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chelsey vaudin Sep 2013
Fashion to nerd are not twerps
matching oufits make you chirp
mix n match is my motto
never look like a scruffy otter
have the right clothes for working
add a sprinkle of derpiness
and your hair must go
make sure your not slow
TR3F1LD Feb 2024
I write sometimes li̲ke I'm out for
blood (I kind of have been & am)
like vampires; tha[ɑ]t's for
all the injustice & violence absorbed
[video games, films, (& later) rap & politics-related stuff]
from this unjust & f#cked world
you may think I'm a kettle boiling, 'cause
writing rhymed texts & going hos—
—tile in 'em is a way to blow steam off
besI̲des that, I'm bored
like a plank that I̲ would, o[ʌ]f course
["board"]
not mind watching a ****** dumb war—
—mongering, power-drunk ****
walk off into the waters galore of hungry cro[ɑ]cs or
sharks, though I̲ would o[ɑ]pt for something much worse
if punishing power-corrupted schmucks were
up to mO̲I̲ with my warped
mind; like a drama queen, or a jihadi fiend
at a public spot with **̲[ɑ]stile in—
—tentions & a bomb, or a gun on him
I'd make such a scene
["sin"]
one tor—mentors would love to observe
one worth grabbing some ****** po[ɑ]pcorn
[like the one portrayed in "punishment of an autocrat"]
****** alert; the cynical fiend
inside wants to join this lyrical binge
give 'em *******, dude
————————————————————————————————
listen U̲p, you da[ɛ]mn fool
this message is also for the trap rap playschool
that you pU̲nk pertain to
consider yourself LIA 'cA̲U̲se you're plain doomed
[lost in action]
like an aircrA̲ft which is about
to crA̲sh into the ground (plane, doomed)
call thI̲s sh#t maltreatment
but don't get the joke twisted
saying that, like a wicked professor prone
to acquitting indecent, bold, I'ma teach you a lesson, ***
I don't mean you'll be a victim of *** assau[ɔ]lt
or something
["molltreatment"]
a lesson 'cause in this lyric-writing game, you
are as qualified as lame stewds
[stu(ew)dents]
you better find some da[ɛ]mn tools
'cause the screws of mine are cray loose
just like Deadpool's; memorize this name to
call me by: Slay Illsome
[Deadpool's real name is Wade Wilson]
you're like pup: so ****** tame you
should be called Lame Chillsome
["po[ɑ]p", in the sense of "pop music"]
so inept that holding somebO̲[ɑ]dy's dra[ɛ]nk, you'd
prob'ly wind up with the dra[ɛ]nk spilled, chump
I'm an instiller of awe & distaste
a thrill killer, nuts, A̲lthough well-trained
and I really like to slay noobs
I'll be enjoying some thrilling, high-octane tunes
while you'll be stricken by the grave blues
'cause I'll have you feeling such a pain you
are gon' wish it were Max 'stead of me & start to pray to
["Payne"; Max Payne, who mostly just guns down his targets]
me to put you down like I̲'m the type slinging
off at others; I'll I̲ce you by swinging
my ****** blade through
your neck like a batter, whereA̲fter I[ɑ]'ll pick
up your nut & make use
of it as a **** bA̲sketball, *****
I'll chop you in parts, then bo[ɑ]x 'em, like a way to
verbally tag an attrA̲ctive gal with
a set of plumply shaped *****
["buxom"]
I'll have the box wrapped a la gifts
and then get the remainders of you sE̲nt ta
a replantation-focused center
(so much for something with the littlest of spite...)
————————————————————————————————
like a substance a[ɑ]ddict
tryna quit but quickly sliding ba[ɑ]ckwards
one verse & I'm back to mY̲ bad ha[ɑ]bits
[the prelude]
of writing; like someone you wa[ɑ]nt, this art form
is something I sure have go[ɑ]t a lust for
which explains why
I'm sO̲ de—voted to my stuff when it's getting laid, like
a carnal co[ɑ]mmerce; lyrical self-indulgence, much more
than self-indulgent "I̲'ve got" type twerps
making unco[ɑ]mplicated trap
as if there were something like a cavy that
those diletta[ɑ]nti aim to catch
like someO̲ne depraved, I have (what?)
a ba[ɑ]wdy-like urge in my mI̲nd when I verse
like a tI̲ght-fit guise worn by a gal with nice curves
exercising, intention... of nailing rhyming
["in tension"]
as if rhymes were lush girls
the type to whom technical seduction comes first
lyrics-wise, which is why some of my works
may be regarded as hot stuff
like a heated iron flyi[—]ng to[—]ward
the face of a tyrant-like ****
with the bo[ɑ]ttom side forth; do this kind of stuff for
fun & to maintain these mI̲nd skills I scored
["slay just to maintain some relish & killing skills"]
which explains why I dub it "bar sport"
[sport/fun of making bars (rhymed lines)]
you trap rap hacks ou[ɑ]ght to ha[ɑ]ve your
bars shA̲rp just like swords of samurais, for
["sharp" in the sense of "stylish"/"attractive"]
as I̲'ve said afore, I'm O̲U̲t for blood, twerps
————————————————————————————————
struck this "bar sport" writing up short
["bar sport (prelude)" followed by this one]
on hope, wound up with a flood of thou[ɑ]ghts versed (wow)
guess this writer's inner fire's no[ɑ]t burned... out
like someone dO̲ne too much work
"bar sport (Slay Illsome)" by TR3F1LD (TRFLD) is licensed under CC BY-NC-SA 4.0 (to view a copy of this license, visit creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-sa/4.0)
Sean Murray Jan 2018
Thieves, thieves.
Christ are we petty.

