"useful" poems
The world's gone mad but my mind is made up.
Time to let ya'll into the darkroom of my mind,
A place where I'm the referee of a poetic world cup.
This is where I am creative even though I'm blind
Don't get me wrong I am not leaving from town.
No more radio or TV saturated with all the sad news,
I have got enough breaking news of my very own...
Breaking to me each and every moment as it brews.
Come and meet the hard drive of my creative doom,
That contains my beautiful and liberated mind.
Welcome to my one bright side I call my darkroom,
It's a place that's so special, I reckon it's one of a kind.
You have to know that I always act blind but I see.
In my mind, I can walk stack naked and levitate.
My mind is where I remain totally black and free.
Come join me set my poetic dial and help me activate,
The code that will outshine any power on this earth.
My mind is where I live and where nobody has access,
Here I can run a poetic marathon without taking a breath,
Call it my playground and intellectual fortress.
My mind is deep, a place of absolute calm and refuge,
Somewhere I will always see as the final frontier.
It is dangerous and toxic like a nuclear centrifuge.
In there, I am all alert and vigilant like a soldier.
My mind is a darkroom where I give birth to new ideas.
It is a vessel and place in which I do magic with letters.
It is my holy land of thoughts, my own creative Judea,
Where each idea is sacred and light as bird feathers.
Welcome to the epicenter of my creative mind.
This is where I turn letters into spoken words
A front line of creativity where no one leaves behind.
Come and see where all words become useful swords.
My mind produces powerful words like some light beams...
Courageous and powerful words for extra motivation.
Spoken Words that will light up people's faded dreams.
Now you know that up in my mind are no limitation,
There exists an enormous capacity of time and space.
Welcome one, welcome all to the darkroom of my mind
Take a seat and be calm, be quiet this is my place
For this here is my personal creative post of command.
www.poemhunter.com/IvanBrookssr
#Vanguard-poetry23
#IvanBrookspoetry
twitter @ivanclappers
@Bassapoet
Jan 7, 2018
Jan 7, 2018 at 10:52 PM UTC
a man is not a man if he believes he has to be superior over a woman to achieve her love,
a man is a man if he believes in letting a woman decide for herself who she wants to be,
a man is not a man if he believes control will make a woman stay,
a man is a man if he believes letting a woman choose what she wants to do will make her stay,
a man is not a man if he does not believe in giving a woman a choice in her free time, will make her feel safe,
a man is man if he believes that letting a woman do whatever the hell she wants in her free time to make her happy will make her love him more and feel safe,
a man is not a man if he believes that forbidding a woman to meet with other males, even just friends will make her stay,
a man is a man if he trusts a woman, regardless of how long the relationship, that she will not cheat by giving her the choice of who she wants to meet, will make her stay,
a man is not a man if he constantly refers to a woman as only useful in reproduction,
a man is a man if he believes that a woman was created for other things too,
a man is not a man if he believes that a woman should be devoted to the kitchen and household,
a man is a man if he believes that letting a woman choose how she wants to keep herself busy will make her feel valued,
a man is not a man if he believes a woman is only useful for his needs, wants, and desires,
a man is a man if he believes that being with a woman is not only about objectification, sexualization, reproductive control and male privilege.
Nov 16, 2020
Nov 16, 2020 at 1:35 PM UTC
The shades of gray are nearly infinite-
mirroring attitudes regarding our sin.
Degrees of separation give distinction
to human perception of ugliness within.
Living now in this ‘Age of Information’
has not made life much more palatable;
visible is God’s Truth and Satan’s lies,
as individuals determine what’s palpable.
Gobs of available data doesn’t translate
into experience and useful wisdom directly.
Real sapience, is shown by the Holy Spirit,
when the ideas of faith are under scrutiny.
Biblical principles enable all to overcome
corrosive powers of intellectual pollution;
however, personal change, only occurs when…
one has the mindset for a Heavenly solution!
.
.
.
Author Notes
Inspired by:
1 Cor 2; Phil 4:4-8
Learn more about me and my poetry at:
http://amzn.to/1ffo9YZ
By Joseph J. Breunig 3rd, © 2015, All rights reserved.
