"targeting" poems
Why is it so difficult to leave my life alone
Cast that last stone
I feel like Frankenstein the monster
And your a mob of angry county officials
Getting high on locking away my roster
Big Man you are with you excess of power
Targeting helpless youth
Who only aim to survive
To escape imprisonment alive
To everyday simply strive
For some acceptance
To be be beat down literally abused by your hand
Because our hunger over took morals
What is right
Is right being cold and hungry every night
Is right being forced into institutions
You've already chosen my life's conclusion
My dreams depict my happy illusion
Our financial status fusion
Causing an eruption of misguided confusion
I'll win this war
When when it seems every battle I'm losing
Nov 29, 2014
Nov 29, 2014 at 7:22 AM UTC
Ebola, coming from the Continent of our roots
The WHO is exhausted by your contagion
Nurses are leaving their posts, doctors are dying
What can contain exponential growth?
Not the money and debts of this bankrupt America
We print more money and expect
The world to stay the same, but it won’t
Not after you Ebola, a profit mechanism
Vaccines, for each strain and mutation?
Ebola, your incubation period is too long
Your death-conformity is too high
How can you possibly be natural?
Man-made, racially biased, targeting
The weak, the poor, the masses
Ebola, a colonial rampage in your DNA
I call your bluff, genocide, Genocide!
Obama doesn’t mind Ebola, flights stay open
New epicenters for outbreaks arrive
The pundits say it’s already too late
Fluids or air-droplets, both, who is to say?
The CDC seems strangely apathetic
The UN is oddly apologetic
Ebola, are you ready to decimate
The white man, as you have the black?
Oct 18, 2014
Oct 18, 2014 at 10:41 AM UTC
resuming textual trip
testing experimental procedures
visualizing model tsunami
augmenting facetious environment
catching abstract architecture
noticing rhythmic exchange
projecting subtextual database
airhorning reggae royalty
adding atypical party
resolving twitter question
noticing emotional mission
awaiting emotional dialect
installing metaphorical experiment
intensifying animated trip
displaying dynamic victory
programming abstract development
releasing emotional exchange
deriving fata morgana
glorifying referential sequence
intensifying facetious map
noticing harmonic trip
observing radical ratio
compiling nomadic message
predating google rebranding
reticulating facetious panda
using hyperreal feedback
exploring virtual panda
speculating graphic gallery
throwing mundane exception
targeting graphic experiment
replenishing emotional trap
localizing asemic animal
dropping rhythmic trip
propagating immortal experiment
displaying lowercase database
invading orange bubbles
crashing animated trip
running conceptual topography
remembering collapsed buildings
crashing hyperreal coverage
propagating hyperreal stipulation
finishing western library
envisioning neon tessellation
reciprocating network likes
processing animated device
releasing haptic quality
examining building seven
awaiting rhapsodical ratio
sampling death sauce
sensing lowercase clone
examining symbolic tour
processing potential development
encapsulating spatial lottery
displaying digital paragraph
reticulating theoretical source
perpetuating western paragraph
transmitting monochromatic structure
anticipating ambient quality
transmitting asemic environment
intensifying atomic quality
remastering history poem
keeping future light
hypothesizing eternal game
using future library
rearranging masonic language
transmitting masonic development
continuing ceremonial ritual
questioning party's legitimacy
deferring western coverage
finishing asemic hypertext
mollifying ostentatious presence
synthesizing allegorical icon
forming categorical unions
sketching app wireframe
programming immortal repository
Sep 15, 2015
Sep 15, 2015 at 6:52 PM UTC
As I sauntered on banks of Yamuna at night.
I saw a man old, bent, with stick in dhoti white.
Tardily, step by step as he came nearer to me.
With joy I smiled as our own beloved Bapu was he.
With tears in my eyes I asked, ' Bapu you are still alive! ,
those three bullets holed your chest, how did you survive?
What happened to you? Where were you all these days?
What you ate? How you lived? Now where do you stay?
Condition of your beloved land is deteriorating day by day.
Countrymen have left your path, they have gone astray.
Your image, your killers are trying to malign and degrade.
Berating your ways, encouraging means which you forbade.
