerism
that wants to make us
think we are poor
At the end of each sunset
comes another rising moon
to some it’s just
a time for sleep,
others it is an unbearable
silence, a deafening clarity
that we are truly all alone
because nobody will ever
see the way our insides tick
and form into afterthoughts,
never to begin
Still, the clock is spinning,
our minds keep spilling
thoughts we appreciate,
others we regret-
the endless war of
waging through mental states
to endure physical reality again
as we get up in the morning
with another attempt
at facing the blinding light,
the arduous day-to-day,
leaving our dream behind
that only wants to
breakthrough, and come alive
within this means to an end
Sep 15, 2025
Sep 15, 2025 at 5:22 PM UTC
I've grown rusty and unused to summoning words from a blank page - but FINALLY - there's something new to describe. School (11th grade) is over - at last - and... more.
There's a party tonight - a REAL, honest-to-God, in person, PARTY - for about 30 of us. Yes, vaccinations are documented. Life seems to be beginning again.
I'm eager, like a boxer before the bell or a racehorse at the starting gate. I'm an animal, long constrained, who knows it's about to be set free.
I'm as disorientated as an awakened dreamer and I find myself laughing, drunk with possibilities as I try on clothes for preliminary impressions.
It's hard to quash tremors of impatience.
I'm sick of helpless, indifferent, pandemic necessity.
I'm SO tired of boredom, circling me like a vulture, in my panopticon palace - that I opted for a respite of pure terror - I'm SO clever.
I'm skipping my senior year of high school and heading off to university. I'd rather die than risk spending another year in my room(s) - I almost went crazy.
There's a paper on my desk, white as a bride. It says "ACCEPTED for fall term 2021."
I’m trying not to let on that I’m afraid. Is desire always a tangle of impossible, contradictory impulses?
I've decided that my life is my only real possession - my own, small, life-or-death riddle to solve.
I want to live with intent, like I'm aimed at something and I'm going to chase happiness like it could be caught.
My luggage is open - like alligator jaws. I stare into those tan, Ghurka depths - rigid with anxiety.
My sister (home on vacation from her surgical residency) sees me eyeing the empty bags.
"Are you worried?” She says, “You look worried."
I normally find the sister-teacher-coach vibe irritating, but now, somehow, it seems reassuring.
"No," I lie - then - "A bit," I admit, close-lipped.
But that's a later worry =]
Jun 13, 2021
Jun 13, 2021 at 5:34 PM UTC
Who dare quash my quest for authenticity,
the truths I alone must speak or swallow?
What monstrous world shapes my identity,
lays out a path for me to fail or follow?
Why, entangled in this web of complexity,
shall I be entrained to accept its sorrow?
Where will I go when instilled dependency
crumbles in my lack of faith in dead tomorrows?
Jun 3, 2014
Jun 3, 2014 at 9:08 PM UTC
I am exhausted by the endless pontification from
Professional apologists for every form of
Bad behavior from the protected class of the day.
I am tired of hearing from people for whom
Race / *** / color / creed / disability / ****** orientation
Is a hammer and the whole world is a nail.
I am weary of politicians passing laws
They neither read nor understand
And of the media that gives them cover.
I am fatigued by the endless lecturing from talking heads
About the need to strictly adhere to political correctness
And their attempts to quash speech and rewrite history.
I am haggard from having to deflect the constant, blatant,
Insidious efforts at indoctrination from the self-appointed
Thought police peddling propaganda masquerading as news.
I am burned out from the galloping gall,
Of apologists portraying criminals as victims,
While ignoring the harm done to their actual victims.
I am tuckered out by the double standard,
Of some racists who hide behind a perpetual cry of racism,
As the only acceptable answer to every difficult question.
I am petered out by having to listen,
To the mad ravings of newly arrived Representatives,
Barely out of diapers proposing ideas from The Twilight Zone.
I am drained by the injustice of heroes attacked as monsters,
Monsters treated as heroes and proudly worn on T-shirts,
And those who stand for nothing but take a knee for the National Anthem.
I am sapped by traitors who marry terrorists,
Name their children after other terrorist warlords,
Then demand the right to to come home to the country they betrayed.
