One Hundred Poems, Volume VIII
Page 4
#PizzaGate…
This is something I have been thinking for a while,
Why did European politicians greet migrant crisis with a smile?
Who would it truly serve to bring a change to the local culture,
When Europe was not a carcass waiting for a vulture?
There are aspects of Islam that cannot be denied,
The rape of boys to the custom of child bride.
It is paedophiles that benefit from these Islamic migrants,
As rape of children now requires fewer acquirements.
Already news are downplaying these acts of depravity,
In hopes that someday it will form a moral cavity.
It seems untold harm has been unleashed upon Europe,
So the powerful could rape children free of furore.
Who else can be said to truly benefit from this mass migration,
The import of culture from these brutally primitive nations?
…
…
…
As for this #PizzaGate thing in itself,
I have not seen any concrete evidence myself.
But I would not be surprised if something would eventually arise,
As it would not be a first for those with very powerful ties.
We do not need to go back in history for an example,
Even in recent decades these rings are ample.
Do the real victims find any justice,
Or are they bound by numbness?
It would be easy to deny it all,
But facts wait behind a wall.
Horror and cruelty do linger,
And grow if none hinder.
Top Gear is dead
Top Gear is dead,
Slain by the Grand Tour,
That is how the obituary read,
Because competition it did not endure.
The three old guys are kind of like real mates,
And it is hard to mimic what they got,
As pretence soon dominates,
We see it on the spot.
So long live the Grand Tour,
In roughly six months they average age of ninety-four!
Orange city
City's lights have painted the sky with orange hues,
As silhouettes of trees and buildings lie black,
Such a calm moment can become a muse,
For even the most talentless hack.
Tonight this city lies bound in orange,
Freezing and melting just the same,
What words could give homage,
To give this moment a frame?
Who will witness such rare sight,
Stop and gaze at this wonder,
When light ever so bright,
Has been caught under.
It is almost not even real,
But there it lies outside,
Image none can steal,
For it is not denied.
It was Putin!
Since we can no more shout: 'Thanks Obaba!'
There is a new phrase thanks to a recent political drama!
Whatever problem you might face,
Putin's existence is now your saving grace!
After all, it must be Putin!
Who is secretly pushing and pulling!
You can blame it on him,
And pass it as comedic whim!
Just repeat: It was Putin!
He even controls all gluten!
Unit 81 (For science fiction novel)
There is a purpose,
It may not be earnest,
As it results in a carcass,
But it is far from a disservice,
For you operate behind the curtain,
And it goes along your skills like cursive,
So go forth and make these wishes all but certain.
'Sentient trucks' of the media…
Shall we think of a mere common everyday bully,
Someone who consequences never touch fully,
Someone who acts as the judge and the jury,
And the victims are forced to bear the fury,
Far beyond the point of just feeling weary,
Little by little their whole world is bleary,
While the bully sees it as something merry,
Until something forces upon him the contrary.
Tiptoeing around the issue does not mean it is not done,
And denial of the reality does not help anyone,
Because sometimes you just cannot outrun.
Very few bully if it gets them a bloodied nose,
It is a fact even if you condemn exchange of blows,
Some problems cannot be solved without dirtying clothes.
And we are not dealing with sentient trucks,
It is the ideology that forms the crux…
I wish it were a horrible accident…
But wishes rarely come true.
Plaster
Why do you ask for plaster,
When it is band aids that you are after,
Thus I wonder if you are fixing a house after a disaster,
Because that is the only use for plaster without some level of laughter.
Bruised toe
A simple miss step,
As feet flew to a bed leg,
And pain follows step by step,
No matter how you plead and beg,
The pain reminds you with every step,
But you must wobble on even with a peg,
There are many things waiting beyond a step,
And as they say: sometimes we all break the egg.
Three poems in a day
Things happened along with delays,
But here I am back with poems to blaze,
Although my novels linger lost in their maze,
Those will come out as effort blows away the haze.
And so ends my third short poem of today,
I did not have that much to say,
But here lies the way,
Onto the next day.