Hitler's advocates on chariots are traversing Nation's length.
Day by day Fascism is gaining ground , gaining strength.
Disguised as followers of Sri Ram, deeds of Ravan they do.
Riots and killings are frequent, women and minors are targeted too.
Terrorism nourishing on terrorism, cruelty at its worst.
Targeting anyone, anywhere, time and again bombs burst.
Once a land of peace, land of sufism, land of saints,
now ****** Innocent souls being killed without restraint.
Regionalism is being encouraged and taking roots.
Unity of the Nation selfish politicians reduce and dilute.
Corruption is increasing everywhere and in all spheres
Even highest office of respect could not keep itself clear '
Passing his hand over my head he smiled and said '
I am just a spirit, long ago my weak body was dead.
Daily with expectation I rise and daily with despair I die
Daily my hope is shattered and daily with grief I sigh
They may have killed me but now I live in numerous hearts
They may write me down in history yet my message will dart.
See this flag, colour saffron is dear to me, colour green I love.
between them is colour white, colour of peace, colour of dove.
Nation divided in three hurts me more than bullets three
From casteism and regionlism country should be free.
Communalism should not be allowed to raise its ugly head.
With sword of constitution Fascism we need to behead '
Three sound disturbed the calm, beloved Bapu fell on the ground
I went to help but Bapu vanished with words 'Hey Ram' echoing around
Determined that this time his innocent blood will not go waste.
I collected his non-violent blood in my pen like ink with haste.
Nov 2, 2014
Nov 2, 2014 at 3:08 AM UTC
you're too busy targeting the next spot
you'll bury that knife
pierced not into my back
but in my heart
what we have is real and we're genuinely happy
and it's rare to find in this world that's ******
so stop meddling with ours
it wont do you any better
i hope you'll find yours
but you're clouded and bitter
Sep 23, 2014
Sep 23, 2014 at 2:11 AM UTC
Where Is Shelter?
depends on the location of the storm…
so oft have I queried the gods and you?
Where is Shelter?
*to which, my response, while surrounded so well (!)
within
my moated island circumferences redoubt,
always was a simple:
“Here, Here is shelter!
But so human, thus so prone to delimited vision,
always, we scan the skies outward, fearful of
the hurricane and storm that approach,
from without, appearing, and the brewing
sky’s danger is visceral~visible to the naked eyes,
when,
it is disguised within the chambers of the
body, festering, until it is pestering, and
shelter, sadly, is not injectable, transferable,
easy remedial, and the hunkering down
with four walls not the solution, for the walls
themselves are damaged by decades of
waves of innocuous gently lapping that* still
*erode igneous granite(1) and fissure the self,
this secretive, enemy insidious…*
so it comes to be, that my own daggers have
pivoted, the pointy dangers pointed outwards,
well entrenched in their own defenses, now targeting
the whole of me, my outer walls breached, and
fired upon by cannons of cells, a treacherous
attack, bombardement par l'artillerie et les drones,
of the Fifth Column (2)…
so once more, say no more, but ask the brief of demand,
Where is Shelter?
the answer is as of yet to be decided,
but the forces
arrayed for and against
are equally determined!
W.S.
Jul 29, 2023
Jul 29, 2023 at 3:30 PM UTC
When I look in the mirror,
I dont see what you see.
To me it feels like the whole world is targeting me!
Despite all the pain and hardships I seen,
It has changed what I have inside of me.
I envy all the bad things,
My reflection is starting to scare me
Why won't it stop?
The voices inside just won't leave!
I regret looking in the mirror,
That's bouncing back at me.
The voices are telling me wrong
Hiding the rightness behind those hidden walls
When I look in the mirror,
The same thing happens to me
I reach back to the past,
Where I shouldn't be
It hurts,
Cuz' I don't want to relive my sad memories
I try to be strong for others
But I'm dying on the inside
When I look in the mirror,
I don't see what you see
To me it feels like the whole world is targeting me
Despite all the pain and hardships I seen
It WILL NOT change what I have inside of me!
Nov 3, 2013
Nov 3, 2013 at 2:23 PM UTC
Empty pocket and empty plates;
safely locked it away still it dissipates,
a climber of corpses climbs high to something great,
and the rest of us are buried standing within this fate.