Could not have imagined
such a death
Such a short-sited
venomous slip of the mind
such a death-toll...
so unpredicted-ably sad to see
            A mighty species
Die.

That's the fate of the fate-less, I guess
Our gods were a faceless
Mass
of derangement
Massive enough to take us to space.
What we've plucked from out of our souls
We can never replace

Such as it is, we have no chance
Put to death.
****** and detached.
That's how it ends
--surrounded.

We write out
these sorrows
that aren't really sorrows
and
Pin the tasteless love to our chests

Oratorical ****-hoarding
Trade-card victims
with no actual dignity left.

How embarrassing..
the glory of man-kind
To face a demise,
so mundane.

Forsaken by lies.


Our souls have been neutered and
Turned into tools for
Violently-popular
Prostitution-alized fools

Love for the luscious
the rush of the snarling
Hysterical rousings of
Tumultuous twerps.

This is the way that history ends.

Resting in our dreams.
Sorry for my last post,
I was drunk and tired and just slammed out a bunch of craziness.
I'm not going to delete it though because I stand by my point... whatever that might be.
Jonny Angel May 2014
Simplicity is listening
to the winter winds blow,
walking to the 7-11
to have a slushee
on a hot summer's day,
kissing & holding hands
under the stars
during a cool autumn eve
& planting a vegetable garden
in the spring.

So soothing & so real,
these things make
living
a great big deal.

Tweets & twerps,
listening to
digital synthesized
voice recognition,
utilizing
automated banking,
constant texting,
od'ing on xbox games
& having super duper
super computers is
technolife.

Enough confusion
& complexity
to drive you
totally insane.
Big Virge Jun 2020
Now The Words...

... " Big Virge "...

Are Those That Merge...
With... QUALITY Verse... !!!

From A Mind That Works...
Like Chickens Get ******... !!!

Or Heads Who... " Merk' "...

These TWERPS Who Twerk...
More Than Worms Turn... !!!

I Choose To Merge...
My Verse With Verbs...
Adverbs And Herbs......

KNOW What I Mean... !!!!!

Yup... That GOOD Green... !!!

So It's Lean And Rides On Waves So HIGH...
That It Feels Just Like I... Can TOUCH The Sky... !!!

When I Merge My Rhymes...
With Thoughts That Find...
A Way To Describe...
How I've Merged In Life...

With Trouble and Strife...
And The Daily Grind...
of A... Nine To Five...

The Girls I've Liked...
When They've Been Inclined...
To Let Their Thighs...
Become Merged With MINE... !!!!!

