"troublemakers" poems
You don’t have to wave your country’s flag;
Nor do you have to boast and brag
That yours is the best country on earth—
Whether or not it’s the land of your birth—
To be a patriot.
There’s no need to brandish your weapons to show
That you have your rights that you’ll never forgo;
Nor do you have to copy the ones
Who feel the need for an arsenal of guns
To be a patriot.
You don’t have to heed everything you are told,
Fear seeking truths that your leaders withhold,
Or forget that in your laws there’s a reason
That public dissent’s not the same thing as treason
To be a patriot.
You don’t have to feel that the government is right
To force young men and women to fight
In wars that profit the War Machine--
And which you in your heart know are obscene--
To be a patriot.
There’s no need to always bewail and prate
On the separation of church and state
Or let the troublemakers upset you
By saying the government’s out to get you
To prove you’re a patriot.
But caring about the poor and the needy;
Wanting to have, without being greedy;
Feeling concern for the rights of ALL;
And helping others up when they fall:
That's being a patriot!
- by Bob B
Oct 4, 2016
Oct 4, 2016 at 3:19 PM UTC
Bonnie squeals as the cart soars past various boxes of cereals and granola bars. She glances at her brother, Clyde, expecting him to share her fright, but is bewildered to see that he is thrashing about in a fit of giggles, enjoying the thrill of the ride. Knuckles white as snow, Bonnie's frail little fingers grasp the side of the red cart with all of their might as her eyes clamp shut. Her heart beats faster than the speed of light, and she questions her motives for agreeing to Clyde's devilish ways.
She reminisces on their earlier arrival at the Local Target. They had come with their mother, planning to do a little grocery shopping and then be on their way. Of course, Clyde had schemed up a way to stray from his mother's side unnoticed. Bonnie still can't fathom how he managed to drag her down with him.
Cautiously, wind whipping through her hair, Bonnie peaks one eye open and instantly regrets it. She let's out an ear - piercing howl as the cart thrusts into a mountain of PopTart boxes large enough to be deemed the Empire State Building's father. She crawls out of the heap only to be met by an eruption of heartfelt laughter spewing from her brother's mocking lips. "You should have seen your face!" Clyde teases as Bonnie sends daggers through his skull.
The two troublemakers step out of the cart and attempt to retrace the way back to their mother. Devastated, they come to the conclusion that the aisles now resemble a maze. As they confidently take on this new challenge and make their way through the unknown, their spirits quickly take a downward spiral upon realizing that they have ended up back where they began. Tired and desperately longing to go home, the two siblings reach a clearing past the aisles and are overjoyed to spy their mother waiting patiently in line at a register with a new cart in hand.
Bonnie and Clyde casually lazy on over to their mother's side and make light conversation as if they had never left.
Jun 15, 2015
Jun 15, 2015 at 3:34 PM UTC
Okay, it's time to sail.
So what's stopping you?
Now, if you a minority?
You have heard this from them.
Why?
Don't you go back from where you come from?
And if black you have heard this the most, why don't you go back to Africa?
Now, wait?
The boat is waiting for all these whites hatreds folks to sail.
England, Scotland, Ireland strange all three end with the word "land".
So what stopping you?
You upset.
You enraged.
You mad for what?
Cause you can't control the directive of a changing society.
Strangest thing, many never visit England sent the troublemakers from their country to the new land to become America.
So the boat is waiting
Your choice to depart.
We have planes to get you to any country outside of America.
And I forgot there is Germany.
Then don't live in Oz.
Many of you might not be accepted back.
Sep 11, 2018
Sep 11, 2018 at 9:50 AM UTC
People always clap for the wrong reasons,
And the best at ****** are those who preach against it.
Evil is not intrinsic. It’s fashioned.
I believe in ghosts, but we create them. We haunt ourselves.
There’s a bluebird in my heart that wants to get out.
I talk to God but the sky is empty;
This love is silent.
It’s exponentially bigger than you think;
It’s what you feel, but can’t articulate out loud.
Who in the world am I? Ah, that’s the great puzzle.
And neither the angels in the heaven above nor the demons down under the sea
Or the ghosts inside of me
Ever told me that grief felt so like fear.
