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"saboteurs" poems
'They're just a teen' gets dropped on the daily. Like the added couple of letters at the end determine whether our feelings are valued or not. They only ever tell us they're here for us when someone offs themselves on the train tracks next to the school. Call this number if you feel down. Teenage years are the time to find out who you are, and maybe I am a depressed mess, but us Gen Z kids are doing our best to make sure us sad'ens feel alright. Sometimes we don't feel alright, and, so what, if it is just down to hormones and periods, and Max's muscly shoulders or Louise's brown eyes. We are allowed to feel like **** Cos Teenage years are the time where we find out life isn't like animated movies; that bad guys are defeated and the hero wins; cos, in the end, sometimes we're our own saboteurs. And we find out, sometimes that's okay;  to knock ourselves down will make us build ourselves up in the grand scheme of things; I sure as hell know I hate how I feel most days, and I'm sure most teenagers do. I'm just a teen; but I have a loud voice, terrible jokes and a **** economy to grow into, and I'm allowed to be mad and cry and I'm allowed to feel like **** and want to die because in the end, I know it'll all be fine. Married or alone with wine. Sometimes life is **** and that's okay; and to me, that _is_ the teenage dream.
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Jul 30, 2018
Jul 30, 2018 at 6:06 PM UTC
a teenage mind; explored.
Don't read this in pursuit of love, happiness or inspiration I do write this for your admiration. So I say this once, dont be disgusted nor discouraged by what you see here below Away stricken with anger I go. . . Id like to take a second to say **** you* you and you For its because of three yous that this anger ensues I'd tried to endure it, I tried to be nice I've now heard it not once but 3 x twice If you have something to to say keep inside Otherwise shut the **** up and strap in for a ride I'm not keen nor willing to find another love But hey what the hell we'll give him a shove No other love will ever be better than hers Dont need no more ******* saboteurs I will do as I please, and love who I like Pushy *** know-better-than-yous I thoroughly dislike So I'll say it now and again and again From all that stupid *** ******** I'd ask you to refrain Now thanks for the pathetic waste of time Didn't know taking back someone was such a ******* crime
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Jan 5, 2016
Jan 5, 2016 at 7:03 AM UTC
A Poem That's Anything But Sweet
Belonging to no masters Bowing to no shiny idol Formed as crashing waves Tsunami and the tidal Freeing enslaved minds Requiring no police From simplistic limerick To powerful treatise Capable to be inclusive of every type of mind From hideously critical To the wise and kind Between sanity - insanity The line delightfully blurs A home for loony writers Saboteurs and connoisseurs Ignore at poetry's peril This most mediocre rhyme The more that verse is policed The less that it will chime
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Aug 3, 2014
Aug 3, 2014 at 7:30 AM UTC
Poetry is Anarchy
Late was the hour of becoming those zigzagging cracks up the faded plaster watched like little snakes calm witness a resurrection akin to biblical import alone secondstory bedroom filled by distant company heiroglyphs miraculous sudden translation speaking the sacred tongues of fire our hearts beating the miles away shortened with every word an offering blessed and given by minds touching fingers touching keys to invisible locks turning turning rusty engines purring cats smug smile yes and yes and yes lost islands bridged by joint effortless task a torn off mask and a question asked eternity snuck into momentary clouds parted with blooms of lightnings flash flood food for the spirit children laughed where they couldn't be heard the earth sang along with tropical birds this welcome radiant gift in my chest cavity spreading quickening enlivening a sturdy reminder recalling vigor not found in any common tonic simple conversation a conversion of salt water to diamond sparkling fervor rejoice drank its sweet juices staining the lips drips warming two hearts a chance found true its mark bullseye it will be unstolen saboteurs tricked submitting their swords to strong hands arming guardian angels this joy travels well past all hours comforting dreams that sleep undersea in gold spiraling towers wanderer heat old bones leave the cold leave all pains pouring out poisons to make bows out of rain
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Jul 23, 2011
Jul 23, 2011 at 3:26 AM UTC
To know this without doubt
Do not ***** over the flourishing flowers  of those who surround you. Do not form conspiracies, not even to target your saboteurs. For it has always been immanent--their loss. And when the day comes--their loss-- you will be left with nothing to exult over. You will be filled with vengeance  against no one but yourself. For memories of your deriding  will be the ones to remain, and all else will be in decadence. You will have no time for your musings, you will acquire no self-respect.  The littlest of their littlest actions are bound to be missed-- their awkward laugh, their freckles, their drawn-out sighs-- as your own blooming flowers will disintegrate into amber ashes of those lost souls that will embed in your skull, engulfing you in madness.  So do not ***** over the flourishing flowers  of those who surround you, because even if their existence had ceased, your self-worth will still not increase.
