Best Reprobates Poems
An Ode To Trolls Hackers And Scammers.
.
Hideous evil creatures
Attention seekers
Cowards who hide behind computers
Cold-hearted scavengers
Not unlike preying vultures
.
Childish and pathetic
Bloodsucking leeches
Inflated egotistical heretics
Unhappy with their lot
Blaming everyone else
For what they have got
.
Insecure reprobates
Void of loving
Rabid narcissists
Spreading hate
Incognito dwelling in the dark shadows
Invading innocent victims
Homes and space
A hooded callous destroyer
Without a face
.
Control freaks seeking power
From their lofty tower
Something they lack
But will be paid back
.
Bullies who may escape justice now
But on judgment day they will have to pay
For their evil deeds
And I for one
Can’t wait for that day.
.
Peter Dome©2020.
Barbed wire seems a 'thorny' subject on which to opine,
But there arose a need for such for people and beasts to confine!
Cowpokes cussed as they worked with it mutilating their hands.
Sheepherders fussed with cattlemen as it spread across their lands!
'Tis said back in 1874 Joseph Glidden, who 'bristled' with the idea,
Was awarded a patent for barbed wire to provide a cure-all panacea!
Split-rail fencing to outline boundaries was rapidly becoming passe',
To keep neighbors' straying goats, horses and other critters at bay!
Sheriffs found barbed wire handy to enforce a judge's firm dictates,
To confine hoss thieves, cattle rustlers and other such reprobates!
Inmates trying to scamper through the wire were apt to rip their pants,
Or worse, might end up in 'boot hill', caught trying to scale the fence!
Alas, sinister uses for barbed wire were found beyond bucolic meadowlands.
'Twas used to enslave thousands of innocent souls behind its menacing strands.
Thousands of men, women and children were consigned to death at Dachau,
Triblinka, Buchenwald, Ravensbruck and Auschwitz-Birkenau.
Among its many other diverse uses it has even marched off to wars,
To protect gallant American soldiers on far too many alien shores.
Mister Joseph Glidden was doing mankind a great favor, he thought.
Were he alive today he might say, "My gawd, what hath I wrought!"
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
The Story Of The Cruel And Dark Queen That Feeds On Souls
She that exists to eat innocent souls and this world's vast wealth
A dark goddess, splaying her straggly long hair with wilted roses
Pretty, brazen, wickedly heartless and damn to hell soulless
Even far more beautiful, glowingly fair than is Lamia
Artists and poets seek words to describe her deep darkness
Souls of artists, painters and reprobates toiling for her glee
Thousands enslaved in the mirage of her horrible essence
She that holds me locked into her enticing horrid imagery
As I toil like Hercules to break these impregnable chains
Such that morning holds no beauty, sky is devoid of its blue
These many months pass and pass, O' my spirit is wilting
I seek the gold moon at night but find only darken shadows
And absolutely no human pleasures ever do I know or feel
I that exist in this raging true hellish world of deep evil pains
Pray for dearest release that I may one day die a free man
And if gifted our God's sweet mercy, shall enter the Pearly Gates.
Robert J. Lindley, Verse
APRIL 11TH 1971
Old Note: Age 17, this is one of my early dark poems, no rhyming.
I rarely ever do just plain verse....
New Note: Well, I still rarely ever do just verse. May have have written 15 or 20 poems that were just verse.
"Blue Avians and the Poetic State of Mind
post apocalypse
the mother
sought the assistance
of Blue Avians.
when it came to
eggs stolen from a nest
who better than to
seek the assistance
of those ancient
wise creatures.
they had a keen sense
of the poetic.
without speaking,
they intuitively
understand
the misunderstood.
The Blues
shot right through
to the heart
of the matter.
Triangulation.
seated in
lapis lazuli
Merkaba
thrones
they fly
in fierce squadrons
sharp eyes, and minds
surveying the In-Between Place.
extra sensory perception
they lock into targets
reading signals hidden
under the radar
the cloaked
co-ordinates
of the Draconian
the great pretenders,
finding weakness
in the criminals’
fading camouflage.
slippery scales, light weights,
the Draconian
are bird bait;
too shiny,
inherent and inherited
reptilian, lizard minds
unsettling reprobates
in false light armour;
their dangerous enabling
supporting the
underbelly of it all,
their brother,
the venomous
Arachnid army.
The Blue Avians
saw deep inside
the Necromancer’s
deep indigo heart,
the blue heart of true mother.
they were for her
with faith
every time;
for like them, after all,
she also could fly
with the full strength,
the force of will in her mind.
they would fly
by her side. anytime.
they held no fear
of her motives,
her just moment,
her calling mission
for return of her child,
in the fullness of time.
they see
and they feel
the fierce call
of the Necromancer’s
true mind.
post apocalypse
the mother
sought the assistance
of Blue Avians.
when it came to
eggs stolen from a nest
who better than to
seek the assistance
of those ancient
wise creatures,
they possessed a keen sense
of swift justice.
they read
without speaking
truth in
the poetic,
a unifying
undying
poetically alienated
state of mind
(LadyLabyrinth / 2022)
"I am the blue-lidded daughter of Sunset;
I am the naked brilliance of the voluptuous night-sky."
