One Hundred Poems
One Hundred Poems, Volume IX. Copyright © 2017 Tuomas Vainio.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without a written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. Please contact the author at [email protected]
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Published by Tuomas Vainio at Shakespir
Shakespir Edition, License Notes
Thank you for downloading this ebook. This book remains the copyrighted property of
the author, and may not be redistributed to others for commercial or non-commercial
purposes. If you enjoyed this book, please encourage your friends to download their own
copy from their favourite authorized retailer. Thank you for your support.
Discover other titles by Tuomas Vainio:
Heart of Ceres (Science Fiction)
One Hundred Poems Vol I-VIII (Poetry)
Skull of Oghren (Fantasy)
Table of Contents
The sound of loneliness
The house sounds so empty,
Every second feels like twenty,
And it is a day just like any,
But I would not wish for many,
Because loneliness is heavy,
Unseen force that is truly scary,
The hardest burden to carry,
Blinded within any great library,
It is an impossible adversary,
And there is no hope of sanctuary,
As an experience unnecessary,
It is a foul curse to become solitary,
Its horror may remain imaginary,
Until finally thrust upon involuntarily.
An oppressive country
Do you know what lies underneath the snow,
Is it dirt and stones or plants ready to grow,
Just biding time with temperature low,
Waiting for the spring sun’s glow,
But days pass ever so slow.
Imagine if a mere opinion gets you killed,
Then silence alone makes you gilled,
But you are never truly thrilled,
As reality lies unfulfilled,
Yet truth gets instilled.
The pressure remains ever growing,
With a rate that is never slowing,
But without strength showing,
You will not see elbowing,
But it is still ongoing.
Thus on one day barriers break,
It will seem a massive shake,
But if you had been awake,
It is not much of a quake,
And world is less fake.
Avoiding a thing…
And here I am slacking off once more,
Editing my poems feels like a chore,
So things remain in my drawer,
Perhaps for a day or four,
Not a moment before.
Cowardice of Scottish newspapers
Are they addressing issues or doing honest reporting?
No, they have chosen the path unsporting,
One of dangerous courting,
And self thwarting.
A man online spoke views they did not exactly fancy,
Ones that I do not even find slightly dandy,
Yet the newspapers did something nasty,
Perhaps in hopes of a headline flashy,
They revealed his address and panty,
Throwing him at mercy of vigilante,
With no mercy granted to his family.
And yes, this was just an attempt to deny credibility,
One born out of pure bigotry of mental senility,
It doesn’t matter if views lack agree-ability,
If this man becomes a victim of hostility,
By granting him the victim’s legibility,
You absolve him of any culpability,
You have increased his audibility.
It really is a sorry state with our far right and far left,
Because neither side is actually acting deft,
As bigotry blinds them from bereft,
It is each other they heft.
> It is only a matter of time…
> Until the far right answers in kind…
> And reveals reporter home addresses online.
Someone on the chan boards has claimed credit,
And that is unsurprisingly all it takes to discredit,
Whatever was previously pushed out by the media,
As their mistakes already fill an entire encyclopedia.
And if you ask me; Trump can sleep in tubs of uremia,
It is not that odd if you recall one victim of ophidia,
Perhaps some are now furiously typing a new edit,
But it is too late, this nonsense is their only credit.
Few days yet ago another man was put on a trial,
For a reason as nonsensical as it is vile,
Because some words might rile,
There is a need for a spile,
So pretentious twats could smile,
Abuse power just for a moment while,
Before they are pushed aside by the electoral dial.
Huge headlines about tears shed before the court,
A lurid example of how they comport,
Without a single thought to abort,
They think winning a sport,
With attempts to distort,
To deny any support,
When their report,
Fell ever so short.
It is the same song,
And the tune isn’t wrong…
There are so many things to loathe,
But I simply cannot stand the stains on your clothe.
Final Fantasy XV
She bought a video game,
I mocked it a boy band simulator,
She lacked the time to tame,
And it was left behind to be finished later,
Thus as I stare at boredom’s flame,
And I cannot give it a spin out of being a hater,
Perhaps you might consider it a shame,
But I will stand behind this conviction far greater,
Because liking it would make me quite lame,
I would rather stick my head into a maw of an alligator,
Than admit ever playing it to my dearest dame.
> To me it is a word kindergarten kids shout to one and the other…
While some say it is the most offensive word in the English language,
And that fact grants me an opportunity rather sanguine,
One I cannot help but to take advantage.
I find you a colossal cunt,
And you might think me blunt,
For tossing out such a verbal stunt,
And your anger might be beyond shunt,
Blowing full steam while ready to confront,
For daring to use that word as means to affront,
But no matter your action – I see you a mere cunt,
Because your butt hurt has spewed out front,
As you howl and growl like a mere grunt,
For once seeing the truth right in front,
By hearing that simple word cunt,
You have spilled your strunt,
And you are a mere cunt,
Wounded ego to hunt.
Back to work…
It is the last day of a holiday,
Now it is time to jump into the fray,
Without allowing any moment slip away,
Because sleeping all days will lead you astray,
As laziness comes with its own burdensome weigh,
And now is the moment to cast it off like ashes on a tray.
Moment of pessimism…
There glows the sun,
At the end of a battle won,
You cannot recall distance run,
Not even deeds that had to be done,
Yet it will become a mere story to a son,
And it will send him grab a sword or a gun,
A cycle that none could ever hope see undone,
So they march onwards like it was some story fun,
Never hearing how the ticking of a death clock begun,
And if they are lucky – they will live to see their grandson,
But only the fools dream that this cycle will have its last spun,
As human nature will never change underneath this same old sun…
I hope for ever more fools so one day it is distant stars where we run.
Today giant cogs begin to turn,
As Great Britain bids to adjourn,
Leave the husk of Europe to burn,
And for some it is a real concern,
For they would prefer to return,
Ever desperate for any u-turn,
The pain causes a heartburn,
But it is something to unlearn,
There is a reality to discern,
Great falsehoods to spurn,
You have no reason to churn,
So stand tall and become stern,
There are fruits of labour to earn,
And freedom that many yearn,
Once freed from a rotting carcass…
‘Two European Leaders’
If you do not like Theresa May,
You can try vote her out on next election day.
If you do not like Jean-Claude Juncker,
You cannot – not even if the man becomes drunker.
These four lines explain why the union can only face failure,
It condenses the entirety of the problem’s nature,
Nothing exist to correct behaviour,
It cannot maintain favour.
How could anyone joust Jean-Cloude Juncker from his office?
It would take decades and this plan is not flawless,
But there is an option more nauseous,
By means that are lawless.
Therefore, European Union is headed towards political violence,
As problems continue to spiral to the size leviathan,
Someone will refuse to suffer in quietness,
And so comes an act of violence.