Jan 22, 2015
Jan 22, 2015 at 11:47 AM UTC
I think it's crazy that they want me to type an essay over deforestation for a score or practice or to better my writing. That's 60 more minutes I'm wasting of my life. They say that sooner or later everything we do we will do with technology. So here I am now writing this essay that's supposed to be about deforestation and the effects and consequences. We are not discussing the issue. We are sitting in wooden chairs with our computers sitting on our wooden desks surrounded by wooden bookcases. So much irony right? I seem to be the only one to notice anyways.
We come here seven hours a day, do hours of homework, "study" the information, aka memorize regurgitate then forget all of it. This is not teaching us. We are not learning anything useful to help us live. It's all numbers and words that do not matter to me.
If anyone thinks that all us kids come to school to learn they're wrong and if they think that the teachers come to teach they're even more wrong. We come to pass class after class so we can leave and actually make something of ourselves. The teachers come because they have to for the money. They do not care about us or our feelings. They put all this pressure on us to be the best we can be which really means make a good grade.
I've been silent for so long now. Not expressing my feelings towards much of anything. Also toward the reason I have to wake up at five every morning to be around people I do not even like.
I feel as though the education system is unfair and cruel and does not take into consideration what the kids who go through this cycle everyday think.
So that's what I think about deforestation.
Feb 21, 2014
Feb 21, 2014 at 9:20 PM UTC
My hands have betrayed me.
Once the means to write pages,
Now my hands are only dead weight.
My hands won't pick up a pen.
Or even type short,
Choppy sentences.
They dangle at my sides
And find refuge in my hair,
Leaving me bleeding.
Like my hands,
My mouth has declared itself
My enemy.
Once the passageway for words
To explain myself,
My mouth is now as useful as a broken bridge.
With nothing of value to say,
It talks
And sings anyway.
It opens without my permission
But stays closed whenever I try
To scream meaning.
The inability to illustrate
Or translate my mind
And my soul
Is not an unfamiliar ordeal.
But it's lonely on the outside
And frustrating looking in.
It seems I'll always feel like an alien.
Jun 6, 2016
Jun 6, 2016 at 3:38 AM UTC
Masters are cruel
Mine is kind
Masters use us as tools
I'm useful, he'll find
Masters are violent
Mine is just playing a game
Masters are tyrants
Mine is Self tame.
Masters are greedy,
Mine rewards
Masters are ugly
Mine is something to look towards
Masters have slaves
Mine has a servant who loves these days.
Mar 15, 2015
Mar 15, 2015 at 2:32 PM UTC
But I would rather be horizontal.
I am not a tree with my root in the soil
******* up minerals and motherly love
So that each March I may gleam into leaf,
Nor am I the beauty of a garden bed
Attracting my share of Ahs and spectacularly painted,
Unknowing I must soon unpetal.
Compared with me, a tree is immortal
And a flower-head not tall, but more startling,
And I want the one's longevity and the other's daring.
Tonight, in the infinitesimal light of the stars,
The trees and flowers have been strewing their cool odors.
I walk among them, but none of them are noticing.
Sometimes I think that when I am sleeping
I must most perfectly resemble them--
Thoughts gone dim.
It is more natural to me, lying down.
Then the sky and I are in open conversation,
And I shall be useful when I lie down finally:
The the trees may touch me for once, and the flowers have time for me.
15.1k
I approach most desires
like a competition; can I
**** better than him;
can I be famous at twenty-
-three since he was famous at
twenty-four -- I must be able
to sink better than him.
God, it is exhausting. I
feel like I'm dancing with
a machine; a phantom that
I can never catch, for it runs
on my blood; my insecurities;
my passion -- and, boy, oh boy,
can I attest to having plenty of
that stuff, ladies and germs.
I think, truly, that I am
encompassing the American Dream
I think is utterly flawed; that I think
is futile in nature; that I am sure of
is the closest thing to Hell, in this
Godless, spiritually motherless
dark shoebox of sudden collisions;
this space of useful and useless
results, splayed onto and into
our hearts, asking for reverence.
There is nothing I want more
than to be sure that my importance
is not illusory. I am not sure if
I am real.
May 14, 2017
May 14, 2017 at 2:14 PM UTC
To my friends
who can write
fresh-smelling
bouquets of words
with splendid color,
I offer my envy.
Mine are the blunt, stunted words,
rooted in the cracks
in pavement,
or forcing their way
to light around
overbearing rocks.
Some useful
in their own way,
edible or flavorful,
some with a
pedestrian beauty,
but few that one
would bring home in a bunch
with a box of candy.
