Best Shut Off Poems
What If
You live in a Matrix that you don't know, what is really happening around you.
That there are people that wish to control you through fear, lies, and manipulation and deception, but you don't realize it's happening.
That these people have been planning this a long time and they are incredibly smart, evil, rich and powerful.
That they are the people that you trust, listen to, appreciate, and admire.
That they are many years ahead of you in technology and they have gathered so much information on you, that your privacy doesn't exist.
That they control the economy, your food, your water, your money, and through the false narratives on television your mind.
That they are so evil that you in your worst thoughts, could not fathom their evilness.
That their goal is to depopulate the world from 7.8 Billion people to 5 hundred million.
How you might ask? Through your food, vaccinations, chemtrails, your water, medications, lack of health care, and many other ways.
That they want a data bank on everyone on earth through your dna and tracking, and tracing devices.
There are many of us and few of them, so they want to monitor us at all times so we can't retaliate when we realize what they are doing to us.
After they give us our freedom back with conditions, they will bring us back to our prisons at home with another plandemic.
Then they will tell us that if we want our freedom we have to first be tested and then vaccinated.
Later they will say that your money carries the virus and they will bring in the cashless society. Why? If you don't go along with the program, they shut off your funds.
That they want to disarm us, take our weapons so we can't fight back. Canada just banned assault weapons, U S A will follow.
Henry Kissinger said, You want to control the masses, you control their food and their money, and they will do anything you ask.
My friends welcome to, THE NEW WORLD ORDER.
Go to YouTube. Everyday they take down their videos to censor them. Warn others like I have warned you.
Off The Grid With Doug and Stacy
YouTube.
Dr Sherri Tenpenny Brighteon.com
Tell all that you love and tell them to tell ten others. So forth and so on. God bless you all we are in this together...
Michael Tor
Blessed are those
who love God, the
God of love and
mercy
Blessed are those
who follow one God,
who leads with
compassion showing
mercy
Cursed are those
who follow the Prince
of darkness, who fell
from Heaven dragged
down by the weight
Lesser Ego --
He who shows no Mercy
will be shown no Mercy
A Terrorist is the
Son of the Devil
a Harlot of Evil
All Lives Matter
Even the whores
of the press, the whores
of politics, and those
building mansions
profiting from war
let those who hear
with ears yet open
pause and listen to
the tender heart of
wisdom
while those darkened.
Shut off souls, will know
the Fires of Purification
So written
in the annals of
bloody history
Joe The Plumber announced he was runnin' fer Congress the other day!
Congratulations, Joe! You the man! Fer you I shout, "Hooray!"
Tell 'em like it is as you did with Obama - show 'em you won't be outdone!
And, Joe, take yer plumbers' kit - you'll need it to repair the damage done!
Include screwdrivers to tighten the screws on higher taxes and spendin',
And yer biggest wrench to shut off the flow of governmental lendin'!
Take yer solderin' arn so as to solidify warm relationships with yer peers,
And a pipe cutter to cut off zany filibusterin' that is tiresome to yer ears!
You'll need a hundred rolls of duct tape to stem the flow of inane babble,
And gallons of Liquid Plummer to unclog the stalemate of that useless rabble!
A good pipe wrench will come in handy to tighten the discipline in that 'joint',
And a twelve-foot stepladder to rise above that rotten mob to make yer point!
Joe, show 'em what real 'change' is meant to be with a new 'shower' of hope!
Flush political correctness down the john that's gotten us on this slippery slope!
Be sure to take yer roto-rooter and clean the sewer that is Washington, DC!
Use yer most powerful hose to flush the whole mucked-up mess out to sea!
Robert L. Hinshaw,CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
Christmas Castaways
My good friend Jerry’s unemployment had run out
I feared print journalism’s future was in doubt
But while we commiserated on Christmas Eve
A disheartening report was broadcast on TV
Local law enforcement had been busy that day
People found living in the woods had been cast away
These homeless families had set up tents on state land
And police had ordered these squatters to disband
How heartless it seemed that these souls should be tossed out
Poor folks who had nothing and learned to do without
We shut off the TV, couldn’t take it anymore
And headed for a café with joyful décor
Just twenty degrees as we drove down the highway
Where a sight neath a bridge caused far more dismay
A couple and their small child huddled together
Trying hard to stay warm in cold winter weather
Sad images of Bethlehem flashed through my mind
With no room at the inn for the savior of mankind
I looked at my friend and he returned my glance
We both felt this family needed a second chance
“Pull over,” he murmured, “we can’t just leave them here
These folks deserve to share in our holiday cheer”
So money that could have bought steak dinners for two
We used to buy hamburgers for our five-member crew
Some cash left over for a room at Motel Six
Not a real solution – a temporary fix
We returned Christmas Day; our church would take them in
But they had checked out; it was half past eleven
For long I’ve wondered what happened to this family
And what each Christmas holds for those who are needy
*Recollection of Christmas, 2007, when the economy started to fail.
