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"subordinates" poems
My great grandfathers wore dreadlocks Yet stood firm, proud as peacocks Patrolling their territory paddocks Today they are a source of mocks A representation of sheer evil In the world we foolishly call civil Like an attempt on a biscuit by a weevil We lost it. Our great forefathers drank milk And then over the mountains take a hike Had absolute no need for a bike Treated all men with respect alike We are taking concoction for drink May never cease to suffer sick Rounded and diabetic as tick We lost it. They went to schools to learn practice Learnt virtue and shunned away vice To obey all the elders without a voice Then there was little necessity for police We are learning to sit all day in office To treat subordinates with blowing malice Learning theory, understanding without choice We depend on book, written advice Alphabets unlike words know no justice Scratching as mice full of lice We lost it.
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Jun 23, 2012
Jun 23, 2012 at 5:21 AM UTC
WE LOST IT.
Its annoyance Anointed In pessimistic clairvoyance Its the avoidance Of the simplistic And stoical Components Its motion Less Ness In oceans Of lip service Its ***** potions For the passionate Its fake **** And face lifts Its abortions In portions Of subordinates As gifts In gifs Of gorgeous Ordinance Distorted In tortured Tapping Of the dead Its all the fame In shoving The pain Of loving In the oven Of stubborn Mothers Blubbering Under the covers With other men Its the omens Of the oh mans In roman Misnomers Of fortunate Misfortunes Torn From time Its the mine mine mines Confined To their own kind Pre signed In old blood Its consignment killers Its the drugs Its timeless thrillers Its the shrugs Its the thunder Plundering Structures Rattling out From under the bed Its all the thoughts In our heads Blaring The booms Of the tamed Its the assumed The restrained Its this tomb Of shame In doing The same Old **** again And again Its been Better Then again I grin When Cold Its when i should fold That i embolden Its all the No's Its blankets nose Its the cut blow And lack of flow Its fists and elbows As opposed To safety locks Its ******* flu shots Its everything That ****** me off Its the the stupid robots And the silly riot cops Fencing in the famished flocks Its the ***** And the ***** In plastic boxes Giving rocks Off Without us Its the gold pots And stacked stocks Locked From us Its the Rocks Inside my socks As they knock The blocks Of billy bobs Bobbling On the dash Its the harsh And its the rash Its inside the last Bastion Of dummassez passing Through the Blast radius. Alas Its the mass graves And the paved pools Of anyone who knew Anyone who stood Its all us fools As cool kids Knowing No show biz In soul **** Its in knowing this And ******** And barking At the moon Soon To swoon None I am peaking soon In looming threat Of lost concepts Slipping away Under the sun Electing to quit While im ahead Way back when It was fun Way back when It mattered Its a gun Shooting blather Blathering As a bladder Would Misanthropic And misunderstood A changed topic Knock on wood Bye is good Goodbye Told you Its implied In rite So Good night Until next time
0
Jan 28, 2013
Jan 28, 2013 at 2:59 AM UTC
Blather shoot
Its annoyance Anointed In pessimistic clairvoyance Its the avoidance Of the simplistic And stoical Components Its motion Less Ness In oceans Of lip service Its ***** potions For the passionate Its fake **** And face lifts Its abortions In portions Of subordinates As gifts In gifs Of gorgeous Ordinance Distorted In tortured Tapping Of the dead Its all the fame In shoving The pain Of loving In the oven Of stubborn Mothers Blubbering Under the covers With other men Its the omens Of the oh mans In roman Misnomers Of fortunate Misfortunes Torn From time Its the mine mine mines Confined To their own kind Pre signed In old blood Its consignment killers Its the drugs Its timeless thrillers Its the shrugs Its the thunder Plundering Structures Rattling out From under the bed Its all the thoughts In our heads Blaring The booms Of the tamed Its the assumed The restrained Its this tomb Of shame In doing The same Old **** again And again Its been Better Then again I grin When