More appropriate
in a grimy, young fist
crumpled in love,
destined to be vased
in a water glass
by a doting mother,
or shredded petal by petal
for the sake of soothsaying...
he loves me, he loves me not.
Mar 3, 2017
Mar 3, 2017 at 1:21 PM UTC
Ignore me,
don't say another word,
bind my hands and
toss me to the ******* wolves,
at least they,
will crave me.
If only my flesh,
to nourish their young.
at least then,
my existence would prove useful.
Mar 23, 2014
Mar 23, 2014 at 1:04 PM UTC
Queen of my tub, I merrily sing,
While the white foam raises high,
And sturdily wash, and rinse, and wring,
And fasten the clothes to dry;
Then out in the free fresh air they swing,
Under the sunny sky.
I wish we could wash from our hearts and our souls
The stains of the week away,
And let water and air by their magic make
Ourselves as pure as they;
Then on the earth there would be indeed
A glorious washing day!
Along the path of a useful life
Will heart's-ease ever bloom;
The busy mind has no time to think
Of sorrow, or care, or gloom;
And anxious thoughts may be swept away
As we busily wield a broom.
I am glad a task to me is given
To labor at day by day;
For it brings me health, and strength, and hope,
And I cheerfully learn to say-
'Head, you may think; heart, you may feel;
But hand, you shall work always!'
12.3k
Why don’t you love your body, girl?
Did someone stupid make you feel insecure?
Everyone is trying to tell you how you should behave and how you should look
but ***** them, do what YOU want
you didn’t come here to please anybody
so go ahead and love your body
Skinny, fat, curvy or thin
what really matters is what’s under your skin
I know you think there might be something wrong
I’m here to remind you that you’re strong
so if someone comes around saying that you’re ugly and fat
don’t even think about it, that’s stupid chit-chat
skinny doesn’t mean healthy and fat unhealthy
have fun, live and eat what makes yourself happy
‘cause every body is beautiful
any other comment is not going to be useful.
Apr 26, 2017
Apr 26, 2017 at 7:46 PM UTC
If I was a pen
My point will be the world,
Then my ink will be hope,
And the paper is humanity.
So every time I touch humanity,
I give off hope through the world
Releasing it for human kind,
The world being a bridge for change,
Becoming a useful pen for living things.
With every mark humanity will be determined
With every touch the world becomes better.
And even though I’ll make a mess
And even though I’ll spill my ink
I can say I scattered hope
I can say I tried to change the world for the better
And that this mess, made hope sprung to everyone.
And as a ‘normal’ pen
I will write countless words until everything is gone
And You may say hope is gone,
But the hope I had inside is given to humanity
Filling the hearts and minds.
And this hope will form more pens
And this hope will inspire
And this hope will be a better being
And this hope will be our world.
But I’m not a pen
And I don’t need to be a pen to give hope
And I don’t need a pen to change the world.
I’m going to be a human being
A human that will spark change
A human that will give hope
A human who will rise after the storm
A human who will see the sun, the rainbow after the rain.
I am a human
My mind will be the world,
Then actions will be hope,
And my heart will be humanity.
So every time I’ll do something
I’ll think about the world
And I’ll feel what everybody needs
And I’ll know what to do
I am a human and I’ll give hope
-jnldm
Dec 24, 2013
Dec 24, 2013 at 1:06 AM UTC
Your laugh was a cloud
Loud
Enveloping
Mist which covered me without the
slightest resistance
insistence
I needed assistance to breathe
Your laugh shows I'm useful
shows there's a need
For us
as I feed on the delicious awkwardness we
shared
Caught unawares by being liked
It's a shame your laugh
was the cloud which hid
a trucks headlights
crash
shared
spent
Your laugh a narcotic cloud I refuse to repent
Jan 12, 2015
Jan 12, 2015 at 4:13 PM UTC
you sowed this **** into my brain...
why do you even "think"
that i want... you?
i, want your children...
the meme-mutation is what i'm
after...
and there are plenty of useful idiots
to allow me to process
the intermediating processes
for: the sigma, "accomplishment";
which is unlike
what infected mushroom's -
trance party track sounds like,
outside of my own head.
why do these people even
think i'm after their genes
of memes?
i want, their infantile
replicas...
i want to craft a
worthwhile curiosity,
on a canvas, that that they call
their gene replicas, children,
and... like why called me...
easy meat..
einfachfleisch...
what?
