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Best Go Postal Poems | Poetry

Below are the all-time best Go Postal poems written by Poets on PoetrySoup. These top poems in list format are the best examples of go postal poems written by PoetrySoup members

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The Best Go Postal Poems

Details | Go Postal Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Going Postal

(Voting Republican)

Who’d have thought that our nation would ever go postal,
Past sin perhaps brings our demise?
From our ancestral guilt at the treatment of Indians,
(Enrichment by gun’s artifice)
To enslavement of innocents branded by color?

Misanthropic beginnings forged seeking our freedom
Duplicity seen as our Right
We then took on the armor of people we hated
Our fear and greed clouding our sight
Could our brokenness truly be hope for all nations?

Undeserving we worship stale Gods and past glory,
New Testament’s cautions, lost art,
As now saving yourself is the Trump-phatic message
God’s grace has no place in our heart,
Self promotion the sand that his lunacy stands on.

Kings of science denial and nails in Christ’s coffin
Christ buried is their promised land,
And the sharing of wealth is a communist mantra
To love is a foolish demand.
A fool’s take on the Bible is what they call Gospel.

For the mighty will fall and their pride turn to ashes
God grant that Trump’s time will come soon
As his follower’s goosestep their way off life’s pathway
This piper just plays a sad tune!
But would taxpayer sponsored elections improve things?

Brian Johnston
December 24, 2015

Copyright © Brian Johnston | Year Posted 2015

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My Arsenal I Will Release, If There Is No Longer Peace

I have a secret hidden vault
With weapons that can assault
Anybody who won't learn
If you try to hurt and turn
Hearts into sad painful things
I'll go postal and will bring
You worse sorrow than you dish out
Cause my life is all about
Making sure there's no neglect
From the world showing respect
To others who they pass by
It just make me sad and cry
When I see a world so scary
Leaving hearts and souls so weary
When they listen to the racist
Comments that are getting basic
And used way to much and often
They need putting in a coffin
With other judgmental types
That is wrong and so not right
No one should make fun of those
Who always get a daily dose
Of hurtful and rude comments
Being hated with bombardments
Of words that tear them apart
What happened to peoples hearts
So many mission will go on
Till everybody gets along
And there's not one more tear shed
Just smiles and joy ahead

Copyright © robin davis | Year Posted 2014

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Societies Bedrock

Often mocked as stupid
I am always faced with
the idea i am missing 
something worth knowing.
I go to work. I do my job.

Preached to standards higher
than I can conceive,
I am everywhere and I believe
what I hear when 
media gurus deceive
and try to convince me
that they stand for values
their own biographers deny.
I watch leaders praised
and forgiven for crimes
that would destroy me.

I go to work. I do my job.
I see my hours cut.
I raise children who
go to work and do their job
and are passed over for promotion
by someone who promises to do more
with less, downsizes, lays waste
and jumps to another position
before the destruction
can be assessed.

I go to work. I do my job
and I am the bedrock
on which the rest of society
Sometimes I go "postal".
On those days, everyone says
that they just don't understand.
"He was just so steady, never late
for work, always did his job."

Copyright © ahellas Alixopulos | Year Posted 2007

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Joey Fatone

You don’t wanna meet Joey Fatone 
He’s a Jersey Devil
with a Tasmanian attitude

Street whispers say, 
“Baby” is a notch below
asylum certifiable

A wise guy, gator gait    bad to the bone
Known to go postal   ...   jungle level
Joey loves giving dirt naps, 
so don’t keep the short talk       too long

Lives Cajun mean     dirty down low  in the Big Easy,
made Papa Justify give him the Skeleton Key
Stay behind the yellow line ... don’t cross the “Baby”

Always traveled light: Ruby and a burner phone
The Devil adored his metallic Black widow
Mixing business  with  pleasure was money fun to do

Fatone’s fist: shook  rattle  them numbered bones;
what you didn’t say, he never wanted to know
Best hit man for hire ... won’t pay the cleaner bill too

You don’t wanna meet Bobby Falcone
He’s a Bowery Hell’s Angel
with a Transylvanian diablo attitude ...

Copyright © Freddie Robinson Jr. | Year Posted 2018