TRULY SAD ABUSE OF POWER GATHER THEE UNDESIRABLE BEINGS ON THE SPECTRUM TO COMMIT THEE ULTIMATE BY BREAKING AND ENTERING TRESPASSING SEARCHING THROUGH VETERANS HOMES CRUSHING AMERICAN FLAGS FOR THEE OUTFIT OF SCUM ON EARTH MY PRAYERS ARE WITH THE CAPO CIRO GARGANO HIDING OUT FAKING HIS DEATH HIDING BEHIND UNDESIRABLE BEINGS ON THE SPECTRUM FUNNY RIGHT JEFFERSON ALABAMA BACH OFF ABUSE OF POWER STOP TERRORIZING DISABLED FAMILIES SEVERE ABUSE OF POWER BULLIES AN AUTISTIC YOUNG MAN TO TRESPASS WITH INTIMIDATION AND FEAR HIS UP COMING TRESPASSING ARREST OUT ON BOND HE ARRIVES SHAKING FORCED TO WORK FIR ABUSE OF POWER BELIEIVING HES GOING TO PRISON FOR A 300 DOLLAR BOND HE TRESPASSING EXPOSE DOCUMENTS TO CIRO GARGANO AND HIS ABUSE OF POWER STARTLING TAMPERING WITH DISABLED FAMILY AN ENTIRE FAMILY ALL ON THE SPECTRUM MANIPULATION INTIMATION BADGERING TERRORIZING FBI INFORMANTS DISABLED VETERANS DISABLED AMERICAN FAMILY
Categories:
badgering, allah,
Form: Naat
Life, like a rhyme, will unravel on its own time
Badgering life is an invitation to exhaustion
living on the other hand is the rarest of rhymes
living is a leaf shaped violin-life is the stream
the melody from this union is the grace of God
the reflecting pool at journeys end-a mirror of mercy
Categories:
badgering, fate,
Form: Free verse
For persons leaving little to chance,
To others’ orders don’t wish to dance;
For weapons reserving user’s glance:
If they can’t find guns grip a close lance…
Resistance means that one has muscle:
A king who must not lose his castle,
The accustomed to life of hustle
And harsh towns of hustle and bustle…
For resistance, the reddest of eyes:
A time one freely Anarchy tries,
Wastes more than a soul and one’s tears dries:
Sometimes doing the thing with war cries…
All: on the Altar of self defense,
The blood one sheds not really offense…
Sooner achieved sooner respected,
Less badgering rightly expected;
No more the clumsily inspected:
Whoever tried this war prospected…
Categories:
badgering, allusion, character, conflict, hate,
Form: Rhyme
He chose a face
that only his mad mother
would love.
He painted a tragedy
upon a crooked grin.
His mask was designed
to mug any real mirth.
His career-path
a honking mockery.
A blundering funster
who picked-up
a badgering prod,
while he capered
inside distorting mirrors.
When there was no audience
he became the dark intermission,
a curtain drawn
over a cloaked smirk.
Now we see him
swaying on street corners,
occasionally cackling,
much crazier now
his hands dripping blood,
but on the upside
he is doing very well
at the box office.
Categories:
badgering, poetry,
Form: Free verse
Get me a matchstick
And the rogue over there quickly pick.
Or you fetch me smoker’s lighter,
Whose flame is assuredly brighter,
Pouring me out some petrol
From our jeep long on patrol…
Jungle Justice is beginning to itch like lust,
Last week’s, a badgering must!
The fair-play funded by fire
And aided by vindictive tyre:
An impatient crowd’s justice,
Permitting no armistice:
Rather like our dirty street,
Every burnt body, a nice treat!
Still rubber trying to locate?
Or what it should cost calculate?
Please, let me have a bundle of unsmiling ropes
That should dash an escapee’s lurking hopes,
With this ridding our society of a bandit…
They’re real Trial Judges within our ambit.
No sooner are their wigs worn
Than The Hardened confessions are born:
His true identities peeping back at you,
Their impossible hideout proving to be true.
Old timers freely recalling their first operation,
A neat fingering of even the day of digression
But now to them no show of leniency
Nor our determined hands control their proficiency.
Categories:
badgering, anger, crazy, judgement,
Form: Rhyme
Dismount, the horse is dead I say.
He keeps blathering on,
Saying things to bring me down
Tries to lasso me with negativity
Annoyed that I have retained my idealism
Angry at my optimism
Wanting to smear my joy on the floor of the barn.
I smell the hay and the manure
Still I will not relent
Dismount, the horse is dead, I say.
The sky does not fall.
Chicken Little’s voice is silenced.
The blathering keeps coming.
Perpetual ugliness; trying to pull me down.
The rope misses my head by days.
I gallop into the corral, determined to retain myself.
He chases after me, attempting to wipe off my smiles.
Wanting tears to come out of my eyes.
I laugh until I cry, infuriating him.
Dismount, I yell. The horse is dead!
Categories:
badgering, husband, wife,
Form: Dramatic Verse
He chose a face
that only his mad mother
would love.
He painted a tragedy
upon a crooked grin.
His mask was designed
to mug any real mirth.
His career-path
a honking mockery.
A blundering funster
who picked-up
a badgering prod,
that made it caper, and ha-de-ha
inside distorting mirrors.
When audiences thinned,
he became the dark intermission,
a curtain drawn
over a cloaked smirk.