The day many have dreaded…
Soon comes the day many have dreaded,
How they wish it wasn’t direction they are headed,
How they long to see the day itself shredded,
Perhaps out of being plain hardheaded,
They chant for him to get beheaded,
Or perhaps literally lightheaded,
As they hate how their bed was bedded,
They can only lash out and threaten,
Declare that he shouldn’t set in,
Because they will not let in,
Yet their numbers lessen…
And that is the lesson.
It will be just another day,
And it is an honest thing to say,
As time whisks all false fears away,
Reveals how the much oval office weighs,
A burden upon the shoulders of its latest entree.
Thus whether it is for the better or worse,
No matter how some might curse,
Or make attempts to coerce,
What is to reimburse?
He was elected,
One voters selected.
How did that song go again?
If you are upset and you know it – kick a public trash can,
If you are upset and you know it – smash any store window,
If you are upset and you know it – call people literally Hitler,
If you are upset and you know it – ‘smash capitalism’ at a 7/11,
If you are upset and you know it – no matter what you might do,
At the end of the day, Donald J. Trump, is still your president!
(It should have an apostrophe in it.)
Are women finally protesting horrors of the Middle-East?
No, they are screeching because of their self-inflicted yeast.
Are women finally protesting horrors of the Saharan Africa?
No, and this march of theirs will soon run out of all stamina.
Are women finally protesting against horrors they do not suffer?
No, effort beyond pointless virtue signalling makes them shudder.
Are women finally seeing problems beyond their very own vagina?
No, you might just as well ask if cars can be fixed with mere saliva.
Oh, and whoever was holding that pink sign with the word: ‘SAD,’
It summed the entire women’s march without anything left to add.
Gaze upon that red flag,
As it is held high as if to brag,
Some think it more than a dish rag,
As they have devised a symbol to scrag,
A new slave collar to make make necks sag.
A circle formed out of hammer and sickle,
With gender symbols for the fickle,
You would never pay a nickel,
For construction so brickle.
Its appearance is one of dread,
And many forget the lessons of dead,
The human price wherever such flags tread.
There it was among the women’s march,
And I hope that its fate is to parch.
Or how many will Gender Marxist slaughter?
> Whenever the right goes low,
> The left strives to dig a hole.
Imagine being ten and called a date rapist,
Because your dad triggered someone thinking himself an ‘-ist.’
Imagine being ten and called a school shooter,
Because your dad triggered a self proclaimed public prosecutor.
Imagine being ten and called an animal torturer,
Because your dad triggered someone by looking like a northerner.
Imagine being ten and that no matter what you do,
Because your dad triggered gormless wankers – they now lash at you.
You would hope for human decency to leave the family out,
But they find themselves at wits end and so they spout,
Whatever springs to their mind without a doubt,
Because they lost what the plot was about,
For the hole dug is now their dugout,
And they cannot even climb out,
Piss and shit starts to clout.
For a passing moment,
When the river is not flowing,
There is a sight beyond a comment,
For a white snake has stopped its roaming,
A beast fallen asleep after gorging its opponent,
Resting now but insatiable hunger will send it rolling,
The peace of the white river will be shattered and broken.
Reform or revolution
Today’s Mexico is rife with corruption,
And daily violence is more than a societal disruption,
Therefore leaving northwards appears to be the better option,
The ability to leave is the pressure valve on reform and revolution,
And the very reason why this nation lingers on the verge of destruction.
Desperation has always given courage to go against the odds,
For slaves to endure and push against their master’s rods,
For people to look up and defy the absolutes of gods,
And even tear apart heavily armoured squads,
A back against a wall leaves no façades.
With Trump’s wall and deportation,
Mexico will face a reform or a revolution,
Without a way to flee they shall seek a solution,
And in their misery there will be no other absolution,
Than solve corruption that plagues Mexico’s institutions.
Mexico has the potential to become so much more,
But remains crippled by cartels and drug war,
And how could young minds ever soar,
If all they can see is crime and gore,
With a garbage heap for floor.
Reform or revolution,
One of them leads to a solution,
The current status quo provides no absolution.
Generic villain species (For a science fiction novel)
Gaze upon the world,
Said the old man gnarled,
Hoping for a shred of mercy,
But it gave no stop their flurry,
He was bashed down just as well,
And afterwards none could tell,
There was no sense in their doing,
Even among the torched ruins,
Their band had to move on,
Like beasts fleeing dawn,
Their rocket ships flew,
To seek worlds anew,
Without asking why,
They fight and die.
Suspended from Twitter
When you get suspended,
It will arrive out of the blue,
No telling what needs amended,
For no guilty tweet appears in view.
Some send death threads every day,
But if it is towards right targets,
There is not that much to say,
It is shrugged under carpets.
But were you to ask a question,
On a topic you are not supposed to,
Twitter treats it as the most foulest notion,
And with suspension your tweets are out of view.
Thus suspension is nothing but a badge of honour,
Whoever gets suspended is senseless at best,
At this rate Twitter is bound to be goner,
It fails rudimentary free speech test.
> Free speech was all Twitter had,
> 140 characters to write out your thoughts,
> Without – it is just a web-page that is kind of bad,
> And soon the users left are nothing but humourless twats.
Election promises used to be air,
Except now the madman is fulfilling them,
And I think that it is something more than fair,
Because whoever follows him cannot just hum,
There is a burden of election promises to bear,
And you have to fulfil whatever you drum,
Or risk facing more than a glare.
So, I will drink to that!
‘He will not divide us’
They have built their fence,
Because dividing people made sense,
The irony of it escapes because they are dense,
And so they continue their virtue signalling pretence,
A cult like chant that does not earn anyone more than two cents.
Not to mention how the division that they protest is solely their own,
They wish to maintain rank and file by continuing to moan,
Yet little by little they realise they stand all alone,
Unable to understand the memes thrown,
Or when Trump support is shown,
They will simply fall prone,
And flee camera zone.
It can easily get out of whack,
Make you so tired you lose all track,
Wish they sold real sleep in a handy pack,
Thus somehow you have to deal with the lack,
Before it gets you buried beneath stone and plaque.
Pretence of love and fake news
Hypocrisy often hides behind the so called mask of love,
It is used to virtue signal that you are morally far above,
That your noble love gives you the excuse to shove,
Lash out as if you had never even heard of a glove,
And your feelings become all you can think of,
Thus it is next to impossible to talk you out of,
Because you are doing it in the name of love,
Even if it means breaking the neck of a dove.
They think it is fine if their guy has the final say,
And narratives of lies run freely in the world of today,
Those sprout faster than facts could hope to slay,
And nothing seems to make them go away,
But those will stop along with the pay,
When none believe what you say,
Thus there is no point to bay,
And even blind see a ray,
To their own dismay,
There is no doomsday…
Truth and lies; which is which,
Who to trust and what to simply ditch?
