"trolling" poems
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The Revolution is more than digital trolling,
It will be a Counter-Electronic-Magnetic-Pulse
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NM 10/17/15
Dec 28, 2018
Dec 28, 2018 at 3:17 PM UTC
Smokey the bear had fought lots of fires,
he was a good guy, didn't have any priors.
But after so many years committed to the job,
Smokey started to feel as if he would sob
every time he got a message calling him back to work,
to put out a fire started by some drunken ****
No matter how many fires Smokey put out,
it never seemed to gain him any social clout.
His so called “friends” never invited him to hang
though all Smokey wanted was to be one of the gang.
They would hold fancy dances and dress in their best,
but poor lonely Smokey was never a guest.
He rented a tux and showed it to one guy,
who immediately retorted with quite the rude reply!
“Are you kidding,” he said, “Smokey tuxes aren’t for bears,
besides, you’d have to return it all covered in hair!”
“No,” the guy said, “It’s best you stay home,”
“Besides, I know you don’t mind hanging out alone!”
But Smokey did mind, he minded a lot,
and later that night, he had a brilliant thought.
“I’ll go to that party and show them, they’ll see,
you can’t just leave out a fun bear like me.”
However, Smokey's idea did not go as planned,
his first mistake being that he arrived in a van.
A van that looked like something a molester would use
while trolling the streets for a child to choose.
Smokey’s second mistake was his puke yellow tux,
the one he had bought for only two bucks.
When he finally entered people gasped in surprise,
unable to believe the strange thing before their eyes.
There Smokey stood, all covered in yellow,
holding a cane and top hat he thought made him quite the “fancy fellow.”
After a moment of silence there was a loud roar,
as laughing people asked, “What look were you going for?”
Embarrassed, Smokey tried to claim the whole thing was a joke,
Stuttering, “C’mon you guys know I’m quite the funny bloke!”
Eyes brimming with tears Smokey decided to leave,
but this embarrassed bear had something up his sleeve.
“I hate them,” he thought, standing outside,
and decided to make sure none of them would have a ride.
So he slashed all their tires while giggling with glee,
Thinking, "Now they’ll feel bad for laughing at me!”
But this was not enough, Smokey wanted to do more,
so he grabbed a gas can and started to pour.
He saturated the grass, the trees and the flowers,
and then sparked a fire that would burn on for hours.
This was one fire Smokey would not put out,
he simply stood, and then laughed as he heard the first shout.
Nov 4, 2012
Nov 4, 2012 at 10:31 PM UTC
The first comment
I received
a **** you"
with a smiley face
I laughed off
wouldn't you?
Kind of crazy
kind of creepy
put it away as some one
we all know.
The second comment
came
with the usual language refrain
I was a "hack"
my words were "dreck".
The disparaging words about
my dead mother
gave me pause to reflect.
The third comment and more
began to recall
information of past
faux pas
secret affairs
one or two personal pecadillos
never mentioned beyond
the
dialogues in my mind.
Embarrassing I know.
I, of course,
went to the home page
to see
if it was someone
known to me.
No identifying data
but a picture I remembered vaguely
from a past I didn't know.
The trolling continued
relentless I would say
pulled the plug
put up a block
but
wouldn't you know
The comments continued
to come into my dreams
brutal criticism
of
every move I made
the day finally arrived
when I realized
Alter personalities were shedding off of me
like
psychological psoriasis
They were
hitting the ground running
I was
finding poems
I didn't remember writing
clothes I never bought
People kept hugging me
I had never met before
they
knew me far to well
called me many names
none of which were mine.
The silence of my nights were broken
when I found myself
in my car on Highway 101
returning from where I did not know
with a smile on my face
illegal drugs in my pocket.
How did I get here?
How did we get there?
Where are we now?
Another account opened
on Hello Poetry
with an anagram of my name.
I find my days
getting shorter and shorter
it became clear
I had become the dream
The others
had become me.