"In the sphere I am everywhere the centre,
as She, the circumference, is nowhere found."
Eye of Horus.
Horus.
Thoth.
Nuit.
A. W. Nutter
Sympathetic voices
Whispering in the ear
Angels in remorse
Shedding their tears
Droplets of water
A mocking serenade
The darkened chamber
They chose to invade
Alone in the darkness
Depression transcends
Engulfed by wickedness
Prayers quickly end
Pleading for death
Ignored by the Trinity
In a reprobates path
On the edge of insanity
Consumed with fear
Overwhelmed with pain
Salvation for beggars
In hell I’ll remain
Looking for poetry off the beaten path. Take a look at "The Menagerie" 74 hand
selected poems by this author. Available for download $5.99
http://www.amazon.com/dp/B0052U4O5U
A. W. Nutter
As the suns rays take flight
Pain, mere moments away
Fear grows with the twilight
As a demon prepares to play
No concern of retribution
Atrocities becoming ageless
Habitual, nightly persecution
Cloaked in a veil of righteousness
The barn door slowly opens
Oil lamp illuminates the boy
His eyes black as a ravens
As he views his captive toy
Crying out, from a cold caress
Prompts the demons laughter
Salvation absent for the godless
No mercy from the assaulter
Screams providing gratification
The final act being orchestrated
Priest praying for absolution
For sins already committed
The child’s heart surrenders
Resting in a shallow grave
Safe from religious pretenders
No longer a reprobates slave
Children losing their innocence
Causing the flock to lose hope
False prophet preaching temperance
Pedophiles protected by the Pope
Insidious, insipid, id-inebriated imbeciles
incite impetus into inevitable immolation.
Bombast, bluster and bluff: blunt batons of barbarian bullies;
backwards behaviour blackballs baronial breed's burdens and bonds.
Weasely, willy-waving warmongers wage wanton war of words
without wit, wisdom or worldliness, whilst we weakly watch and wait.
Regrettable, repugnant reprobates ravage refined realms with
reprehensible rapier-rattling and rancid rhetoric.
Clash of corrupt, contemptible cutthroats carves calamity 'cross
continents and culminates in catastrophic conflagration.
Pointless predatory and political power-plays pale as
pirouetting pariahic pyres patently a pyrrhic prize.
------------------------------------------
(16 syllables on every line, checked with howmanysyllables.com)
14 October 2017
Insidious, insipid, id-inebriated imbeciles
wage a wanton war of words without wit, wisdom or worldliness.
Regrettable, repugnant reprobates ravage refined realms as
pirouetting pariahic pyres patently a pyrrhic prize.
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16 syllables on every line - checked with howmanysllables.com
2 December 2017
For Barry Stebbings' "Alliteration" contest.
Sort out the new
one of the New
Sort of the New
Millennium I am
Sort out the new
one of those
Reluctant recalcitrant reprobates
Sort of the most
High Speed
Falling in love
In a moment
To tell
To view
To sort out the new
To gift in the old.
Social Injustice
Purging Purgatory holds a few,
of numb nuts on the planet,
reprobates could make you spew ,
like a bloody half baked Gannet,
social justice is sinking low,
where the LNP does rule, [ tories]
careful how your words do go,
incorrect-u-mundo, bloody fool,
National party in the bush,
In the likes of Longreach town,
Wear the Drover Moleskins, pants, the push,
And blue shirts, come to frown,
Drive on past the local cafes and stores,
In their big ole four wheel drives,
Out to the Airport, bloody sure,
How Sir and Mister [class] survives,
Cotton came to Cubbie station,
Now owned by the great Chinese,
I was there on the woodheap yeah,
When class distinction had some freeze,
Jackaroo & Manager, sit in the dining room,
Station hands, into the kitchen creep,
But we are cool,
with the Aboriginal rule,
Eating:
On the woodheap,
down with the sheep,
For we are the despised working class,
The brainless as a sheep,
Swallow lies and propaganda, alas,
Pawns of the super rich, come cheappppp :}
Don
White Knights,
Aryan brothers
Sons of the Confederacy
loyal to the Cause
Black lives don’t matter much ...