If you check sources the answer gets easy to stitch,
But even an honest individual will have his preference and niche.
Therefore, we have to lend an ear to whatever our enemies have to say,
It is the only way to understand the views they hold today,
Or if our own views are the ones gone astray,
Suddenly fake news hold no sway,
Wouldn’t that be a day?
For far too long we have stood in silence,
And the entire world has lost its balance,
For our blindness has given them license,
To tear away common sense and science,
And they shriek about feelings like sirens,
Lashing towards things not in compliance,
Incapable to imagine things beyond horizon,
Listening to whispers of would be tyrants,
They remain blind to their own reliance,
Faulty reasons to make others silenced,
Because they reject values timeless,
And spread like cancerous virus,
Sending truth tellers to asylum,
But there still exists defiance,
And frogs become giants…
What we see is normalization of political violence,
And how it is used in an effort to turn speech to silence.
A generation was not taught to think for themselves,
So they smash windows and rob store shelves,
How they are everything they protest,
And their minds are too messed,
To see how they are wrong,
Because they feel strong,
Wearing that black uniform,
Making fear and violence a norm,
And waving flags of failed ideologies,
Oblivious to the long history of failed policies,
Which is exactly why none of them push on breaks,
And the road they embark on is repetition of mistakes,
This is not an hour we can afford to remain quit…
I condemn Berkeley riot.
Salt of the internet
And who are you, the shitlord said,
What memes do you even know,
Only a frog with one up vote,
Is it all you have in tow?
A coat of green or a coat of reich,
A Pepe has never cared for its glauze,
And mine are edgy and rare, quite adored,
Far more than whatever you might post as yours.
And so he posted, and so he posted,
That shitlord from the internet,
But will you kek, or will you bawl,
Will you shed salt for this year?
Yes will you kek, or will you bawl,
Is this your salt for a year…
> This is a parody of something!
Lo and behold this ink,
No point in pouring it to a sink,
It dried while you were trying to think,
To you the change happened in a mere blink,
And your entire world view now lies before a brink,
So I wonder – for a moment more – do you dare to blink?
The thing is; no ideas do not push bad ideas off the floor,
You are not actually making arguments any more,
And a part of me doubts that you did before,
It is just insults you got in your drawer,
Soon worn and out of the door,
A fate you cannot ignore.
Do you dare blink,
Grab a pen and fresh ink,
And give us something to think,
Will you help yourself from the brink,
It is something you could do in a mere blink,
But it seems you just continue to moan as you sink.
Just thoughts of today…
There is a scent of change in the air,
And I find this whole sensation something rare,
For once – the future does not unravel before my stare,
It is so strange – I cannot get it out of my hair,
I have to wait and simply see where.
So I wish for winds fair,
Free from despair,
Hope will flare,
As clouds tear.
What do you with those who have fallen behind,
Do you look past as if you were born blind,
Because then they are just out of mind,
A question for entirety of mankind,
Where are our values aligned,
Do we aspire to be kind,
Help those in bind?
I wish that I could just look away,
Go on without a thing to say,
But my heart ain’t grey,
All ready to decay.
I know wrong from right,
It is injustice I fight.
What I have is what I have earned with labour,
I have toiled far harder than my neighbour,
For hours my sweat has turned vapour,
No need to worry for my last hour,
As I will leave behind a dower,
I have aspired to be greater.
By what right you come to take mine,
Force yourself to my table to dine,
When you burden your spine,
With nothing but wine?
I know wrong from right,
It is injustice I fight.
Where are the jokes?
There is one fellow peeved by Brexit and Trump,
And he is scouring comedy clips to a clump,
Perhaps in hopes of smacking rump,
But the result is a bit of stump,
Pouring of drivel pump,
A comedic slump.
They are recycling more than a decade old jokes,
The attempts to discredit are mostly hoax,
It has brought them against the ropes,
And they keep missing strokes,
Silence is all it provokes.
Any real point is buried beneath utter irrelevancy,
Self-castration shields Trump presidency,
Could you say it more eloquently?
So again, I am forced to ask; where are the jokes?
Lo and behold,
A new landmark to be sold,
Something that leaves none feeling cold.
The Eiffel Tower will have its own wall,
Who knows just how tall,
And that is all.
Sweden’s Feminist Government
If this government has taught us anything,
It is that there is no greater enemy to women,
Than virtue signalling from a female politician.
This government has only achieved one thing,
And it is clear to anyone with ears to listen,
A grave dug with a world saving mission.
Women in Sweden are bound by same string,
Daily threat of violence and rape without a limit,
The naive ignorance of their state grants permission.
It is the world saving virtue signalling to which they cling,
That prevents culprits from deportation or even prison,
And reduces suffering to mere statistical attrition.
On this path they have cut away their own hamstring,
And tax money gets wasted to fulfil a multicultural vision,
While the same sum could have been used to provide nutrition.
Therefore, I cannot wait for the next election because it brings a swing,
While the incompetent fools will describe it as something chilling,
Because for the first time in decades there might be cognition.
‘Dear White People’
Some got their panties in a bunch,
And started to choke on their brunch,
Due to a dose of racism served as lunch,
Many appear to be without slightest hunch,
That there might be a little bit more to crunch,
Before jumping in with your fists ready to punch.
The film of the same name came with nuance,
And without being much of a nuisance,
That nuance might not be truant.
So I will wait and see.
Politics in comics done right?
A page of comic called Fathom popped up…
It seems a superhero fight happened on a beach,
Thus one by one people online showed their reach,
And gave their thoughts in the form of speech,
Wherein lies a very good lesson to teach.
It showed an online reaction that was realistic,
Not a fake caricature carved out of lump of plastic,
But rather a multitude of people being agonistic,
How these controversies tend to be hedonistic.
Some simply stepped forth to make a case serious,
While others joked in a manner close to being delirious,
And while some views might be seen deleterious,
The sum of it all is not all that hideous.
Most of all: I can imagine it happening in real life,
It was not propaganda shoved down a throat with a knife,
I did not cringe hard enough to flee to distant Recife,
Just chuckled upon the accuracy more than rife.
So – I guess that is how politics is done right…
It was not terrible,
It was oddly enjoyable,
Breaking things unbreakable,
Leaping on with action excitable,
Its gravely charm is almost adorable,
And though some aspects are debatable,
My enjoyment of it is almost unbelievable,
But I wonder who is first to call it deplorable?
Is the fringe left going to shriek about white supremacy,
Or is the fringe right going to shriek about sexual degeneracy?
After all – everyone ended up wearing nothing but white,
And the ‘two dad’ jokes weren’t exactly sleight.