Aug 2, 2014
Aug 2, 2014 at 9:58 AM UTC
viral and trending
as fifteen minutes has become a lifetime
and 45 seconds is more what it looks like
to be internet famous –
fat cats and mall rats in Spanx
sippling frozen latte’s
with 8 shots of circle K crack
violently Instagram-ing every moment
constantly trolling for the one big hit –
social media ***** bored with “likes”
looking to blog the best tweets
and Facebook with the losers
of last year’s season of
Celebrity Chef –
Jun 18, 2015
Jun 18, 2015 at 2:31 PM UTC
I am a swordsman of the mind. My blade, Language, and logic.
It’s purity glints in the sun. It’s truth, a razor edge.
With a deft flick of my tongue, crimson lines appear, blood beads.
The cut is skilled, rends deep.
This is not trolling. This is sparta.
Jun 5, 2010
Jun 5, 2010 at 2:12 PM UTC
Shimmy wild
Shake down -
This is some
Railroading
Existential
Trolling
****
I’m plugging in-
A glaring glitch
In your singular
Reality.
You’re completely
Right
If you think I’m
Taking advantage of the fact
That you
Think
We’re all just
Programmed players
In your
Sacred
Existence.
My iridescent snicker
Isn’t what’s up for debate
Buddy -
I know there’s a coyote
Lurking about
Somewhere
And I’m gonna let that
Son of a *****
Chuckle & buckle
Up
Until I lose it
In the
Trippiest corners
Of your mind;
Whistling like
Whispers
Where words
Sound like
Wonders
Bathed in
Confusion
At its best.
I’m gonna make you
Wonder
If you’ve ever
Waken up
At all.
--
Gear hopping
Daily
From your
Native system
To
“What the hell’s
Even
Going on anymore?”
Don’t worry
Though
Darling.
I only switched
The blues
And the greens.
You’re only sleeping
If you believe
You are.
Nov 9, 2011
Nov 9, 2011 at 12:26 AM UTC
Honey meets tongue,
Leaves taste buds stung and mouth melting
violently versing vows, Spilling out
fermented
Thoughts caught aloud
Dribbling down toward where they ought not
Time stopped us In a clockmaker shop
Cooking empty pots of dead doves in forgot sauce
Some day in december's When
Plans were dismembered
For the scent of Butter bubbling curiosity
Found horse hungry, So, suddenly he broke free
Trampling Predictable logic.
chasing her tail to town
When, I, sir pain, thought id taught again, then again
the art of invading castles,
Without being found.
Trolling, rolling through The inner out of bounds
A shoeless, shoreless yet Very sure way To get around
None catching on of course Till swordsman number four
Split with silver This world on wheels we made
With a crash
left some
Birthday suit vision
Standing
stunned
stupid
Abashed with a gun to the mirror
Which crying, stammered:
If you let them dear,
Just let them,
They will Listen,
To your chime, chiming Bells inside,
Rhyming you dread hearing songs from"
Said defense:
"Who wants to play each blow to the heart
With lawless abandon to The head?"
"letting harsh light burn holes and leave marks wherever they feel"
Don't think so Solomon!"
Vision laughs,
reflection kneels,
Hands praying
And In the periphery, as a way to break scene here
we see the mailman Crying tears on a map
Who once watched little Ms steel-sturdy
put on her full act.
Wood chips flew thenmsky went black
Pupils dilate to her shell-shocked state Of Before,
before hell bent on Withholding,
before Taking hostage of clowns who are all tied up with
Lilith, the queen
The state that led our wayward siren to begin driving round
in Some man-made beast
She calls Ed.
Oct 6, 2013
Oct 6, 2013 at 7:22 AM UTC
is this craft
that chose you,
not defined by millimeters,
precision absolute,
curvatures, so eye pleasing
they demonstrate
no tolerance
for tolerance
of the
ordinary
the skill of words,
too, cut so fine,
find the
extraordinary within,
refine, refine, refine,
shave away the trite,
the reused, discard,
instant recognition,
unusable
cut new cuts,
thy spirit tolling,
thy soul trolling
anew
is thy
toolings earth sourced
from and of the
ever better,
ever closer,
always newer
make thy own designs,
faithfully execute
the new born original,
by elevating,
with the tools
in you, provide us,
by illuminating
no thing machined,
can ever be as fine
as the originality
that requires
soft spoken definition
in new ways,
heart and hand
guild crafted
when God designed the Connecticut
autumnal leaves,
overriding the summers's single green, good
but not miraculous, insufficient,
when contrasted with the
shades of red, yellow,
purple, black, orange, pink,
magenta, blue and brown
of newly fallen
words and worlds
in the season of change
write me a tool
so elegant, so complex,
so refined and yet so simple,
that its point will force no choice,
but engrave gasps of pleasure upon
my faltering eyes,
my slowing heart,
my exhausted limbs,
and make me
live again
through your
finest creativity
heat heat heat
burn to look beyond
Nov 23, 2014
Nov 23, 2014 at 9:38 AM UTC
i have been attacked
on another poetry site
because i found a
baby plagierist....