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Apr 27, 2014
Apr 27, 2014 at 3:07 PM UTC
Not To-Do List
***Too tired to fall asleep, I stared at a vivid flickering screen And forced myself to eat. 1:15 a.m to 4:45 a.m The hours- I didn't notice them, But asleep I almost fell. I dragged myself into slumber And into a trance I clambered, The blinding darkness I remember. I awoke moments later Under my demons' satire, Stuck in a crater. Everything was a blur Four walls were six saboteurs, And colours astir. All attempts to cry for help And get away from a faint death knell, Just shoved me deeper into my shell. Uselessly trying to move around, My gasps were so profound And I could hear the deafening sound. I tasted my own fear And flung it with tears, The end must have been near. The agitation was intense Sweat ran down by head And negativity within me spread. I was trapped inside myself, To a gust of wind against my chest I almost succumbed to be at rest. And then I ran as fast as I could, Although blind, I said I would Escape this maddening noose. Silenced screams were now heard And out loud I said "cursed" I was finally free from paralysis unheard.***
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Aug 24, 2014
Aug 24, 2014 at 2:44 AM UTC
A Wakeful Constraint
They took them… With a *** shovel and beards engulfed with disguise, By fire, by force and harm They heartlessly took them… Loading with a military van from the snare, the school Sabotaging their education and jubilance At the brink of our oculus, like a hot blade through margarine, Like the  evanescence of dew upon new dawn, They were gone… We cajole to Haram Islamic militants, Not the slavery we signed up for, Yet this is our story, but not our destiny. It is profane and sacrilegious to talk slavery upon our realms. Our ancestral dormancy and Jesus crucifixion outlines our history. We were untrammeled...but today, Our existence is dreary and clouded by mystery We count minutes turning into tormented hours, In lament of our own flesh and blood They took them.. with needles and stylus they pinched poked and taunted us, Like a bunch of sponges filled with voids, Our hearts are painfully porous, Dope them with defects, Bring back our girls… Haram saboteurs came in with a saber, They took them… How less of a man to not respect the words of the late Tata Madiba, When he said"Never, never and never again shall it be that this beautiful land Will again experience the oppression of one by another". There will be war upon the element of Haram when Jesus intervene.. Bring back our girls.. (Nigreian acsent) Chinekeee, man of Haram, bring back our girls_oo I beg, why go they take? Eeeh, god will go get you one day, With our teary Nigerian eyes, will we ever see? Adedagbo, our crown of joy ? Aduke,   our beloved ?             Afolayan  Walking in majesty... Agbogu,  God settles dispute… Bring back our girls.
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Aug 25, 2014
Aug 25, 2014 at 1:28 AM UTC
They took them..
They took them… With a *** shovel and beards engulfed with disguise, By fire, by force and harm They heartlessly took them… Loading with a military van from the snare, the school Sabotaging their education and jubilance At the brink of our oculus, like a hot blade through margarine, Like the  evanescence of dew upon new dawn, They were gone… We cajole to Haram Islamic militants, Not the slavery we signed up for, Yet this is our story, but not our destiny. It is profane and sacrilegious to talk slavery upon our realms. Our ancestral dormancy and Jesus crucifixion outlines our history. We were untrammeled...but today, Our existence is dreary and clouded by mystery We count minutes turning into tormented hours, In lament of our own flesh and blood They took them.. with needles and stylus they pinched poked and taunted us, Like a bunch of sponges filled with voids, Our hearts are painfully porous, Dope them with defects, Bring back our girls… Haram saboteurs came in with a saber, They took them… How less of a man to not respect the words of the late Tata Madiba, When he said"Never, never and never again shall it be that this beautiful land Will again experience the oppression of one by another". There will be war upon the element of Haram when Jesus intervene.. Bring back our girls.. (Nigreian acsent) Chinekeee, man of Haram, bring back our girls_oo I beg, why go they take? Eeeh, god will go get you one day, With our teary Nigerian eyes, will we ever see? Adedagbo, our crown of joy ? Aduke,   our beloved ?             Afolayan  Walking in majesty... Agbogu,  God settles dispute… Bring back our girls.
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41
Tomb Of The Unknown Soldier (Canada) We all know you now. You have fallen at our feet. You have guarded them all With life and limb, Noble and brave Only to fall at the cowards last call. You have stirred the souls of the unknown heroes. Their disgust shall seek the just dues from your defamers and saboteurs. Young lads who now welcome you in the hereafter Shall haunt your enemies from near or afar. The drum rolls sound, as the rifles salute, The pipes play "the Flowers of the Forest." You are no more The Unknown Soldier.