For Nights That Merge Them With BIG VIRGE... !!!

I'm A Man Whose Learned To Utilise Verse...
In Ways That Merge With... Musical Turns...

Beats That Merge With Big Virge Speech...
In Ways That Seem... Seamless Believe... !!!

Even Though My Flows...
Are Done... ALONE... !!!

... NO Beats In Tow... !!!!!

A Capellas That Show...
How Big Virge Tones...
Require NO GROOVE...
To Make Them Move...
In Ways That Produce...
Like... Producers DO... !!!

The Type Who've Merged...
My Verse With... Reverb...

And HARD Bass Lines...
That Fit With Rhymes...
In Ways That UNITE...
And Sound Sweet Like...

Boom Bap Rappers...
Whose Flows Are DAPPER... !!!

Well I Mean... Emcees...
Who BODY Hot Beats... !!!
Like Guns In The Streets... !!!

You See I Merge The Lyrical...
With Wordplay Metaphysical....

Or Maybe Just The Physical...
... As If It Is A RITUAL...
To Be Rhythmic And So CRYPTIC...

That Crip' Man Couldn't... " FLIP IT "... !!!!!!

Divergent... When I'm Merging...
My Verses Like... Insurgents...

Whose Flows Merge With REAL PURPOSE.... !!!!!

Beyond The Clowns Whose CIRCUS...
Proves That Their Flows Are WORTHLESS... !!!

While Flows I Merge Are EARNEST... !!!

IMPERIOUS and SERIOUS...
So CLEARLY NOT For IDIOTS... !!!!!

They're Well Observed...
Researched And Well Versed...
In Delivering... STRONG Spoken words... !!!

Like I Said At The Start....

The Name... " BIG VIRGE "...
IS ONE When It Comes To QUALITY Verse...

That DESERVES To Be Heard... !!!
Because When They're Linked...

They TRULY...

.... " Merge "....
As the poem says......
Mateuš Conrad Sep 2017
haj! kúrō! san nan lidèc / yes! cannibalism! blood of a leader! (via haitian creole); kooroo! hai! hi! san nan lid! you better have your prayer mats on the ready, i'm telling you, you come across the faroe islands, and the orca season, and marie mason, & the orca hunt... i'd love to see islam explore these martyrs there: got a ******* sand-dial ready, you camel jockeys?! oh, no? like seeing you 'avin' a picnic with the cannibals... ought i send a message down the pineapple pipeline to mecca?! oh sure, the taj mahal twerps will save you... in about 50 years... lucky you, you get to taste the cannibalistic fry-up! i know, i know, we're missing the applause... i still find it impossible to have eradicated cannibalistic societies... seems such a shame, not exposing islamic societies to them... ******... i was almost wishing to see muslims get eaten with their prayer mats... now, it would seem: i don't have a hard-on... **** me twice & call me aladdin, later a carpet merchant... what, a, load, of, *******! my my, why are my teeth itchy?!

you know why love poems bore me?
well, they're full of the promise,
there's always the transcending
platonic, but always the most lack
of the: touchy touchy,
the mandible bone; i sometimes even
manage to frighten myself with
this curiosity,
this cauliflowers' worth of brains...
you know what scares me about
love poems given the exhibit,
how ideal they all seem...
with me, governing the humble
jack's lament*...
    and how stifling it now seems
to appear: handshakes with shadows,
gravitas with death-hoods,
graciousness with the least suspecting
vanguards...
  the last goth, the last remaining:
vandal...
       and ergo the globalist truth:
           as our own,
our own we will take, other?
the banks!
                 countries contra banks!
let us, begin.
   the genesis of the feral lands,
oh, you come into these lands....
        you will soon see
that feral = homogeneity...
               you will soon taste
kúrō;
          inland tactics of you
islanders...
come into these lasts,
the multicultural antics doesn't
really begin in the 1950s,
or anywhere else,
you enter these lands you suddenly
get the idea how
unappealing / unwelcoming they are,
it's hardly sad:
it's just intimidating,
       and i know that's what you
find scary,
a dozen africans in a capital city,
and even they have a hard time
getting jobs...
       these really are feral lands,
and by feral i mean unappealing
in the most serene terms:
but, given the ukranians?
the most unwelcoming!
          oh, go on, send the muslims to the faroe
islands...
       i seriously would love to see
muslims being poached alongside
orcas: for the biblical redness of the nile
being reenacted;
and yes, by comparison:
the new testament is oh so boring!
Yenson Mar 2019
Peps, here listen, hear me out
yeah I know you're all really doing your best
trouble is, your best isn't good enough