It’s a recurring thought –
Over and over again –
Reverberating in my head,
Bouncing back and forth,
Reeling up and down like a Yo-yo,
Like a boomerang that keeps coming back,
Like a song stuck in your head,
A thought that gnaws at your will to live,
Like an army of termites devouring
your soul making you hollow inside,
Like the waves of the sea
lapping its shores ceaselessly.
It’s a nagging thought
to just shut off everything,
Like turning off the light switch
and walking away;
A thought to strip off all my
worries and cares of the world,
Like a snake shedding its skin,
And just wandering away,
Leaving behind petty rivalry,
envy, jealousy, shallow ties,
The promises and perils of life,
And to step forth renewed, reborn,
into a new place with no identity,
no name, no past, no aspirations--
just living for the day
As I like, As I please,
With no vagaries of life,
No yearning for paradise.
Walking away folk free
unrestricted by time or space,
customs, creed or the rules of the law.
But this thought
Like an active volcano ever brewing
and rumbling but never erupting,
Like a seed sowed with care and nurturing
but never sprouting, never coming to fruition.
It just keeps kneading and churning
Forever bobbling in the doldrums
Performing boondoggle tasks
Bearing the burden of the world like Atlas,
Unable to sigh or sneeze,
Fearful that a sudden moment
The slightest shift might cause
an upheaval in someone’s life.
Ah, the woes of life!
Why thou linger willy-nilly in my vicinity?
Why thou not forsaketh me?
Go and befriend the dark, foreboding clouds
And burst down upon some distant shores.
Let some sun shine upon me,
Let love gather me in her warm embrace,
Bequeath to me days rife with joy
and mellow moonlit nights,
Let my path run some distance straight
and not twist or turn at whim,
Let there be spring in my seasons
instead of the cold and bare winter,
Let me rejoice in the day’s toil
And earn me the night’s repose –
It’s a recurring thought,
Over and over again,
Reverberating in my head...
Wait just a minute!
Didn’t we go over that already?
~09/10/15
"Inside My Head" contest by John lawless
What’s going up and what’s coming down?
How does the dollar compare to the pound?
These were my worries many years past.
I’m finally idle as the years go by fast
Now my worries have flown to the rear
Violence and terror giving me fear
Bombs bursting and people in the air
Causes and purposes never being clear
Is it terror, or just a random crime?
So many young men still doing time
So many women still being abused
So many outsiders still being refused.
I think I should shut off the TV news
Turn on the radio and listen to the blues.
Mrs Gladys Wackjob:
“What the goodness is wrong with this hospital,
I receive better service in a restaurant.
You nurses sit there doing nothing while my
Husband is dying. Why isn’t anyone talking to me.
And you little miss perky nurse, Yes you,
With the 80’s hair style. Are you actually old enough
To be a nurse. What the heck is going on..”
Nurse Rachel:
“I worked very hard at Medical School I gave up
everything. I didn’t have a social life. Yes I am old enough to be nurse.
We are doing everything we can but your husband
is very ill. Instead of yelling at me you might go and hold his hand.
Mr Jason Rightbrain,
“What is this crap. I ordered eggplant parmesiana.
This looks like cow manure. If I want to throw up I would
eat my x-wife’s crap. What is wrong with this place.
Are you really a Chef or just grabbing boxes from the
supermarket and heating them in the microwave.
I can’t believe this. And you think I’m going to pay
for this rubbish.
Chef Greg.
I gave up a good job working in accounting for this.
I loved the idea of serving people food. Three years
at College and I tried so hard. I think I’ll give up now.
Mrs Jane Wiseacre,
Are you Mrs Watson my daughter’s Teacher. This report says
my little Felicity is an underachiever. What on God’s green Earth
does that mean? I help her with her homework.
She wanted to go to ballet. No No No Not on my watch.
She works harder than any of these loser kids why isn’t
she doing well at school. Are you even a real teacher you look like
a waitress.
Janine Watson:
I tried my best with Felicity. I gave her extra attention
but sometimes you just can’t reach some kids.
They have shut off from the world. I can’t imagined why.
I have to go for a long walk now.
You are a soul that is infinate, timeless and eternal .
Your not just this physical body with a age, gender, role
And job title . You are magnanimous the size of the universe.
As a soul you are eternal there for all knowing.
You understand the wisdom of the universe.
Unplug from the matrix and tune into the
Big picture, the universe .
Before you were born you were in the universe
where you decided to make a contract with
Your personal team of angels .
Now we are walking on this earth
We forget and get caught up in the matrix of life.
In your feelings this wisdom is natural.
Our intellect has limitations fears and worries
In our sleep the mind is shut off and the
Soul part can listen and source the truth.
Before you go to bed ask your soul part
If this is true. Ask who your personal team
of angels are.
Show down.
Eye to eye,
Tears sweat from it's cheek.
Little bit of a shake in the bodily wise.
"You can't do this to me! Speak in that tone of voice!"
"Look around. They'll think you're insane!"
