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One Hundred Poems Vol. III

 

 

One Hundred Poems

Volume III

Tuomas Vainio

 

 

 

 

 

 

One Hundred Poems, Volume III. Copyright © 2015 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 Smashwords

 

Smashwords 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

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Discover other titles by Tuomas Vainio:

Heart of Ceres (Science Fiction)

One Hundred Poems Vol I-II (Poetry)

Skull of Oghren (Fantasy)

Table of contents:

 

Meet the Black Pig (For a fantasy novel)

The ‘Coke’ Bottle Boob Challenge

The War Never Changes – Squee!

A Letter Through Mail

Vampires and Bullies

 

Fuck my selfish life

Internet Troll

Lessons of Theft (For a Fantasy Novel)

Stunfisk

The Modern Regressive Feminists

 

I Demand Facts

#WrongSkin

Shallow rhymes

To be a man in the 21st century

On the critique of E3, during 2015

 

No Award by Noah Ward

Tomorrow never knows (For a fantasy novel)

Watermelon

#CharlestonShooting

Hydroxy

 

After Midsummer

John Oliver’s Double Standards

Oh shit, my novel has wrong title

Fainting-couch Feminism

Space Monkey

 

On the Aftermath of Tim Hunt’s Resignation

How to defeat ‘a feminist twitter mob’ – a poem

On the ban of the ‘Confederate Flag’

My Beard

OpSKYNET

 

The Trolls on Twitter Feed

The ‘End’ Of The Worldcon

Elephant the Jeremy

Deaddit circa 4.7. or 7/4

Sleep honey: version II

 

Summertime Blues

They voted: No

Kindergarten for Modern Adults

Corruption in the Games Industry

Sherlock, the Special, Soon… A Trailer!

 

Dirty Bomb

Video Call Problems

On Cultural Appropriation

Through the mist of night

A Day For Me

 

On Gawker (18.7.2015) (7/18)

21st Century Journalism is Petty and Inaccurate

In Response to Twitter’s Yeats Bot

Against Radicalism?

Space Monkey

 

Gravity Falls Yet Again!

Wrestler’s Leaked Racist Slurs

Do you feel better now?

On the Paradox of Multiculturalism

Dinosaur

 

New world in the morning

Dom Free (For a science fiction novel)

Atoms in the air”

Food

Awake

 

‘David Attenborough’ on Bigots

Wrath

After Shaving Beard

Let me…

One tiny science fiction author

 

On Current American Politics

I have no words to say

Trump as a Presidential Candidate

‘69’

At least we stole the show (13th of August 2015)

 

Anything cheap for you my love

When your love is a statue

Oranges Yet Again

#GamerGate and #SPJAirplay

On the 18th

 

That self-titled: ‘Research Paper’

Feminist Signs – And Responses

My thoughts on that previous entry…

Complaints on a song recommendation

Connie St Louis

 

August 22nd

73rd Worldcon

To read my own fantasy novel

Thoughts on Alinsky Tactics

Crunchy Chocolate Cereals

 

The Failures of Fantastic Four on Film

Gone (For a fantasy novel)

Thoughts on Hugos and Pratchetts

Pretending to be innocent

Eleven more to go

 

When your life sucks

A Bee Fly

It is problematic”

Shitlord”

Wrongfans and wrongfun

 

The Moral Unpalatability of Margot Wallström

Wanderer’s oath (For a fantasy novel)

Pirouette

Thoughts of fish

The Three Hundred

Meet the Black Pig (For a fantasy novel)

 

The beast of the East,

He who longs to feast,

His blades are greased,

His old armour fleeced,

His entire clan deceased,

His fate is last, never least,

His hunger never decreased,

His skills waiting to be leased.

 

Meet the Black Pig.

The ‘Coke’ Bottle Boob Challenge

 

Have you tried it?

Do you think you can do it?

Are your breasts big enough for it?

 

> Yes.

> Maybe.

> No.

 

It is for breast cancer awareness,

Through relative bareness,

Some teens shout; yes.

 

But it is no ice bucket challenge,

Participation requires ‘talent’,

Which is easily absent.

 

Maybe if I tie my chest hair to a knot,

No, it probably is my only shot,

To keep a bottle caught.

 

It is for breast cancer awareness,

Through relative stickiness,

Some teens shout; no.

The War Never Changes – Squee!

 

I saw the trailer for Fallout Four…

 

It certainly did not leave me sour,

As I look forward to sneak and scour,

That world once bathed in atomic shower,

And once more spend unreasonable man hours,

Going through mods for that additional staying power.

A Letter Through Mail

 

A demand I seem to hear,

An effort I somewhat fear,

For words might not appear,

Yet I long to be ever so near,

But my mind is far from clear,

So I do not know how to adhere,

If I can finish this letter this year,

Such are excuses from this engineer,

Who sees an empty paper as his frontier,

A task to produce something cohere,

His own battle to remain sincere,

But these are just words in air,

Echoes from a mind left bare,

Lost without words to share,

And so does he only stare,

At the throes of despair.

 

Well, at least until a spark of thought,

Finally gives him the letter sought,

So perhaps it was not for naught.

 

 

 

 

Vampires and Bullies

Not everyone will accept to being sullied,

That is a lesson to be learned for all bullies,

How eventually they will bite and then choke,

Whimper miserably as they continue to croak,

Before a victim deemed less half than their size,

Who by standing up tore down the bullies’ guise,

Shattered and broke their notions of invincibility,

And simply forced down lesson in basic humility.

Fuck my selfish life

 

Today’s first world problem to prate;

How my food and now shattered plate,

Only rest on the floor by a twist of fate,

While my hunger grows ever so great,

Oh how my stomach just cannot wait,

As my mouth remains open like a gate,

Yet after a while I only miss that plate…

 

A gift from my parents now dead.

 

[_ (Clarification: both are still alive.)_]

Internet Troll

 

Heart of lit coal,

Demanding a toll,

Out of a dank hole,

Before going for a stroll,

To collect tears to a bowl,

While mocking your noble goal,

Devouring bad arguments whole.

 

A strange and curious beast indeed.

Lessons of Theft (For a Fantasy Novel)

 

Hear those sales cries,

The product and price,

From hammers to pies,

Wonders for your eyes.

 

Do not steal from the stalls,

Merchant’s arm quickly falls,

And it will be guards he calls.

 

Sneak and grab something from a belt,

Of a customer leaning over goods dealt.

 

Even if caught in the act, you have a chance to run away.

Stunfisk

 

What it looks like is just a flat fish pokemon,

But really it is a pancake stack pokemon.