it is of no matter
really...
a storm in a teacup...
i only mention it here
because...
the logic of the this cyber ****
was so very ludicrious.
among the swearing
and none to inventive ways
i should go **** myself
was this little gem....
"and stop using a dictionary
to make yourself look smart"
now...i am honest in saying
none of the ranting had affected me up to this point....
but this...just left me...
.... rolfing.....
as poets....is not that part of
our credo...is the dictionary
not one of our basic tools.
anyway..just thought i would share this
as an example of the genius
minds that take up trolling.
Sep 12, 2014
Sep 12, 2014 at 5:25 AM UTC
In a busy town
In massachusetts
there is this college
BCC
At this cozy college
there are 8 buildings
But one has capture my heart completly
G BUILDING
Walk through the sliding glass doors
Around the corner
through the lunch room
To the Dinning hall
Noise assult my ears
Beeping video games
shouts of triumph
Kpop and metal music
Tables littered with playing cards
Yugioh
Pokemon
Magic
People as different as can be
From all corners of the social spectrum
Popular
and geeks
Join together in a crazy dance
A swirling brightly colored tango
Joined together
by mutal intrest
Riker, dear Riker
puple fadora ever present
My "Co-Pimp"
a founding father of the trolling company
Damien, Oh damien
Your strangness growing stranger
Your hair of deception
Another founding father
Jose, Dear Lord Jose
You're pervertenss proceeds you
Cat calling
Video gaming
Holly, sweet Holly
Looking innocent and sweet
Masking your wildness
underneath
Nathan, My Naten
My best friend through the ages
Opinions flying
Jungle juice by your side
Casey, My sweet sweet Casey
Ghost story devourer
Trusting you with my secrets
Everyone's little sister
John, John of the lake
Annoying as hell
but loveble all the same
only kind things to say
Josh, Or should I say Shoji
Big Brother
Laptop out
Video game in
Matt, My lovely Matt
This is where we met
Fate intervined
brought us together
This is where I belong
This island of misfits
This G building gang
This is my home.
May 8, 2014
May 8, 2014 at 1:11 PM UTC
While rolling, trolling, strolling
Found a round astounding gem
Pull one word like a cork in the gourd
Could not accept a poem worth a foam
I accept ten word poem structured in zen
Even I tried the challenge for a change
One word is so broad; meanings could not contain in a board
How would the giver deliver the message to receiver?
I got no humor and color for that poem
Sorry but this is only my opinion; Don't bring onions
Thank you for sharing and found something worth learning
Assonance is worth trying.
Jul 29, 2015
Jul 29, 2015 at 11:36 AM UTC
Therapy.
You've made me a walking travesty.
Always trying to trawl me treacherous.
My mind treadling to trench my trifling thoughts.
Only trickling off from the tip of my tongue,
As you're trolling my troublous trigger,
You're no friend to me.
You're only therapy.
Nov 18, 2014
Nov 18, 2014 at 2:27 AM UTC
*The most broken people live on earth.
Not even a good poet and wont pretend to be.
I fell asleep at my desk reading boring poems in school.
I failed the test on how many stanza in a poem.
Writing about broke people makes me feel good.
It's a long *** poem so read it or not read it. Word up!*
Call me white boy playing black hipster like the broken record Miley.
I can't type twerk on my keyboard but turning all ghetto on y'all.
Lady done done all she can to shock and mess with our minds.
What she gone do next, buy a house in a black hood and live there?
That's messed up and so I'm dumb and I love attention.
I live in a big town population less than sixteen thousand.
We listed on the map as a god ****** city. Word up!
I need to be a hipster and I'm going hood on y'all.
