Best Spoilers Poems
This poem is inspired by the second book in The Hunger Games Series. Warning- Contains
Spoilers!
Sparks aflame
Fire and rage spread
Nowhere to go
Nowhere to run!
The capitol want's revenge!
They will do anything to get it.
Back into the arena I am sent
Pitting Peeta and I against each other.
A marriage proposal
never to be fufilled
they tricked us
It will never happen.
I have to go on
a twist in the story
Tick,tock,tick, tock
The arena is a clock
All living tributes
taken out of the arena
a official is secretly a rebel
wanting to overthrow the capitol
But where is Peeta?
No where to be found
Caputured in the hands of the capitol
I must save him!
< our top story tonight is Lawyers
a pain in the ass and real spoilers
with fancy cars homes suits
fifteen hundred kaboot
rather hire cowboy wearing just spurs
Entry For Carolyn Devonshire's
Lawyer Limerick's Contest
GL All
The New Tomorrow
Shopping street posh boutiques, perfumeries and cafes plenteous
something for all to eat and drink. My wife has gone to buy a dress
and I wait with a glass of red wine, as usual, when we are out and
about in town. There are no cars in this street and children are free
to fool around, I look at them and wonder what the future holds
for them now that the world is about implode. When they are only
allowed to express an opinion that is the norm. Should they fall foul
of this edict and, the powerful listens to their thoughts, they will be
pushed out as the spoilers and have only themselves to blame, for
not being submissive. And the new adults will be conditioned to
have no mercy for losers of this sacred joke of an evil democracy.
But the edifice of human greed will fold one day, nature will see to
that, reek destruction that few humans will survive. So play now
little ones tomorrow has nothing to offer but the suffering caused
by your antecessors who willfully took his pleasure and left you to
suffer the consequences.
Sausage or suya* ?
Sausage or suya ?Give me the latter;
The craft of maisuya* is grand
He cleans guts like a housesitter,
Weaves all like caterer’s fondant
Liver, kidney all in a meaty bag
Smokes same like german grill
Variety often delights my heart,
Give me suya,I wish to laugh.
Sausage or suya? Give me the latter;
Freshness is the soul of my taste;
Suya my peppermeat,how it warmness
Emmits spoilers out of my nusery canal;
It herbal spice breaks all within with ease,
Onion, garlic playing their soldiering roles;
Give me suya, sound health, for all I care.
Sausage or suya? Give me the latter;
I will rather befriend that which I trust
Than blend of other that is short in trust
Who metamorphses horse to cow in factory
And fixes a damsel to hail same on screen;
She bites and gets a chuckle; but what can ,
What can be more inviting than the aroma
Wafting in the air,diffuses from suya spot ?
Sausage or suya? Give me the latter;
Suya I know, what is sausage?
*Suya is barbecue, Maisuya is the seller
I pity it’s becoming a very rare sight
Colourful birds in peaceful flight
Why then Nature must bear the brunt
While spoilers claim to be innocent
How are the lovely trees hurting?
And flowering ones are harming?
Destruction is done beyond salvage
So Man is making the world a cage
Picking wild fruit makes me less forlorn
Forest dwellers blow their wreath’s horn
Unripe green guavas snatched are thrown
Indiscriminately its twigs are lying down
It’s my Eden with so many diverse trees
Finest muffled music, butterflies and bees
Even damsels are intoxicated in delight
The wild flowers turn it into elated sight
Nature is said to be our beloved MOTHER
Why then we become its permanent destroyer?
Why then wanton crimes always abound
Wherever we go in the world on our round
I appeal to all, you become real healers
And cease the ill and turn into planters
Our children shall be getting the pleasure
From the meticulously guarded treasure.
Let the name be forgotten
Let the skin tone be rotten
Burn the face; kill the looks
Let the identity be unknown
Alone let the wanderer wander
Shapeless; intangible to gusts of emotions
No one to ask; no one to be shown
And beyond the world of bigots,
Who claim to be different but are different
Who smile at face but stab at back
Let the shapeless stray
Let the thoughts prevail and burgeon
Beyond spoilers of I and thee
Let the faceless smile; let the wanderer be free
(Me slippery fingers slither,
slip and slide splashing ala
Jackson Pollock), sans slap
dash experimental, swiftly
tailored and harried writing
style, yes on par with purging,
spewing, venting...unexpurgated,
unexpressed, unexplained...
words, which this Engelbert
Humperdinck singer/songwriter,
(whose name inexplicably popped
into the mind of this Dadaist)
offers "FAKE" apology for any
self inflicted, or sadomasochistic
flagellated cranial contusions
out of utter futility to make sense
regarding following gobbledygook!
GOOD LUCK!