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May 15, 2015
May 15, 2015 at 8:22 PM UTC
Demetrios Trifiatis
A spider clings to the brick and mortar wall Facing the setting southwestern Sun A sack of a thousand eggs hangs from her backside Meticulously thrown over her abdomen She watches wearily for saboteurs Or watches hungrily for prey to quench her thirst Her web ripples slightly from a hidden breeze Giving the illusion of her dancing To a lost tribal mamba
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Apr 29, 2012
Apr 29, 2012 at 9:36 AM UTC
Mother Spider
Profligate pundits and Philandering plutocrats Promulgating pusillanimous Pandering polecats Put partially putrescent Punks and pettifoggers Past pitifully puny pollsters Pushing the party politics Of petrified pashas. Disgusting demagogues Dealing delayed death Deeming democracy dying Deny diplomacy daily Deftly develop departments Defending discrimination Dividing deities from devils Draining dedicated duties With disgusting dictatorship. Sorrowfully sublimated Citizens of society slide Swiftly and sequentially into Sibilant session of silliness In which similes scintillate Signifying sensitivities Of separate sensibilities Subtly smiting the senseless. Sauce for the stunningly stupid, Champagne for the saboteurs.
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Nov 29, 2016
Nov 29, 2016 at 7:02 PM UTC
ALLITERATION NATION
The saboteurs Are not only those Who tell lies But us Who help them Defeat us By closing the window And blaming the sun For not shining in That…      is a bigger sin! A wise man once said Strive for knowledge, not money Because knowledge guards you While you guard your money
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Jul 31, 2023
Jul 31, 2023 at 9:10 PM UTC
ON KNOWLEDGE
we dashed our hopes, we smoked our dreams we collaborated with our saboteurs while the shots were still echoing we tried to hide our tired eyes with wired silent sighs that were a final long goodbye before our minds even recognized too slow to get up on this rhythm pulling pins down nicely while shooting barrel fishes and the polite, smiling, trusting are the worst ones to grow up with
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Jan 21, 2013
Jan 21, 2013 at 9:52 PM UTC
blue monday
It is the moment, when you feel the love of earth! It is when your steps are dancing with your life... It is when you see those smiles and eyes firing love and caring... It is when you feel you are about to lose your guts... It is when you feel here "where I should end my marsh"... It is when you feel "I was not dreaming big"... Then the voice of Truth comes and says... "Smile"!! Then you feel the **** of your limiting beliefs... The **** of your Saboteurs! Then you claim your Right Birth that "My Voice is Worth to be Heard!"
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Oct 8, 2016
Oct 8, 2016 at 2:31 PM UTC
Are you for Real!
The midwest tundra swallows super-bowl trophies and replaces them with black-bottomed **** bubbles. It dares most of us to do better, while laughing in our faces, forcing us to watch as the kid we’re cheering for cashes checks for more money than we’ll likely ever see, but we cheer anyway, as the offensive line crumbles, the ground game is static, and the receivers have fingers glazed with margarine. Like the zebras, we throw the flag, assess and accept the penalties, and acquit the insurrectionists regardless of their guilt or innocence. The previous commander-in-chief wrote all those ******** a bison-horned, organic jailhouse chow-hall type hall pass, so why the hell shouldn’t we riot in the ********* streets, or the halls of the executive branch of the local, state, and federal, feral governments of the ungovernable? Leave well enough alone and Elon Musk, Jeff Bezos, and Bill “Microchip Vaccine” Gates will figure it all out for us anyway. Whatever happens, ************ Mark “Lieutenant Data” Zuckerberg will keep us all placated and engaged online while the drone-strikes commence. Social media keeps us unaware of our socio-political/socio-economic saboteurs. Who cares? Aren’t there some cat-vids on Tic-Tacky or whatever it’s called? How much longer do you think it’ll be before we can live-stream a state-sanctioned execution? Phillip K. **** called and left a message for George Orwell. He said something about wanting his electric sheep returned before Big Brother and The Holding Company found out it’d gone missing. Neither the electric sheep itself nor Janis Joplin were available for comment, or hadn’t you herd? Diplomatic Immunity? Mutiny? Mutations? Economic, ergonomic, erogenous stimulation package? Where do I sign up? *** -JBClaywell ©P&ZPublications 2021
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Feb 14, 2021
Feb 14, 2021 at 8:48 PM UTC
“Your Tauntaun will freeze before you reach the first marker!”