It’s easier to floss with barbed wire than
Admit that we love evil too well to give it up.
Youth is a blunder, old age a regret;
But you cannot find peace by avoiding life.
Humankind cannot bear very much reality.
To struggle against this stupidity,
I opened myself to the gentle indifference of the world.
The troublemakers are just a handful,
And if our times are difficult and perplexing,
We become what we think.
The earth has music for those who listen;
There are times when the wolves are silent and the moon is howling.
Nature is a haunted house—but Art—
Is not a thing, it is a way;
A parasitic on life.
It is easy to fool the eye,
But art is the lie that enables us to realize the truth.
We are killing a part of our souls
Every whisper of every waking hour,
And none of it seems real to me,
But everyone’s to blame.
Nov 10, 2013
Nov 10, 2013 at 9:33 PM UTC
Every night it's the same dream
Of me leaving this hemisphere
But the sky is the limit
And we're stuck underneath it
See what you wanna see
You should see it all
Space is a perfect place for us all
Earth is nice
It contains billions of mice
But the universe won't dissolve.
The apocalypse is finished
If the earth should die, the universe wouldn't notice
So here's my notice
Live fast while you can
Nine times out of ten
You'll enjoy life better
And to my lover
Everybody's been in zombie slumber.
Jan 26, 2013
Jan 26, 2013 at 11:29 AM UTC
I. Loathing
i would’ve torn you
a few new
if you knew
what i’d seen,
with eyes sewn
when i was shown
too soon.
II. Contrivance
The substance i walked through,
in dream this morning,
was most magnificent in composure:
crunching under one’s foot
like snow, or like sand,
but not cold to the touch,
nor did it stick when wet,
&& although the white tiny particles
poured out of the mountain,
on the side of it we walked,
holding your little hand.
I knew down the stretch was a beautiful beach,
where this substance,
met a glistening body of water.
Your animal was loving, just as you,
&& although your name surprised me,
i was in love to hear it nonetheless.
Your father had not yet arrived,
&& in your absence,
i left a tiny piece of my heart,
in your notebook.
The sign on the bus said “Omaha”,
and it seemed so familiar,
but my memoryscreamed
somewhere like Mqt, Ca.,
&& although i didn't acquaint with the other troublemakers
on the back of the bus, as i waited, i watched.
You came up to me, and our embrace
was so warm, your tiny ribs against mine,
beautiful brown hair in my face.
How strange it was, in this sun bathed dream,
when you should tell me your name,
i should not understand it at first,
&& asking again, focusing within your fortunate eyes,
you told me exactly what i should need to hear.
&& ponder i did, although
not without first telling you how lovely it was.
III. Realization
It seems you and i
have both fallen short
of our prospective places
in Babylon.
For i have not grown
into the man
you once dreamt
i should be,
and you are no longer
the lovely girl
i once thought
i would marry.
You and i are free to be
what we are; without
persecution or judgement
from one another,
but we both must understand
the waves we created
when our dreams and realities
did not actually coincide,
&& perhaps the dreams
that i have had, and still am having
are just ripples
from a past that didn’t happen.
IV. Peroration
You're no longer the dreamer
i fell in love with,
&& i am no longer the dream
you thought you once loved,
but please may we
free our hearts and release
all the contempt
we hold one another in?
It’s not your fault
you were everything i wanted,
and it wasn’t enough
to quell my soul.
please know though,
we need not hold knots,
and let our cold spots,
and ill thoughts rot; within.
it’s not my fault
you dreamt me so;
with weight unfelt in this world,
but i am only a feather.
We are free to be
if we only freed ourselves to be,
We are no different
if only we freed ourselves to be.
Jan 1, 2014
Jan 1, 2014 at 12:11 PM UTC
***** girls, with tight short skirts,
sand in the eyes—the colour of dirt; employed
by the moon, and doing the night work.
Quivering in the cold, like skeletons out of their
closet—to act as if you don't know their prices.
But it's quite obvious!
The alleyways smell of **** the club scene of
turning a blind eye to your number of drinks.
Charismatic ill gentleman, with their casual winks;
its the end of the week. As the troublemakers parading
the street.
The performance of the local band, guitar, drums,
keyboard, bass, and of course a mic at hand.