Cold Its when i should fold That i embolden Its all the No's Its blankets nose Its the cut blow And lack of flow Its fists and elbows As opposed To safety locks Its ******* flu shots Its everything That ****** me off Its the the stupid robots And the silly riot cops Fencing in the famished flocks Its the ***** And the ***** In plastic boxes Giving rocks Off Without us Its the gold pots And stacked stocks Locked From us Its the Rocks Inside my socks As they knock The blocks Of billy bobs Bobbling On the dash Its the harsh And its the rash Its inside the last Bastion Of dummassez passing Through the Blast radius. Alas Its the mass graves And the paved pools Of anyone who knew Anyone who stood Its all us fools As cool kids Knowing No show biz In soul **** Its in knowing this And ******** And barking At the moon Soon To swoon None I am peaking soon In looming threat Of lost concepts Slipping away Under the sun Electing to quit While im ahead Way back when It was fun Way back when It mattered Its a gun Shooting blather Blathering As a bladder Would Misanthropic And misunderstood A changed topic Knock on wood Bye is good Goodbye Told you Its implied In rite So Good night Until next time
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166
James Brown Wasn’t Wrong... !!! You Have To Pay A Cost... To... Move Like A BOSS... !!! Otherwise You’ll Get Dropped... Like... HIROSHIMA Bombs... !!! If You Don't Move Strong... And With Power Like KONG... !!! That Helps You To WIN... EVERY Fight That You're In... !!! Because To Move Like A KING... Takes... REAL DISCIPLINE... !!! Which ISN’T Something... That Subordinates Bring... !!! A King Has Linchpins... Just Like Wilson Fisk... Or Bosses Equipped... To RAISE TITANIC Ships... !!! Or Flip Scripts Like CRIPS... Whose Bloodline Is Rich... In VIOLENT STINGS... And BRUTAL Killings... !!! If Their Path Is Crossed... By... Bosses Or Cops... Who Need To Get Stopped... Because What They’ve Got... Are Movements That Flop... Like Heads Who Can’t Box... So... Quickly Get Rocked... When Chin Checks Connect... Like Bullets Do Chests... !!! You See Bosses Don’t Sweat... When Pressures Upset... Their Plans And Projects... !!! They Just Use Their Minds... As Well As... Wise Guys... Or Made Men Whose Vibes... Prove That They're Willing To DIE... To Maintain Gangster Ties... For Dons Or... " Patrons "... !!! Escobars Or Those Known... As Yes... Don Corleones... !!! That’s Right Gangster Bosses... Who DON'T Stand For NONSENSE... !!! They Move Like Top Shottas’... Who Fly... Helicopters... So QUICKLY Solve Problems... By Using SMART Plotters... !!!!!!!! Who Stand By Their Sides... That's Right Like Their Wives... And Give Good Advice... Because They Are Guys... Who Are MORE Than Wise... !!! When It Comes To Insights... That Help Them... Survive... !!! In Times Where They Face... Detection And Fates... That Fill MORE Than Graves... !!! So Bosses MAINTAIN... By USING Their BRAINS... !!! And By Knowing That Fame... May See Them ERASED... !!! But Bosses Have Style... And Have To Profile... A FEARLESS Mindset... When They Face Arrest... Or Those Who Leave Heads... of Horses In... BEDS... !!! And Bosses PROTECT... Their Fam’ To The END... !!! But When They Face Threats... That Limit Their Resistance... An Option They'll ACCEPT... Is To SHOOT Their CHILDREN... And WIFE To Quell Threats... From Their... Opponents... !!! Right In FRONT of THEM... And Then Say... "What's Next ?"... !!! A REAL BOSS Moves DREAD... !!! Or Are Those Who Express... With TOTAL CONFIDENCE... !!! When It Comes To Poems... Or Spoken Words Said... So That’s Right I’m The Type... When It Comes To Tight Rhymes... And Poetic Lines... Who Does EPITOMISE... One of The... TOP FLIGHT... !!! Because Cash Might Be Nice... And Can Get You A Wife... Whose Body Is Tight... And... Corporate Ties... Or A Gangster Type Life... !!! But You’d Best Recognise... !!! That Just Like James Brown... It’s... How You Get Down... That Proves You’re No Clown... !!! And That You Are STRONG... !!! NO MATTER What Lifestyle... Or Money You’ve Got... !!! If What You Profile... Is A POWER That ROCKS... !!! That Makes Others NOD... In Acknowledgment of... The Fact That You’re One... Even If You Are NOT... !!! Who'll ALWAYS Get Props... Because You.... ... “ Move Like A BOSS ! ”...