Life wouldn’t be tragic if it wasn’t also funny,
it seems to lose a lot of magic when you lose alot of money.
Life’s a ***** but isn’t she powerful?
It’s time to eat the rich because we weren’t born full.
The people’s scale is forever weighing
basic human rights against complete anarchy.
The right choice seems obvious to me, obviously,
but the indecision’s crazy with the lack of priorities.
A climber of corpses climbs high to heights we’ll never see,
I’d rather be a stone than those doing the stoning.
Life wouldn’t be tragic if it wasn’t also funny,
I think that I’ve had it with their vinegar disguised as honey.
I won’t make another stitch in their golden wool,
it’s time to eat the rich ‘cause we weren’t born full.
A bullet in the street shot from behind;
validated and woke up millions.
No retreat and not changing their minds;
vilified for targeting their billions.
If they really cared they’d ask if you could buy morality,
though typically they’d see if they could find it on sale.
The funniest part is that they could acquire it for free
but it’d be just like giving an atheist the Holy Grail.
Life wouldn’t be tragic if it wasn’t also funny,
it seems to lose a lot of magic when you lose alot of money.
Life’s a ***** but isn’t she powerful?
It’s time to eat the rich because we weren’t born full.
Life wouldn’t be tragic if it wasn’t also funny,
more bills; they stack it and the weather stays sunny.
Rock bottom in a ditch, dazed and in a lull
now it’s time eat the rich ‘cause we weren’t born full.
Dec 10, 2024
Dec 10, 2024 at 11:46 PM UTC
flying laser concept
shooting down airplane
flashlights for cops
getting dissacsciative
instantly distroying
dazers on your car
weird sound things
warning warning
hit the brakes
it's not a deer
good ****
have you ever seen him?
Star wars kid?
The good 'ol days.
Before there was any kind of like...
I bet he's huge.
There he is.
**** can happen.
Expandable pole.
Destructive laser.
All talk, no walk.
Death rays.
Forget my blowtorch.
Let there be fire.
Let it rain.
Targeting him.
That's stupid.
**** this spider.
Did he?
Huge ******* spider.
Brightest spotlight ever.
Can't escape it.
Pretty good shot.
It's gonna die.
Choke it out.
Go to the end.
Sad.
**** a dog.
Hot in here.
People like motherhood.
Is that a ferret?
Don't drip on me.
Pennies on the floor.
Are you jealous?
I had a bad case.
Gotta get rockin'.
Something we both like.
Look at Harold.
I might be goin' down.
I've been goin' down.
People do the work.
Enable it.
Consume battery.
Bring it to a nine.
Should be easy.
Catchy and fitted.
Going viral.
Pyramid scheme.
I'm on the top.
The fastest.
The most accurate.
A community project.
It's a contest.
Easter eggs.
Enable fun times.
Enable opportunities.
Making it happen.
Shocking update.
It's getting there.
Few more sips.
Wooowww Wowww Wow.
Got 'em.
Sad day.
Pack up everything.
Say hi.
Bring her chocolate.
They like attention.
That **** ferret.
Sorry I got somber.
We got to be heroes.
Might be a good idea.
Nice seeing you.
Goodbye.
Au revoise.
Hard to say goodbye.
Concept of sleep.
Three all nighters.
One more thing.
Sweet dreams.
Bye.
Thanks.
Feb 5, 2013
Feb 5, 2013 at 12:33 AM UTC
Vain I know
I just can't let go
Money that hard to earn
Each day some of it I'd burned
Creating my own clouds
To have strength to join the crowd
When I was a kid, I am too shy
Finally slain my demon of shyness and fly
It started by only feeding my ignorance
Just a single try I've said to my conscience
Seems helping me to have courage in a way
So once, twice, trice until dozen a day
My dear ones begged me to stop
I've tried a lot of times, but I just can't drop
Just like a vampire to blood I crave
To **** the beast of addiction I am not that brave
I am so ****** up now
I am targeting myself with my own bow
A poison I've known from the start
But still I keep it near to my very heart
Written: December 27, 2014
Mysterious Aries
Nov 2, 2015
Nov 2, 2015 at 9:29 PM UTC
*You're messed up, your mind needs to confess up
you been drinking again?