A breathalyzer for an asthma attack, to break the pressure
in awkward conversations with the rude jokes to crack.
Lap dances in the centre room; a long key looking for the
right lock. The goal of every man to score by their crotch.
Lest he has the *****
Perfumed necks, and high cleavage vests, to show off
some perky ******* Tightly tuned hair—linear
of a piece of linen wrapped in good and neat care.
There's barely enough chairs; so sip a little while
looking around for a seat. And don't be too shy to move
your feet. But watch your step, least not to bump into a stranger,
and disturbing the chaotic night's peace.
Taste a little bit of love; in their cup under the
lasting lust of every fallen star. Take some company
back home, stuffed in a six sitter car.
As we watched a day end—watching another rise by
the time of that great Morningstar. To describe a night
they hope never ends. So by the next week, we'll be doing
it all again.
Sep 17, 2022
Sep 17, 2022 at 3:29 PM UTC
Bullying seems to only be accepted
When performed by government officials
Terrorism is viewed as legal
As long as it is carried out with a badge
Since when did it become okay
To label innocence extreme?
Peacemakers "troublemakers"?
I'll tell you,
When peacemaking interferes with power
When war is the goal
When scheming for personal gain & greed rules
Bullies are leaders
World rulers who take dignity away
Downtrod good people
Put love to shame
They think they are the end of the line
They title themselves almighty
Little do they know the consequence
Their hands are bloodstained guilty
Minds bloodthirsty
Hearts black as coal
The vengeance of Jehovah
Comes upon them in an instant
It is then, they will know.
Mar 29, 2017
Mar 29, 2017 at 10:44 AM UTC
What child doesn't try to make mama proud?
What child doesn't?
What child doesn't try to make mama smile?
What child doesn't?
Many live to please them.
And impress them.
While understanding love is more important to them.
To make mama proud.
Simply means doing your best.
Making that effort to ace that test.
Making that decision to follow the rules.
Remember, she once has done the same things too.
What mama isn't proud of their child?
What mama isn't?
With that gleam of excitement in her eyes.
That reflect back to you in her smile.
What child doesn't try to make mama proud?
Maybe those that didn't obey.
Always trying to manipulate to get their way.
Those troublemakers that neighbors request to stay away.
Mothers live to see their child doing that best.
So, what child doesn't try to make mama smile?
Whether she's sick.
Whether she's healthy.
What child doesn't try to make mama smile?
Find a happy child.
Find a happy mother with a smile.
All because she's proud of her child.
Mar 30, 2014
Mar 30, 2014 at 9:44 PM UTC
The difference is me
I am forever
I am never
I am a paradox
I am infinite
I am not
I am
Thus you can't
Thus you won't
Thus you will
Thus you aren't
AND I AM KING HERE
AND SHE WILL NEVER BE MY (queen)
Sour-sided-denotation
Keep quiet and maybe I'll let you go
Scratchin' till' ya' BLEED
Salmon tasted like lips of Lucifer
Lucifer growl
Show yer' teeth
Let em' know
My name is yours
Your name is mine
Universal federation of lack-luster-star-clusters
FREAK
I AM A FREAK
All of you freaks, geeks, fuck-ups, n', poets
All of you nasty-anti-good-doin'-thieves, n, troublemakers
All of you down-to-earth-yet-out- of-this-world-semi-psuedo-sacrilegious-punks
I call to you to know me
Dec 2, 2013
Dec 2, 2013 at 1:07 PM UTC
people who feel like to extend their pinky fingers
when the others have been recently offered
in assistance to greedy children, antagonistic husbands,
selfish friends.
they would never see people that way though
because if they did, and on the few days that they do,
when humanity is tire slashing puppy decapitation,
the people who feel crumble into a *** of sappy person,
resorting to gulping sobs and furious scribbles in
a journal no one will read.
people who feel like to assume they are alone,
that if God wanted to, they might all have been
rounded up, dumped on an island, and left
to offer conciliatory remarks, hugs, and shared
assumptions of responsibility and ethical treatment.
people who feel like to believe people are good,
as good as cotton wrapped tightly
around a small, slender, white stick:
dutiful, essential, uniquely purposeful.