The midwest tundra swallows super-bowl trophies and replaces them with black-bottomed **** bubbles. It dares most of us to do better, while laughing in our faces, forcing us to watch as the kid we’re cheering for cashes checks for more money than we’ll likely ever see, but we cheer anyway, as the offensive line crumbles, the ground game is static, and the receivers have fingers glazed with margarine. Like the zebras, we throw the flag, assess and accept the penalties, and acquit the insurrectionists regardless of their guilt or innocence. The previous commander-in-chief wrote all those ******** a bison-horned, organic jailhouse chow-hall type hall pass, so why the hell shouldn’t we riot in the ********* streets, or the halls of the executive branch of the local, state, and federal, feral governments of the ungovernable? Leave well enough alone and Elon Musk, Jeff Bezos, and Bill “Microchip Vaccine” Gates will figure it all out for us anyway. Whatever happens, ************ Mark “Lieutenant Data” Zuckerberg will keep us all placated and engaged online while the drone-strikes commence. Social media keeps us unaware of our socio-political/socio-economic saboteurs. Who cares? Aren’t there some cat-vids on Tic-Tacky or whatever it’s called? How much longer do you think it’ll be before we can live-stream a state-sanctioned execution? Phillip K. **** called and left a message for George Orwell. He said something about wanting his electric sheep returned before Big Brother and The Holding Company found out it’d gone missing. Neither the electric sheep itself nor Janis Joplin were available for comment, or hadn’t you herd? Diplomatic Immunity? Mutiny? Mutations? Economic, ergonomic, erogenous stimulation package? Where do I sign up? *** -JBClaywell ©P&ZPublications 2021
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81
The recent Trumpcare plan encountered Limited chances for survival. It hacked away at Obamacare And found itself dead on arrival. The plan was altered to have more appeal To the House Freedom Caucus. Why? The House Freedom Caucus supports The freedom to get sick and die. Cutting ten essential services° Made the proposed plan a sham By turning it into a possible Nightmarish insurance scam. Praise to the members of Congress who For the RIGHT reasons boldly decried The plan proposed by Paul Ryan-- A plan laced with cyanide. Affordable health care for all Should be our principal goal. Profit-making insurance companies Shouldn't be getting out of control. Trump says, "Let's just watch Obamacare keep imploding," As saboteurs continue to take Shots at the plan and keep reloading. Republican leaders don't really want To fix what we have, to tweak or massage it; They want to see Obamacare fail By letting companies sabotage it. People first, then money. Let's keep our priorities straight And not let cold avarice thrive While health and compassion disintegrate. (3-25-17) By Bob B °Ten essential services to be cut: 1. outpatient care 2. emergency room trips 3. in-hospital care 4. pregnancy, maternity and newborn care 5. mental health and substance abuse disorder services 6. prescription drugs 7. rehabilitative services 8. lab tests 9. preventive services 10. pediatric services
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Mar 25, 2017
Mar 25, 2017 at 9:57 AM UTC
DOA
In fear of saboteurs, we parked planes wing to wing which made them easy targets from the air. While relations were uneasy with Imperial Japan up to this point war had not been declared. Peace ended when we heard the drone of their incoming planes and saw a row of Hawks go up in flames. Wheeler field was target rich and their pilots were well trained, They bombed and strafed, destroying all they found. In the lull between the waves of the onslaught of their planes, We got a dozen war hawks off the ground. We twelve angry would be heroes had little chance against their Zeros but we struck a blow and shot some bombers down. Ford Island was half hidden by the smoke and flames that rose from the stricken battle-wagons on the row. It was dangerous to remain flying any sort of plane as the sailors there would shoot at friend or foe. The attacking fleet made sail and returned back to Japan. They had hurt us but they left their job half done. Our fuel farms were still here and facilities for repair; We’d raise our ships to fight the rising Sun.
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Dec 7, 2014
Dec 7, 2014 at 11:09 AM UTC
Wheeler Field 12-7-41
My truth was very brief, sitting at a long distance. You were plucking words at my lips. The toxic path, I knew the destiny. Not afraid to catch the saboteurs. Paper tigers bring the spurious hemlock. You drink from the eyes of bystanders. Like the dropped hot coal, you look the perfect model. I was weary of bald arguments. Blood and beheading will not separate. The babies are locked in ice boxes. A harem starts taking the shape. The sociopath was in charge.
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Jul 28, 2018
Jul 28, 2018 at 9:31 PM UTC
Regrouping
Roses had gone wilting after surgery. Biovision of acrylic lenses was projecting a corrupt green mount. The rubber king had a papery laugh. How you deal with a maverick – matter – of – factly? Pall bearers of a tall legend were carrying nitroglycerine sticks unfazed. Saboteurs of moon night were scheming. I was sick of pretentions. Brown and black scars become a honeycomb hiding the agenda. Stigmatized devotion gets back at you after still birth of truth. I will wait sine die for the verdict of hope.
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Mar 21, 2017
Mar 21, 2017 at 12:18 AM UTC
Still Birth