 

And so they made a toy out of it,

And I bought one as a gift,

That is the drift,

Behind that birthday gift,

Regardless of whether you believe it.

 

Well, I do not intend to end a relationship,

So there is something else within the box to ship.

The Modern Regressive Feminists

 

The discussion I had earlier,

Certainly made me feel surlier,

All that time spent on nonsense,

Their arguments empty comments,

The fury and thunder simply wasted,

While real victims shall remain faceless,

In favour of those carrying their mattresses,

Forever unaware of the harm of their practices.

 

The modern Western feminists are aggressive,

But only in the regard of being regressive.

I Demand Facts

 

I care not for feelings hurt,

Of what lies on your shirt,

Or what words were blurt,

I oppose attempts to invert,

For truth must remain overt,

For it is facts that I long to flirt,

That may make me sound pervert,

But facts are the right tool to exert.

#WrongSkin

 

Latest twitter trend,

I wonder when it will end,

As it is about victimhood complex,

When one’s social class gains no respects,

And how we empathise with those we live with,

Thus the individual experience forms heart of this pith,

Result of a society that considers victimhood as the prime merit.

Shallow rhymes

 

Always so shallow,

Do you hear the poet wallow,

As he laments his words echo hollow,

How words stream out without a trail to follow?

 

Where lies the secret of depth,

Is it synonymous to understanding breadth?

 

Do you see how he rolls in his anguish?

To be a man in the 21st century

 

Look at the ghost,

Lost without his post,

Unsuited for what we toast,

His heart longs for deeds to boast,

A purpose in life at least and at most.

 

He is blamed for all while guilty of nothing,

Denied of things that make life exciting,

While told he is only disgusting,

Left to find a meaning,

To his suffering.

 

Death awaits,

Have look at those rates,

Men are what our society hates,

Do you see how much their burden weights,

Can you understand the injustice and misery it creates?

 

Do you have the strength to silently sit it through,

Mocked by those whose efforts did not accrue,

Without receiving recognition you are due,

Not letting anger give your cheeks hue,

And just nod as if it were all true?

 

You have to as man in the 21st century.

On the critique of E3, during 2015

 

- ‘I am triggered by all this imaginary blood and gore!’

 

The usual goons moan with their throats sore,

As they tally up their outrage bingo score,

Spam their tweets like enraged boars,

Never realising how they are bores.

 

- ‘It is transoceanic to show a man in a red dress.’

 

They clearly must have misspelled a word, I guess,

Hence they oppose everything without finesse,

Perhaps because they only wish to oppress,

And nothing shall meet their acquiesce.

 

- ‘Game characters should be exclusively women.’

 

Gives a rather funny idea about equality if you listen,

I mean who cares of artistic freedom or vision,

Certainly not twitter feminists on a mission,

As they bite a potato thinking it a lemon.

No Award by Noah Ward

 

Can anyone tell what it is about,

My head remains filled with doubt,

As my face twists into perpetual pout.

 

Is it a work with both heart and soul,

Or something dug up from a hole,

A diamond or a piece of coal?

 

What lies under a book’s cover,

What are the secrets left to uncover,

Can the work make the author recover?

 

Is this worthy of our prestigious award,

Or should I place it under no award?

Yes; for I never liked Noah Ward.

Tomorrow never knows (For a fantasy novel)

 

Tomorrow’s clothes,

Just wear what goes,

Don’t raise your nose,

You’ll never get a rose,

Don’t let them see those,

You are not to make foes,

We hope to avoid later woes,

Because tomorrow never knows.

Watermelon

 

I ate a whole watermelon,

As far as I know it is not a felon,

Yet that chilled red mush on a spoon,

Was ever so delicious during the afternoon,

That to claim the entire melon as mine,

Becomes at least a small crime,

I know I could have shared,

But nothing was spared.

#CharlestonShooting

 

How I wish I could turn back time,

Do something to prevent this crime.

 

Yet I am left with the present and now,

To quietly observe the rush to disavow.

 

To see this tragedy twisted into gun rights,

For politicians have nothing in their sights.

 

To hear those old talking points get repeated,

And the tragedy becomes a wound untreated.

 

 

Yet that courage to forgive…

The words I would not give…

 

A glimmer of hope for a better world,

For an old dream to become unfurled.

 

If there is strength to forgive after this tragedy,

Then we can put an end to this perpetual apathy.

 

We can end racism,

And in our hearts we know that we must.

Hydroxy

 

Hydroxy,

Hear out Roxie,

Feel free to eat epoxy,

It will fix that misguided moxie,

Although your jaw might become boxy,

I am sure that your wits will remain just as foxy,

As you continue to search your list for yet another proxy.

After Midsummer

After Midsummer we look for some to scold,

For the summer has been both rainy and cold,

With no change in sight as far as we were told,

So all our summer activities have been on hold,

But the coming change will be a sight to behold,

Not a soul dressed for weather from young to old,

Our stubbornness alone reins weather uncontrolled.

John Oliver’s Double Standards

 

Apparently you can be harassed if you are man,

Helps you grow a thicker skin and that’s the plan,

And someone might even encourage a twitter mob,

To go after an overly sensitive foreign gob of a Bob,

 

But dear lord if someone ever criticises a woman online,

Because it is a crime that warrants a dial to the 911 hotline,

For a woman could never do anything to bait all those trolls,

Especially when we follow the sensibilities of Victorian roles.

 

Yeah; the Internet is not the nicest place,

But it is humanity’s most egalitarian space,

Where words and actions are judged the same,

Regardless of your name; you are tested by flame.

 

Heck; I even agree that sometimes it goes way too far,

But on the other hand; we are still looking at the same par,

And we shouldn’t rush to create more easily abused legislation,

To fulfil our need to feel good through elation of public damnation.

Oh shit, my novel has wrong title

 

Instead of Heart of Ceres;

I should have gone for Sound of Silence,

This realization is causing mental violence,

And I guess this failure of mine is priceless,

As I stare my dashboard in complete silence.

Fainting-couch Feminism

There is something poetic in that;

Will they faint if I do not raise my hat?

Will they shriek and cry if call out their crap?

Will they rush to tweet their outrage as they flap?

 

Oh those fainting-couch feminists,

Longing and demanding for more benefits,

For their sensibilities only make them more sensitive,

And therefore the world of possibilities appears apprehensive.

 

Decisions we make are often difficult,

Can they bear responsibilities while being delicate?

Are these fainting-couch feminists able to make any decisions?

Will they rely forever on others to provided their ‘share’ of provisions?

 

Will they ever stop crying foul on everything while playing the role of a victim?