Mine groovy palmar flexion creases
forever moistened by porous size
damn leaking levees provoking deluge
outranking Biblical flood - handy history
(in miniature) replete with Ark keel
logical artifacts discovered by hall n
oats marked wainwright - about 10 stone and
5 pound huckster, circa Fin de siècle,
when callous ten hooks (calisthenics,
eh) caught without Noah shadow of a
doubt proof positive by Matthew Scott,
(amat sure his surname) linkedin to storied
testament rivalling epic of Gilgamesh,
nee the entire spoilers alerts since
dawn of civilization writ small impossible
mission to decipher indelibly etched,
(what appear as Egyptian hieroglyphics),
methinks his perspiration contains
preservative agent, (a natural formaldehyde
like substance) generated nsync to maintain
eternal youthfulness, which stumps
medical community, and earned him
hashtagged "hotmail" (eagerly sought
after human commodity), a blessing
and curse palms plagued with chronic
wetness, yet lines (little flushed streams
of consciousness) rowed by itty bitty
teensy weensy merry daydreamers harkens
back when life held faint promise for
scattered (contra) bands of bipedal
hominids fiercely competing with trumpeting
(Taj Mahal sized) beasts (donned tousled
windswept hirsute trademark) Euclid
heir'm barreling along barren steppes
all around the one straggly mulberry bush,
where one pensive monkey (protohuman)
chased the weasel all around the world wide web.
And he shall judge among the nations, and shall rebuke many people:
and they shall beat their swords into plowshares,
and their spears into pruninghooks:
nation shall not lift up sword against nation,
neither shall they learn war any more.
Isa 2:4
Trigger foolhardy Second Amendment rebels,
didn’t the pyramid spoilers free speech tell you:
Ain’t no guns permitted in the kingdom of heaven
No bang bang sound of violence will be heard
in the unwalled saintly places
There ain’t gon be no blood splatter seen
on the halo glow angelic faces
It seems the trigger pull allure
is dragging leadbelly, heavy metalheads
to the wavy, bottomless deep
Such a hot, smoking barrel shame —
Bullet refuge don’t Resurrection keep
It’s semi-automatic unwise to trust in trigger safety
Hell bells are ricochet ringing in
the Year of the Zombie Revolver Chambermaids
Unlearnt violators got bait-and-switch gender played
And the idol intoxicating sidearm delusion
is double-pump action misfire wrong
Let the Kevlar armor weak say: “I am strong”
Ain’t no bang bang sound of violence
is ever again gonna be heard
I’m just a meek, born-again eternal optimist ...
who faithfully believe in God’s Word
So go on and secretly stockpile,
if they coin folly care Second Amendment dare
Them gun-toting, war paint rebels
ain’t gon wailing like that melting sight
of brimstone flashes in the cold, darkening air
In the valley of decision,
trigger-happy steel-minded zealots
ain’t gonna give up their ungodly right to bear arms ...
Tho’ a few bleating souls
do chariots of fire spoiler alert tell it
The weak of faith will always trigger say,
Salvation gotta be gun-blazing their way
Even if granted mercy access to the most holy firmament,
they will still trigger choose to remain devil rebel hellbent
the storm has come and gone
leaving in its wake
a nation searching its soul.
decent folk pick up the slain
from debris strewn streets
and lay them to rest in the fields.
though the guns have fallen silent
spoilers emerge from dark streets
stoking ambers of hate, beating war drums
they bury their atrocities in waters
and hope it washes away into the ocean
but no ocean could wash away blood of the slain.
brethren come forth
bring some comfort
to the heart of widows
who with vacant eyes
grieve inconsolably.
brethren come forth
bring some comfort
to the heart of orphans
who with teary eyes
gaze emptily.
brethren there is a wound
in your soul too
festering, it burns for healing,
brethren there is an emptiness
In your soul too
lingering, it yearns for forgiveness
brethren if you come forth
with contrition and tell your story
maybe, healing comes tomorrow
I see a flame so fragile
glowing in the dark
it dances softly to the blowing winds
of reconciliation for victim and perpetrator.
Entangled in the world of mixed feelings and insecurities .
Here i am, caught in a vicious cycle of myself.
Falling too quick and taking French leaves.
The summary of my love life.
Is it real, is it fake, will it last?
The routine assessment of my feelings,
It flips the switch and love sets in as a visitor.
Then gradually darkness dims our smile.
Just like a flash my feelings run its usual mile.
In search of a new haven to employ it's wile.
I made people mad and nothing seems right.
Don't get me wrong.
You might think i feel no pain,
You might think i feel no love,
But what greater punishment is better than not having a place to call home.
I wish i could escape these short episodes.
And erase all the scenes with the wrong scripts.
I want to begin a new season devoid of spoilers,
Saying; look into my eyes and tell me what you see?
For am willing to be whatever you want me to be.
I see
I see that life is no longer the place for me
I think that the fact that the darkness of life
Many which are not in the time of ignorance
Where a lot of hatred and injustice
And I became a stranger in the world of
Became more than spoilers Reformers
Became more than the bad guys are good
Became more tears dripped who erase
Became more than it grieves the heart rejoices
Became a good crook
Ok became a crook
Money has become a target
Love and became a target
Forest became the world
Became the strong eat the weak
Became strong arrogant
Became a strong rotten
Became the Akeana
I do not want to live poorly
Not to be strong
I see that life is no longer the place for me
11-1-2014
17h46
What have you heard of me oh friend?