Your eyes look like drugs.
no dilation, your hearing voices but its all an imagination
stirring up problems with your pitiful noises you are creating
Pumping venom thru your black heart, since you were 5 you never stopped hating
you pray on the day your father walks past that ally your standing at
with a note patiently waitin
with no hesitation,
I swear this boy has become some sorta satin
the truth is he wasn't always like this
seems the evil angel came in through the night and gave him a dark kiss
he conquers all that's weak and smashes all that's bliss
he's been kicked to the ground so much, he just got up and threw fists
protecting all he's worth
while selling himself short
he been playing this game so long, he's becoming a poor sport
his anger launches his passion
while frustration peruses his pains
don't come close to this monster please know that he is untamed
lockdown his believes and feel the wrath of his broken chains
he's a unconscious killer who has revenge all in his veins
targeting the shallow women who consistently cut him deep
its the love you all want, it's the heart break he now seeks
the sky was his limit, he jumped off the peek
this man is not crazy, nor even insane
he's just a normal man, ya choose to not treat him the same
he's become some sorta addict, he's addicted to his pen
he's addicted to "P.s I love you"
starting with "Dear friend"
tick tock on the clock
seems my talent has slowly stopped
a crossroad in my mind, I've must of hit a Writers block...*
Oct 14, 2013
Oct 14, 2013 at 11:01 AM UTC
In life where you faded away
And I think of every day
With your smile so bright
You still linger near and
In my heart forever you'll stay.
Do not believe the corporate media about Israel hitting nuclear sites. They are intentionally targeting residential buildings killing innocent people (like always).
A child killed this beautiful young Poet killed Israel owns the media.
Jun 14, 2025
Jun 14, 2025 at 3:48 AM UTC
everyone likes a good fair fight explosion came from motorbike another involved suicide bomber on bicycle targeting police vehicle war drags on years and years no one wants to talk about it if we dress in silk transparent employing all our charms talents they will act wild to lie with us that will be moment to refuse they will hasten to make peace i am convinced taliban said they carried out bombings as message to nato wedding celebration nearby number of guests believed to be among dead injured u.s. hints volatile area next target for operations she knelt naked knees apart arms outstretched ******* bowed ******* perched neck exposed lips mouth open eyelids half closed scent of vetiver ylang ylang roses anything everything you want if only you will stop murdering
Mar 14, 2010
Mar 14, 2010 at 6:43 AM UTC
i suffer from
delusions.
hope is the
destroyer of
the last ravaged bits
of sanity.
hope is the
******
targeting
my heart.
Oct 5, 2013
Oct 5, 2013 at 8:28 PM UTC
Fibromyalgia is a chronic muscle disorder characterized by widespread pain.
My mother's caramel hued skin has transitioned
to a much darker shade. Strands of hair gracefully
fall from her scalp as feelings of
agony and helplessness replace her
jocund spirit, destroying the essence
of who she once was. Her embodiment
deteriorates alongside her crumbling flesh.
Veins bulge underneath her skin; knots form
below her kneecaps; misery creeps up her spine.
As stridulous moans escape my mother's lips,
I can only offer sympathy. This disease latches on to
anyone within it's reach -- not only targeting
victims but their families as well. Like a predator,
fibromyalgia seeks to control every aspect of her
being – passionately tugging the affected between
the struggle to persevere or succumb to its' insanity.