but those people who feel woefully forget
the Ones who Feel
and feel to such a degree
that they create destructions and downfalls,
messily, angrily
like a toddler desperately trying
to make the blue crayon look black.
they are dangerous.
powerfully effective at harnessing the attention
of those who digest and regurgitate what
Society has in mind about the condition of people,
that there are troublemakers and peacemakers,
but the bad apples are more capable of wiping out
the apples who never had a chance,
and merely were in line of fire because they were
apples of the same kind at the same place
with the same name.
people, plain regular people, like to remember this
silly notion from childhood,
the devil and the angel entertaining either shoulder
of people, all, everyone people.
but what I think, me, who feels and feels and feels
until the feeling goes far away
until I beg for it to return,
everyone feels. some listen too keenly. some explode. some are deaf.
others mute.
Nov 9, 2014
Nov 9, 2014 at 5:16 PM UTC
It's really hard to open up
Share the most personal thing going on
Then to find the one to trust
Others will use it against me
Try to make me look weak
Try to dominate me
And think they're so much above me
They can't see themselves
They're not aware
They don't know what makes them tick
They don't even care
They're out there to get theirs
And they'll stomp on people's toes
To let them know to get out of their way
Is that how I should be, an *******
Is that how I should act, with no consideration?
My mom taught me from right and wrong
And church set me on a good direction
Now I'm not religious by no means
And can't tell you how things work
But I'm not a ******** by no means
I can act like a ****
I can act like an *******
Everyone has that temptation
I try to think good thoughts about people
But most of the time I have lost faith in humanity
I haven't lost faith in the Universe
But when it comes to the behaviors of others
I'm kind of lost for words
I can't be too hard on others
Because I have acted out in one time or another
And I'm still learning how to tame my ego
But when people just don't care about someone else
And doing all their power to make trouble
That's where I lose faith
Isn't there any hope in humanity
Or are we just ****** up individuals trying to make a name?
A good reputation is good
And a bad one is good
Just depending on how the person views it
It's still attention
And I feel that's all people care about
They want that attention
It should be on them
Good or bad
It's still attention
I know I was that way at a time
It's called being a child
So all the ones that are troublemakers
Go **** yourselves
You're nothing to me
Just a **** in the wind
We're all going to return to dust
Skeletons buried in the ground
Or taken to the fire
Either way
What should it matter?
Go **** yourselves
All the attention seekers
Grow the **** up
And leave me out of the drama
Feb 2, 2017
Feb 2, 2017 at 10:52 AM UTC
Perchance it loves me too?
<>
Vicki and patty m.
<>
no one loves the same,
the moon, or me,
or you two too,
exactly exact,
or, especially
each other
every stream of light refracts differentiation,
rays scattered and triggering you-know-what
it is never by
perchance,
always by
first glance
rays that are moon ordained,
plotting paths on the river and bay
that check my souls consternation
asking me nightly,
come walk on water,
come to visit me,
when I am a verdant blue
once upon a time,
the moon would come to me
by early afternoon, so had a
doubleheader of celestial admirable
moon,
for its plotting morning carryovers
going all the way occasionally
to afternoon sunlight,
as if it is like love
that passes
through a checkpoint,
saying, see!
a safe transition
to the east/west passageway
of your humanity heavenly inclusive
I’ve loved creatures,
human and even better than them,
feminine and masculine,
never made any difference,
for it was never a competition
my whole soul went wet,
Olson,
from then till now,
when the love word escaped
my lips, troublemakers, happily,
the misery it provided was ecstasy,
made the poem solutions even better
but by now, august August,
woe within me, strong the sadness,
the end of summer chilling forces,
makes sure the dividing line
is redrawn and love and moonlight,
once inseparable,
are again fully distinct and
perchance,
come September
hopefully I’l forget and I won’t remember
all the rest,
just the best of the best of
you two poets scheming,
how to enlighten the world
with blue moon words
2:16pm,Sunday August 25
2019
Aug 25, 2019
Aug 25, 2019 at 2:29 PM UTC
The exotic beauties of schools are also grouped into selfish, small-style sects! How many have already called themselves ********** Virgins?! He coded helplessly on creeping street corners while longing for true Immortality! Léah taverna-pimps gather Judas swags, which are easily obtained with insidious intent; who will drive the industry to nausea sooner or later, and it will be too late for those who can be saved! You can get a slap in the face for a cheap overnight swing! The usury ushers, small-style house angels, preach with responding lap-jaws! "Even a calculated crazy crouching Shadows turn into a camphor with dreams of whistling!"