i'm not here for these news' anchors...
i'm here for their children...
nibble nibble nibble chew chow
cow tow and main...
prawn crackers...
ah... news anchors are
easy targets...
slightly pointless
20x bulls eye honing devices...
it's their children...
i want their children...
i want their cognition
to become replica of wheelchair
bound infirmaries;
why?
oh... you know...
football and wrestling,
given the Qatar investment plan...
the whole sport "thing"
became a tad bit boring...
had to resort to secondary sources
of entertainment;
children of news anchors?
the secondary, "last",
albeit, the best resort;
schindler...
required a list,
to become reincarnated...
and revive a **** a heartlessness
of an reincarnation
anomaly:
i.e.: what, a limited number
of people, to begin with?!
so the rest is primitive "a.i."?
now i'm starting to think...
thank the blue indians
for their culinary innovations...
but when it comes
to their theology?
**** 'em;
did i advocate that?
if i did... within what pronoun
guarantee of advocacy?
playing the grammar card...
which pronoun?
the plural singular,
or the singular plural,
or the gender neutral?
thank you jean-paul sartre,
for the... "i"...
i simply love, this revised concept
of a unit...
the revision clinging
to the royalist affirmation of pronouns...
i.e. 1 would say... so...
and 1... would, so, will, do so.
**** the pronoun debate
in Canadian politics...
if i have to resort to this?
then i will...
like your plain citizen...
may "i" speak within
the confines, of the royal, one,
given the example:
one might suppose...
to be the former, and the current,
highest, etiquette?
gender neutrality of pronouns...
last time i checked...
one was never allowed
pronoun stature...
why not address this
conundrum, to begin with?!
oh, right... too late...
too many loud mouths
without a guillotine...
so, basically, a cow fart's
worth of argumentation.
Aug 2, 2018
Aug 2, 2018 at 11:51 PM UTC
****** affliction of a lack of affection companion
Hand and hand strolling greater than syrupy plunging
and even sometimes buddy shrugging over wooden noisemakers
We whistle with their metal strings
and through the pasta soft ones in our throats
but no nest colored mares seem to hear
our flamboyant feather calls for future fondling
So I scribe slight implied short letters
invites to drink joints and nature jaunts
All too well thought out
hoping your advanced technology cannot trace
the time I spent to type
The overanalysis of our psych: her and I’s
wondering why she doesn’t have an inkling
for a cute fall date where we attempt to bake apple pies
It’s all too contrived, I know
I’ll strive for delusion
Accept a useful interpretation for our chemical inflammation
and let sparks pass it by
Like itsy bitsy flies laying eggs in a wound
for stagnant water maggots
They’ll eat away the thought well
where all my cranial zaps seem to dwell.
Dec 14, 2013
Dec 14, 2013 at 11:00 PM UTC
Thousands of us were displaced
Started careers late
Not lucky enough to have had great jobs
So we work hard
Put ourselves through night school
While taking care of family
Finally ...
Yes, yeah, whoopee
Did it !
Once again completed school
Another certificate added to the growing list of achievements.
More bills owed to uncle Sam
Going on numerous job interviews
No one's responding
Instead ...
All this knowledge stored in your head
Current jobs pays minimum wages
Those colleges attended; mounting
When you try to get ahead -
They hold on to their employments
As if,
It's Rocket science
Looking for younger, greener admits
Once AARP comes a knocking on
Your door
You know they don't want your
Expertise anymore
What's one to do
Still strong, healthy, seasoned
Educated, no strings to boot
Hopelessly stuck in a world of
"We will call you "
So at the tender age of fifty
Thoughts of starting your own business floats in your head
Right
Now, back to school
For another certificate
A chance to use that knowledge
Put bread on the table
Feel useful
Quality of life renewed.
JRap /2016
Sep 22, 2016
Sep 22, 2016 at 1:46 PM UTC
You brave heroic minds,
Worthy your country's name,
That honour still pursue,
Go, and subdue,
Whilst loit'ring hinds
Lurke here at home with shame.
Britons, you stay too long,
Quickly aboard bestow you;
And with a merry gale
Swell your stretched sail,
With vows as strong
As the winds that blow you.
Your course securely steer,
West and by South forth keep;
Rocks, lee-shores, nor shoals,
When Eolus scowls,
You need nor fear,
So absolute the deep.
And cheerfully at sea,
Success you still entice
To get the pearl and gold;
And ours to hold
Virginia,
Earth's only Paradise.