You're making us look like Keystone cops
all this haphazard stasis-cating around like drunk Ruskies
staying up late back early morning, obsessive yet incompetent

Yes, persistent is the key
thing is though, you're just too dumb
some of you think eggs grow on trees
after all there are  egg plants, so surely eggs come from trees
yes! and we all live in a yellow submarine!

Now listen to me, you plebs
Don't you know what 'Royalty' means
do you think its some wishy washy label from Primark
or some honor you can buy at a Car boot sale
No, you pumpkins, it's not and don't mention 1066
or that opinionated zealous fool, Oliver Cromwell

If you don't know it yet, better know now
our Royal Adversary is Simply The Best
this man is as good as you can get
we are talking Exceptional here
we are talking, top drawer, creme de la creme
we are talking, One of a Kind, the Real Deal, yes!

We are the majority, yes..fat lot of good, that has done
you're all as common as muck, ******, ******* twerps
that's all you are.
yadda yadda this, yadda yadda that we are attacking his psyche
it's psychological warfare, it's mental and emotional assaults
it's your mother's ***, you dumdum, the man is laughing at you
Christ! what's with you people, how useless are you!

I know half of you are demented psychos
and the other halves just plain simpletons and sheeps
now the blasted public are beginning to see that,
they are fed up, already!

I tell you now what your ******* problem is
you think we humans are all the same, you think he is on your level
you ***** think he thinks like you, sees like you, reacts like you.
You, yes you, are stupid, does he look stupid to you?
If you say yes, then you're even more stupid than I know

Just be ****** honest with yourselves and face facts
you are just common muck, oiks chewing straws
and the man is Class, quality, top grade, the business
gifted, talented, brave, courageous, exceptional and a ****** 'One of'  
The Man is simply ROYAL, that's nobility for you
and say or write any **** you want, that's the ******* TRUTH

Now, get lost and go continue your nonsense
and don't steal anything on you way out, that's all you're good for!
jingoistic trash, time wasters full of dog's crap.
And you men, if one can call you men, with your floppy tiddlers,
put aside your *****-envy complexes and engage your brains.
( What brains, actually? )
This is based on an except from a speech at a local Working Mens club, during the period when King George wanted to abdicate to go and marry Ms Wallace Simpson and the local people were dead against him.
Alfredo Ron Sep 2018
we played parchissi, grandma and I
the race was on to get home first
we never kept track of who won more
it was ocassionally the same
her eyes were light grey and saw the world
with all its bratty twerps therein
and yes, I'm from that happy gang
I'm sure she knew...yeah, pretty sure.

she cared for birds, plants, and small things
and she would cook for me most days
she hardly smiled, didn't hug me much
but the weekly allowance she gave was great
when her blood pressure wasn't soaring
we'd walk to church and she would pray
I'd stand at attention  thère somehow
but irreverent anyway
once she tried to teach me how
to not fall far from grace
but in all my numbskull glory,
that lesson' was a waste

then her day came, she passed on
I felt sick inside
I was grossed out at myself
and yeah sure I knew why
with mixed up and cold indifference
I treated her in life
lack of gratitude I'm thinking
gets us all the time