Space Monkey

 

There he stands alone against the dark of night,

That ancient wanderer and forgotten knight,

Who gazes ever onwards for his next fight,

To show and flourish his skills of might,

To struggle for what he thinks is right,

Surely it will be a wondrous sight,

As he tries to hide his contrite.

On the Aftermath of Tim Hunt’s Resignation

 

A Nobel winning biochemist,

Was forced to resign on a premise,

When hounded down by an angry mob,

By those who have turned outrage into a job.

 

There is a point clearly lost during this insanity,

A question of who has done more for humanity,

Our biochemist or ones shouting in a fit of rage,

Do the achievements measure on the same page?

 

Why does this remind me of one Alan Turing,

Why is rampant bigotry ever so enduring,

Is free speech just too difficult to grasp,

Are we ever free from bigots’ clasp?

 

Science has beauty and elegance,

But it will not last in bigot’s presence,

For they cannot stand speech unhindered,

For a mere word could turn theirs splintered.

 

How could science advance if nothing is said,

If we must watch our steps on thinnest thread,

And beware saying anything that might upset,

Those who cannot help but become distressed?

 

If a ‘bad joke’ will have you forced to resign,

The future ahead of us is far from benign;

Where research must match ideology,

Defined by apprehensive theology.

How to defeat ‘a feminist twitter mob’ – a poem

 

1) They hold the power you choose to grant them,

2) Thus at first ignore the fury of their flying phlegm,

3) Discover the truth before confronting their outrage,

4) For facts will simply put a stop to their rampage,

5) As their ideology alone cannot counter reality,

6) And they will lack the enduring mentality,

7) To produce any form of finality.

 

Or you could just ask;

‘So what?’

 

Try it.

On the ban of the ‘Confederate Flag’

 

If you ban a symbol it becomes a symbol of free speech,

It will gain importance that no argument can impeach,

And it reveals the flawed nature of what you preach.

 

But if for nothing more than an argument’s sake,

Let us embrace this public demand to forsake:

 

All Confederation flags need to go,

Not a trace should be left in tow!

 

 

But that spells trouble for the American flag,

If you know what was the first Confederate flag:

 

There are 50 Bonnie Blue Flags in the American flag,

Hence we must remove the stars from the American flag!

 

What will be left is a blue box and 13 British colonies,

But hey, at least no more of those racist qualities,

Is that an agreeable solution for all parties?

 

 

But I wonder,

As I hear the distant thunder,

What will be the next symbol to be banned,

As offensive symbols tend to turn into popular brands.

My Beard

 

Trust me,

I will shave it,

It is long and I agree,

I am not too stubborn to admit.

OpSKYNET

They often say that roses are red,
And how those violets are blue,
Or that the gamers are dead,
But we know it is not true.

 

 

(Clarification:

Roses can be purple,

Violets are technically purple,

Not to mention that the leaves are green,

And thus botanists support #GamerGate if you so believe.)

The Trolls on Twitter Feed

 

My new past time screed,

Is to see the anger keyed,

The wrath and fury freed,

In words that almost bleed,

Emotions that listen no heed,

Yet this is where I must concede,

Here is nothing for the trolls to feed,

In agony they cry as their bellies recede,

And how for the tiniest morsel they plead,

As attention is their livelihood and greed,

Without it; their death is guaranteed.

The ‘End’ Of The Worldcon

 

The year twenty-five twenty-five,

Hugo nominations still cause divide,

As fans old and young choose their side,

As they become tied to all things so snide,

For some things cannot be allowed to slide,

Therefore the great egos argue and collide,

Even if the topic is already past aside,

It has become a matter of pride,

For this rocket eyed,

And denied.

Elephant the Jeremy

 

This is the end of an era;

Hammond with his mascara,

All smeared around his mouth,

While May’s fashion sense drouth,

Exemplified by that nightmarish jacket,

The end of something unique in BBC’s bracket.

Deaddit circa 4.7. or 7/4

 

Our chairman Pao declared it so;

And now we watch the result blow,

All while Internet’s front web page,

Is turning dark at the end of an age,

A result of corporate incompetence,

The final straws that stole confidence.

 

Pao never understood Reddit’s community.

 

Eddit circa 15.7. or 7/15

 

If you wish to see an immense cowardly weasel,

Look no further than her boss holding a canister of diesel,

Our true clueless mastermind without any resemblance of a moral spine,

An individual who pushed Pao to stand where he should have; right on the land mine,

It appears Pao’s resignation did not reduce the amount of corporate incompetence,

It seems to have existed from the beginning and we can say it with confidence,

The irony rests in on how ‘kn0thing’ never understood Reddit’s community,

 

Or perhaps he did…

 

Now that Pao was turned into sacrificial lamb of posterity.

Sleep honey: version II

 

( Since someone makes me sing this poem far too often. :< Still needs work)

 

My darling sleep now,

Surely you know how,

It is not time to giggle,

Or to turn and wiggle,

Your day has been long,

And so you hear this song,

As your eyes feel weary,

With yawns so heavy,

So just find your peace,

Maybe count some geese,

As I tug you under this blanket,

Not a reason to feel anxious,

And I will be by your side,

So allow dreams to glide,

They will take you across the sky,

You will see soft clouds float by,

You are loved and blessed,

So find your way to rest,

So just sleep my honey,

Just sleep my honey,

Sleep my honey.

Summertime Blues

 

I am feeling blue,

It is not due to flue,

Nor a failed pot of stew,

Or kids too loud at the zoo,

Not a single need to bid adieu,

My plans have not fallen through,

Neither missing a single sock or shoe,

Is this because there is nothing left to do?

 

Why cannot I dance to the beat of sax?

 

Am I unable to find a way to relax?

 

And then I remember the stacks,

Of entertainment by the axe,

I am not one that slacks,

Time to get snacks:

 

And rid my summertime blues.

They voted: No

 

Our Greeks cast their vote for no,

As elsewhere people cry their woe,

How will Greeks pay what they owe,

Do they not see where the winds blow,

That the union will see democracy forgo?

 

Is this the start of their exit from Euro zone,

Or will the Greek only find itself prone,

And begging for yet another bone,

In the form of unpayable loan,

What is truly set in stone?

Kindergarten for Modern Adults

 

Apparently there is one in New York;

If you have forgotten how to use a fork,

If you long for days of play and nap times,

If you cannot bear with adulthood’s confines,

Then for a mere sum of thousand bucks to enrol,

You receive your five days worth of childish parol,

And I suppose there really exists a growing a market,

As the university safe spaces create customers to target,

Yet does not change the fact how it sounds utterly pathetic.