The non-Golden Medium carries the shadow of swaying hangovers the next day! Light on the powdered faces of deaf people closes and the botox collagen starts to spawn; it can be lean consolation just for the risks of survival at all times! Hordes of men, with overbearing arrogance, scatter insidious handshakes, cheap promises, and when the age of proof comes back, they step down! Even today, disaster-prone melodies make us ********** dances, and it is not certain that the life-giving Light can still cling to the depths of darkened algae!
Great mouth heroes, diligent throwers can only scrape out the orphaned chestnuts for this present-day Present! The crimes of leisure pumpkins are swept under the rug with a calm heart! "Unruly, otherworldly brain evenings split into shards, and among the millions of small glass pots, gurgulans are the many pieces of the throbbing True Pearl!" Vigilant squatting dogs in the barn of vigilantly guarded alleys roar; themselves themselves can scarcely know who can be friends and enemies? Some troublemakers have retired already, and now it would be so good for a prophetic eccentric to be able to lead the way for sure
Apr 8, 2021
Apr 8, 2021 at 2:01 AM UTC
He was a boxer
Picked up the craft at six
and never put it
down
Unfortunately though
being a good boxer doesn’t
earn you a good job
in today’s society. Best he
could do was bouncer
at a local bar
His IQ wasn’t much help either
He beat up quite a number of
troublemakers
and earned a reputation
became a local celebrity
The women desired him
and got him
and life was good until the one
invincible opponent stepped
into the ring
Well, there are many invincible
opponents in a man’s life
but his was prostate cancer
All the women who wanted to
take pictures with him
and have his autograph on their
chests and wanted to take
him home meant nothing now
One of them was a rich
older lady who
gifted him a car after he served
her a few times in the bedroom
He used it to
drive at full speed into
a pole
And as it happens after someone
dies, the people had only
good words to say
about him
They thought he didn’t leave
much behind
but one of the girls he’d been
with knew better
She rubbed her swollen
belly as she
thought of him. It’ll be fine
as long as her husband wouldn’t
suspect anything
Dec 20, 2020
Dec 20, 2020 at 6:28 AM UTC
One estate at Purfleet for sale
Enquiries to be made by mail.
One male occupant of late
Sense of style, out of date.
Place in need of modernisation
Windows broken, condensation.
Estate contains some twenty acres
Recent reports of troublemakers.
The grounds contain a chapel or church
Surrounded by ash, oak and birch.
Perimeters are newly gated
Grounds inside are consecrated.
Feb 6, 2016
Feb 6, 2016 at 4:13 PM UTC
The first time you saw me
you were staring at me
face blank with a big question
Where are you from?
Thailand
Japan
South Korea
Singapore
Vietnam
China, I am from China.
I didn’t wait for you to get stuck
in an endless abyss of map search
Ah, China!
Then you are suddenly reminded
of an obselete word active in nowhere except your kitchen
(and perhaps your GI tract)
Painfully welcoming
as you take a closer look at me now
I felt like a ******* ******
mind frozen against your fierce gaze
Though all you did was to
shake my hand gently and briefly
like you were just acquainted with me
A slight trace of uncertainty flashed across your face
as your eyes rested upon mine
with a voice saying “Nice to meet you.”
The second time we met
you were smiling at me
fighting the best you can
to refresh memories about me
Which part of China?