When I see her up in heaven
it's my turn to cook
fried eggs and big golden plantains
she'll have a proud look
we'll discuss it all and bygones
will all turn to wind
some nights we will play parchissi
and not keep track of wins.
Yenson Mar 2022
taxed all the Stately homes
and split the family heirlooms
down farmland barracks
the labourers dig slurries and ache in mud
as green tears flow down sunken cheeks
the Sloaners shine
daddy knows Swiss ways and clever men
is not blind men bluff not about avoidance
show us the navvies
we will see mediocre with hard hats shovelling dirt
smooth burgundy and merlot come in mellow red
lobsters and Atlantic wild shrimps hue vermillion
barrow boys and the wets
clutch the morning star puking red
and arranging peanuts and pea brains in equal mirages
in hollowed Oxbridge halls
young Turks with backbones know the drill
gilded gumption swipes bovver twerps left
tis known haft-wits only know how to abuse power
or steal only to squander in base ignorance
ah! look, they are riled in discontent
attack the heads the headless scream
as they lose their heads
rapt by the glitters of trinkets and tiaras
and those pedigree breeds
who laugh far from the maddening crowd
democracy is a military operation
come steal, bully and destroy
wear your red bbberet
and put-in the effort
Yenson Apr 2022
I said it all along
now
their leader has been forced
to come out and declare it publically
when we have dullards, dumbos, halt-wits
twits, nincompoops, ignoramuses and dumdums
what do we have but that Sublime Prince laughing at us
how can we have a revolution with these ***** being prized fools
who needs thirty years to drive a single man crazy
what has all the tomfoolery achieved other than make the public
see how senseless incompetent and deluded our chavs are
the twerps are gas lighting each other
and believing their own lies
what a bunch ot twarts
get them to Universities
enough of mindless nonsense
says the ex-leader
who went to Oxford
and is now a multi-millionaire
70% of pupils should go on to higher education, Tony Blair says
More pupils going to HE would raise productivity levels across the UK, the former prime minister said.
A report from the Tony Blair Institute, published this week, says that if 70% of young people completed higher education it would “significantly” raise national productivity levels.

The institute’s analysis said reaching this target would raise economic growth by nearly five per cent over the next generation.
“Far from reaching ‘peak grad’, as some in government argue, we will need many more workers with abilities acquired in HE settings,” the report says.

“We must therefore embark on a multi-parliament drive to raise educational attainment substantially with an eye on the skills our workforce will need not today, but in 20 or 30 years’ time.”

Lord Johnson of Marylebone, the former universities minister and the prime minister’s brother, wrote in the foreword: “We still don’t have enough highly-skilled individuals to fill many vacancies today.”
Roses are red violets are blue...The fact is, I could write encyclopedias about how ****** and stupid Lord of the Rings is. And don’t even get me started on Harry Potter—what a pathetic, daddy-issue-ridden mess.

If I were up against Harry and his little twerps, I’d punt them like a field goal. It would be over in seconds. I’d crack their skulls before they got a single word out. And even if they tried their weak nonsense, I’d just cast Silence. How are you going to cast a spell when you can't speak? An entire world, a sweeping saga undone by one common spell.

The relationships, the dynamics, and the way characters are often placed in dangerous situations where their vulnerabilities are exploited, it’s unsettling. There’s no escape from this undercurrent of grooming, particularly in the way characters like Harry are pushed into morally gray situations, all under the guise of “destiny” or “greatness.” These are children. They should be protected, but instead, they’re put on pedestals and used as pawns for an adult’s war. It’s deeply disturbing.

Then, there’s the complete failure of Albus Dumbledore as a figure of authority and wisdom. What a complete failure he is. This man—who’s supposedly one of the wisest, most revered characters in the magical world—does nothing but pass the responsibility for everything onto others. He’s a coward, manipulating children to fight his battles, all while withholding information, and putting them in harm’s way. He doesn’t have the backbone to act when it matters, and his inability to learn from his own mistakes is a flaw that plagues him throughout the entire series. It’s as if he’s incapable of making a single ethical decision. He’s not noble; he’s a manipulative fraud, and it’s an insult to the very concept of leadership.

Let’s talk about the Wizarding World, shall we? A society with magic so powerful that it can literally solve every problem you can imagine—yet it ignores the real-world issues that plague its own citizens. There’s no effort to address poverty, child abuse, or any of the things that would actually make a difference in the lives of people. They could solve world hunger with a simple spell, or cure diseases with a flick of a wand, yet they choose to turn a blind eye to the suffering happening around them. There’s no technological progression; nothing seems to move forward because the entire society is stuck in an outdated, backward system that can barely handle the modern problems that keep popping up. But why bother changing anything when you can just wave a wand and pretend everything is fine? The whole system is utterly nonsensical.