In my hood I see houses needing fixing and painting.
Got a friend who lives in a trailer park
metal piece that goes around the bottom of his trailer
fell off and his pipes froze during that weather deep freeze.
He's renting that trailer that should be condemned
like most trailers in that park but who the **** cares?
He's got a roof over his head and he should be grateful
he ain't homeless like the rest of the trailer park dwellers.
Landlords don't give a **** they care about collecting rent.
We got men and women living on internet trolling Craigslist.
Most trolling hoping to find dates are married.
Single men and women seeking sugar daddies and mommies.
They are broken people.
I walk down streets and our old and newer malls.
Same weird *** people shop at both.
I see women yelling at kids with ****** diapers that smell bad.
One used the back of her hand to wipe a snot nose
then went back to talking and texting.
Women with babies at home meeting men they met on personals.
Good place to hide when they married or got men.
Leave the babies at home with sitters or family and find new men.
Hanging out at malls is a fake.
"Meet me at my pickup in a half hour and don't wear ******
Read that message on a burner cell I found at the new mall.
It's a burner so it don't need to be returned.
Read the rest and she is married and has more than one lover
she met off personals.
Work it girl and keep the sugar daddies coming!
How many broken moms who should not be moms exist?
There are too many broken people who exist.
Jan 14, 2014
Jan 14, 2014 at 6:38 PM UTC
trolling through
midnight streets
braking to avert
inflicted pedestrians
crawling to and from
pedestrian afflictions
I hope become fares
I am the vehicle
to next destinations
the portage to
an evenings
ravenous
end
Music Selection:
Ides of March
Vehicle
10/15/14
Oakland
jbm
Oct 15, 2014
Oct 15, 2014 at 3:54 PM UTC
I'm not taking a side
I think you're all daft
With words that deride
Afore and aft
It doesn't have to be snide
Trolling can be quite a laugh
But it lacks imagination
And creates an irritation
When you're ******* at it and use it as an excuse to just be nasty to each other and then you don't step away, and just keep arguing and arguing and arguing like you're in nursery, and nobody gets a solution because the whole thing is pointless and irrelevant and based on opinions that don't matter of people you will probably never meet and it's just so ridiculous I can't even end this sentence because of how ridiculous it all is and its made me forget about punctuation and sentence structure and everything because I'm annoyed at having to read such pointless ******* and I'm tired because here in England it's after midnight and I'm laid here reading ******* rather than sleeping when I just want to read some poetry aaaaaarrrrrgggghhhh and all I know is to make this line rhyme I need to end it in ation!!!
A rhyme about other trolls
Troll troll
You've got a big head
And you're made of stone
And you aren't red
Troll troll
You're in a film called the hobbit
And you're made of stone
And you're not a rabbit
Troll troll
You could be a rabbit
One made of stone
You could be red
Made of red stone
But you lack imagination
Like an Internet troll
Because you're head is made of rocks
And you were made by some sort of evil wizard or something
So at least you've got an excuse
Unlike people
Who lack imagination when trying to be a troll
Because they lack even the imagination of a troll
Who is actually a troll
But came in 6 movies rather than sitting behind a computer screen blaming other people for their loneliness
I'm off to fester in my own self pity, silently waiting to have my troll poem trolled by trolls who aren't really trolls. I'll be back tomorrow for more fun and games.
That's all folks!!
Apr 14, 2016
Apr 14, 2016 at 7:46 PM UTC
Central park Nevuary. 3rd.
There's a noise like I never heard.
Humming and grunting.
Guess Ill go hunting.
trolling they call it.
Candy.apples are bait they tell me .
Lucky I'm stocked up with the caramel kind..
Why? Don't have a clue.
Creeping on my belly to the clearing ahead.
Therel"s a huge checkered table cloth . Checkered I said
Sir. Are there more white squares or more red type squares sir.
Trolls sit cross legged in front of a candy apple pile.
Stuffing their faces a minute a mile.
Trolls are a fiction or that is the tale.
These trolls wash down apples with hot ginger ale
I wish I would stop dreaming this dream.every time
I eat mango ice cream.