Corruption in the Games Industry

 

Plenty of both incompetent and competent,

If anything that has always been clearly evident,

You do not need to look further than advertisement,

That is what grants media a chance to become affluent,

The heart of the business and it will never face annulment,

An obvious truth that still somehow generates admonishment,

When the behaviour is revealed through incompetence or accident,

And when something is standard it is difficult to accept any agistment,

Even if it were merely listing industry connections for the reader’s afferent.

 

Then another thing to look at is the independent video game development,

Anyone could claim to be indie even while a publisher provides aliment,

When the industry connections alone imply that support is not absent,

Because the moniker alone carries some positive acknowledgment,

How visionary underdogs seek to perform greatest achievement,

Financial success on the field of gamers’ time and amusement,

Why wouldn’t a publisher seek profit through affreightment,

By distancing failures from games that are sold adjacent,

As one bad game could lead to universal arbitrament?

 

Sherlock, the Special, Soon… A Trailer!

 

That British stuffiness,

In that Victorian puffiness,

Does Sherlock have fluffiness?

 

Yes! It does!

 

The one thing that was missing,

Without unjustly dismissing,

Reasons for reminiscing.

 

If anything this a problem of our modern times,

Would we need Sherlock’s help to solve any crimes,

When our technology turns his advice to empty chimes?

Dirty Bomb

 

A proper objective based shooter,

That is free to try on your computer,

And I have found it a great deal of fun,

Although nothing new under the sun,

But the time spent I have enjoyed,

And many objectives destroyed,

While many others saved,

A game I have craved.

Video Call Problems

 

Hello, hello, can you hear me?

Hello, hello, are you being dick?

Hello, hello, what can you can see?

Hello, hello, all I see is a wall of brick.

 

Oh the woes of modern video calls,

When something suddenly doesn’t work,

It is simply as annoying as a kick to the balls,

And the only reason to act like a raging berserk.

 

Therefore as strange as this may be,

While I can readily tolerate the loss of internet,

Yet it is the loss of call quality that I simply cannot agree,

Pixelated image and choppy sound are what I do not forgive nor forget.

On Cultural Appropriation

In a nutshell:

 

You are not allowed to do, like, or have something based on your skin colour,

Do you know the words that describes such limitations based on skin colour?

 

Thus cultural appropriation is nothing but segregation and racism all dressed up,

And revealed as modern intolerance and age old bigotry through merest close up.

 

A moment of your day and these horrible individuals will attempt bully you down,

So wear a kimono, barbecue, or play a didgeridoo if that keeps your worries down.

 

They might spout their ideologue based on incoherent bigotry for days in and out,

But if their temper tantrums go unheard; they will give up and see themselves out.

Through the mist of night

 

Through the mist of night,

My car’s lights throw their light,

Two beams joined and glowing bright,

The engine hums with its raw might,

I devour the turns left and right,

My heart has found its flight,

To me this is a rare delight,

Not a single reason for fright,

The grip on the road feels right,

The distance blurs into white,

There is not a soul in sight,

I approach the speed of light.

A Day For Me

 

This does not mean we are through,

I just long for a day without you,

A chance for me to feel anew.

 

I long for a day of solitude,

Lost at the highest altitude,

Where no one can intrude.

 

I long for a day for me,

Lost all alone at sea,

For I need to flee.

On Gawker (18.7.2015) (7/18)

Gawk

 

Noun: an awkward stupid person,

Verb: look with amazement; look stupidly.

 

Never has a company been named more aptly,

A kernel of truth that did not arrive quietly,

As their number of mistakes rise rapidly,

As more people see what they are exactly,

As their actions repeated remain unsatisfactory,

As they still refuse to learn the lesson they need badly.

 

Their obvious lack of any form of ethical spine,

Combined with their lack of basic human decency,

Might just bring them down to a whimper and whine,

As their business relies on rolling in their own indecency.

 

And we hear the keyboards hit as letters to advertisers are typed,

The intend behind is clear and not unreasonably hyped,

There is a pile of online dirt that needs to be wiped,

For their actions are simply universally disliked,

And thus many wish to see Gawker swiped.

21st Century Journalism is Petty and Inaccurate

 

It is sad how truthful reporting of facts,

Has apparently fallen through integrity’s cracks,

As our modern hacks seem to long for names to drop,

For a long list of people that no one at the party will top,

For fame rubbed on instead of acquired through hard work,

This is the sad reality of our affairs that shall never stop to irk.

 

Solution to world’s energy problems unheard without Hilton sex tape!

Or at least without rocking abs and a hint of how to get into better shape!

 

Corruption ignored until it is election year and makes the other side quake!

For Pete’s sake; don’t you know the journalistic interest s not otherwise awake?

 

Instead of real issues the media’s focus is entirely wasted on trivial nonsense!

After at all it is hard to discoverer something intelligent to comment!

 

Lives are ruined for nothing but few clicks for advertisers!

Job is to sell ads and not real news to consumers!

 

For our modern journalism:

Petty and inaccurate are the kindest words I find.

In Response to Twitter’s Yeats Bot

I am worn out with dreams;

 

A single dream is far more than what it seems;

Only the merest pittance of the wild schemes,

That run this world and tie down its seams,

Do not fear if you are lost in its streams,

If no one is there to hear your screams,

Dreams prepare you for the extremes.

Against Radicalism?

 

It is time for something radical,

Something necessary and critical,

And many read those Alinsky tactics,

For their goals not necessary or drastic,

Thus on one night I thought to debunk it,

To write a book if I find the time to commit.

 

A strange thing to write down,

But the idea refuses to drown,

So I must seek out and read,

That which I long to defeat.

 

Will something ever come out of it?

Space Monkey

I am death and destroyer of worlds,

Cover in fear behind your shiny shields,

As my wrath and fury flies across the stars,

You will know pain and bleed redder than Mars!

 

Shouted the beastly apparition of our past,

As the vessel shook and groaned from the blast,

Inhuman horror found our hearts and left us aghast,

All shrieked and cried until there was silence at long last.

 

How I managed to survive I shall never know,

But I shall forever remember how the world turned slow,

As I watched how the debris of our proud craft started to flow,

While that monster left with his harrowing laughter as the final bestow.

 

So there is but one thing I can say to you girl,

No; I shall not risk my vessel for your shiny pearl,

You must find someone else to follow the beast’s trail,

Please give up before you find yourself in the horror’s vale.

Gravity Falls Yet Again!

 

This is how the real story begins,

Something more than a tale of twins,

And their lost friendship over past sins.