Chemical castration of four year olds
There is silence when it comes to this simple ramification,
Trans-advocates do not mention chemical castration,
The loss of ability to produce biological filiation,
No going back on a youth's foolish fixation,
A decision without a way of negation,
Thus there is a need for mentation,
Without ideological narration,
Pushed on four year olds.
President Elect Trump
There are many reasons to despise Trump,
But he is still taking steps not to flump,
The cabinet might be swamp rump,
But that is just what will clump,
Scandals wait by his thumb,
But those will not stump,
It is the time to jump…
How far, Trump?
It is very hard not to describe him as a crook,
He comes with shady deals in every nook,
He bends everything in the rule book,
Upon a board he guards his rook,
Yet he is also a truthful mook,
Truth is the soup to cook,
And he is off the hook.
There are many severe risks that come with him,
Yet the future cannot be painted all that grim,
His words made other leaders look dim,
He highlights issues we cannot skim,
And while swamp oozes to a brim,
The foliage can face some trim.
> Upon Castro's death,
He was the only western leader to sound like a western leader.
> Upon islamic terrorism,
He makes the media report and talk about islamic terrorism.
> As for draining the swamp,
He is not a dictator – he is forced to work with the critters.
> As for the claims of 4-d chess,
As an intelligent man he face
s problems as those arise.
And the wall was a fucking meme,
It will only be built if the media continues to scream.
Wishful thinking…
It might snow tonight,
Give this darkness some light,
And wrap trees with a blanket white,
A view from my youth that I long to write,
So perhaps snowfall would be more than alright,
Because the muddy soil and dead grass do not excite,
They offer no more than passing pleasure to my eyesight.
A Marxist University Professor…
'All I Want for Christmas is White Genocide'
> George Ciccariello-Maher
This fellow seems have a history of promoting genocide,
Therefore, I wish to hear more of him without being snide,
Hear him explain why racist mass murder should be applied,
Because perhaps he carries arguments none could ever deride,
After all – it would be wrong to have such wisdom denied,
And thus the stage should be his to explain and guide,
So that the rest of us could finally hear and decide,
Whether there is any quality carried with pride,
Or if the society at large should see the stride,
Find him a mental health institute to reside,
Where sufficient treatment is supplied,
So he poses no risk to people outside.
If the word 'white' were suddenly replaced,
If that quote was by another name,
This poem remains the same.
Sins of Fathers
There are deeds that require an apology…
But why should anyone have to apologise for the sins of their fathers,
When their generation did not partake in the act as brothers,
Or would you apologise for crimes done by others,
As if deeds of an individual are of its feathers,
And similar appearance is quilt's measure?
Adolf Guevara Shirt
Some students in Asia had some costumes and a tank made,
So that they could march on and shout like a nazi parade,
Perhaps unaware of the message that was conveyed,
But they saw it as the funniest shit of the decade,
Just some ancient history to be displayed,
Because time makes all horrors fade.
And elsewhere they actually wear the face of another monster,
Oblivious of why communism is as red as boiled lobster,
Because the horrors of it are far too distant to ponder,
It is just like any band shirt bought at a concert,
Who cares of a role in inhumane slaughter,
Just history washed away by water.
So how about we just combine these monster to a single shirt?
Pettiness of a world leader
As the reins of power slip away,
This small man tries to have the last say,
And it is almost as if he has forgotten how to play,
As he continues on with his childish bay,
A last futile attempt to hold sway,
As if he were a mere cliché,
From a failed cabaret,
Trying to overstay,
And that marks…
Obama's last day.
Eve of a new year
The plan is to go see some rockets,
And perhaps how some drinker vomits,
The annual celebration of burning a wallet,
For handful colourful bangs without any profit.
It is so very absurd and I wouldn't want to miss it,
It is lovely to see what colours explosions emit,
And witness that dark sky momentarily lit,
An annual sight to behold I must admit.
But I am already feeling sleepy,
And her stumbled toe makes her weepy,
Thus the sensibility of going is questioned deeply.