And the writing? It’s embarrassingly basic. There’s nothing to it. Everything about the prose screams “children's book” in the worst way possible. It’s repetitive, formulaic, and devoid of any real depth or complexity. The descriptions are lazy, often using the same tired adjectives over and over again. The magic is treated like some child’s toy; there’s no real explanation for how it works, just vague references to the “mystical.” Nothing is ever fully fleshed out. It’s all just there, existing for the sake of advancing the plot without any thought for coherence or world-building.

And Voldemort? Don’t get me started. He is the weakest, most laughable villain to ever appear in fiction. He could’ve been defeated at any time, but somehow, this “evil overlord” manages to survive through sheer incompetence and plot armor. He doesn’t even have the sense to **** a baby when he has the chance, let alone successfully carry out any of his grandiose plans. The whole idea of him as a villain is a joke. It’s a tragedy that such a character is even given any weight or importance in the story.

The disturbing undertones that run through the series are perhaps the most overlooked aspects of Harry Potter. Let’s talk about how Snape, a grown man, seems obsessed with Harry’s mother, Lily. He’s this bitter, twisted character who can’t seem to move past some deep-seated emotional issues and makes the whole thing about his personal revenge fantasies. His fixation on a teenage girl, and later Harry’s mother, feels far more like a grudge than any noble sense of duty or redemption. It’s disturbing in ways that go unaddressed. And don’t even get me started on how the children are treated like slaves, especially in the way they are kept in the dark about their true roles in all of this. They’re pushed into war, taught to fight, and are left to deal with the fallout of decisions they have no power over. They’re nothing but pawns, manipulated and discarded when it’s convenient.

Rowling constantly sexualizes underage characters. She describes 14-year-old girls' bodies, their “curves,” the way boys “notice” them. Hermione’s sudden transformation at the Yule Ball is written like a ****** ******* reveal. Why does she need to be sexualized? She’s a kid.

In the end, the world of Harry Potter makes no sense. It’s a place where magic could solve all of society’s problems but doesn’t. It’s a series that asks you to believe that the same people who can make objects levitate or conjure food out of thin air are somehow incapable of improving anything let alone  their world. The entire premise is based on a series of lazy tropes chosen ones, magical worlds, and grand destinies that don’t hold up under even the slightest scrutiny. It’s a patchwork of stolen ideas, slapped together with no real thought or originality. And let’s not forget about the endless repetition. The magic may change, but the problems, the structure, and the tropes remain the same. It’s the same story told over and over again, with no real growth or evolution in the narrative.

This series is nothing more than a well-disguised piece of trash, a work of shallow, repetitive nonsense that has been falsely elevated as some sort of cultural touchstone.   Its Christians so. it makes complete sense. They love this kind of crap. It's the core of their whole reality. So no wonder they eat this garbage up It’s a poor man’s fantasy, made for children with no taste and no real understanding of what great storytelling is. It’s insulting to anyone who has ever read a truly great book, and it’s insulting to anyone who knows how to think critically. It’s lazy, it’s derivative, and it’s full of everything wrong with modern literature.  Kind of like the Quran. If you really want to see what magic looks like, look there it has a flyin horse with a humans face. But Larry Trotter this is just smoke and mirrors, designed to distract from the mediocrity at its core.

Voldemort? One of the weakest, lamest, most pathetic villains ever. well Sour ron  from LOTR is bad too real bad he shows up he gets killed by a girl  bam ! done.    I there a bad guy in the  Game of thrones books  I mean the Mt.  but he's a mongoloid   not really a bad guy more like lenny from mice and men .    Anyway  The  padawan training schools the inane pointless traditions, the ridiculous jokes. And let’s be honest, Harry Potter desperately wants to be Star Wars. They want the whole "Padawan learning the Force" thing, but it’s just embarrassing.

Now, onto A Song of Ice and Fire. A dance of crap and more crap, with fire and ice and zombie dragons—except he never even does the zombie dragon thing in the books. I’ve suffered them so you don't have to . They’re meh, at best. The first three are mediocre, and even then, the highlight is when Brienne is in the bear pit and ,Jaime still has to rescue her.