 

This is the story of a town called Gravity Falls,

Where strangest things lurk within halls,

And new adventures shall befall.

 

Danger, fun, and intrigue,

Other cartoons out of their league,

I hope this show will never show fatigue!

 

 

Have you seen the SDCC trailer?

OMG, two grunkles at the price of one!

Wrestler’s Leaked Racist Slurs

 

There is a pattern that will be followed,

Distance before you get swallowed,

Cut the strings of outrage short,

It’ll disappear after a snort.

 

But for a leaked tirade of racist slurs,

There is no transcript on the wires,

When offence is always taken,

My scepticism is awaken.

 

Therefore I shall not judge nor condemn,

Not before I see proof for this phlegm,

Because I hate unfounded claims,

Those unreasonable flames.

Do you feel better now?

 

I will not disallow,

Speak out here and now,

Freedom of speech will not bow,

So speak your heart before hate endows.

 

I know who you are deep down,

How you would keep it bottled until you drown,

How you want to avoid giving a single soul reason to frown.

 

You must not let your kind heart to rot in silence,

You must struggle for the courage to speak true under threat of violence.

 

Because that is the only way you will feel any better.

On the Paradox of Multiculturalism

It is one of the strangest things,

The joys that multiculturalism brings,

When no one knows what the word means,

It is just repeated until all common sense weans.

 

If we define the word as the tolerance of other cultures,

We have to recognise how we are cultural vultures,

Humans throughout history take what works,

And leave out that without any perks.

 

This is the way it has always been done,

A multitude of cultures will merge into one,

Multiculturalism is replaced by a single culture,

And only possible due to the tolerance of the vulture.

 

Thus for multiculturalism to survive we need intolerance,

Cultural segregation and condemnation of tolerance,

Limitations that will only lead to rise of bigotry,

And society devoid of fundamental liberty.

 

Thus we should accept how cultures will die,

How the changing world is no reason for us to cry,

Because throughout our written history change is good,

And ultimately our culture is not the foundation we allude.

 

As for fears that we might loose something irreplaceable,

We already have because any culture is replaceable,

All it takes is a new idea that serves a purpose,

And we toss aside what we deem worthless.

 

The end of 21st century multiculturalism,

Arises from nothing but cultural vulturism,

Although the term might cause you to cough,

Ultimately we will find ourselves far better off.

Dinosaur

 

If you were a dinosaur my love,

You would be a feathered dove,

A bird flying in the sky above,

A treasure hard to get hold of,

Without a single worry thereof,

If you were a dinosaur my love.

 

(Our current scientific knowledge has revealed how most dinosaurs were likely feathered…)

New world in the morning

There is a new world in the morning,

Leave behind your reason for mourning,

For the sun will rise anew without warning.

Dom Free (For a science fiction novel)

 

Born amidst war and misery,

You drank the blood of a god,

Rose to become warrior awed,

A million battles fought bitterly,

The last survivor of your squad,

Your life is but agony and apathy,

And yet they still bow to applaud,

They do not understand how weary,

Those falsehoods and truth flawed,

To one who lived trickery of victory,

A soldier with a spirit all but clawed,

Without a place to sleep in this galaxy.

Atoms in the air”

 

- “Atoms in the air

 

A snippet from a song about freedom,

Of universal human desire to be free,

And I guess that is more than fair,

For what we breath in makes us free,

But what are these atoms of freedom?

 

Not any other than:

- Hydrogen,

- Nitrogen,

- Oxygen,

– Carbon,

- Argon,

- Krypton,

- Xenon,

- Neon,

And;

- Helium.

 

Carbon is a key component for all life on Earth,

Not a single living thing without worth,

A shared profound right on birth;

 

His first name is Free,

His last name is Dom,

 

And I will shout;

Freedom!

Food

 

Food,

That is good,

Something for mood,

It will be enjoyed and chewed,

And unless allergic; nothing to exclude.

Awake

 

I am awake,

With a head ache,

Stench of burned steak,

Pain that moves like a snake,

My mind consumed by fears fake.

‘David Attenborough’ on Bigots

 

Our planet earth,

Comes with mirth,

Critters kind and odd,

Natural wonders awed,

But also peculiar beings,

With truly curious dealings,

And so we have travelled afar,

To witness what these bigots are:

 

Bigots come in a multitude of shapes and sizes,

The variety in their mating cries surprises.

 

How bigots of the same feather,

Are known to flock together.

 

Exceptionally territorial,

Local dominance is dictatorial.

 

The alphas of the flock will bully,

Those they have found not to be pushy.

 

And once should approach with great care,

For a mere unheard sound is enough to scare.

Wrath

 

Hear my wrath,

Listen how it boils,

All beware on my path,

It is time to release the coils.

 

Let them cover before my rage,

Set loose the hounds of war,

Let them fear the new age,

As I knock on their door.

After Shaving Beard

 

Rest in peace my beard,

Your loss was what I feared,

Now the face that greets is weird,

Almost like a new man has appeared,

And for certain I know that I will be sneered,

For a face of youth rather than masculinity revered,

It is what shall await whenever a glorious beard is cleared.

Let me…

 

Let me see the whole world as dreary,

Let me revel in my own misery,

Let me be the sourest lizard,

Let me hear of no relief,

Let me be a memory,

Let me say goodbye.

One tiny science fiction author

 

This not about me,

There is another to see

For his head is filled with pee,

An amount large enough to fill a sea,

And perhaps hear how his mouth runs free,

For he is an example of what is wrong without fee.

 

Someone who would replace his left thumb with a dick,

So that whenever he feels sad; he can come off quick,

Everything suggests that this is his favourite trick,

Because he only knows how to act like a prick.

 

What is the name of this self-indulgent soul?

Could I say it without stroking the ego of this troll?

 

No.

On Current American Politics

 

See the two great tribes,

Their contesters accepting bribes,

Because in order to run: they all need money,

And therefore this process is so sad it becomes funny.

 

Then we have the party ideologue,

The usual sides from which they argue,

Utter nonsense that is believed without doubt,

Beliefs that cannot be questioned or people will shout.

 

You really have to choose which is worst,

And this is difficult to even those well versed,

Because ultimately it is two sides of the same coin,

Which parties earned by sucking the exact same groin.

I have no words to say

I have no words to say,

I have no strength left to play,

All that I long is just to sleep away,

To dream of wonders without any weigh,

Until these summer days pass into autumn’s grey,

For under this glaring sun: I really have no words to say.