"Get back in line!"
Cirlcing my lens sight about,
Seeing the expression of anguish hysteria in the norm,
The air is now poisoned with agony emotions.
Who can escape?
High noon like never seen before.
"Don't come any closer!"
"Do you know who I am? 21 St. Century."
"You live in me."
"Play by the rules, be quiet, and take it like a man!"
Smiling infinity within me.
"No! Do not walk away like that!"
"You need me!"
Turn with final words of free,
"Who needs who?"
"Time. A lonely place without man. Better thank the One who keeps you in His
Hands."
"As for me. Better things to do. Live on Earth in her humbleness."
"By the way, shut off the light before you leave. Too late! The roundabout living are
your witnesses that it was done long ago."
(Thank you Jill Martin for your comments on "Blank Screen". Your comments
fired me up to write this one.)
I don’t want to write a poem,
there’s nothing in the tank,
no great thought or inspiration
that will inspire thanks.
I don’t want to write a poem,
just let me watch youtube,
and leave the entertaining to
far more qualified dudes.
I don’t want to write a poem,
so Mind, leave me alone,
stop saying, ‘memento mori,’
that my time is half gone.
I don’t want to write a poem,
this damn writer’s impulse
will never just shut up and sleep,
like it does for most folk.
I don’t want to write a poem,
just let my brain shut off,
don’t make me feel that doing so
is precious moments lost.
I don’t want to write a poem,
and think of life or death,
or patterns, beats, and damned quatrains,
for God’s sake let me rest!
I don’t want to write a poem,
but I don’t have a say,
since even when I try not to
I write one anyway.
You walked into the room, my heart began to pound,
Your hat cocked off, your clothes just right, your scent all around.
You took the seat behind me, eye contact as you passed.
I think my heart stopped for just a second, a moment I wanted to last.
Time goes by but the day finally came when our paths they did cross,
My palms were sweaty, my body numb, my brain suddenly shut off.
Talking on the phone to going on dates to you making me dinner,
It all lead to a forever love we both came out a winner.
Friends in the beginning , today husband and wife,
No matter what we go thru, with you I will spend my life.
It is the grey of evening...soft lamps glow as our hood readies itself for some crumbs of comfort:
Old widows wrap themselves with pillows for third- hand affection,
Children yawn sure as day that mothers will lullaby them like so ,
Single fathers brew coffee to tide them from a hard day's sweat-
Senior men listen to music begging for new memories...
Young ladies lonely shut off their doors... praying Psalm 91,
Grandmothers pick up stale needlework, avoiding
pain of abandonment and senility
It is evening. This is where we are...getting older in wisened thoughts , to gather slivers of reflections, of dreams met and unmet...
And night shivers a bit asking: how will we savor to the pulp, this one beautiful life possessed?
And the light shuts off.
There is a thin line between the laugh and the cry.
The laugh is often perfected by one who has silenced her crying.
The laugh is sometimes a ruse, a ready weapon to camouflage pain.
When the laugh is hearty, loud, disturbing even, it can be masking a horror.
Do not be fooled by the laughing; these people are often hurting more than any of the others.
Get to know them. Ask “how are you really feeling?”
Do not be surprised if they laugh, pooh-poohing you.
If you persist they may tell you that they do not have any emotions.
Many children raised in the “olden days” were never allowed to have them.
Feelings were shut off in childhood, by parents who could only accept the laughing.
Sometimes the best clowns, the ones who keep us in constant stitches
Are doing so, to keep themselves from throwing a rope over a rafter.
Sometimes they break down, finally, and jump out the eighteen floor window.
Do not be fooled by the laughing.
It can be even more disturbing
Than a perpetual pouty face,
Or an angry arm-crossed bully-ish attitude.
Be aware of the laughing.
It is often a mask to cover the worst pain.
Robin Williams and John Belushi knew this.
Say something;
your silence scars my skin,
shatters my soul,
strains my skull,
stretches out my suffering and
snowballs my syndrome.
Out loud;
your opinion is not obvious,
openness not optional,
obligation not obsolete,
only your opposition to the occasion is
orchestrating this onslaught.
Speak;
I scream and shout,
shriek and screech,
sob and solicit,
still, you stay shut-off and silent and
strike me speechless, too.
As she meditated the room brightened.
Streaks of energy came in and lightened.
She did not flinch, used to such things.
The whirls of essence danced in her rings.
She shut off her eyes and concentrated.
Hoping her front latch was firmly gated.
She understood the value of the spirit guides.
Who were now showing their power deep inside.
Her ancestral guides were filling the room
They came with a swish, one came with a swoon.
The room began to change, her face as well.
She was no longer herself an enthusiastic tell.
The flame of the candle began showing off
She heard her mother in the next room cough
She smiled for she had not seen her for a long time
Spinning in happiness, her spirit animal a mime.
I know you are here, she told her deer.
Her most favorite power animal, now so very near.
Not to worry my lady, the fawn said silently.
Your meditation is the best today it will ever be.