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Sep 22, 2021
Sep 22, 2021 at 9:19 PM UTC
“Move Like A Boss” ... A Poem written by Big Virge 21/11/2020
James Brown Wasn’t Wrong... !!! You Have To Pay A Cost... To... Move Like A BOSS... !!! Otherwise You’ll Get Dropped... Like... HIROSHIMA Bombs... !!! If You Don't Move Strong... And With Power Like KONG... !!! That Helps You To WIN... EVERY Fight That You're In... !!! Because To Move Like A KING... Takes... REAL DISCIPLINE... !!! Which ISN’T Something... That Subordinates Bring... !!! A King Has Linchpins... Just Like Wilson Fisk... Or Bosses Equipped... To RAISE TITANIC Ships... !!! Or Flip Scripts Like CRIPS... Whose Bloodline Is Rich... In VIOLENT STINGS... And BRUTAL Killings... !!! If Their Path Is Crossed... By... Bosses Or Cops... Who Need To Get Stopped... Because What They’ve Got... Are Movements That Flop... Like Heads Who Can’t Box... So... Quickly Get Rocked... When Chin Checks Connect... Like Bullets Do Chests... !!! You See Bosses Don’t Sweat... When Pressures Upset... Their Plans And Projects... !!! They Just Use Their Minds... As Well As... Wise Guys... Or Made Men Whose Vibes... Prove That They're Willing To DIE... To Maintain Gangster Ties... For Dons Or... " Patrons "... !!! Escobars Or Those Known... As Yes... Don Corleones... !!! That’s Right Gangster Bosses... Who DON'T Stand For NONSENSE... !!! They Move Like Top Shottas’... Who Fly... Helicopters... So QUICKLY Solve Problems... By Using SMART Plotters... !!!!!!!! Who Stand By Their Sides... That's Right Like Their Wives... And Give Good Advice... Because They Are Guys... Who Are MORE Than Wise... !!! When It Comes To Insights... That Help Them... Survive... !!! In Times Where They Face... Detection And Fates... That Fill MORE Than Graves... !!! So Bosses MAINTAIN... By USING Their BRAINS... !!! And By Knowing That Fame... May See Them ERASED... !!! But Bosses Have Style... And Have To Profile... A FEARLESS Mindset... When They Face Arrest... Or Those Who Leave Heads... of Horses In... BEDS... !!! And Bosses PROTECT... Their Fam’ To The END... !!! But When They Face Threats... That Limit Their Resistance... An Option They'll ACCEPT... Is To SHOOT Their CHILDREN... And WIFE To Quell Threats... From Their... Opponents... !!! Right In FRONT of THEM... And Then Say... "What's Next ?"... !!! A REAL BOSS Moves DREAD... !!! Or Are Those Who Express... With TOTAL CONFIDENCE... !!! When It Comes To Poems... Or Spoken Words Said... So That’s Right I’m The Type... When It Comes To Tight Rhymes... And Poetic Lines... Who Does EPITOMISE... One of The... TOP FLIGHT... !!! Because Cash Might Be Nice... And Can Get You A Wife... Whose Body Is Tight... And... Corporate Ties... Or A Gangster Type Life... !!! But You’d Best Recognise... !!! That Just Like James Brown... It’s... How You Get Down... That Proves You’re No Clown... !!! And That You Are STRONG... !!! NO MATTER What Lifestyle... Or Money You’ve Got... !!! If What You Profile... Is A POWER That ROCKS... !!! That Makes Others NOD... In Acknowledgment of... The Fact That You’re One... Even If You Are NOT... !!! Who'll ALWAYS Get Props... Because You.... ... “ Move Like A BOSS ! ”...