Trump as a Presidential Candidate

 

He seems to answer questions honestly,

Something that we have not seen recently,

He is dangerous and handling him is difficult,

Because he cannot be bullied silent or ridiculed,

They guys at Comedy Central tried their very best,

But all they can do is show unaltered Trump message,

The first debate tried its best for a character assassination,

But only made Trump underdog against bullies of the nation.

 

So let us face some of those cold hard facts;

Not taking Trump seriously will result in only collapse,

In his first debate he already sowed the seeds for Clinton’s fall,

While other candidates cover before a mention of a name: he stands tall.

 

As for the idea of building 1,933 miles of wall,

If it is covered with solar panels: the left will play ball,

And without doubt it could become a great American project,

Immigration, renewable energy, something to look at with respect.

 

And political correctness is a genuine cultural problem,

It limits freedom of speech and reduces intellectual blossom,

A hideous monster that cannot be slain if our lips are to remain tied,

Trump may not be the president we deserve: but he is one we need to glide.

 

I can imagine casting a vote for Trump,

And I am a fucking liberal leftist.

 

(Still would prefer to vote for Sanders, and I am not an American, nor in America.)

‘69’

 

It is a number,

Never a cucumber,

It is good to remember,

When it rains in November.

 

Please do not write me an angry letter,

Yeah I could do something better,

But I need to wear a sweater,

And get my act whetter.

 

There will be a poem on sixty-nine,

Just not tonight…

At least we stole the show (13th of August 2015)

 

Another line nabbed from a song’s lyrics,

But it is what I would say to Puppies’ critics,

In case they mustered votes for their: no award,

Preventing ‘sacking’ of their assumed rocket hoard,

Yet in the very least we succeeded in stealing the show,

A snippet of an unfortunate truth that even they must know.

 

There will be no heroes, no villains, or anyone else to blame,

No dance nor joy as only wilted roses fill their lonely stage,

Their thrill of misguided fury and thunder will be gone,

Memory of victory will not linger on as a masterpiece,

Nor will it reveal that the Puppies cannot go on…

 

Thus when it is time for the curtain to be closed,

I think something will be definitely heard:

 

- At least we stole the show…

- At least we stole the show.

- At least we stole the show!

Anything cheap for you my love

 

Let us be just slightly bit more honest,

My heart beats for you the strongest,

But I am not a man of many means,

What I can offer is love and beans,

And you deserve so much more,

You are what my heart adores,

Yet what I can offer is cheap,

Only words of a love deep…

 

So I make this solemn promise:

 

My heart may seem cheap,

But it will be yours to keep,

Beyond all of time and space,

If you only grant me your grace.

When your love is a statue

 

You stare at your screen,

And it is the same old scene,

Although he is physically there,

In front of his camera on that chair,

His mind is focused on something else,

Responses take longer than for ice to melt,

The words said are like bottles thrown to sea,

Messages lost to the depths without none to see,

Yet you somehow still can love that statue of a man,

For when he moves you have his entire attention span,

His wide smile, those big eyes, and ear for none but you.

Oranges Yet Again

 

I bought 1,5 kg of oranges,

And their taste is simply gorgeous,

How I find them moist and properly sour,

Something I will gladly do my best to devour,

Nothing is worse than eating a dry tasteless orange,

Which is easily universally shared human knowledge.

#GamerGate and #SPJAirplay

(Written: 16.8.2015)

 

Event transpired yesterday,

The panels are still online today,

Both the morning and the afternoon,

Go hear the case of the gaming commune!

 

Funny how the demand for journalistic ethics,

Can cause some to act so evil and reckless,

That they send a bomb threat to silence,

And another to hide truth by violence.

 

While this is not the end of it yet,

There will be more as the future is not set,

Nevertheless this is a fight gamers will pull through,

Because the demand and need for journalistic ethics is true.

On the 18th

 

There is a single poem missing,

I hope readers will not unforgiving,

For without my very own admittance,

Two poems today would be remittance.

 

Yet I have slipped from my daily goal,

Without a singular purpose or a role,

For I decided to crawl into my bed,

Instead of spinning rhyming thread.

That self-titled: ‘Research Paper’

 

It is the most disgusting example of pseudo-science,

It relies on format to generate compliance,

And in me: it generates defiance.

 

Where would I even start?

 

1) Alexa rankings are based on visits to a web-page,

Those do not reveal the content our user engaged,

Nor does it indicate whether the user assuaged.

 

2) Where is the graph that reveals when the data points originated,

It would help us understand extent of the data if it was illustrated,

Listing them down on a monthly basis is hardly too complicated.

 

3) The repeated assumption that there there is no overlap in audience,

That people believe in the first thing they are told with obedience,

Makes this research paper seem like an example of fraudulence.

 

4) Why isn’t any of the presented claims and events backed with sources,

When everything is online and dates would be a strong endorsement,

We could have a clear time line with every event and their causes.

 

5) Then speaking about the mentioned 2015 Game Developers Conference,

Only thirteen panels were listed out 400+ that also split the audience,

Thus without participation numbers the claims are preposterous.

 

6) And were we to finally talk about the Society of Professional Journalists,

The SPJ Airplay event they held to talk about ethics in games journalism,

Why bother if there is no issue regarding ethics in games journalism?

 

I guess that could be a place to start,

And I barely just skimmed it through.

Feminist Signs – And Responses

 

Violence will not silence feminism:

- Feminism will silence with violence.

 

Disarm cops – arm feminists:

- Because clearly our current police brutality is not enough.

 

Fuck the patriarchy:

- But remember to use a condom, you don’t know where she’s been.

 

Feminism is cool:

- Because it leads to cold, lonely lives.

 

This is what a feminist looks like:

- Where can I donate to produce a cure?

 

Women don’t owe you shit:

- Yet that is the only thing feminists produce.

 

Do not make me use my feminist voice:

- Or you’ll cry into your “male tears” cup?

 

Every woman can be a lesbian:

- Meet the left’s counterpart to right wing religious fundamentalists.

 

Feminism is the radical notion that women are people:

- If that is radical notion, please explain why humanity is not already long extinct.

 

Good women have abortions:

- Isn’t it strange that you need a medical operation to be a ‘good’ woman?

 

Women can do anything:

- Except beat men’s Olympic records.

 

Free rape:

- I’d rather keep rape as a crime.

 

I cannot believe I still have to protest this shit:

- What’s the matter, the world didn’t bend over to your wishes before tea-time?

 

This princess saves herself:

- Except from notions of bloated self-importance.

 

No, you make me a sandwich:

- Sure, it’ll be $20.

 

I believe that a woman with a laptop can be more powerful than a man with a gun:

- Its because the distance granted by her laptop removes all human empathy towards her victim.