Now we see him
swaying on street corners,
occasionally cackling,
much crazier now
then his sorrowing mom.
Categories:
badgering, poetry,
Form: Blank verse
He chose a face
that only his mad mother
would love.
He painted a tragedy
upon a crooked grin.
His mask was designed
to mug any real mirth.
His career-path
a honking mockery.
A blundering funster
who picked-up
a badgering prod,
that made it caper, and ha-de-ha
inside distorting mirrors.
When audiences thinned,
he became the dark intermission,
a curtain drawn
over a cloaked smirk.
Now we see him
swaying on street corners,
occasionally cackling,
much crazier now
then his sorrowing mom.
Categories:
badgering, poetry,
Form: Blank verse
If we could only capture an instant,
one frame of this life with but our eyes;
freeze the clouds adorning the argent crescent,
count the raindrops on a storm-soaked leaf -
where might we be?
If the beauty present in one second
could be stretched to encompass each day;
the eyes of a pet, loving with no thought of lies,
the words with a friend, badgering and boon both -
what tangles might we unravel?
If we could rob this unduly perturbing world
of every snatch of glee in our grasp;
a bolt of lightning dancing in an eyelid's sky,
a laugh caught in the lens of a memory -
what tapestry might we paint with these echoes?
If we can strive to hold these glimpses of a grin,
these flashes finite, fleeting and fundamental;
the chapter that keeps you in its thrall, ensorcelled,
the cat's tail curling continually 'round your calf -
what tale might we spin from these ghosts of a moment?
Categories:
badgering, beauty, hope, life,
Form: Free verse
I am the way that I am but it does not define me
I am a child an adolescent released from captivity
I am the brick to a wall
I am the sail on a sail big and tall
I am here this time to tell it all
I am better than I use to be
I am free
I am the anti that put bullying to shame
I am the corner who hears badgering some one's name
I am dedicated to stand when I want to fall
I am who I am I except the call
I am to speak loud and clear
I am the drum beating in the ear
I am the canal of surf and wind
I am have found a heart to mend
I am the needle with thread
I am to stitch a circle put shame to bed
I am that I am and here I am
I am the one who stands
I am the one who never was denied
i am have been talked about and lied
i am the one who was wearing a mask to
i am here to tell the truth
I am help at this time if need
I am sits here and I am is free
Categories:
badgering, anti bullying,
Form: Rhyme
Jagged
Edges
Of
The
Mind
Serrated
By
Ghost
Memories
Badgering
Unhinging
Looping
Sanity
And
Insanity.
Categories:
badgering, loss, pain,
Form: Prose
A badgering wife caused her husband such grief,
Each time she did he ground his teeth,
Over the years his teeth become
Nothing but stumps upon his gum,
His friends all called her, 'the calcium thief.'
Categories:
badgering, funny,
Form: Limerick
Stop badgering the witness!
Love is a mysterious thing
Even if you found that perfect ring,
as we all recalled it was the mindset
that triggered strong emotion into the explosion
that separate the thing called love.
It’s have been more than twenty odd years since
the Weeper's victims left over tears, that never faded.
the dead feel neither pain nor anger
The jury is still deliberating long and hard, but still miles
to go on the public views, so once again
if the gloves don't fit you must acquit
Stop badgering the remaining witness America
Love is a mysterious thing,
Categories:
badgering, abuse, black african american,
Form: Dramatic Verse
There's something from the Chinese
that's called the poor man's fortune.
when back in the beginning
was thought of as misfortune.
My story starts with Sally Trac
A waitress in a chain.
One courteous and generous
that no one would call vain.
Each day would be a badgering
where Sally'd pester me.
and I'd return the pestilence
Our humor running free.
I'd order up a coffee milked.
A coffee Sally'd make.
The moment came up often
as the days turned into wake.
In sipping it I'd soon relax;
when tapped upon the shoulder.
And turn around where Sally'd be
Her smile come close as bolder.
An outreached hand to beckon me
presented me with cookies.
Them broken and no fortunes,
as if to come from bookies.
Without their guidance I was lost
unless you count their portions.
For Sally giving cookies free
would be the poor man's fortune.
Categories:
badgering, appreciation, bereavement, blessing, care,
Form: Quatrain
Mrs. Claus said "Santa you're getting awfully big"
Santa held onto his beer and took another swig.
Sure he was bigger, somewhat chubbier in the face.
When he got up from the chair, his heart began to race.
He said " Stop badgering me woman, I am okay."
He went off to find the reindeer and hook up the sleigh.
He said to the reindeer "Let's take the sleigh out for fun!"
Rudolph said " forget about it, you weigh half a ton."
Rudolph had been a bit nervous, his nose had gone dim.
He said "My dear friend Santa please go to the gym"
Santa could not deny it, he'd let himself go.
He had kept eating and continuing to grow.
So off to the gym, many cobwebs to clean.
With a whole lot of effort, our Santa would be lean.
As he started pumping iron, pounds melted away.
His one and only goal, he achieved in seven days.
So now our dear old Santa, he's a picture of health.
Now that he's so much thinner, he moves with greater stealth.
Please don't leave him cookies, forget about the milk.
Perhaps some sexy boxers, Mrs. Claus prefers them silk.
For Debbie Guzzi's Santa Claus Contest
Written December 31, 2013.
Happy New Years to all my friends here at the Soup!
Categories:
badgering, humor, new years day,
Form: Couplet
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