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108
6 sides Latent enabler Counterpoint to truth, amorphic Dada to life Callous Birth Islands dripped in collagen Mystic, effortless life Tempests laden iota in tune Riven Licked flat, obtuse Crescent stench Pagan cells Hazard the thought Pick the Atlantic cherry Reach further than comfort Pushed & consumed Spirited paste Jesuit told in spheres Lament interest, matted quill Totem, Saxon tribe Inflections of hearsay And Swastikas on parade Guilt of the blacksmith, undecided The arms of tablets Ashtrays & tropospheric light Another page turned Capsules filled with perfume Loose skin lost in relics Temporal lobe Cautioned indignant Pardon the prose Sonnets dissolved in ethanol Caricatures of the fleeting Of our cities last broadcast Absorbed by times gone Glittered pestilence Canceling subordinates, powdered Semtex Soup of the sewer Lift the butcher above your head Nazca lines Suborbital Silk screen with ***** Horizontal qualm toward revulsion Incursion Calm, cued and cubed Lab coats coated in pharmaceuticals Base compound, ionic bond Covalent CNS Sympathetic vibration Default to nature To theorise movement Agitate intolerance, turbulence Beautiful thought Calculate causality Passenger of licked lips Token to latex Croft in ear, to taste Unlaced tips, rings of halothane Bliss Intrigued with obscurity
0
Apr 16, 2014
Apr 16, 2014 at 1:33 PM UTC
Boerdijk–Coxeter helix
I am left the lone soldier on the battlefield, The others have fled. Heroes into the arms of God Cowards to the hills. I am alone in the light of day; No masters to serve, nor subordinates slave. I can see for miles, Yet this ground is unknown to me. I walk the line between history, And numbered days. Shall I be a fabled burst of flame, Or be forgotten as smolders of ash?
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Aug 11, 2014
Aug 11, 2014 at 10:50 PM UTC
Where Heroes & Cowards Part Ways
It’s not easy being white As we are so often right Taking responsibility To the best of our ability Helping those less fortunate Unfortunate subordinates Separating mother and son Her to Mexico, he to Tucson Half-breed aborigines Removed with exigencies Native American children Re-homed by the millions It’s a service that we happily provide Duly doing our duty to divide We humbly accept your appreciation Of our outrageous Caucasian contagion
0
Jul 28, 2018
Jul 28, 2018 at 9:56 PM UTC
RIGHTEOUS
To a master, There are only slaves. To a lord, There are only subjects. To a king, But vassals. To a boss, Are only subordinates. Yet, in reliance Who rules who?
0
Aug 4, 2024
Aug 4, 2024 at 10:24 PM UTC
Fat Inbreds
1 in the fourth book of the Peloponnesian War Thucydides tells among other things the story of his unsuccessful expedition among long speeches of chiefs battles sieges plague dense net of intrigues of diplomatic endeavours the episode is like a pin in a forest the Greek colony Amphipolis fell into the hands of Brasidos because Thucydides was late with relief for this he paid his native city with lifelong exile exiles of all times know what price that is 2 generals of the most recent wars if a similar affair happens to them whine on their knees before posterity praise their heroism and innocence they accuse their subordinates envious colleagues unfavourable winds Thucydides says only that he had seven ships it was winter and he sailed quickly 3 if art for its subject will have a broken jar a small broken soul with a great self-pity what will remain after us will it be lovers' weeping in a small ***** hotel when wall-paper dawns Zbigniew Herbert
0
Sep 15, 2014
Sep 15, 2014 at 5:20 PM UTC
Why The Classics
No one dies twice, keep living each momement, making love and money, heel to toe, step by step, always ahead, stopping only for poached eggs, buttered toast, and grits, reading the Times, sipping coffee black, a cab to the Park Avenue office, calls to Lisbon, meetings with subordinates throughout the day, sometimes laughter, sorrow lurking bemeath smiles, all the while pretending, Central Park filled with joggers, solitude in the sky, a bagel with cream chesse, capers, and lox, a new tie at Brooks Brothers, memories of Andover, sun-bleached benches, Columbia beating Princetion, Harlem hidden, a chapter or two of Dostoyevsky, daydreams of ecstasy, a hotel room at the Pierre in mid-afternoon, her golden hair brighter than the sun, covering her shoulders and one of her young ******* the rest for loving, an endless stream of searching souls, thousands making millions on Wall Street, vapid, vacuous, empty endeavors, dinner at 21, a long stroll up 5th Avenue to 63rd, back home that had never had been a home, a kiss on his wife's cheek, she always meek, no one dies twice. TOD HOWARD HAWKS