Those who can’t beat my reach complain so silly
my description, exchanging mouths but of weight, its devoid
giving the street a diluted colour so ill-founded.
What have you heard of me oh friend?
Every shadow is seen as mine to give light words clarity
for God sake! I’m just underneath the tree
spoilers of my name preach b’cos they can’t see my base.
What have you heard of me my friend?
They are pained because I’m unperturbed and spirited
false sentences have spent a heavy budget to be efficacious
it’s not an experiment, I’m too large for their vivarium
oh friend, what have you done by embracing their culture?
Whatever you’ve heard of me friend,
you’ve joined the labourers to build my ruin
my heart is soiled, from your presence I’ve quarantined
I cried until the graveyard consoles me with its threat.
It’s a pity to me, it’s a pity to you my friend
you’ve not only heard but also said of me.
I believe all people have souls
I believe in people who believe in God
And I believe in all the others
We are sisters, we are brothers
Recent world events have shaken my beliefs
Why are we fighting a phony war
Fueled by greed, by power seekers galore?
Those Sayers of Doom whose deeds deride
American People and America’s Pride
(They have lied – and lied – and lied)
They are the Spoilers who covet and value
Captured land over precious human life
These Spoilers hold hands with other Spoilers
And that’s an ugly, un-American sight
Spoilers are nothing but empty shells
They are mindless pathetic fools
These Spoilers are really nothing
But bottomless, cold black holes
Maybe I don’t believe anymore ---
I don’t believe all people have souls.
Courtesy handy dandy
palmar hyperhidrosis
impossible mission to defeat
except poe wet tickly
even courtesy drysol.
(Me slippery fingers slither,
slip and slide splashing ala
Jackson Pollock), sans slap
dash experimental, swiftly
tailored and harried writing
style, yes on par with purging,
spewing, venting...unexpurgated,
unexpressed, unexplained...
words, which this Engelbert
Humperdinck singer/songwriter,
(whose name inexplicably popped
into the mind of this Dadaist)
offers "FAKE" apology for any
self inflicted, or sadomasochistic
flagellated cranial contusions
out of utter futility to make sense
regarding following gobbledygook!
GOOD LUCK!
Mine groovy palmar flexion creases
forever moistened by porous size
damn leaking levees provoking deluge
outranking Biblical flood - handy history
(in miniature) replete with Ark keel
logical artifacts discovered by hall n
oats marked wainwright - about 10 stone and
5 pound huckster, circa Fin de siècle,
when callous ten hooks (calisthenics,
eh) caught without Noah shadow of a
doubt proof positive by Matthew Scott,
(amat sure his surname) linkedin to storied
testament rivalling epic of Gilgamesh,
nee the entire spoilers alerts since
dawn of civilization writ small impossible
mission to decipher indelibly etched,
(what appear as Egyptian hieroglyphics),
methinks his perspiration contains
preservative agent, (a natural formaldehyde
like substance) generated nsync to maintain
eternal youthfulness, which stumps
medical community, and earned him
hashtagged "hotmail" (eagerly sought
after human commodity), a blessing
and curse palms plagued with chronic
wetness, yet lines (little flushed streams
of consciousness) rowed by itty bitty
teensy weensy merry daydreamers harkens
back when life held faint promise for
scattered (contra) bands of bipedal
hominids fiercely competing with trumpeting
(Taj Mahal sized) beasts (donned tousled
windswept hirsute trademark) Euclid
heir'm barreling along barren steppes
all around the one straggly mulberry bush,
where one pensive monkey (protohuman)
chased the weasel all around the world wide web.
The first flickers of Alaska were lectured -
a mossy ground that upon footfall
created a commotion,
a locomotion of mosquitos -
not average but bat-like.
What young person wouldn’t squirm
at the frozen imagery?
The missionary went on to say,
Alaska is the longest bar in the world.
I’d say! The coastline being about 26,000 miles long.
Alaska the first, tucked away in a trove.
But those who ventured out to sea,
cruising the inner passage,
released fresh scent of salt,
waterfalls, hidden vistas.
So much so, that upon booking my first Alaskan cruise,
I was afraid that the bearer of such Utopian hopes
might be overdoing it, such as the spoilers of a movie
where you let out a sigh, disappointed by the letdown.
But, Alaska is no letdown. Neither is the Yukon.
Truly spirited places exist, ethereal beauty
that never lets your camera rest. Your eyes
pull the magic string attached to your hands,
and the bulbs flash like the paparazzi on overdrive.
The wilderness air with its rustic cabins and wildlife
invite an out-of-body experience.
You feel like your weary legs are oxygenated -
you can hike the Yukon trail, mount the Denali peaks
and speak to God eye-to-eye.
Alaska the first, you frightened me. You still stare,
but I’ve conquered your rapids,
stuck out my tongue at bears
and enjoyed my baked Alaska.
As the terminator loudly declares,
“I’ll be back”
I’ll drink to that…
3/2/2019