Where Nature hath in store
Fowl, venison, and fish;
And the fruitfull'st soil,
Without your toil,
Three harvests more,
All greater than your wish.
And the ambitious vine
Crowns with his purple mass
The cedar reaching high
To kiss the sky,
The cypress, pine,
And useful sassafras.
To whom the golden age
Still Nature's laws doth give,
No other cares attend
But them to defend
From winter's rage,
That long there doth not live.
When as the luscious smell
Of that delicious land,
Above the sea that flows,
The clear wind throws,
Your hearts to swell,
Approaching the dear strand.
In kenning of the shore,
(Thanks to God first given)
O you, the happiest men,
Be frolic then!
Let canons roar,
Frighting the wide heaven!
And in regions far
Such heroes bring ye forth
As those from whom we came,
And plant our name
Under that star
Not known unto our North.
And as there plenty grows
Of laurel everywhere,
Apollo's sacred tree,
You may it see
A poet's brows
To crown, that may sing there.
Thy voyages attend
Industrious Hakluit,
Whose reading shall inflame
Men to seek fame,
And much commend
To after-times thy wit.
8k
A lot has been said about environ-mental pollution
Okay, can we drop the environ for a second
How about the mental pollution in this generation
The internet loads us with data but not necessarily useful information
I wonder, do we have a sieve in our brains
that filters the data as it drains
Or we absorb them all, to clutter up our minds
Gigabytes of junks downloaded into our mental and emotional system
I was on the internet to seek information
But my mental system received Ads injection
Causing a buy this, buy that stimulation
You are not okay if you don't have this or have that
You don't look good, if you're not shaped like this or like that
What we ingest from the internet is 40% information and 60% malware
Don't quote me
Just an opinion that I want to share
This pollution is **** real and it scares!
Nov 25, 2018
Nov 25, 2018 at 10:18 PM UTC
you are eighteen and you're in love
with a boy who hates his birthday.
you don't know it yet,
but the world gets so much bigger than the back of his car.
you think he needs you to be happy and so does he
but both of you are wrong.
it'll take you almost a year to stop crying.
and then you don't talk for another three
and when you finally do,
he thinks he still knows you,
but your heart is heavier than it was then.
and you **** him because you're lonely
but it isn't the same.
neither of you can fake love.
at least he still makes you laugh.
you'll pretend it's enough
because at least he's a body.
at least you're not by yourself.
at least you're alive
and you're good at *******
because bodies are distractions
from the things we hide inside them.
you have him inside you
and he wants to gut you of your ugly, your sad.
he scrambles for an excuse not to stay the night
and you laugh.
you know what this is and how it goes
and you both love someone else.
you swear you won't **** him again
but you do anyway because you're still lonely
and you like the way his hands fit around your neck.
you **** him because it's good for your art
and you get bored of your own hands on your body
and you're fine with letting him feel useful.
and you think about when you were sixteen
and how *** was supposed to be special
and it makes you cry
because you're not who you wanted to be.
it makes you cry, because the world got so much bigger
after you left the backseat of his car.
the world is so big and you don't know
how it ended up on your shoulders.
you would have died for him.
you have been ready to die for every person you have ever loved.
you have dreams where he dies
and you can't save him.
you have dreams where people die
and you can't save them
and you're the one who tied your hands.
your mangled heart and all its bleeding.
nobody asked you to die.
what good is all the love in your chest
if you don't leave any for yourself?
- m.f.
Sep 7, 2015
Sep 7, 2015 at 11:37 PM UTC
I argue
To harm you
The protective computer screen
Allows me to be rude or mean
Without feeling your pain
So it becomes a game
Or a simulation of fame
If I can ignore the shame
The tread is wearing off the tire
After the internet stripped
The rubber off the telephone wire
And we lost our loose grip
After being shocked
By the rest of the flock
Their existence
Shows a difference
That is hard to accept
We're not what we expect
We push the boundaries of communication
But we can't handle the technology
I feel it gives me social immunization
But I feel the darkness follow me
And swallow me
Until I'm wallowing
Yet I don't know why
I try to ignore it
Only if it gets me high
Will I be for it
This utilitarian keyboard
Should help me see more
Instead it transcribes my anger
As I turn into an electric stranger
The words on my pixelated screen
Do not reflect my childhood dreams
But the bitterness of dreams being crushed
My petulant reactions are thoughtlessly rushed
And I represent my views in a negative way
Until I'd be more useful with nothing to say
There is a need for empathy
In the electronic discourse
Right now there is only entropy
And words without remorse
Spoken from a high horse
That looks down on peasants who own it
It's also a slave but doesn't even know it
So it arrogantly trots along
Never admitting that it's wrong
Until it hears the slithering snakes rattle
Then it doesn't mind wearing a saddle
But the venom has already been injected
And its mind becomes hopelessly infected
We argue without blinking
We argue without thinking
We argue with poor logic
Our ignorance we flaunt it
Until the internet is haunted
Mar 29, 2018
Mar 29, 2018 at 4:36 AM UTC
Probability.