The only somewhat interesting part? The Hound and Arya. Arya steals the whole show, so it makes sense that HBO gave her the final ****. She’s the only decent character in the entire series, other than  the actor that almost redeemed 2 dimensional Tyrion, who they otherwise absolutely turned to bubble gum. In the books, he’s a scarred-up, grotesque little pervert missing his nose, waddling around like the disgusting freak he’s meant to be. But no, they had to soften him up, make him "relatable." Sure, whatever. Then he shoots his dad on the toilet, spends half a book brooding about it, and that’s his arc?

And Catelyn Stark? God, he couldn’t have killed her off fast enough. Reading her chapters was pure suffering. Then she's a zombie for a sentence or 2  ? Almost as bad as reading Sansa. Every time I saw "Sansa" at the top of a chapter, I wanted someone to put me out of my misery. Like the brother diddler, god how horrid and yes  know we weren't supposed to like her.

But even as bad as Martin is, he’s still not as bad as Tolkien. That crap is unreadable. I have never seen anyone abuse semicolons and colons more in my life. And the songs? Dear God. Nothing makes sense. It reads like an acid-trip hangover. angry cockneyed drunken english professor playing tea party while writing a how to assemble a nap time  Ikea fairy tale manual.  yes the sentences are like that I wrote that in his style. It's infuriatingly impossible to slog through.

Bilbo and Sam? Supposed to be lovable and relatable, but they just make me sick  Cry, Cry, cry,  walk walk walk, Cry cry cry..... And then there’s Gollum, who is even worse. Nothing about him is funny, cute, or remotely entertaining. It’s just sad   not in a a tragic way but ,stupid.  And everything is magic ring. The ring is magic. The sword is magic. The chain mail is magic. The horses **** magic. The river is magic. The tree is magic. Is anything not magic Jesus Christ.  Why even d do anything?  It's like the Star Trek matter energy converter. If you have that, why do you need anything? I mean, they could have at least said exploration for exploration's sake for discovery. At least that's something. But all of those books the return of the king, the two towers, it's not that. It's not exploration for exploration sake. And if the bad guy is already so powerful, what does he care about any of that? If he's incorporeal?

And don’t get me started on the eagles. Gandalf could have just called the eagles, taken the ring, and flown to a thousand different places. But no, they had to march to Mount Doom because, apparently, that’s the only place in the entire world with lava. How stupid is that? The whole thing is pitifully dumb, derivative, unoriginal,  and the way people worship it like some holy text is beyond me. He had no competition when it was written.  We do now .

Tolkien didn’t invent ANYTHING . Every single bit of it is stolen. Even his so-called "Elvish language"—stolen. He didn’t create wizards. He didn’t invent dragons, goblins, magic swords, dwarves—none of it. And to top it off, you can’t even read those books. They’re so poorly written.  Its like trying to enjoy Canterbury Tales,
except somehow worse    sooyta to the roo tay   but bogged down with pointless lore that contributes nothing to the actual story.
Create a list of names of some guys that do nothing and Contribute absolutely nothing to the plot. Just to **** them off, create characters that were almost starting the light, and then a couple chapters later killed them wrong. Great. someone that seems like they could be important, but a book later killed them off. He'll just **** everybody off. Why not **** everybody up? The whole thing is stupid. Just get the ring and throw it in the fire. Why do you need 4 books to do that? What he needed was an editor, but he needed was someone to say, really have. really. Have you sang these songs out loud in front of anyone and not gotten beaten up? I don't know how that ever became anything. The only thing I can think of was it was either cry about all the people that were lost in those sport wars. Watch paint dry. I mean, I don't know. There must have been nothing else being published. Talk about a slow Newsday.