Thy name comes from hypocrisy
To turn a blatant virtue signaller into a crook,
You do not need much of a bait and hook,
Just glance at what lies in their nook,
Give the spotlight a gentle shook,
And that was all that it took.
Why not house those refugees into your mansion,
After all: words are not louder than action,
Show us the extend of your passion,
Or was it borne out of fashion?
No one should demand others to improve the world,
Only your own work sees visions unfurled,
So lift up your arse or remain curled.
It is how one well known author revealed her hypocrisy,
When radio silence became her own policy.
Thus proving a famous age old adage; life comes at you fast.
This where I stand without a single shade of doubt.
As long as the audience’s laughter comes out,
A comedian is surely upon the right route,
And there is no topic not to joke about.
But for some claiming offence is all they can spout,
And so they twist anything before their snout,
To ensure that laughter doesn’t come out.
Their power relies on buzzwords to make you pout,
And without any: only wind hears their shout.
Thus – they write lies so that laughter does not sprout.
> PewDiePie is a victim of yet another media attack.
A meaningless word in ten years
There is a growing tempo,
With this insult you so often bestow,
A word that should not be so easy thing to throw,
And I cannot help but notice how its use continues to grow,
It makes me believe it is the only word you know,
Without an argument it is your ammo,
Against all who dare say no.
How can you not see,
This error with your latest spree,
How you continue to shriek like a banshee,
And resort to violent delights with ever growing glee,
How you lash at anyone daring to disagree,
Deafening your ears to any plea,
How can you not see?
You shout it at ears,
To brand enemies to your peers,
You use it so often its innate weight disappears,
But as long as it still ends careers,
You shout it at ears.
Thus with time,
People forget the crime,
The word becomes less than a dime,
Wiped clean of its grime,
It held one time.
How do you not see,
That you shoot at your own knee?
By calling all a nazi?
And you still spew,
When the only one is just you,
In everyone’s view.
In less than ten years.
So ends a taboo.
It begins anew…
Do you hear the beat of drums,
Do you hear those beasts of war,
While you fiddled with your thumbs,
And pretended it is not what came before,
You picked a fight without ammo in your guns,
And your back begins to shiver from the growing roar,
You can no longer hide from this beat of drums,
Nor turn your gaze from the beasts of war,
It is more than a slap at your thumbs,
They have fought battles before,
And speak in strange tongues.
And so it begins all anew…
All those corrupt dinosaurs with fake news,
Think it is far beneath them to ever lose,
That none can challenge their views,
A truth that they alone can choose,
That they do not need pay dues,
For the power they so abuse,
Oh, how it must confuse,
As they fail to bruise.
It has begun anew…
You try to sever,
Yank floor with a lever,
Make him lose this endeavour,
Think as you might: you are not clever,
And your grasp at power might slip whenever,
Because no empire in history has ever lasted forever.
It warms my heart to hear him speak truth to power,
And rattle the very foundation of its tower,
Wading through insults they shower,
Turning all those smirks sour,
And making them cower,
With his willpower,
This is the hour,
I call him our.
Here is something,
He is better than nothing,
He has guts inside his stuffing,
There is a change of direction coming,
It will not be stopped with your mere huffing,
Lie all you might: it is you who we find disgusting.
300 Russian hackers? To sort emails? REALLY?
I suppose you could go through emails one by one,
But the whole inefficiency of it makes me stun,
There are far faster ways underneath the sun,
For me to tell how – you don’t need a gun,
Because database queries are quite fun,
Keywords allow the job to be done,
And it could be done by anyone,
Your claim’s validity is: none.
> What annoyed me when Milo met Bill,
> On real time.
Trenches of a culture war
Here is a moment of peace,
Before the next pressure release,
And I could stare into my timepiece,
See how alternatives are on the decrease,
Without any change or a ways to make it cease,
They are running out of time to escape the end of a lease,
And therefore; I shall savour this ever so fleeting moment of peace.
So much for that peace
And here comes ever more shit slinging,
Without arguments – it is all they are flinging,
In hopes that a siren stops its singing,
And ever fewer are cheering,
As their aim is stinking.
Nothing but fake news
Everything you have said on record,
Will become a pawn on their chessboard,
The original context will be outright ignored,
Every ounce of ethics is loss they think to afford,
Whenever they wish for political points to be scored,
And they will craft whatever narrative to be their sword.
Trump briefly mentioned events of last night in Sweden,
Guiding spotlight to how it is no longer any Eden,
How the country itself has been long bleeding,
Yet it was not the story that was leading,
No mention of the loss of freedom,
And people raped and beaten.
Another case worthy of emphasis;
A failure to brand Milo as a supremacist,
Made them join ranks of video vivisectionists,
Words edited out of the context to rob doubt’s benefit,
For they fear his habit of being such a successful polemicist,
And I doubt this will be quite enough to bring down their nemesis.
Ultimately these feeble swords of theirs will shatter away,
Have a look at what the King of YouTube had to say,
‘Try again motherfuckers’ – he is still here today,
And eventually there will be a price they pay,
They truly are the dragons we wish to slay,
And I can hear bells of their doomsday.
They may consider themselves left or right,
But in reality they remain the exact same blight…
At this rate – the future of social media is filtered,
Someone decides what lies spread unhindered,
By controlling what messages get delivered,
Opinions and facts denied of being considered,
Until your perception of reality is disfigured,
A point where facts alone make you bewildered,
Simply by being against falsehood glittered,
Attempts at dialogue opposed and not mirrored,
A state that no society can survive uninjured.
If today is any indication; I fear the future filtered.
A thing about free speech
There is a thing about free speech,
Something harder to practice than preach,
But it is nevertheless something to learn and teach.
There is a need for devil’s advocacy,
So that all views can be challenged rationally,
And the need is higher when a view is held unanimously.
You have to stomach even what is foul,
You have to hear the argument even if you scowl,
And you have to: it is the only way to know you are not afoul.
John Wick: Chapter 2
I saw this thing days ago,
And it was a quite fun action show,
One that leaves the viewer a positive glow,
And that sums ups pretty much all that I can throw.
I need a topic for a poem.
> ‘How about: “I’m sexy?”’
> ‘So rude.’
Just who I am – it ain’t more than that,
So feel free to diss,
I will just flick it aside with my hat,
And no matter how you hiss,
It will not make you a cool cat,
I hope you understand why I dismiss,
The premise just falls flat,
And it will not garner praise or even a kiss,
Not even a single pat,
So calling myself sexy – it is just me taking a piss,
And that’s that.
Huh? It seems I am done for today.
A poem about online polls
Can you bear the shift in public opinion,
Admit that your world view holds no dominion,
Over those you consider as mere minion,
Is their dissent something to listen,
Or will you call it mere fiction?