Echoes of media reveberate beneath the screen
So you’ve heard of the stories
The rich east booming with red captitalism
and the impoverished west ocassionally annoyed
by separatist troublemakers
But I am from the part of China
with a past too glorious to be ignored
yet a present too obscure to be proud
One second of repositioning later
I heard myself saying
I am from the city of ancient China
Then you were struck by thoughtful silence
That was made of artificial admiration
and numb alienation
a secret nowhere to hide
And I smiled back with real pains
Jul 22, 2014
Jul 22, 2014 at 10:55 AM UTC
Right from the moment
Did I clap my eyes upon you
In the movie "Jagame Thanthiram"
Felt, did I
That, was there something special about you
Lies in you, a burning intensity
Which can reduce your enemies to dust
With the same frightening ease
Did the West Indies dominate cricket
Many a decade ago
Not a big role did you play in "PS1"
Or for that matter, "PS2"
However, come when your scenes did
So enraptured were we
Unable, were we
To take our eyes off you
Never had anyone played the role of "Poonguzhali"
With such simple elegance
Combined with wit and humour
Of the highest order
However, "Gatta Kusthi" was it
Where came you, into your own
Transitioning from a fiery wrestler
Into a traditional housewife
And back
With remarkable ease
The scene where you single-handedly took on those armed goons
And beat them to a pulp
As though it were child's play
Will remain etched in my mind forever
Seriously did I think
Hath arrived, a new superstar
Truly versatile, art thou
Thus did "Archana 31 Not out" prove
Where played you, the role of a teacher
Struggling to discipline a class full of troublemakers
And at the same time, facing a future full of uncertainties
Due to ongoing layoffs
Not to mention, facing rejection after rejection
When it cometh to marriage proposals
Quite the emotional rollercoaster did it turn out to be
And truly did you own the character
Rooting for "Archana", was I throughout
And when came the ******
Truly inspirational, was your speech
Showed us all, did you
The importance of taking our life in our own hands
Blessed with beauty, art thou
However, it stops not there
An exceptionally skilled actress are you
And a humble and down-to-earth person
Who, nevertheless, is afraid not
To speak her mind, no matter what
May you continue rocking and inspiring young artists
And shall the Lord bless you
With all the love, happiness, peace and prosperity in the world
Amen!
Nov 16, 2023
Nov 16, 2023 at 4:37 AM UTC
and I don't want to be a troublemaker but I'm a human
ain't I, and ain't I allowed to feel something and occasionally
shake the world from its roots- say, we are made in the image
of the guy that created hurricanes and volcanoes, right?
ain't I allowed to blow around and explode? ain't I allowed
to quake, and create, and sacrifice myself? And if we all
made in his image like they tell us, ain't those dramatists
and scholars and kings have the same spirit in them
as I got in me? ain't I allowed to feel the fire of martyrs
and talk like an orator and give myself like Christ?
ain't I allowed to start a little trouble?
Everybody else did.
Jan 21, 2016
Jan 21, 2016 at 11:07 PM UTC
“Here's to the crazy ones. The misfits. The rebels. The troublemakers. The round pegs in the square holes. The ones who see things differently. They're not fond of rules. And they have no respect for the status quo. You can quote them, disagree with them, glorify or vilify them. About the only thing you can't do is ignore them. Because they change things. They push the human race forward. And while some may see them as the crazy ones, we see genius. Because the people who are crazy enough to think they can change the world, are the ones who do.”
― Rob Siltanen
Apr 23, 2019
Apr 23, 2019 at 5:46 PM UTC
This world is not kind by no means
It is full of stupid people
Everywhere I go I seem like I
Have to bend over and take it up
The ******* ***
Boy I must like to get ****** that way
People are not nice not kind
They are all full of ****
I feel like I'm surrounded by idiots
But I guess that's the way it goes
I try to be kind but people think
That's just a way to weakness
Where I'm at, you have to play the badass
And that's seems like the story of my life
I don't want no ******* pity nor feelings is sorrow
I just would like to know why the universe
Seems like it's not aligned with me
That it wants me to experience these things
Well, I don't want to
I want peace of mind
But karma wants to **** with me
Well, **** karma!
I'm tired of dooshbags that want to **** with me
Is that all the world is made up of- troublemakers
Well **** that!
I'm on the verge of going beserk
And take all these ************* out of here
I feel a lot of people don't even need to be breathing
I feel the world would be a better place if they were dead
Thank the Heavenly Stars I'm not God
There would be a select few
Feb 11, 2017
Feb 11, 2017 at 7:38 PM UTC
How do you grieve for the living?
Knowing that they live under the same sky?
See both the sun and stars shine?
Looks at the world differently than you do.