 

If they are not listening – shout louder:

- If it works for three year olds, it’ll work for feminists!

My thoughts on that previous entry…

 

I had a blast writing it,

I laughed at my own wit.

 

But is a feminist truly a violent crybaby?

I think there must be at least one, maybe.

 

The problem lies that anyone can claim to be a feminist,

From the ones who cry how our air-conditioning is sexist,

To those who long to turn #KillAllMen tweets into reality,

There appears to be certain insanity in the feminist mentality.

 

And I have said it before,

And although it makes me sore,

I still have to hear each feminist out,

To hear if their words are reason or tout,

 

But nevertheless,

I am sure that you can guess,

What I’ll do when I see a feminist sign,

I will find a way to ridicule it and that is just fine.

Complaints on a song recommendation

 

I cannot hear the voice under that beat of drum,

What is this: if not just an electric bass hum,

Nothing more than punky bubble gum,

It seems the vocalist has fallen numb,

Underneath all that electric thrum.

 

Honey, your taste in music is terrible…

 

So instead:

 

I will sing the song I wrote to you,

Since there is nothing else for me to do,

And though you might be little offended,

I swear these words will never be pretended,

You are all that fills my heart,

And I never wish to depart,

I long to be by your side,

With you I have nothing to hide.

 

I love you.

Connie St Louis

Lies,

Lies on lies,

And even more lies.

 

That sums up Connie St Louis,

I liar whose lies have brought ruin,

An innocent name tarnished for good,

For no other reason than she simply could.

 

Her story was ran even though sources only numbered as one,

As the journalists forgot why such things shouldn’t be done,

When journalistic ethics weigh nothing on click bait lines,

As long as they cash in checks for names on the bylines.

 

Connie St Louis has been caught for her every lie,

Yet not a single real consequence has come by,

An example of what is wrong in our society,

When liars are protected from notoriety.

 

She is allowed to continue as lecturer on journalism,

When her lack of ethical spine makes her unfit for journalism,

I do not know how we can allow her to teach in any good conscience,

City University might just as well grant Adolf Hitler a podium on ethnic tolerance.

August 22nd

 

It is Vivian James’ birthday,

So here is a poem out of courtesy,

Towards the gamers’ mascot for ethics,

Who hundreds of artists have found aesthetic,

A design of a lone ginger girl playing video games,

Wearing her green and purple hoodie as she exclaims,

A symbol so powerful that for some it has become a crime,

A reason to both insult and threaten for only drawing it one time.

 

I wish happy birthday to Vivian James,

May there be plenty of video games to play,

When she needs a break from fighting for ethics,

And all those silly and misguided social justice bigots.

73rd Worldcon

 

They may say what Puppies did was socially unacceptable,

Something absolutely and unquestionably intolerable,

That the evil outsiders were justly vanquished,

A day of relief for their months of anguish,

But the excellence in the field is done,

On this day when Noah Ward won,

When the lynch mob cheered,

For nominations cleared,

Categories abolished,

Hugos demolished.

 

The village destroyed,

Because it needed to be saved.

 

And it only proved that the ‘Puppies’ were right.

To read my own fantasy novel

 

Oh the agony,

The utter misery,

Typos in my fantasy,

Errors that defy gravity,

These faults rob my sanity,

How could I ever read happily,

When I cannot yet read it casually?

 

But it is what must be done…

How else do you run a home run?

Thoughts on Alinsky Tactics

 

Written for those who hold no power,

To help their ideals bloom like a flower,

To tell the weakest how to seize the hour,

To ridicule and overcome opposition dour,

To stand as one under their fiercest glower,

To find strength so there is no need to cower,

And shake the foundations of the tallest tower.

 

And now it is used even by to those with power,

It created a world where facts can no longer devour,

All the lies that spread like mushrooms during shower.

 

This blade wrought by Alinsky must be shattered.

Crunchy Chocolate Cereals

 

I got some cereal inside my mug,

I stuff them into my mouth like a plug,

And I listen to the sound of crunch and chug.

The Failures of Fantastic Four on Film

 

Reboot after reboot they continue to try,

Without getting it right and here is why:

 

Their Victor von Doom is a mere joke,

Just some silly bloke wearing a cloak,

He is never a ruler of an entire country,

Which robs away most of his mystery,

Nor does he need his own super powers,

He should be scarred and masked all hours,

His scientific mind alone is the challenge,

That the Fantastic Four needs to manage.

 

So the film should start with an attack,

Which causes our four to flee on a rocket,

Yet another disaster follows and so they fall,

Along with their powers they awake in Latveria,

But not long after they are subdued and taken in,

Thus giving them the goal to survive and escape,

As the masked Dr. Doom goads fearful Richards,

And so they struggle and fight against Dr. Doom,

They make it to the border and finally defeat him,

Only to discover that it was only a mere Doombot,

And soon they see a dozen more soaring in the air,

Camera pans to show the border as Doom declares:

‘I applaud your determination.’ With a tone of indifference.

 

Cue credits.

 

Okay, this didn’t rhyme at all.

 

But who cares? I can declare it as a feminist poem!

 

HAH!

 

I guess this poem failed like the films… :-(

Gone (For a fantasy novel)

 

Vanished like the song of a black swan,

No longer will he sit by fire and yawn,

No longer will his stories make us fawn,

The place we called our home is gone,

The boy who once was is now gone,

We knew that one day he is gone,

So what to do when he is gone?

Thoughts on Hugos and Pratchetts

 

He turned down his nomination,

With but a humorous citation,

I think he must have known,

What I have come to know,

How that rocket is nothing,

Its worth merely bluffing,

As the petty are huffing,

For their talent fading.

 

But here I will stand,

By Hugo’s mangled corpse.

 

Until the day when quality is banned;

I shall nominate what I consider good works.

Pretending to be innocent

 

That is the accusation,

That follows flirtation,

As general summation,

Of silly verbal elation,

Denied with frustration,

Without stopping narration,

A result of our romantic emotions.

Eleven more to go

 

It is funny how the days fly,

How the moments float by,

Our reasons to laugh and cry,

Without stopping to ask why,

With only a chance to comply,

Until it is time to say goodbye.

When your life sucks

 

I want to help,

But I just cannot,

Therefore I feel pressed,

Honey you are making me feel depressed,

All your worries are turning me stressed,

Your worries are making me distressed,

I do not know how have it expressed,

The world seems so fucking messed,

These sorrows have me obsessed,

Without a solution to invest,

This life is a cruel test,

Horrible at best,

Life I detest,

At rest.