Jul 18, 2016
Jul 18, 2016 at 1:38 PM UTC
Oh My.... The Blue and White Checkered Board Floor in that house, Memories Flooded me last night. then I awoke screaming a few things, as in my dreams I was on the walkway on my knees just distraught and terrified screaming " it was not my fault, they stole my memories, they didn't believe me and they called me a liar." and was having full on flashbacks and bizarre dreams. coconut shavings in a can that tasted so good, they were like milk. dumbo the elephant, golden trains all on a children's book, and readings, like "broken pre *** short and stout, here is my handle and here my broken spout" a bead girl in the marsh by the house in the dream, the pegboard and the spotless floor blue and white keep clean, asking to go, or as we heard someone in the kitchen working and trying to hold it in. and then, watching as we drove by my grand mothers as I cry thinking, she will never know that it was not her fault and she will not know where to find me as I was doing as I was told by driver. I remembered the taste of pennies in my mouth as my bones would bend, always wishing they would break but they would just bend. and I kept hearing," likely blew with is horn, crying wolf, crying wolf, lil boy blew,blew his silly lil horn and no one would believe all the children were torn." yes, the house with the blue and white checkered floor seems to have triggered finally a few memories and some very intense and did I mention intense dreams. I woke screaming and sweating a few times while sleeping in phoenix'a bed. yeah.I could use ... yeah ... that was ... yeah.. but now I remember, and I tried, and there are parts I targeting talk about on here. yes I see ... too and the girl blue and all the....... wow intense dreams.
Jul 8, 2015
Jul 8, 2015 at 12:35 PM UTC
On the bridge
Orion glazing
Announcing his presence
Proudly and unafraid of excessive exposure
Targeting his next preys
“I’m right here, animals run”.
The air runs stale
“I see, hide-and-seek that is”.
The forest howling, extending vigorously
Acting tough to shelter her animal friends
“Come on, salvation is here,”
A land of green brutally taking shape in crimson red.
“My friends, don’t cry, drink my blood and take my flesh to fertile the land of home”.
Years after decades
Those eyes guard by the night
Conditioned to withdraw from his sight
“We breathe close by Apollo, living is imaginable”.
Apr 6, 2021
Apr 6, 2021 at 10:20 PM UTC
The crooked claws of darkness clashing
Targeting my weakened soul
Upon my broken mind a'gnashing
Sizzling like scorching coals
Hope and faith they're busy slashing
Torturing with many wretched tools
As the world around me crumbles and comes down quickly crashing
How they've defeated many fools
After all is said and done
The fiery fangs of darkness mawing
Targeting my broken mind
Upon my sanity they're a'gnawing
As I'm running out of precious time
My freedom to live they are a'stalling
The hope of peace sounds so sublime
As I fall to my knees and attempt escape
By crawling Freedom sounds divine
Desperately losing the battle as I'm frequently bawling
Because I know I'm trapped inside
When all is said and done
Consumed in reckless insanity I still ponder
The depths of evil is quite the wonder
Will I be forcefully cast a sunder
When all is said and done?
Oct 25, 2020
Oct 25, 2020 at 6:28 PM UTC
It's never good job
Or thank you
Or keep up the good work
U only criticize me for why?
You put on a show for your friends
And Your telling them a lie
That's why after every performance
We as a "family" going out to eat is of great importance
Yet even though it's in "celebration" of me
You force me to go somewhere that I don't even wanna be
Somewhere that I absolutely despise
I'll pretend that I'm not hurt and that its all alright
But it's kinda hard when there aren't any good vibes
The whole time there's ALWAYS arguing
It's like destroying my happiness is all that yall've been targeting
And there's never any actual congratulating
I'll put my head down because the sound of your constant yelling is mutilating
But me trying to ignore you guys is apparently irritating
So I have to keep performing
Put on a show that'll keep me from conforming
To the actions that I really wanna take
You say be who you wanna be don't be opaque
and then raise me to be fake
Your giving me a headache
No ur giving me a heartache
Everyday I'm greeted at the door with insults
Hating my family a little more are the usual results
And you know it's quite sad
Because family's all that I have
These four people who are currently living in the same house
Or should I say my dad and his spouse
They're all that I've got which is why I stick to myself
I'm tired
I'm not gonna continue to rebel
*** all it does is give me hell
Mar 27, 2016
Mar 27, 2016 at 12:09 PM UTC
12/10/2012:
A very mellow day,
A day that makes one’s golden years actually golden.
Happy in retirement?
There’s a joke:
You slave like Spartacus in the Libyan salt mines for 30 or 40 or even 50
years, and now you’re supposed to re-calibrate the machine, re-gauge
one’s anatomy and metabolism for a habitat so far and away grindstone
gone.