I sit here in class,
Seeing my teacher talk;
It's probably something useful
On probability.
How about the probability of my life?
Probability to do my homework;
Non because I've been called a ******** so many times, I've given up.
Probability of me getting the perfectly imperfect version of a boyfriend;
Zilch because no one appreciates a young healthy, very curvy sophomore with a DD,
Yet people who make fun of me will WISH and HOPE for my ******* in their future years
They will even get surgery just to make themselves like me,
So what is the practical probability they stop making fun of me;
Zilch!
Probability that I will be seen as more than an object to others;
******** to none because I don't make an effort anymore, not after sixth grade.
Probability I will ever feel completely good about myself as a whole;
Maybe because I have six awesome friends who don't put me down.
Probability my life will get better;
Someday but not today
My past made an irreplaceable mark on me
And my probability.
Will the percentage grow,
Along with my hopes?
Jan 22, 2014
Jan 22, 2014 at 11:40 PM UTC
Consecrate us
to grow more!
Bless us
to climb high!
Craft us
to become helpful and useful to all!
Furnish us vigour
to stand sturdily !
Radiance us
to swell your splendour and simplicity every where!
Apr 28, 2014
Apr 28, 2014 at 4:55 AM UTC
The coconut tree is unlike any other
From root to shoot
All valuable all useful
Giving shade when weaved into roof patches
Giving sustenance in the form of food and drink
Even when completely chopped, it leaves its marks
As the bridge people built to cross the river!
Dec 6, 2013
Dec 6, 2013 at 5:19 AM UTC
Lefttard fascist libtard Russian troll loony mother **** ****er freaks stupid idiotic childish rant Antifa **** troll comrade idiots like you tide pod generation snowflakes **** you Marxist serial felon MSM useful idiots street justice fanboy alt.right **** dunal trumpf lunatic leftist ****phile ******* ******* in your *** your ****** *** loser freak pos pack heat ammosexuals smh screwball lefties community organizers trumptards professional agitators if we could ban idiots like you ****you donkey ****s you lying **** comrade Lefttard fascist libtard Russian troll loony mother **** ****er freaks stupid idiotic childish rant Antifa **** troll comrade idiots like you tide pod generation snowflakes **** you Marxist serial felon MSM useful idiots street justice fanboy alt.right culy dunal trumpf lunatic leftist ****phile ******* ******* in your *** your ****** *** loser freak pos pack heat ammosexuals smh screwball lefties community organizers trumptards professional agitators if we could ban idiots like you ****you donkey ****s you lying **** comrade Lefttard fascist libtard Russian troll loony mother **** ****er freaks stupid idiotic childish rant Antifa **** troll comrade idiots like you tide pod generation snowflakes **** you Marxist serial felon MSM useful idiots street justice fanboy alt.right culy dunal trumpf lunatic leftist ****phile ******* ******* in your *** your ****** *** loser freak pos pack heat ammosexuals smh screwball lefties community organizers trumptards professional agitators if we could ban idiots like you ****you donkey ****s you lying **** comrade Lefttard fascist libtard Russian troll loony mother **** ****er freaks stupid idiotic childish rant Antifa **** troll comrade idiots like you tide pod generation snowflakes **** you Marxist serial felon MSM useful idiots street justice fanboy alt.right culy dunal trumpf lunatic leftist ****phile ******* ******* in your *** your ****** *** loser freak pos pack heat ammosexuals smh screwball lefties community organizers trumptards professional agitators if we could ban idiots like you ****you donkey ****s you lying **** comrade
Employ all caps and strings of exclamation marks ad lib
Feb 22, 2018
Feb 22, 2018 at 8:15 AM UTC