******* are zeroes
in our Fourth Reich beer halls
White Knights,
Aryan sisters
Daughters of the Confederacy
trumpet the Cause
Picaninnies picking cotton
is the only thing tar babies
are good for at all
Lets make America great again
like it was way back when
Dixie slavery songs was the sounds of the South
at the opening and closing of the plantation gates
Squashing Antebellum rebellion with a good castration ...
lynching was the strange fruit we Union haters ate
And seeing them KKK days again is gonna be great
White Knights,
Aryan brothers
Sons of the Confederacy
loyal to the Cause
So evil strong and abiding is our hate ...
We’re gonna turn back the clock,
and abolish those civil right reprobates
We’re gonna once again make America great
We are true neo-Nazi believers
who slave hard
at making our backward racial beliefs a sinister reality
Fourth Reich of July burning cross White Night
will be the darkest Independence Day in American history
the moon commences its' illusion
it rides the crest fully
survivor of Roche's Limit
survivor of human prediction
filling the night with shadow
my early morning walks
the light in the distance
calls thru canopied jungle path
the setting moon
stepping on the soft white beach
where a silver highway plays
in the rippling water, i am
the human past who long ago
beheld such a sight
without the shaman's cheap trick
nor the cold touch of science
have accepted the moon just is
beautiful to behold
we let each other be
we are one and the same
dancing thru the universe
and when this is no more
we will be lip to lip
i do not know what God is
and have no such need
yet whatever it is
it is magnificent
the heavens live to die
and in that death
life finds itself again
my wishes, mere mortal longing
that so might i
even Rimbaud capitulated
the reprobates' fear of reprobation
and i have but one question
before the empyreal throne
is there in heaven, a moon
Norma's roof Santa Cruz 95
We lost a good guy within the last week
Name of Dean Parry Val halla did seek
A full military career this gentleman had
His family and friends are now very sad
We've known Dean since the age of sixteen
When we joined a life in green
A top soldier and tradesman for sure
Serving abroad in many a war
Tommorows the day he'll be laid to rest.
From all of us you were one of the best
The current climate won't let us attend
But we will raise a glass for this absent friend
You join Andy perks at the bar in the sky
Leaving us behind wondering why
We know about demons that you had
Now they are gone and you can be glad
Our condolences to your family
I hope it goes well. as well as can be
R.I.P Dean Respect to thee.
From all the reprobates of 87C
Champion Squadron
Champion Recruit troop
1st Sept 87
Catherine Bryan
1838-1918
Thy swan song will be kept short, for thou
And ye, faithful friends of Whittier’s Quaker enclave,
In stout shock, thy anger scolds the town,
For ye know, in heart and soul,
Thee and this old maid did not approve or agree,
With ye establishment of said saloon,
And its mad proprietor, with mustache in tow.
To God, in his holy anger, thou sayeth:
Do not spare ye town of Whittier,
Please, kindly show no mercy, as ye sinful township,
Heads into the uncertain evil times,
Cease not to spare the damaging quakes,
From thy emblazoned temper in seasons ahead,
For ye Whittier hath dressed obscenely in clothes of mustard yellow,
And hath exchanged them for the proper, black regalia of the righteous,
Yes, proper and good accoutrements for thy people in worship!
But now it is time for the old woman to say:
Ye Whittier! Thou hath forsaken the highest God!
For thy immodest music and dancing,
And thy indulgent viewing of sinful cinemas,
In the darkness of Hades itself, at the Optic,
Ye den of corruption and vice,
Hath spat upon the face of the Lord!
Whittier township, a dead woman says to ye future generations,
From this black place in a forgotten grave:
Ye are damned heathens in thy midst!
Ye reprobates! Ye are not the chosen people!
Instead of worship, and disciplined prayer time,
Ye sit in the dumbing darkness and find Lucifer,
Dreaded star of the morning!
The Optic be damned!
I was appointed
To preach the word
A destiny
That I have long denied
Not that I don’t love
My SAVIOR
Because I was
Uniquely designed
Fashioned in his likeness
But shaped in
Iniquity
Forever will I be
Linked to my past history?
Adam and Eve
Were my first parents
GOD was very excited about his creation
Eve became distracted
As the subtle enemy infiltrated
To bring doom to
GOD’s holy nation
Sin was born
Through disobedience Eve heeded in her spirit
Blame was rendered
Through Adam forgetting his creator’s
Instruction, power and wisdom
Not wanting to destroy his wondrous creatures
GOD making a declaration to eternally keep
Man from the tree of life
Good & Evil
Laying in abeyance within their mortal beings and heart
Descendants of this trait through bloodlines
Reprobates mankind became
Causing GOD to extirpate the world
Saving 8 souls
Extracting from GODS ubiquities
A virgin was chosen to birth
Our redeemer
Impeccable Master
Laid down his life
SINLESS for SINFUL
Wayward Generation
Now that you know
HIS story
What are you going to do?
I choose to
Carry my cross
And walk
But the choice is up to
YOU