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Feb 9, 2021
Feb 9, 2021 at 1:26 PM UTC
NO ONE DIES TWICE
I’m not of this time Future traveler on vacation in the Land of Lost, a ship out of fuel, a world confusing, 30th century fool I came to observe blind beings who bend to the will of a surrounding chaos After 1000 years adrift... Tired of the creeping tedium, I’ve become one Tired of Logging anime patches and social media confessionals for the folks back home, I became one **You see, 21st century tragedy **** is big in the future, along with Akira and the selected letters of Eugene O’Neil** I’m lost, tell my subordinates Confused, no need of a map, I know the coordinates, but I’ve become one You’re not supposed to fall in love on these missions Just take manga pics, perhaps monitor your fission But the eyes I’m lost in A fading autumnal green I had to see her, I had to be seen A violation but I’m trained, still I’m weak, a mind so ingrained (I am one of you now) While drunk counting slightly smeared, sparkles on glass glittered lips, I found myself: in love I told her: “The wine taste on your tongue is sacramental” A feigned profundity, it’s incidental (a convenient disguise for my insanity) She doesn’t love me back. But I found myself cdh
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Jun 6, 2019
Jun 6, 2019 at 5:09 AM UTC
Not Of This Time
„...my men in moleskin caps and generally envested in the kind of shabby paramilitary fashion in which one pictures the advance guard at Teruel. Upon proceeding inland, we encountered teams of what I declared native-cannibal-warriors, who, despite being outwardly quite docile, were clearly displeased with the unannounced invasion of their little isle. I began pointing my finger at the savages and emitting ‘pow’ noises, causing the natives to rather cooperatively collapse to the ground by heaps. Having cleared the beachhead, I then realised my love for our apparent guide to this strange paradise, an ermine-like species without any name that comes to memory. I held her close for perhaps five minutes, stroking her luscious, snow-white pelt and ignoring the jealous glances of my subordinates. An anxious look told me she had something to tell me. I bent my ear close, only to receive a sudden impact of her delicate, immaculately carven jaw. Shocked, I relinquished my hold, and she immediately bounded to a low-lying tree behind me, pawing the fruit dangling therefrom with a feline relish“
0
Feb 6, 2012
Feb 6, 2012 at 8:32 PM UTC
An Excerpt from the Dream Journal of Hendicmor Atrappinnurun
Throwback dissonance, results in future social dystopian conversations. Tormented lives swept under rugs, in between the cracks of floor boards. Dust and filth, years of names. All scratched into the bathroom stalls of so called neighborhood's, subordinates of time and "hush-hush" the city to the suburbanites. Shocking to them eating dinners still in the 1990's, fastened tight in seat belts of self esteem, MTV news and 50 inches of reality. You must be joking, not ever knowing, folly box dwellers, why they say all "white". The back doors were shut and locked when you looked left and double took right; as jokes from the safety of your water stained walls and cigarette burned carpets, to joke hatred like art and we must pretend not us though? Wall to wall, our prison starts here and ends in our front lawns as the country shouts "white man" and we must remain silent. My father's land, nearly 20 year cultural hiatus that split our family in two, came back from time, in a paperclip, over the wall, east to the west side of Berlin and delivered in a rebel DeLorean with bumper stickers of second amendment speeches and pro-life Bible out of contextual arguments. These retrospects, taking advantage of sales on tiki torches while stealing phrases from my great grandfather class of 1933. And the whole country shouts "white man". No, my country, not white men. In skin yes, in history, no. They were never men. Never did my father speak of men. I heard the gang rapes of Gypsy's. Stories of slain Catholics. Murders of homosexuals, The bones crushed of opposing parties. The staple mascot of pain, Judaism extermination that swept through culture like a bad advertisement tune. Gassed. Tortured. Worked. They come for us all. Not as white men. They come as their own. This is not man. They maybe white, but not man. I am a white man, but it's always been human, first. That's black. That's white. That's purple. That's life. They come for our progress, not our skins.
0
Aug 13, 2017
Aug 13, 2017 at 11:51 AM UTC
I am human first.