Will you refuse your opponent’s diction,
Because it happens to violate your prediction?
Is your poll facing sudden eviction?
All Takeis and Allens of the world.
A lone cough echoes in the dark,
A man in blue jacket in his midnight lark,
There is not a single hound to bark,
The cold has left the city stark,
No one stands there to hark,
See the path to embark,
Or witness his mark,
Steps upon fresh snow.
Trump’s “thin skin”
Imagine a regular playground after rain,
There is kid with tiny hands and silly hair to bane,
A shove to a pool of mud means that there is laughter to gain,
Imagine if that odd kid were to give tears their reign,
And forced to walk all day with a muddy stain,
Can you imagine how hard it is to abstain,
He would run to his mum to complain,
We could give speed with a cane,
That odd kid deserves disdain,
Think of laughter we attain,
Drive him off our terrain,
And not to do is insane,
It is just life mundane.
Yet that odd kid with silly hair,
Once shoved – plays it quite fair;
He grabs and shoves in similar flair,
He does what none thought he’d dare,
It is muddy clothes that everyone wear,
Suddenly it is the bullies that shed a tear
And afterwards: no matter how they glare,
Thus no matter how they attempt to square,
Their attempts will go without any fanfare,
And if only they were just a little aware,
They’d see no reason to pull any hair,
How they could just end it all there,
But mud is all that they can wear,
It blinds and covers their hair,
And it makes them despair.
European union silences any dissent
Parliaments have rules of conduct,
And punishments for various misconduct,
Simply to ensure that dialogue doesn’t self-destruct,
And turn any personal disagreement into a reason to obstruct.
But now in the European parliament,
They have measures to silence any opposing argument,
Silenced and stripped from the records so none hear what they deem turbulent.
European union is a cancer upon the west,
Filled with petty bureaucrats sailing from disaster to another and claim to know the best.
It must shatter before it can causes more harm.
It snows and it rains,
Slowly spring makes it gains,
And drives away lovely frozen plains,
Until muddy pools of water form their veins,
And nothing of the pristine frozen beauty remains.
The age of walls
There is something new taking place while the old ever falls,
Even if these words aren’t spoken in high halls,
We are now living the age of walls.
Ultimately: violence only breeds ever more violence,
Let us cut the growth of this bestial vehemence,
So our hands are not stained by idleness.
What has already happened we cannot withstand,
This is not a problem difficult to understand,
So we build walls to have them manned.
These new walls will not stop the trade of goods,
Or even ban the import of any exotic foods,
Just the flood of bad people in hoods.
Building a wall does not make a forbidden land,
We just wish to live among people we can understand,
And work together with the rest when our interests go in hand.
A touch of madness (For a science fiction novel)
He was touched by madness,
Once born out of undying sadness,
And had to escape it into that blackness,
Seeking any answer through all that vastness,
Watching new worlds burn out of mercy and malice,
Perhaps what he seeks still lies somewhere in that vastness,
A frozen rock hidden within a dead star’s blackness,
Some way shatter chains of undying sadness,
Finally a cure to end all of his madness,
That life without mercy or malice,
And there lies another planet.
Two five year old friends
One boy cut his hair to be like his friend,
And their appearances are quite similar to an extend,
More than enough to fool me if a quick glance is all I could lend,
And I am left to wonder how on earth this act of friendship could offend,
Yet some are – and so their heads must reside deep within their very own back end.
Half a moon
It hangs there even at noon,
Like some strange balloon,
Out of reach of a harpoon,
Beyond scoop of a spoon,
And it will be gone soon,
No reason to be a prune,
Or howl like any goon,
It is just half a moon.
Those men of ill intends
The world might be burning,
Without lessons worth learning,
Without any chance of overturning,
And for some war is a thing of yearning,
They clap as the age old signs keep returning,
And the loss of life is not a topic worth concerning,
Their minds have gone to profits they might be earning,
And there is a need for a miracle for their tables to be turning,
Before the massive machines of war begin their unstoppable churning.
After a snowfall
It has been a some while,
But little by little it will pile,
Cover the road mile after mile,
And by morning some will smile,
As nostalgia rises above to beguile,
Overcome by joy it gets hard to dial,
Or even see it as a nasty slippery trial,
How beauty might hide something vile,
And for a fleeting moment it is juvenile,
Before being sent to sit at a doctor’s aisle.
Yet another ‘#’ about women in the west…
This is nothing more than yet another inane protest,
A chance for the select few to pat on their own chest,
Virtue signal without putting any of it to a real test,
Or consider that perhaps not all are so blessed,
That they can skip a day as if it were a jest,
And therefore I greet it with pure detest,
As the privileged claim be distressed,
And claim mandate to speak behest,
On topics not worthy to be addressed.
I wish I could claim to be shocked,
And have my perception of privacy rocked,
But the sad truth is that devices are not well locked,
And these days even a complete nobody will get stalked,
Because someday even that nobody might need to be blocked,
And on that day: they blackmail you based on what you’ve talked.
How could you not love humanity?
A camera only showed a flag against the sky,
An impossible task but they nevertheless gave it a try,
With mere flight patters, rotation of stars, and sounds to rely,
It was enough to locate and have it pulled down to please our eye.
How could you not love humanity,
When they perform feats beyond sanity,
Even if in part: inspired by their own vanity!
There is beauty in cleverness,
Even if it is focused on foolishness.
I love humanity at its best.
And a novel draws to a close…
The last pages are under way,
I should be glad for this day,
Yet I seek for another delay,
What else could I even say,
Soon I will have to read it…
… If you can even believe it.
I don’t really care for the taste,
I need a tube of toothpaste,
Yet I miss it in my haste,
As if my mind was erased,
Many grocery runs I’ve braced,
And had them gone to waste,
Only to return disgraced,
Hoping to rid this after-taste,
Searching toothpaste misplaced,
From aisle perhaps too well placed,
Seemingly failing to have a tube traced,
Instead buying weird shit like tomato paste,
Therefore I write this to inflict eternal lambaste!
Power of repetition
The same note on repeat,
Throwing rhythm for the beat,
Shifting gear to move all the feet,
This sound so loud and yet so sweet,
Exactly the thing the public loves to eat,
There is not much you can differ to compete,
After all, since birth, they’ve listened it on repeat.
On a distant world (For a science fiction novel)
Rain has stopped,
And the clouds slowly clear,
For a moment the stars are not blocked,
But it is a sight that will not last forever my dear,
Not without this whole world being disastrously rocked,
Thus the best course of actions is to live by seasons of this sphere,
Let the fledgling life of this world find its course unhindered and unstopped.