Only time tells what will actually transpire,
Will we travel through the muddy mire,
Or stay at home huddled by a fire?
Whatever the decision is,
I wish happy new year!
It is the current year
Idiots kept saying because it was the current year,
But as their distraught with last year became clear,
With the failure to manifest the world they adhere,
I wonder if they utter the phrase with same sneer,
After all, in 20-16 introduced their worst fear,
A shift kick of rejection to their rear,
And loss in ability to smear,
Without any reverse gear,
How does 2017 appear?
Be honest…
You will not have your way.
Passengers
Distraught is the word for drowning.
This movie was everything Rogue One was not,
It has a soundtrack that is memorable on the spot,
From the start – my attention remained caught,
I felt invested in the characters and the plot,
And I am shocked how well thought,
It remained shot after a shot,
Worth the ticket bought.
Until we see again
There she sits for one more day,
How I hope she could stay,
But she will fly away,
What can I say?
My heart waits until we see again,
So go on and catch your plane,
I have a new letter to pen,
Our love will not vane.
Even if many thousand miles apart,
You will remain inside my heart,
Without, I am missing a part,
I hate to see you depart.
Every moment with you was precious,
A single second made me gracious,
Now I have become breathless,
Without you I am restless.
Yet we shall see each other once more,
We have so many new days in store,
When we live by the same shore,
No other could I ever adore.
Cold air flows in…
Today it is ever so freezing,
And the wind gives no easing,
I guess there is just no pleasing,
Would be mad to find it appeasing,
Yet some think you are merely teasing.
But because of it the night sky was quite clear,
Because the wind had made the wool of clouds shear,
Revealing those bright stars surrounding our earthly sphere.
Through the double window glass Sirius' glow was twisted into an eye.
(Or a flying saucer if you prefer…)
Four arrested…
> 'Four People in Custody After Alleged Kidnapping/Torture is Live Streamed'
> 'Chicago Police Investigate Live-Streamed Torture'
> '…'
- Same news outlet, same web page.
There is video of it,
And I cannot bear to watch it,
Description alone made me sickened by it.
It would be easy to just consider it a scam,
Shrug shoulders and not give a damn,
Perhaps deem it pointless spam,
Just what YouTube have…
But where is the kindness,
If we are to resort to blindness?
How could the victim have justice,
If we simply tolerate such grave injustice?
This is the result of bigotry long left unquestioned,
Something some would prefer remain totally unmentioned.
What's next?
One of the big news items of the past year concerned the fact that Trump, who we called “yellow cheeto,” managed to win presidency, which we all called impossible. Now racist acts and hostilities seem to have reached record highs. Here's a song about that:
First we called them ra
cist, and that was good,
'Cause decades ago they had this white brotherhood.
Mere mention shut them up instantly, and it was okay,
'Cause that meant people only heard what we had to say.
What's next…
A thug died resisting arrest, but don't you grieve,
'Cause right spin of it will help our side, (I believe).
Now they are chanting death to cops, but have no fears,
It will all fade from memory within some five years.
What's next…
In universities our message is all they say,
And dissent does not even get the light of day,
There is a new generation despising all things right,
They demand separate toilets for the black and the white.
What's next…
We are with her and there is nothing you can do,
Except how you just elected you know who.
So naturally we are feeling rather tense,
We have to act in our self defence.
'We are oppressed by oppressors,' says our Marx,
So just in case: we'll torture a man as if we were sharks.
It seems we are headed where we shouldn't go,
But admitting error is way hard though,
So we just act all serene and calm,
When our side does its Kristallnachts…
What's next…
What's next…
What's next…
What's next?
800
Long before the end of this year,
I have completed my fool's errand,
An effort I would so easily sneer,
But I do feel a bit of pride flaring,
For I did browse a published peer,
I found its incompetence glaring,
Page after page it became very clear,
I could not believe what I was staring,
If my words are judged as crude as a spear,
Then I found a muddy branch by act of comparing,
And left that 'praised work' to the shelf it had appeared.