A Bee Fly

 

Have you seen the bee fly,

That little clever spy,

Hiding in disguise,

Watching guys,

Who heard her lie,

While the blood dried.

It is problematic”

 

A phrase that turns non-issues to issues,

When authoritarians jerk and need tissues,

To cover up their recent verbal miscue,

They will always fall for their usual rescue:

 

It is problematic.

 

Phrase that comes out automatic,

From their otherwise empty mental attic,

For it silences anything pragmatic,

From those wanting to remain diplomatic,

Out of decency of being empathetic,

Not wanting to address something traumatic;

Abused to cover up anything dogmatic.

 

It is problematic.

 

So; quite frankly I have stopped to care,

Try and use it and I will tear you bare,

I will verbally kick your hypocritical rear,

And laugh out loud for your salty tear.

 

But… It is problematic.

 

And now you have to explain exactly why,

Present your evidence or I have caught your lie,

Proved that your views are without reason to comply,

If they cannot stand without the requirement of a blind eye.

Shitlord”

 

On the magical world of the Internet:

If you are not careful: you will be called a shitlord.

 

It might be because someone perceived you as a racist,

Or possibly because they think something you said is sexist,

Or you dared to admit being straight: hence somehow homophobic,

Or just happy to be born as you were: which is seen as transphobic,

Then not being morbidly obese is understood as fat shaming,

Or deemed otherwise prejudicial only for not agreeing.

 

On the magical world of the Internet:

It is mostly progressive feminist that call you a shitlord.

 

The use of this pejorative is likely uncalled and unfair,

And therefore it might make you want to swear,

So here is a response I would like to share:

 

- Well, you are just a piece of shit,

- So bow down to your lord,

- And gobble up my dick.

 

Kind of shuts them up.

 

On the magical world of the Internet:

Progressive feminists are our 21st century puritans.

Wrongfans and wrongfun

 

Sad Puppies IV is now a thing,

Oh what joy it shall bring,

As the insular party of no,

Just does not know how to let go.

They hark out their garbage,

With horses behind carriage,

Their complaints just nonsensical,

To them everything is heretical,

So our wrongfans and wrongfun,

Are a sign of how a change has begun.

The Moral Unpalatability of Margot Wallström

 

Finland should remember its history,

Sweden accepted 70,000 war children.

- Swedish Minister of Foreign Affairs (2015)

 

So in turn, I would like remind our Wallström:

 

Those young refugee children were often treated worse than cattle,

Their humanity and rights stolen by Swedes who considered them chattel,

They suffered horrors beyond what I can imagine or put to words,

They were just innocent little birds,

And your nation tore their wings,

That should be the song you sing.

Wanderer’s oath (For a fantasy novel)

 

If you are seeking for a home,

Be prepared to wander and roam,

Always covered in both dirt and loam,

For the destination is not written in a tome,

Nor will the path be lit by the moon’s chrome.

Pirouette

 

Heh,

Pretty; eh?

Just look at zeh,

Not like that; don’t kreh,

Or do you want to seem lueh?

 

They say a French girl holds a baguette,

How the American counterpart drives corvette,

While the Italian never forgets to light her cigarette,

Thus with the greatest amount of human regret,

I have no idea who would do a pirouette.

 

And that is what makes me heh,

Strange enough to say; eh?

So what say zeh,

Am I kreh,

A lueh?

Thoughts of fish

 

Do they think of what to eat,

Does love make their heart beat,

Do they long for the summer’s heat,

Do they greet friends when they meet,

Do they tell stories of fear about our Pete,

Do they tell lies in order to betray and cheat,

Does hatred spur their vengeance to be complete,

Do they ever wonder anything that would be concrete?

The Three Hundred

 

Ones born of ember,

That is their number,

You better remember,

They will dismember,

So beware their temper.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


One Hundred Poems Vol. III

Contains the following poems: Meet the Black Pig (For a fantasy novel) The 'Coke' Bottle Boob Challenge The War Never Changes – Squee! A Letter Through Mail Vampires and Bullies Fuck my selfish life Internet Troll Lessons of Theft (For a Fantasy Novel) Stunfisk The Modern Regressive Feminists I Demand Facts #WrongSkin Shallow rhymes To be a man in the 21st century On the critique of E3, during 2015 No Award by Noah Ward Tomorrow never knows (For a fantasy novel) Watermelon #CharlestonShooting Hydroxy After Midsummer John Oliver's Double Standards Oh shit, my novel has wrong title Fainting-couch Feminism Space Monkey On the Aftermath of Tim Hunt's Resignation How to defeat 'a feminist twitter mob' – a poem On the ban of the 'Confederate Flag' My Beard #OpSKYNET The Trolls on Twitter Feed The 'End' Of The Worldcon Elephant the Jeremy Deaddit circa 4.7. or 7/4 Sleep honey: version II Summertime Blues They voted: No Kindergarten for Modern Adults Corruption in the Games Industry Sherlock, the Special, Soon... A Trailer! Dirty Bomb Video Call Problems On Cultural Appropriation Through the mist of night A Day For Me On Gawker (18.7.2015) (7/18) 21st Century Journalism is Petty and Inaccurate In Response to Twitter's Yeats Bot Against Radicalism? Space Monkey Gravity Falls Yet Again! Wrestler's Leaked Racist Slurs Do you feel better now? On the Paradox of Multiculturalism Dinosaur New world in the morning Dom Free (For a science fiction novel) “Atoms in the air” Food Awake 'David Attenborough' on Bigots Wrath After Shaving Beard Let me... One tiny science fiction author On Current American Politics I have no words to say Trump as a Presidential Candidate '69' At least we stole the show (13th of August 2015) Anything cheap for you my love When your love is a statue Oranges Yet Again #GamerGate and #SPJAirplay On the 18th That self-titled: 'Research Paper' Feminist Signs – And Responses My thoughts on that previous entry... Complaints on a song recommendation Connie St Louis August 22nd 73rd Worldcon To read my own fantasy novel Thoughts on Alinsky Tactics Crunchy Chocolate Cereals The Failures of Fantastic Four on Film Gone (For a fantasy novel) Thoughts on Hugos and Pratchetts Pretending to be innocent Eleven more to go When your life sucks A Bee Fly “It is problematic” “Shitlord” Wrongfans and wrongfun The Moral Unpalatability of Margot Wallström Wanderer's oath (For a fantasy novel) Pirouette Thoughts of fish The Three Hundred

  • ISBN: 9781310858314
  • Author: Tuomas Vainio
  • Published: 2015-09-10 20:05:56
  • Words: 9646
One Hundred Poems Vol. III One Hundred Poems Vol. III