#TrudeauEulogies
No matter what horrible deeds any individual has done,
Regardless of the human suffering measured by the tonne,
There will always be something positive that could be spun,
That is why the whole “#TrudeauEulogies” hashtag is so fun,
It is full of mockery towards the worst idiot alive under the sun.
Waiting for my Godot…
The day approaches,
Far beyond the ocean,
Into a land quite frozen,
Kindness to a heart broken,
A longing far from mere joking,
Love for a heart already bored of roaming,
Thus a day closer makes tomorrow worthy of hoping.
A knife and a car…
An act of terrorism with a knife and a car,
We must close the car show loophole,
And ban all mail order knives!
I wonder if these demands of mine sound bizarre,
Or awkwardly inefficient attempts at control,
To the ones with 'literally shaking' lives.
A 'refugee' used both to butcher in order to cause terror,
Until his acts were stopped by a gun bearer,
Yet somehow guns are the error?
Some have chosen to become blind by gouging out their eyes,
Same mistakes and failures are granted more tries.
Because they cannot learn to grow wise.
Today there are far too many who simply ignore reality and all reason,
Divergence from their ideology is treated as grand treason,
They speak of toxicity while being the poison.
So I wonder if these demands of mine sound bizarre,
Or awkwardly inefficient attempts at control,
To the ones with 'literally shaking' lives.
An act of terrorism with a knife and a car,
We must close the car show loophole,
And ban all mail order knives!
Here is a troll's smile…
Then and now…
Once not all that long ago,
As long as something bleeds, it leads,
But it is no more where the media currents flow,
These days as long as something is clearly just lies, it flies.
We have no need for any kindergarten newsroom,
Hence it is the death spiral to their doom,
The shovel work for their tomb,
And new outlets bloom.
First day of December…
It is the first day of December,
And there is nothing special to remember,
Just stare into a fireplace and light a growing ember.
Words of confidence…
Sun will rise at the end of night,
Everything is going to be all right,
And time will heal away any sleight,
Thus even if dark mist clouds your sight,
There will always be a chance to take flight,
You have already withstood much worse plight,
Perseverance will take you to an unforeseen height,
So just hang on and morning sun will glow ever so bright.
I will stand by your every step.
Simple questions…
I was shocked by a mere radio interview,
How a politician was torn a shred by question few,
Simple questions that anyone could spew,
And career politician could not even come through,
Thus flight from the questions did ensue,
Because they are used to see bullshit simply accrue,
And never to face any challenge long due,
Therefore – this radio host shall have my thank you.
If simple questions is all it takes to outdo,
Then the incompetence is not result of any voodoo,
They were never made to think through,
Which is why problems of today continue to brew,
They rely on branding problems as taboo,
Hoping those vanish if they just shout out bogaboo,
Because it is their own purses they pursue,
And the damage they have wrought is hard to undo.
But simple questions is the start… and it will do…
Just a moment…
The room is growing darker,
While outside is turning lighter,
Falling snow is winter's true marker,
And it calms the heart of this lonely writer,
As little worries could drive him to be a loud barker,
But tomorrow is the day when the world is surely a lot brighter.
She would love to see the view right here and now,
I can only hope the weather will allow,
So I can see a smile to her brow,
And hear her say word wow.
It is just a mere moment more,
Until she steps through that door,
And heartache will not sting so sore,
For she is the one I truly adore,
This is just a moment before.
A passing of mere hours…
Well… At least the sky looks blue
I have missed that shade of blue,
After weeks it looks like something new,
A truly pleasant sight to look to,
And anyone living here must know it true.
Independence day
How joyous they were after Austria's vote result,
How it was to mark the full range of populist catapult,
Yet mere hours later union was not the mightier construct,
The will of the Italian people showed clear readiness to obstruct,
Yet another blow and they still think the result was something abrupt,
Rather than the easily predicted result of a system both flawed and corrupt.
On this independence day there is hope beyond an empty pledge,
The great statist experiment lies upon a knife’s edge,
It is sinking and there is a bloodied wedge,
A very easy claim for me to allege,
Without any spin or stretch.
'69…'
The rain keeps pouring down,
As the storm clouds circle around,
Those turn this world wet and brown,
And all you can hear is rain drop's sound,
A beat repeated until everything will drown.
Rings…
I have never liked rings,
I find them to be useless things,
Enforced upon us by tradition's strings,
Therefore, I remain blind to the joy it brings,
And the cost, the weight, is something that stings,
You could get same symbolism by tearing bird's wings,
But here I stand like the court fool against the wrath of kings.
I guess FBI is now #GamerGate too… xD
After two years of investigation they closed the lid,
There was no evidence or leads to follow about,
Again, the media was proven a lying squid,
Falsehoods sum up all that they spout,
I wish this was something to kid,
But for some…
FBI is now #GamerGate without a shade of doubt…
Something post-modernistic…
Meh… Meh… Meh…
I am such a great poet.
But in all seriousness,
Today this task is one of tediousness,
And all efforts are at best born of spuriousness,
As my mind remains empty to a point of deliriousness,
A state of mind where I find myself even without curiousness.
Thus I could just write 'meh' at different intervals,
Pretend a deeper meaning than the literal,
Like a grand feast out of only cereal,
Perhaps even a shape venereal!
Oh the things I could do with word: meh!
Meh,
Meh, meh, meh,
>
Meh!
That looks like a penis…
There is my full canister of bleach…
I believe I have a thirst for bleach to quench…
Winter gloves
Women's winter gloves are garbage,
And this statement is not unjust tarnish,
Only an observation benign and harmless,
As women would prefer to appear charming,
That alone places many limits upon a garment,
And going against those literally has no market.
Thus what they want is thin and without insulation,
And their fingers will freeze after a short duration,
Because something better would be a ruination,
It might suggest a rank beneath their station,
Hence even before a better calibration,
They do not feel any temptation.
As for ones made for men,
Bigger is better by times ten,
Warm even within winter's den,
Endures foul weather time and again,
And even if you stuck hands inside a live hen,
Men's gloves would still be the warmer option even then!
Something happened…
So… today I got married,
For now or until I get buried,
And if she ever were to read this,
Her response might send me to abyss!
Rogue one
It was a story,
Without much of glory,
A cash grab of nature predatory,
A prequel without anything truly revelatory,
And pointing out its mundanity is not even accusatory.
It could have been so much more and so much better,
But this spiral will not change by any angry letter,
They yank at the string of franchise sweater,
Without the presence of a single abettor,
Until there is nothing left to unfetter,
Not even a single string to tether.
Love
Even weary hearts reach heights above,
And it cannot be bought like a glove,
Cannot ask or wait for it to shove,
Because love flies like a dove.
One Hundred Poems, Volume VIII Page 3