Dutch Election Results
Look how quick they are to declare their new victory,
Even when the result suggests something contradictory,
And the left leaning parties are carved out beyond injury,
A fact of life that should make people of the union shivery,
Notice how the foundation of their policies became slippery…
But they continue to fool themselves with their words of trickery,
There are more elections to come to shake their pre-written history,
As people find themselves sick and tired of the ever growing misery.
The radical left and garbage bins
Garbage bins have their purpose,
They ensure trash free street surface.
The radical left serves no purpose,
And they wish to make others wordless.
This explains the acts of violence,
Which garbage bins suffer in silence.
A radical leftist just cannot let go,
All the good a garbage bin can bestow.
And there is yet another video clip,
Radical leftist with a garbage bin to whip.
‘How dare you be good for society’,
The leftists cries full of useless anxiety.
Faces of Andromeda
A brand new galaxy is out there,
With creatures that might scare,
With the strangest eyes to stare,
With hides quite away from fair,
Something that doesn’t compare,
Even if it was mauled by a bear,
Horror so great you need prayer,
Because there is no way to repair,
This sight that creates more despair.
> “Oh yes, I too find the mass effect faces funny!”
> Sush you!
That topic that escapes me mind
There was something I wished to write about,
I could say that without a moment of doubt,
It was important as some saw effort shout,
Perhaps it just wasn’t worth it to act out,
As I cannot recall at all what to spout,
Or if there was some banner to tout,
And discussion did not sprout,
It was simply forced out…
And now I can recall what it was about,
I could point at it without any doubt,
A mob of morons came in to shout,
They had their ‘protest’ to act out,
With only same nonsense to spout,
And those moronic banners to tout,
Nothing of use managed to sprout,
As common sense was forced out.
Opposing views are silenced for ‘diversity’,
And there is hardly more insidious perversity,
Than ‘wrong think’ being silenced at a university,
The one place where all views should face adversity,
So that truth and facts could produce intellectual clarity.
A genuinely good song transcends the performer,
It does not require acts of any reformer,
Just a voice similar to former.
Even if the memory of the original does fade,
The same songs keep getting played,
As the audience gets swayed.
This simple question leaves no hairs to split,
Has anyone ever made a cover of it,
And this marks the real hit.
Go ahead, make my day…
Oh how I wish they had the courage to debate him,
So that I could see their faces turn grim,
As he tears their arguments on nothing but a whim,
No matter what they do to appear prim,
Their nonsense is what all universities ought to trim,
A cancerous growth that devours a limb,
Something that turns the light of brilliance to dim,
They carry concrete shoes for a swim,
They know their chances to beat are less than slim,
But go ahead, make my day… or his.
> Jordan B. Peterson of University of Toronto,
> You fail to disappoint.
Some tears of joy
Somewhere in the big wide world,
A censorship board was forced to back down,
Because the demands they hurled,
Were met with a simple yet unbudging turndown,
A response that saw them curdled,
Out of the fear of being the laughing stock of the town.
Elsewhere in the tune of a song called paparazzi,
Talented artists mocked those wanting to punch a nazi!
Thus I laugh with tears of joy,
Truth and common sense are things to enjoy.
I have a song stuck in my head,
And I hope this condition is one to spread.
Have some tears of joy,
No matter how it might annoy!
> See some more effort tomorrow though…
The world that wasn’t
Again we see the same old farce,
The truth of the matter is not hard to parse,
And still they try pull the same old shit off their arse.
How I wish the world was at peace,
But it is decades after the last date of the lease,
Some have lived this lie for so long they cannot cease.
That dream of a world that never was,
They just keep shouting it louder for applause,
A distraction from the sight that would otherwise pause.
We are now living a world that was not,
Not even close to the package it was once bought,
And with all that denial it seems that no lesson was taught.
They scream how the scars are beautiful,
That these extraordinary times are just life as usual,
But whoever opens their eyes sees what was never excusable.
The world just doesn’t care for your heart,
And you cannot stop it from being slowly torn apart,
But right there in the mirror you see where the change will start.
At the end of a road there is always a choice,
You have to decide where to go without a guiding voice,
And sometimes you have to choose what leaves no reason to rejoice.
It is just how things are in this world that wasn’t…
And repeating the same mistakes won’t heal your heart.
Art is not fit to stand among STEM fields
We have screams, vomit, and solid portrayals of a fart,
And the pretentious spin their bullshit to sound smart,
Yet no matter what is spun it can be easily torn apart,
Because there is no real value or meaning to impart,
Not even when the sales see many millions depart,
Just gaze upon all modern things described as art,
Any given fool could slap paint with a body part,
Rile emotions by speaking with a bleeding heart,
About importance of a mere nail from Walmart,
And off it goes to appear in some auction chart.
How does any of above compares to…
Science, technology, engineering and mathematics,
Fields that aid entire humanity far more than any dramatics,
Fields ruled by reason and evidence rather than by whims of fanatics,
Fields that require hard labour and a bit of brilliance within the mind’s attic.
Art is not fit to stand among STEM fields.
> Thus this ‘STEAM fields’ nonsense can simply fuck off.
> Signed, by this fucking a poet.
The epilogue is now almost done,
A day or two is about all it takes,
I have a new novel under the sun,
But I think I will be hitting breaks,
Before I can show it to someone,
Perhaps it is out of fear of mistakes,
But I must read it before anyone…
An adventurer on a distant shore,
A story no one has read before,
Pages for your eyes to explore,
For the effort an author did pour,
It is the only price that lies in store.
With headlines like these
With headlines like these,
You know you got the fake news disease,
They may think none sees,
How few months back we got same sleaze,
Without change in the breeze,
How do they think we swallow it with ease,
That they can lie as they please,
Because they cannot see the forest for the trees,
And all I can do is fall on my knees,
As I cannot believe how hard they try to squeeze,
Face red and choking on their wheeze,
To produce milk out of that dried up piece of cheese.
> I am a man of patience,
> While you are mental health patient,
Iron Fist and its reviews
If you happen to look at the reviews,
There is a discrepancy large enough to choose,
Whose opinions you can trust or disregard as mere ruse.
There might have been some moments of gaudiness,
But I think will side with the audience,
For reasons rather obvious.
If you don’t know,
I watched all of it in just one go,
And I cannot say the same for any other show.
And since the audience liked this series quite a lot,
While professional critics apparently did not,
One them must have smoked weird pot.
Since there is nothing I have breathed,
I think the critics were ideologically displeased,
To a point where the whole show made them feel peeved.
Perhaps these critics just hate seeing a white lead,
And that results with them writing screed,
Not really worthy of a single read.
Or perhaps they identified with the Hand,
Shared one too many similarity with that group’s brand,
And the accurate portrayal of cult behaviour is what they cannot stand.
But all in all: if you like superhero stuff on your screen,
Then Iron Fist can be considered as cuisine,
You’ll be happy to have seen.