I am worn out by life in a world ruled by madness that expects me to
Nod, pump my fist in the air and march in lockstep to an imposed
Drumbeat while ignoring the man behind the curtain orchestrating the show.
Feb 25, 2019
Feb 25, 2019 at 1:27 AM UTC
An imperial flat
round circle autocrat
where dipper yesterday
only quash their goad
though doldrums there dock a yacht
for deeper waters afloat
let me take her far away
to the mellifluous island strand
with coral sand and coconut butter
as sea whips up in royal flush
to whisk her eventually from horse latitudes
while temperate hold sway but
the moon air breeze with lavender
and stella star light again.
Feb 22, 2017
Feb 22, 2017 at 12:14 PM UTC
…But you suddenly turn the eyes, dreaming of a long forgotten lore about sails and the glorious ocean. Maybe the mighty heavens above dismiss you into a complete, perennial dissarray of moods. You gaze above, the blue dome above you staring back down, solemn and absent, appathetic, yet hardened with eyes petrified in iron justice; spears of the coldest grey stone that quash the will into bitter dust. You have sinned, and you must pay the price of transgression.
Clutch, no thinking, clutch onto the cliff, quit your pondering, and clutch for dear life unto the grey stone, it is your pondering that will cause your eventual downfall.
Look above: the oceanic heavens, of a mighty azur beckon you!!!
Yes, they beckon for you, oh, prodigal son, fallen Icarus, dare to fly again, dare to spread your wings and soar into eternity, become lost with perpetuity above, in the skies above, above, and towards the great beyond!
Beyond!
Beyond!
Beyond!
Beyond!
Beyond!
For beyond is where you will find peace amongst all things eternal...!
I am.
Nov 12, 2011
Nov 12, 2011 at 1:54 AM UTC
A protest song inspired by sjr1000
Frig & Frack dance a dance
To see who is astute
They run an oil rag up a pole
To see who will salute
Nobody seems to see it
They just watch TV
Corporate's just overjoyed!
They can dance for FREE!
They just quash the media
Build gas-guzzling trucks
People purchase in their millions
So Frig & Frack make BUCKS!
Nobody seems to wonder
Why water tastes so funny
Why their kids have cancer
Why... Big Oil's makin' MONEY!
Yeah... nobody seems to care a fig
Most people aren't that hyper
Now Corporate can laugh and jig...
...*and we all Pay the Piper!*
SoulSurvivor
(C) 1/16/2017
Jan 16, 2017
Jan 16, 2017 at 6:11 PM UTC
swift inset of love's Sanskrit,
a thorn of contestations.
make cadence this sensorial music.
centrifugally waiting bodies
to cross Earths.
a plethora of annulments.
lion-telling Sun singes through intersections of infinities:
we cannot wait to quash
the morning, the scent of guava leaves
and the cerement of flour on chicken.
earth-hewn mounds of meat pressed
against beholden kitchen clangor.
declension of memory past wood
and pillars of home. lattices of light
forerunning fingers, let down the curtain.
wind swings with maddened turbine,
afternoons high with deadlock.
of all that is not here, the force
reawakens a long-stumped ******
beating us back to edges ruthless
with angels entirely curved, singled-out,
wings clipped, dancing at the tip
of the candleflame.
Dec 5, 2015
Dec 5, 2015 at 10:16 PM UTC
¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯
. . . of incantations in
cantankerous philosophy!
Of these lying liabilities,
what startling objection, so accosting,
has exhausted me? More so than
named quite unfortunate atrocity!
Shall hordes of thought be accursed
by degrees of displeasing hostility
such that satiated curiosity
be evermore abashed in me?
“. . . but I have admonished thee,”
said he,
this subtle, blackened tenant
with a tin man's tonality.
This paper drum that bends to sing
does beg of him the courtesy;
yet, acrid rhetoric singes the hair
with unfavorable flintlock fidelity.
His evasive guarantee then
upends the pores relentlessly.