And then there’s all the fetishist, ******, misogynistic nonsense buried in the ******* subtext, but I won’t even go into that. The fact that his work became anything at all just shows how low the bar is. Point made . Point proven .  People will accept anything if you  know how to slap the right label on it. Appeal to the English's pride or target a black audience  and . Boom its gold baby. Madea goes to middle earth.   And Sour Ron.. Thats your bad guy? Seriously?  Why did he not just **** *****  or Frilzo  or whatever his  pathetically stupid name is ?  What he wasn't evil then or he had no power or was just taken a knap. Oh but when  Froe ***  get the ring ..Oh hell nO !  son you gonna die.  What?

Same with Star Wars. Disney saw it for what it was: branding over substance. They knew they could put guys in cardboard armor,
cram aluminum foil up their butts . Slaps satellites on  on their backs  HAVE THEIR KNEES SHOOT ROCKETS   ?    What ? after all these years R2  could fly ? no one is really dead  and  knee rockets the whole time  ?  wow ! ,  As long as it had the Star Wars name, people  will eat it up. And that’s Andor. They’re walking around with AK-47s and  African World War Two. surplus military gear, yet I’m supposed to believe this is a world of advanced laser technology?   Hello. Hello. Check. Check. Check.    And I'm supposed to be enamored by the writing or the storytelling. Give me a break.

The best thing that ever happened to Star Wars was Ralph McQuarrie. Hands down.
While out Christmas shopping at Mall Of America with Our Spanky Gang of Little Rascals, who should we bump into but, Scrooge, Fezziwig, Fred, Bob Cratchit, Mrs. Cratchit,Tiny Tim, Jacob Marley main fictitious characters drawn upon under belly, of real life mid eighteen hundreds lowliest British (thermal unit) poverty stricken caste. Das scribe sketched out their soul full collective misfortune, without virtue, but plenti via a vice, which storied lives depicted (i.e. being penniless, dime a dozen, a day late, and dollar short penury) courtesy, sans prolific imagination of Charles Dickens “ Christmas Story”. They unexpectedly, uninhibitedly and unwittingly broke the binding loose after being bound within whirled wide web of make believe close to two hundred years. Freed from the paginated constraints (analogous to a prisoner, who broke free after long confinement to solitary confinement, when initially handed down life sentence for terroristic sabotage resulting in deaths per scores of innocent people), an utter lack of social graces immediately, plainly, and shockingly exhibited by various aggressive behavior. Crowd (then ground) control to Major Tom couched via heavy duty security details appeared helpless. The muddling, middling, maddening motley crue swarmed, rampaged, and quashed an attempt by the Police (who crafted a spurious Sting operation predicated on the baddest Beastie Boys Culture Club, who excelled at being Foo Fighters), which immediately appeared ineffective against a handful of raggedy, pesky, and nasty Marxist/Leninist lumpenproletariats. Helter skelter, mayhem and bedlam found these hoodlums, hooligans, hooting imps a indistinct English dialect. Even Tiny Tim showed braggadocio defying his lame physical state. Scrooge attested to be in seventh heaven, or the closest he would get. Despite total ignorance apportioned these anachronistic figments gross, heedless, insubordinate jubilant kooky lust (made manifest marrying narcissism ogling pricey quirky random  tchotchkes. Any civility escaped filthy hands hoisting incredibly jealous mannikins. Sir real quite peculiar phenomena overtook natural mundane lives. The growing horde of astonished onlookers (under a sheltering sky) made haste unsure if the ghost of Marley will scare away oblivious buyers (eyeing various and sundry widgets, trinkets, thingamabobs, knickknacks gimcracks, gewgaws, fribbery, bibelots baubles) where (timid) Tiny Tim (who tip toed thru the Tulips) frightened aggressive, purveyors of said merchandise. Insult against ideology, modernity, reality took a giant leap, who of all people, but The Merchant of Venice made a cameo appearance issuing forth asper a tempest in a teapot, a dome mass scandal, and danced the night away with the Ghost of Christmas Past, where the hallowed purposelessness purchasing presents per perps, squirts, twerps, et cetera essentially the intended  thread to weave warped  wonderment of mine, but (dippity and Scoobie) doo to a very bad hair day, my ability to communicate in a clear concise manner compromised sprung extremely flat limp follicles that usually puff up on the head (as big as a Soundcloud) of this GoDaddy, who will help fend off feisty Goo Goo Dolls.

— The End —