Old media’s war on the new
Since they have failed to sway hearts,
They now try another trick with all of their smarts,
They try to turn advertisers from their new media counterparts,
Make them so controversial there is no ad revenue for opposing views or arts.
And for a while this dastardly scheme of theirs will probably work,
They will raise their glasses of champagne with a smirk,
But they have failed to see the new media perk,
The audience is willing to pay for work.
The audience gives donations,
Just in order to see ever more creations,
And with sale of shirts you have your foundations,
A living wage carved out of skill rather than taxes of nations.
Can you see who wins this war the old media declared,
Do you see who should feel more than scared,
And do you think any mercy is spared,
When they marched unprepared?
The old media stands as liars,
Ones that see smoke without fires,
And hack their own branch with pliers,
While gleefully stabbing advertiser’s tires?
The old media is digging its own grave,
And they give a face all so brave,
But there is nothing to save,
They fell under wave.
You can petition government to make a law or change one,
But unfortunately such a change might not be done,
Even if the local oppositions numbers at none,
A mere ‘EU directive’ can block its run,
And at EU levels nothing is fun.
Thus for any legislative argument,
I am forced to seek the EU parliament,
And hope they can beg the EU commission,
To push a new law or change into actual motion,
But they are more keen to listen corporate corruption,
And listening to woes of the people is deemed a disruption,
Thus we are stuck with a ‘self-imposed’ form of idiotic madness,
Nations remain inconvenienced by pointless daylight saving practice.
Who cares that it doesn’t save a dime on anyone’s electrical bill,
Or that the stress it causes makes people feel ill,
Money is wasted upon a useless hill,
EU commission’s thrill,
Whatever you might bay,
You cannot wish it away,
No matter what you say,
It is far too late to sway,
Even with clouds grey,
It is a brand new day,
No chance to delay,
It comes this way,
And it will stay,
This is the day.
Speech at the wall (For a fantasy novel)
Look at how they fashion themselves,
Emperors by only the claim itself,
And they think us compelled,
That our walls are overwhelmed,
And they wait for our amends,
By blade and the threat of or else,
They do not see how we could expel,
Because they have not stared death itself,
We can make no argument to compel,
We must teach them by ourselves,
That no empire has survived parallel,
How death of emperors is where we excel,
So let them hear the wrath of our bells,
Their chance for peace or amends,
Before we see them all expel,
Gutted and overwhelmed,
None exists parallel,
They shall die as well.
A society of ropes and canes
I saw women herded with a cane,
Underneath a cloth more akin to a black tent or a chain.
I saw people demand for a public hanging,
Simply because they think mere opinions are worth damning.
What else could I do but pity these people,
And how they resort to violence with excuses ever so feeble,
Because they were never taught to reason,
Only how to quench the human desire for personal freedom,
They cannot argue even for a single idea,
All they do is lash against whatever they have deemed evil,
And they do it with smiles almost gleeful,
Because deep down they understand they are not peaceful,
They fear each other for acts unspeakable,
Thus they are forced to cling upon a world view deceitful,
Lest they become a string through a needle,
Nameless and forgotten victim of a society without reason.
Oh how I feel so tired,
As if my entire body had expired,
And that makes bed a location to be retired.
Ghost in the Shell
There is a ghost inside a shell,
I wonder how it will excel,
If it becomes a hard sell,
Due to some smell,
Who is to tell,
I think it is fine,
So I cannot whine,
Some things did shine,
While others did not align,
And it followed the old baseline,
While seeking to climb on another vine,
Some will consider it a desecration of a shrine,
But it is as good as it could be with Hollywood’s design,
Thus all of its flaws can be attributed to ideological lack of spine.
The last multicultural empire of old Europe
Europe is largely divided into nation states,
Groups of people with largely similar fates,
And shared goals for the good it generates,
Nations long ruled by the will of moderates,
Because there was not much that separates,
Yet today these states now lie in dire straits,
European union claims ever more mandates,
Because the dream of an empire motivates,
They wish to see how their will dominates,
Create a borderless realm with open gates,
With people so different nothing resonates,
A point where there is no need for debates,
No need to pay heed whoever demonstrates,
When it is only the ruling class that regulates,
And does nothing but what itself appreciates,
Thus both peace and prosperity deteriorates,
They are blinded by staring their own plates,
Until the very day the empire itself immolates.
That is the future of this so called European Union,
You might wonder how I have come to such conclusion,
But just look at Russia and the leader it needs to stave off ruin,
The last multicultural empire of old Europe leaves us with no delusion,
It reveals us the problems of past, present, and future without any new solution.
The only fate of every multicultural empire of Europe was to fall,
A matter of time until a leader with shoulders too small,
Allows currentwrongs to bring weapons to a wall,
And history books list yet another downfall,
With horrors that make our skins crawl.
- European Union will be no different to Putin’s Russia,
- And they hate him for being their desires repercussion.
Is like a bust,
Made out of mere dust,
It can vanish overnight with a gust,
Leave behind nothing more than a pile of disgust,
There are those who refuse to even entertain the need to readjust,
And they soldier onwards thinking a faint memory alone will pierce all mistrust.
Thus they have made themselves blind to the surrounding distrust,
Their ship is sinking while they paint over the rust,
They consider any opposition unjust,
Where once stood a bust,
They now see dust,
Winter is dead, so long live the spring
Spring, spring, spring,
Oh how the birds do sing,
While they stretch their wing,
No matter what you might fling,
Change of season is what they bring,
No protest can change this annual thing,
Even by tooth and nail it is too late to cling,
The spring is here and so rises a brand new king,
And there will be a great grand feats for them to sing,
Because the change of seasons now rolls out in full swing.
The horrors of Syria
The media points its fingers,
And shouts how horror still lingers,
But they are not revealing all the figures,
They are playing a game of smoke and mirrors,
Because it is war they want and see how peace withers,
So what evidence have they shown while their tongue slithers,
Because a mere memory of their their past lies gives my back shivers.
I spat on the back of a flying seagull
How it happened is not a topic to mull,
Because it sounds like a deceptive lull,
But today I spat upon a flying seagull,
It really proves that life is never dull.
Because something was alleged around dawn,
It seems there is a new war to march upon,
How it all seems like a massive con,
With common sense withdrawn.
And the sad truth is how nothing good will follow from it,
Who is the next tyrant to control nation far too split,
What litany of new horrors shall we permit,
Before we call our participation unfit?
How many people shall we condemn to die just to have a prolonged conflict,
The pointless wars we wage are like symptoms of an addict,
Who cares what cruelties we ourselves inflict,
When words and actions contradict?