*“These words will compel a poor
foresight to bleed in the fray
as cascading tears cast their weight
upon cheek in dismay . . .”*
. . . to quash the cypress toxin
of a caustic potpourri—
a dissembling toupee
to one's balding reality.
O lasting opacity
of such poignant translucency,
this flagrant serendipity,
once spawned, must always be?
Possibly; though, I cannot count
how many sets see dawns at sea.
“. . . but I have astonished thee,”
said he
through this Möbius rebuttal
like some soap on TV,
though, it’s ne'er some rerun
what’s cliché wants creativity.
The veiling lee of his lofty marquee
beclouds that one pyrrhic mystery—
that now-clandestine oblation
of one bless'ed unanimity.
*“Akin to a twin whose soul’s
one sin was mine to portray.
‘I’ll pay ne’er a thought!’
curs’ed common naïveté . . .”*
. . . and yet, that's cause to bend
reverent knee, not to thee,
but to that which mine
eye's sole endeavor is to see.
“So, leave me be!”
I lament, ostensibly,
“Lest that passage fall paved
by none other than me.”
Perhaps the Second World war
is just my cup of tea.
“. . . or perhaps this darkness is me,”
said he
Aug 10, 2015
Aug 10, 2015 at 5:00 PM UTC
I’m in Vietnam right now overlooking the city at 3am watching the ** Chi Minh lights work their shades of violet and jade into the black mass of night.
there’s a lot of poverty out there and with it a lot of generosity.
I commend them for that because while deep-rooted in the garden bed of desolation, I can’t override these frustrations on feeling defeated.
I went to school, participated, put forth the effort and made the grade but the board felt I wasn’t worthy enough when it came to the final test.
the only thing I achieved was retaining monikers such as loser and failure because I have lost and I have failed.
the smallest obstacle had become my biggest hurdle and I am too mentally and physically exhausted to quash it.
each step I take feels frozen and keeps dragging across wet cemented floors
& the skies have listened to my screams
but delivers no answers.
my god, have I given up?
it’s not likely for me to do so.
especially when so much was riding on life.
I watch the motorbikes zoom pass my psyche
as a Tiger beer falls from the balcony and shatters in the debris. a wet heavy sorrow suffocates my heart.
I sob. I weep. I cry. I fall. I wail.
I must resurrect and rise like the sun, the smoke, the symphony but my focus escapes me and I lose my hope.
my mind turns to the system; they decide
who makes a better world and who gets
tucked away in the dust.
but I can’t blame the system, only myself and
my inabilities to try once again until
I’ve reached my success.
I gaze over a man yelling at a woman while roasting a chicken down below.
they’re trying to make it out there on the ***** streets of Saigon.
fighting to survive. one more day. one more time. one more ounce of life.
and my biggest struggle is only with myself.
my stubborn brain clashing against everything I worked so hard for.
beating myself up, tearing myself down,
all that time, money and effort: wasted.
it was all for nothing, I screamed, it was all for nothing as my half naked woman sleeps behind a green curtain and a red rooster crows at another new day full of possibility.
Jan 31, 2025
Jan 31, 2025 at 3:25 PM UTC
While in war, target is enemy down
Gathering men to the frontline
After war you accrete alot and advance for expansion
In your flock include; captives and dreamers
Maximum loyalty an initio
But a gun resolution is sound track of history.
Your greed in recruite to quash loyalty for abeyance
Are the back stabs you will receive later
Time comes ancillary dogs set loose and out of command.
With much more anger to claim identify, it was your own favor to groom a fellow thinker that will break your own toes
It's then when you will see the bullet released can't be retrieved
Fast as you can it's all axiom.
You didn't hurt yourself alone, your family falls suit
Now that the bees are out of the hive you can celebrate the stings you're to receive.
"Country men hands together for a better, hope is sooner than soon. I smell the winds of CHANGE
Aug 14, 2015
Aug 14, 2015 at 3:36 PM UTC
~
Stop caring too much
"what worries you, masters you"
Quash your fears, quench every butterfly
Forget your dreams, never expect, just fly
Passion is a reckless illusion, a dangerous frenzy
Love is a weakness, a heartbreak sentence
As much as you try to do things right, to make it work
Blind soul... it will always drive against your flow
~
Feb 2, 2017
Feb 2, 2017 at 6:42 PM UTC
we'll
build
sand
castles
on the sky
where the tide
won't quash on
them and little feet
won't crumble them
Oct 4, 2017
Oct 4, 2017 at 10:28 AM UTC
to avoid the pitfall of prospective homelessness
which near future prospect
induces existential angst i confess.