Throwback dissonance, results in future social dystopian conversations. Tormented lives swept under rugs, in between the cracks of floor boards. Dust and filth, years of names. All scratched into the bathroom stalls of so called neighborhood's, subordinates of time and "hush-hush" the city to the suburbanites. Shocking to them eating dinners still in the 1990's, fastened tight in seat belts of self esteem, MTV news and 50 inches of reality. You must be joking, not ever knowing, folly box dwellers, why they say all "white". The back doors were shut and locked when you looked left and double took right; as jokes from the safety of your water stained walls and cigarette burned carpets, to joke hatred like art and we must pretend not us though? Wall to wall, our prison starts here and ends in our front lawns as the country shouts "white man" and we must remain silent. My father's land, nearly 20 year cultural hiatus that split our family in two, came back from time, in a paperclip, over the wall, east to the west side of Berlin and delivered in a rebel DeLorean with bumper stickers of second amendment speeches and pro-life Bible out of contextual arguments. These retrospects, taking advantage of sales on tiki torches while stealing phrases from my great grandfather class of 1933. And the whole country shouts "white man". No, my country, not white men. In skin yes, in history, no. They were never men. Never did my father speak of men. I heard the gang rapes of Gypsy's. Stories of slain Catholics. Murders of homosexuals, The bones crushed of opposing parties. The staple mascot of pain, Judaism extermination that swept through culture like a bad advertisement tune. Gassed. Tortured. Worked. They come for us all. Not as white men. They come as their own. This is not man. They maybe white, but not man. I am a white man, but it's always been human, first. That's black. That's white. That's purple. That's life. They come for our progress, not our skins.
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Seeking young professional. Quick to pick up vindictive behavior. Advanced betrayal technique. Career motivated individual. General disregard for humanity. Finds ease in disrespecting subordinates. Heavily lacking in leadership skills. Supports high stress life with amphetamines. Must find consumerism appealing. Is this you? Want to make the big money? Apply now!
0
Apr 11, 2016
Apr 11, 2016 at 6:28 PM UTC
Seeking young professional!
You are just groupies to me smile as you bow to my feet take pleasure in pleasing me take delight in me get used to being under me everytime you see me bow i am your leader get used to being subordinates that will never meet my rank no matter how hard you try you will fail. I am this position for a reason bow I am not self proclaimed I am not by any standards going to claim myself divine the name was given, title,and position and power that I do not know what do to with so to you, because you hate me, scorn me, and wish me badlucks get on your knees as you drag you heavy chains on the ground before yourself and I expect you to not speak unless spoken to and when you do,address me as Queen.
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Jan 17, 2014
Jan 17, 2014 at 9:49 PM UTC
Queen. (Revengeance)
Giving back to those lest fortunate Openly recruiting more of his subordinates Distributing prayers to those in need Living a lifestyle that makes him pleased Yearning for the Lord's teachings to help others exceed
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Aug 27, 2015
Aug 27, 2015 at 7:16 PM UTC
The meaning of GODLY
The **** cackled on a huge granite rock , tales of suffering and penance among his harried flock ... A now woebegone keeper of the past , intent on rest , cheerfully malingering the duties of leader to no end , leaving his subjects to quarry amongst themselves ... The governed whispered rumors of mutiny , the loyal Knights implored patience to no end , the once determined King visibly shaken , the future of the Royal Flock in sudden jeopardy , confusion swept across the entire barnyard , the flames of revolution intensified daily , young Roosters openly declared change , defended their space and new Hens quite vigorously ! The old King came to terms with his fate amongst the flock , graciously lowered his head on the chopping block ! A new leader was crowned shortly thereafter , the hens settled down and returned to peaceful , contented cackle ... The old Rooster was remembered for his courage , the brilliant leadership he bestowed toward his subordinates and subjects as he was most assuredly reduced to chicken and dumplings ..   .
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Feb 2, 2016
Feb 2, 2016 at 12:29 PM UTC
The Yardbird Kingdom
Human beings..... In a race to change The very definition of humanity, Only to get baptized in insanity. Politicians..... Rhapsody of the Parliaments and Government, To bring a system of popularity, Full of hate and inequality. Bureaucrats.... Mobilize the art of duality, Impress the subordinates with cruelty, Pave a way to ambiguity, Media..... Refines the art of deception Brainwashing the public view, Discourages insightful review. Intellectuals.... Racing the horses of wishes Full of illogical ideals, Manipulates as treasure steals. Teachers... Busy projecting arcane results, Doubtful about own native cultures, Relishing the limelight like vultures. Administrators..... Passionate to be remembered, Names on streets and buildings, Boards and Committee starlings. Social works.... Administer the theoretical concepts, Bridge the recognised social rifts, Actuality is subjugation and wanton theft. ©Perveiz Ali
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Sep 23, 2015
Sep 23, 2015 at 7:13 PM UTC
Ruminations
Forcin abortions contortin spinal cord of orphans ordering subordinates to coordinate on my coordinates to harvest the organs to sell on the black market and make a fortune
0
Sep 28, 2019
Sep 28, 2019 at 11:34 AM UTC
Planned compliance
Turning a blind eye Also, intimidated to Challenge the autocrats "Why? " I condoned the slaying Of the honest and workaholic Subordinates on integrity's altar Allowing on my conscience An indelible scar.