The muckrakers Studs Terkel and Barbara Ehrenreich remind us:
Work is the only thing we can do for 8 hours, other than sleep.
Perchance even to dream out that Roman **** or Bacchanal.
No, alas, 4 hours is the legal limit for an ******** lasting that long,
During all our joy-juiced carnal desires,
Be they under the elms or elsewhere.
**Cialis! ******
Names already living it up in infamy.
A simple truth about Retirement:
Stop working and die.
A most intense public service announcement,
A vast digital image out of Yeats,
A very special Spiritus Mundi P-S-A.
Targeting Baby Boomers, especially:
“You better find yourself something,
Or someone to occupy your mind.”
Brought to you by the good people at
OCCUPY BRAIN STREET,
First a national, then a veritable global movement,
However so short-lived;
Like all the others.
Oh, Boomers, your attention span is down to 8 minutes.
Your mnemonic links are frayed and tattered,
Your hard drive noodle fragmented,
Yet still whirring white noise jazz.
A New Orleans Dixieland funeral,
And Al-Zheim trumpet blast to go out on.
Well, I don’t know about the rest of you,
But I am relatively well adjusted in retirement.
And today—previously mentioned as a mellow day--
Today is one reason why.
As is medical marijuana and the sultry voice of Chrissie Hynde,
With or without her band of Pretenders.
And let’s throw in a lovely bottle of Temecula red wine--
Doffo, if you’re going to get fussy on me,
Another blithe distraction cultivated and custom-made for old age.
Indeed, a very mellow day.
May 14, 2015
May 14, 2015 at 3:21 PM UTC
No direction
no cigarettes
no money
nowhere to go,
stranded.
No sleep
I watch the people walk by
I watch the cars
and the rain
People go home to their families
people go home
and want to die.
Nostalgia.
Sunlight pours through the haze
for a moment
and sinks
away
I think of you
often
maybe too often
You’re ******
just like me
all me do is drown,
drown,
drown.
Lust drunk *****
waiting,
waiting to destroy
unintentionally destroy others
then theirselves
and weep
for the past.
There’s strangers everywhere
watching
questioning my motives…
a man at the table next to me give me the eyes
All I want
is a cigarette
one **** smoke.
Ah, God, I lost the notion
strangling,
tangling,
growing roots to my sick,
sad,
soul
The people I witness
coming into shopping malls
are like rabid animals
Wild eyed and gazing
targeting their next material purchase
to try to fit into society
killing off humanity with selfishness,
selflessness
Scared children,
holding their mothers hand
growing up to be fools
to fit into this place
With eyes like knives,
awaiting your presence
to rip your insides out onto the pavement
and ******* eat you alive.
In the car
watching
the leaves thrash the pavement
the breeze is hollow and unforgiving
I think, and I don’t want to be here
when the cold front blows in
and releases it’s chaos.
I’m so ******
half dead,
like the light in your eyes.
This is how people become homeless
This is how people make it big.
Dec 9, 2011
Dec 9, 2011 at 5:38 PM UTC
Morning arrives without invitation
Crisp light pierce's the gap in the curtain
Blinding like a floodlight, targeting and harsh.
Songs of birds filter through sickeningly sweet
It is to pure, the day has yet to be tainted
With unnatural urgency and false anxiety's.
They remain unaware of this bliss, sleeping
As I should be, awake with uncertainty's quiz
I bare witness to this blank page, untouched.
Waiting patiently for today's inscription.
Jul 22, 2011
Jul 22, 2011 at 9:07 PM UTC
Its so warm in this room
But why are my limbs trembling?
Tears are rolling down in this bright room
The hysteric's kick in and rushing
Searing pain in my chest
And gasping for air is getting difficult
Locking myself in this bathroom while i'm getting so stressed
Family is on the other end of the thin wall remembering my thoughts are not so innocent
It wells up in my head what everyone calls danger
Then there is no more reactions, completely disconnected
My body is now like a stranger
The worrying thoughts targeting my daily life as expected
Trying to keep the world out with music
With all the maddening loss
What is with this endless panic?
Its just another big anxiety attack I have to come across
Jan 23, 2014
Jan 23, 2014 at 9:17 PM UTC