About recent events in Sweden
Honestly, my first reaction was to laugh and so I laughed,
Because that narrative they have loved to craft,
Is now smashed to pieces with a shaft,
From this day onwards at best it will sound daft,
At worst it shows that mental faculties are not fully staffed.
You may always choose to ignore reality,
But it will not mean consequences remain absentee,
Reality has its ways to remind it doesn’t care if you disagree,
And it will be one cold realisation among the debris,
The end of all those fantasies so carefree.
But now the streets of Stockholm have been dyed scarlet,
I am left to wonder why I am so cold and heartless,
Why is my tongue one of sharpness,
Do I even feel sympathy to the unjustly departed,
Why does it feel no more than a point to score and harness?
All of it happened so close yet so far away,
I should be enraged or at least be filled with dismay,
But when it has happened so often it is now just another day,
At some point I have run out of any tears to display,
I just say this it not how things should stay.
But then I saw that security camera footage of this incident,
People fleeing inside from the danger imminent,
Suddenly I was no longer indifferent,
I saw how a truck was used as mere instrument,
And how it flashed by in order to kill and maim innocents.
A thing of small note,
A feat not worthy to gloat,
Yet it keeps blades from throat,
And being ruled over by some goat,
The next election is a chance to outvote,
It is the reason why this society stays afloat,
Simply because there is some other party to vote.
In the mirror greets a man almost dead,
Or that is what lack of sleep does to his head,
Therefore he ought to turn his face towards a bed,
Look little closer for the dreamlike yarn and thread,
At the end of the day all things are done and said,
Thus no distraction can be said to have misled,
With nothing it is time for sleep instead.
No need for broadcasting licenses
If you think of the radio and television of old,
The channels had frequencies you had to get a hold,
If you wished to see what modern marvels had to behold,
And to ensure the signal’s reach licenses were created and sold,
It meant same frequencies brought same content to each household,
You did not need to broadcast things tenfold to prevent it being withhold,
By a local entity with the capability to claim paid frequency by a stranglehold.
But we are no longer bound by limitations of that former technological dawn,
The world, the technology, listeners and viewers have already moved on,
Simultaneous broadcasts does not mean some content is lost or gone,
Neighbours can livestream and their content is just thereupon,
It is visible from distant China to the plains of Oregon,
Thus broadcasting licenses are to be frowned upon,
They no longer serve this global phenomenon.
> Germany wants demand broadcasting licenses from German live streamers,
> It is something so utterly retarded it must be product of minds plagued by fever.
Life is strange (For a science fiction novel)
Life is strange,
Outside this gun range,
We march and fly to fight change,
While the growing distance does estrange,
There is no way the effect of it all does not derange,
All of us who know of no other way to see our lives arrange,
We seek to overcome the next enemy to stand before our phalange.
Loneliness is bad for the economy
What are the needs of a lonely man,
Look at that New Yorker dressed as batman,
And you see no difference to a camel riding Afghan,
Because both of them share a lineage to the same caveman,
And as long as they have food and shelter life is according to plan.
There is little need for anything else,
As any extra effort or fancy bears no sense,
All things considered they have found their success,
So why risk any of it to just create some strange new objects,
Or even consider the things that at first might seem far too complex?
The needs of an individual are easily sated,
But with many far more things need to be traded,
No longer it is enough to just walk around butt naked,
Just to make others smile we see bodies and walls painted,
And the effort we pour in makes the end result a little bit sacred.
Without others none of it is worthwhile,
And we do many things just to make others admire,
Or perhaps just to hear what they can give us back as a reply,
Others are needed for us to ever see our passions and dreams ignite,
Because we are willing to go lengths that are more than enough to surprise.
Things have not really changed in our time,
We may be far better dressed and with far less grime,
But a lonely man has very few reasons to earn or spend a dime,
And that is what makes loneliness at least a bit of an economic crime,
People with vigour of youth can end up wasting most if not all of their prime.
Why would a lonely man go for cup of coffee,
Or even look at a little store filled with toys or toffee,
What reason could drive him consider that brand new hobby,
Or ever see effort that makes all that came before appear little sloppy,
When he could just maintain his food and shelter like some mindless zombie?
Nine hundred bottles of beer on the wall,
And I have one hundred bottles more to go,
If I do not find some excuse to slow and stall,
It will mark the end of this task from years ago.
That marks this ‘Long Friday’ of mine…
One hundred poems, one poem written a day, a simple concept to follow through. In more ways than just one it is almost like writing a diary. Something happens in the world at large and I cannot help but to write something down as a response, and at other times it is just life in its all mundanity. A poet’s way of distilling a single day into a few lines to be remembered through aeons. A lot has happened and most of it already feels like something a life time ago. Thus without further adieu, I present you these one hundred poems. The sound of loneliness An oppressive country Avoiding a thing… Cowardice of Scottish newspapers Golden Showers 'Hate speech' Final Fantasy XV Cunt Back to work… Moment of pessimism… Brexit… 'Two European Leaders' The day many have dreaded… How did that song go again? “#WomensMarch” Gender Marxists Despicable behaviour White river Reform or revolution Generic villain species (For a science fiction novel) Suspended from Twitter Election promises 'He will not divide us' Sleep rhythm Pretence of love and fake news Reeeee! Berkeley riot Salt of the internet Blink Just thoughts of today… Bleeding-heart liberal Soul-selling conservative Where are the jokes? Eiffel Wall Sweden's Feminist Government 'Dear White People' Politics in comics done right? Lego Batman Thy name comes from hypocrisy #PewDiePieDidNothingWrong A meaningless word in ten years It begins anew… Trump 2020 300 Russian hackers? To sort emails? REALLY? Trenches of a culture war So much for that peace Nothing but fake news Future Filtered A thing about free speech John Wick: Chapter 2 I'm sexy A poem about online polls Lone wanderer Trump's “thin skin” European union silences any dissent Slush The age of walls A touch of madness (For a science fiction novel) Two five year old friends Half a moon Those men of ill intends After a snowfall Yet another '#' about women in the west… Vault7 How could you not love humanity? And a novel draws to a close… Toothpaste Power of repetition On a distant world (For a science fiction novel) Dutch Election Results The radical left and garbage bins Faces of Andromeda That topic that escapes me mind Cover songs Go ahead, make my day… Some tears of joy The world that wasn't Art is not fit to stand among STEM fields Almost done… With headlines like these Iron Fist and its reviews Old media's war on the new Summertime madness Brexit Day Speech at the wall (For a fantasy novel) A society of ropes and canes So tired Ghost in the Shell The last multicultural empire of old Europe Distrust Winter is dead, so long live the spring The horrors of Syria I spat on the back of a flying seagull About recent events in Sweden Vote Sleep… No need for broadcasting licenses Life is strange (For a science fiction novel) Loneliness is bad for the economy