May 25, 2013
May 25, 2013 at 11:54 PM UTC
Trolling Amazon I found my inner Kurtz
Harrison foreswore my bear totem: darkness
Lady gal pal taught me soul-mating hurts
Martha Muffins vinyl v. Kirby’s Agatha Harkness
Saved my twins made them productive
Mutating FF X to Avengers indie 80s on me take
Man-starring all the boogie children say code this grandpa
Gaiman Miller Moore Morrison invade Waid
Wrightson Kaluta Jones Smith put bronze to paint
McKean Sienkiewicz Mack Maleev mimic The Studio
Now let’s gallery our portals strung from kid dimensions
Makers engaging history NOW NEW 52 intervals starstruck
Spread indie throughout known multiverse in craft crooks
While nursing nannies coddle light corners scuttling roaches
Bell & Schrödinger's cat transport trainspotting to a fine art
Oct 5, 2014
Oct 5, 2014 at 12:03 AM UTC
the trollometer
is a reliable
apparatus
how well it gauges
the trolling
status
of great accuracy
the needle it
employs
which locates
any untoward
ploys
trolls can pop up
wearing a plethora of
faces
theirs is the playing
of copious
aces
the trollometer
never gets its readings
wrong
the inventor's guarantee
is of a precise
prong
Feb 28, 2018
Feb 28, 2018 at 8:02 PM UTC
Shall I open volley,
spike with clenched hand?
Acquiesce to athleticism,
or drop return?
Is there a score?
numbers imply a plan,
encumbered; ******** clad...
jockstraps and leather,
tube socks and man.
****** courts,
exotic terminology,
words of reduction,
redacted, redacted, redacted!
under spells of seduction...
What more?
Who the **** cares.
Piles can be chucked,
and strip smiles, 1 grain at a time,
throw a bone, throw another,
you'll build your own monster.
What more?
redacted, redacted, redacted!
join me down below...
I'll give you history,
it will set everything aglow.
What more?
**** more.
Questions?
redacted; for your own security.
Not Goliath,
not even Iago... wait, that may be whom you cast!
Laughter man, so much laughter,
I grow darker;
a product of your mind; that's just a reminder.
Had I plotted, had I connived,
had I been...
trolling gutters,
sexing the populace,
setting parties to war?
You gave me the part,
and the act was in pantomime...
improbable for paralysis
severed spine,
redacted, redacted, redacted.
You set loose scenarios,
and now I willingly oblige...
I'll take my bow,
and cunning smile.
Sep 9, 2010
Sep 9, 2010 at 6:19 PM UTC
I saw Agnes outside Harrods
Looking tres chic, le chic
I say darling, what's happening, sweetie
where's your Wainpatrik from the sticks
our erudite writer who thinks aspic is pate
I gave that hick the 'go find your level'
Agnes replied with a smile
You know how it is with him and his drivel
that coarse, crude, pretentious oik without a shovel
He tries to be intelligent but his head is full of gravel
bathes once a fortnight and has a todger like a weasel
You can't beat good breeding, she continues
those reconstituted barrow-boys
with B-Tech English thinking they are now genuine
Lacks confidence, style, self assurance, wet as the Rhine
******* in the boudoir, sloppy kisser, todger like a string
Bully and a coward trolling on his stolen PC, has no spine
Hey, lets **** down round my pad, she purred
You may be out of shape at the moment
But who's cooler, more charismatic and interesting than vous
Do you know you're the best I have ever had and I mean it too
You're head and shoulders above Wainputrid and that's so true
The twerp is so envious of you, he and his barrow mates stew
Tales of your exploits and size just leaves them aghast and askew
Hahaha...haha..she laughs as she linked arms, a glint in her eyes!