Today (end of rope rhyme rote
approximately deux orbitz round the sun),
i wanted ta die and bid god riddance grandly
going gamesomely gra grave,
de deum, and cymbal crash
to Bing mulct emotionally, physically and spiritually -
all the grinding hardships would be gone in a flash
how tempting to seek ot a solution sans hemlock
or other deadly potion,
whereby toothless mouth need not gnash
boot simply swallow and drink from the goblet of
mortal freedoms renting psych *** under
with purposelessness mine hash
tag, which bout with suicide
while n the edge of thirteen -
Anorexia nervosa defeated -
then as now experience
10,000 banshee maniacs whip lash
lacerating, flagellating,
and repeatedly rousing thoughts
shin to circle back to why death be not proud
when life on par with a mash
up of ennui, futile gobbledygook housing incubus
analogous luft waffe bombardiers quash
the joie de vivre per je ne sais quois spritely spring
in step happy jollity,
and levity attempt to make light
of psychological me's mental illness rash
whence thru the (then) lvii roam min years
as chief garbage taster of trash
hurled my way gnome matter
the gremlins dwelt within the Wabash
distance to inflict din er of dissonance
targeted this mortal for'er abash
as soon as he got expelled
from the womb, his reddened ears did bash
from sonic screaming boom causing astir the nurses
into the maternity ward
of me late mum sped like dash
her, and fast as a comet Prancer doth emulate
a con ***** dancer, cuz ova this rude half
re: that came a boot
from genetic chromosomal dna wash.
Feb 6, 2018
Feb 6, 2018 at 3:56 AM UTC
A roommate shows me this hookup app - the consensus favorite.
“Call me crazy,” I say, “but if we’re reducing *** to something
cheap and cynical, wouldn’t **** be safer and easier?”
She frowns, as if I’ve espoused an unpopular political position
so I make a show of putting “join the app” on my to-do list
- which is like sending it into outer space.
Sleeping with someone you don’t like - or even know, seems impolite, even seedy but there’s a power to it as well - knowing I could if I wanted to - I quash that thought as it rises, like heat.
Besides, factoid: I have an imaginary boyfriend, And although my thoughts are free to roam far and wide, I’m nothing if not faithful.
Jan 30, 2022
Jan 30, 2022 at 5:00 AM UTC
Ive had my fill
Of every ill
That the world
Keeps trying ...to instill
I've had my fill
I've had...I've had...I've had
I've had my fill
Keep telling me lies
Even though ...
You realize
That you no longer
Even have to try and hide
Them!
Behind .......a thin disquise
I think that means
That the primed machines
Are ready to go.....
.....so....
They don't care if we know
Which way the future leans
I do believe
That there are those
Who do conceive
Of just ...
..one more heave
And that will take it
Take it all the way
All the way down
To the ground !
Where others wait -
With a rope
To quickly quash...every hope
And celebrate
Once they have it bound
And all tied down
Watch and learn
From those who spurn
All the things that we hold dear
As they tell us
whats what
Then turn a deaf ear
And it's then
as they twist and bend
And rend the truth
By attitudes and platitudes
They separate us ...Into classes
All the while
They clinch their teeth
To hide the smile
Apprehension encouraged
By descending deeper
and deeper
Into dissention
Convoluted amplituded
Learned from those
With whom ...
...they colluded
Those enemies of the free
But still...you may be
One of those who still denies
What is RIGHT ...
.....In front
Of your eyes
Just so you know
When that sun has set
Don't waste time waiting
For the light of dawn
If you bought the darkness
Then thats the ...
...the future you will get
I've had my fill....of every ill
That the world keeps trying ...
....to instill !
Nov 20, 2017
Nov 20, 2017 at 9:59 PM UTC