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Oct 31, 2017
Oct 31, 2017 at 3:07 AM UTC
Crime by ommission
i keep my pride under house arrest tied to an enema of ***** soda that stops at the border of the premises what a great laugh crawls from the nailed headboards and sips from my resolve i try not to show my subordinates the pressure points I worry about but the maintenance staff knows too much the maintenance staff keeps us up the most they read the cracks in the plates silverware scratched from being thrown around every shard is collected the professionals recommend 3 square meals a day my pride is offered for breakfast 3 eggs, potatoes made one way, a dragonball shaped pancake with 5 chocolate chips, and an apple skewered sideways coffee is poured over top soul my pride is offered for lunch grilled cheese, something plain and boring, chips, something also plain and boring, Gatorade, or overdone redemption my pride is offered for dinner grease, a good burrito with grease, an IPA,,,toast to mix things up, a joy ride with Cassidy, a waterbed of folk music, (zero ***** given), pesto penne, another IPA, a timeshare just south, and sometimes dessert after yelling at the neighbors some and a few reruns on adult swim the ***** soda kicks in with a little extra and puts us all to sleep in 25 years when the sentence is over I don’t think it will find the same 3 square meals a day
0
Jul 17, 2020
Jul 17, 2020 at 1:44 PM UTC
house arrest
She had her subordinates step back a moment, Sheathed their fangs and returned to her side, It was unseemly to slay a foe without presenting an offer, To stand at grace's side. You did well, my entitlement has seen better days, I dare say it is beyond saving, She spoke beyond her years, as if they were already acquainted. Who are you? John boldly demanded, I have no reason to answer that question, better that you remain ignorant, Lest I become a monster. I see you've been studying Sharin's songs for many years, You're all quite good, spent your whole lives practicing no doubt, I could use people of such talent under my wing for you see, I have a stooge surplus.
0
Apr 15, 2014
Apr 15, 2014 at 8:21 PM UTC
Silence of song part 108
Can you see them? I'll ask tilting my head to the left, As smiles coupled with warm emotions. Touch and hold your hands sisterly. Those spinning weapons, indescribable without set shape, Fashion them into whatever you like, I'll say as my head returns to its proper place, Addressing one of my loyal subordinates. The last painless you'll know is, His gloves on your back.
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Mar 23, 2014
Mar 23, 2014 at 4:40 PM UTC
They will end you.
I was commissioned on 7th March thirty one years ago My God remained extra kind to make me grow and glow Life, like a water stream on its own path was just to flow With golden stars, starchy uniform, enemies I could blow I struggled hard to keep pace with equals and subordinates My soul gets courage and fortitude to make me reinvigorates To counter all odds,hurdles and hardships helped get targets My heart is enthralled on achievements my soul associates Throughout I fought war against enemies of country and God Whether in country or with the peace keeping forces abroad This pursuit of service in love brought all laurels and applaud For the holy jihad I served for God in the wonderful squad Col Muhammad Khalid Khan Copyright 2017 Golden Glow
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Mar 7, 2017
Mar 7, 2017 at 2:04 PM UTC
In Service of God
Professional Bully Whispering gossip Slandering others Behind their backs You undermine confidence Turning weak followers Against the kindest of souls Professional bully You cringe and fawn With the high ranking order You flutter your eyelids At the biggest boss Professional bully You are sweetness personified At the top table Yet you spit scorn At subordinates Despising their weaknesses Exposing their faults Professional bully You play out your childhood Disguising your agonies With cold clinical acumen Titles are everything And positioning critical You defend your arrogance With vicious fury Professional bully You have ‘friends’ in high places Networks of networks And hidden connections You are part of club ugly You tremble in isolation Workplace your temple Real life your void
0
May 21, 2016
May 21, 2016 at 5:10 PM UTC
Professional Bully
*If you're a leader and you don't have plan to prosper for your subordinates, you should go to an island and build your own empire...but off course you know that's not possible, because you can't be on top without anyone below. So try to look down sometimes and show some gratitude.*
0
Aug 23, 2016
Aug 23, 2016 at 1:05 AM UTC
Punch Line (3)