Sep 1, 2018
Sep 1, 2018 at 1:59 PM UTC
sickened
by media lies
legislative disguise
rotting food
attracting flies
beguiled by trite examples
limited poling
and internet trolling
expressionless selfie
apathy as fashion
androgynous culture
manly men are maligned
while supermodels ******
minds
warped youths scramble
attempting to grasp
beauty
through surgery
and consumerism
their tiny orange bodies
reflect social illness
its glare blinding
bound to the taxation system
pre-social security number
these zombie babies
march to Red Bull
FOX news
and social media ************
fluoridated and infected
they reject ideas
not rooted in technology
…mock astrology
believe in genetically altering
living organisms biology
practice unlicensed psychology
and pharmacology
all the while supporting
underground government demonology
…….. my apology
lost in this madness
I feel trapped and isolated
and the irony hits
flattening my preconceptions
“As part of, I am responsible for…”
…..darkness and pain
crash on aging shoulders
realization
and defeat
Sep 16, 2014
Sep 16, 2014 at 1:02 PM UTC
this morning I awoke to find little lettered squares imprinted across the side of my face,
then didst I realize, that cyber space had finally done its number on me
slither slather blither blather slobbering cyber chopper
knee-jerk hackneyed pavlovian dog speak of impetuous heartlessness
stereotyping label blasting categorizing pigeon-holing generalizing
multi tasking bifurcating bloviating palaver, ever clingy maudlin inflamed impassioned souls
trolling the myriad disparate windows looking for some misbegotten stimulus
so invested in their hatred and fear that peace is the most threatening thing they can imagine ------ and me?
the sneering cynical maladroit among the masses of averageness and mediocrity...
Apr 27, 2013
Apr 27, 2013 at 9:34 PM UTC
saying **** off* seems so much more
easier when you're petting cats....
they just say it for you...
there he is, Quarus,
the operatic singer nearing sunset,
200 variations of a mulling of meow,
i end up calling him Orbison Rufus,
the ginger Roy of Peckham -
he basically meows lazily like Roy
singing... as said / i.d. (id est): the umbras
or umbrellas - counting the shadows'
version of Apache's yawn: ah-woo ah-woo
ah-woo nagging the reflex...
gave them the yawn and gave them 1950s
America... Billy the Kid talking to the king of
Specs... hank marvin.... cheese grater
with those teeth... dozen cows buckling with
the herding in while the dog carved a feel
for religion in the translation of the Vatican
from coliseum into football requirements...
the movies were great in the 1950s, just after
the technicolour... petting cats was never such a thrill...
the operatic meow, onomatopoeia from echo
in a cave to knock-on-wood...
200 variations of the knock
and 12 whiskey shots downed
while playing poker... 12 cowboys
1 Milwaukee and 30 Turks... classic Tarantino...
i said the Apache yawn... i never said giving
out smoke signals...
Quarus my ginger is demanded as having laughed...
he's Roy Orbison with the meow,
pretty much lazy...
looks like a murmur when he tries singing,
pretty woman, trolling down the street,
Gucci, Chanel, and everything in the scrapheap of lobotomy,
as is Paris necessarily mentioned: chiselled
white collars... Roy knew before Elvis...
the trick came with sunglasses,
and the gluttonous slur of the half-opened mouthing
for subsequent mouthing it off...
no amount of cheese in French could ever
charter the success of the cheeses added to cheeseburgers
with the milkshakes, which were plainly Dutch
laughing cows named Novices....
quick-melts and some said:
dreadlocks of string-yellow Gouda pulled
for a hippies' worth of Chinese chugging down
a pint or two, for worth of gag and the slim mascot;
the Chinese never taught Cannes arithmetic
of the thumb through to pinky...
i don't know how they taught counting
with their complex ideograms, they never taught
arithmetic give their encoding...
they taught pure math.. they never taught the simplest
of assurances... meaning so few of them became bankers.
Aug 15, 2016
Aug 15, 2016 at 11:21 PM UTC
Bruised and battered egos:
Retaliations –
Flaming tornadoes spiral up to stormy skies.
Mixed metaphors of caviar and custard
Maelstrom mightily around the mountains of Hell.
Trolling is appalling
And flaming burns.
Let go of that ego
Is my advice.
Be humble from the start.
No-one is great enough
To be beyond reproach
Or criticism.
Who cares how good or otherwise I am?
Who cares what anyone says
About my work?
I am what I am,
End of story.
To Describe what I am is fine:
See those metres, verses, rhymes
And metaphors.
Dismantle me if you wish,
But (please) put me back together.
No-one should stand in judgement,
Except maybe God,
With His bright wide wings.
So stop the abuse,
And sourceless insults.
Cease the condemnation,
Or stand to be IGNORED.
Paul Butters
Aug 1, 2016
Aug 1, 2016 at 6:44 AM UTC