How do you grieve for those that have lost their way?
The ones that never wanted to stay?
Those that made homes out of your souls?
Those who slipped and fell?
The ones with their wings clipped?
There's an ache in your heart that makes it hollow.
Where that person used to be.
You walk the hallways of the house,
Reliving every memory.
Every hazy daydream.
Every Late-night conversation.
Every fight and fallout.
How do you continue on?
When pieces of themselves are scattered.
On the floor like a jigsaw puzzle.
Only you can't put the pieces back together again.
Each piece is a reminder of the way you laughed.
Each piece is a day you hold on to.
Each piece was a thought they had once.
Each piece is now a little bent and broken too.
How do you undo this kind of damage?
When it was never yours to fix in the first place.
How do you grieve for the living?
As their name gets stuck in your throat.
As you think you see them in strangers on street corners.
Capture a whiff of their scent.
The colour of their hair.
An outfit they would have picked.
Everybody talks about the dead with such respect.
What about those that have slipped through the cracks?
Became somebody nobody no longer wants to know.
With nobody to be there when they cried.
What happens to these lost souls?
Misfits?
Troublemakers?
Escape Artists?
Criminals?
All are just labels.
As you try to tear them off.
Showing society who they once were,
Nobody cares.
Nobody listens.
Nobody wants to know.
Nobody but you.
Can see their potential.
How do you continue living?
When you're not grieving for the dead?
But somebody else instead?
All alone.
Breathless and confused.
Looking at a photograph.
Of a person you once knew.
Jan 15, 2025
Jan 15, 2025 at 8:38 AM UTC
twenty years
since the days of maroon
jumpers tucked in
black shoes
golden time
and a thin blonde fringe
I look into the still
second circa 1998
faces of future
troublemakers
a lesbian
an ex of a friend
words non-existent
that would become
existent
like flowers
bursting
into the millennium
and long ago
split
marbles that roll
in different directions
same names
another age
century before
a time not sure
ever lived
Jan 31, 2018
Jan 31, 2018 at 4:24 PM UTC
He, might not Tempt you to accuse him.
But I do.
I'm that force forever tempting you.
Remember this world is mine.
He just created it.
I try to pull you away.
Yes, to make you stray.
And in truth with a majority of you.
I do get my way.
Every day some soul is tricked to come my way.
Embezzlers , manipulators, cheaters, liars and those not in the know.
I been attracting many and getting plenty into my mist.
Remember, at one time I was the prefer Prince.
Satan, Lucifer, Devil, yes they all are my name to some.
Except, I'm the one you blame when you're seeking total fun.
Yes, I am the one.
Except, blame yourself.
I just offer you a challenge and you bite.
Don't many troublemakers move at night.
This is my job to steal, **** and destroy
Aug 13, 2016
Aug 13, 2016 at 8:26 AM UTC
A silence, saliently insisting on its one day of reign,
Reminding you to reflect before you act,
To think beyond what you could gain.
We look back at our ancestors,
Recalcitrant in the face of the British, the French;
We praise their heroics, remember them in feasts,
Yet still, we are divided, brawling like beasts.
Against the oppressor, we stood united;
A colonised nation, struggling for identity.
Master-less we finally became, celebrating independence;
Yet now, we have subverted to sadist deference.
Men in sharp suits and their slimy, convincing faces;
They like to think they hold all the aces,
That they can and will divide and conquer all of the planet’s open spaces.
They tell us what to think, what to feel, what to do, what to vote,
They’ll tell you when to swim or when to sink,
When to squeal and how to heal,
What is true when you don’t have a clue,
And what to quote when you want to sound profound.
They are snivelling, Rolex-wielding, aftershave-wearing ******** with an arrogant bearing,
And they have no issues with asking you about why the **** you’re glaring.
So, I suppose, today there's not much choice;
There is a snarling wolf on one hand,
And an angry bear on the other.
When your choice is that bad,
Why should you even bother?
'By any means necessary', Malcolm X would say.
There seems to be no solution,
Excepting a call for armed revolution.
Anarchists and troublemakers, unite;
Time to take down the state,
Like cutting the line to a kite.
Feb 18, 2019
Feb 18, 2019 at 5:00 AM UTC