Best Vandalize Poems
Achieve greatness by running a race.
Break sound barriers- just go to outer space!
Climb a mountain to get a good workout.
Deliver a speech- you'll probably have to shout...
Earn some money by helping clean up.
Film a video where you put on makeup.
Graduate college, online, of course!!!
Hire for the future; build a great workforce!
Improvise a sketch and perform it for all.
Just watch a sad movie, and prepare to bawl.
Kidnap an animal, then keep it for yourself...
Laminate bookmarks and organize your bookshelf!
Make some yummy cookies, brownies, or a cake.
Nestle in; watch a show where all they do is bake.
Optimize your storage; start with the dresser...
Poke around a bit to find some hidden treasure!
Qualify for a job, or just peek at the website...
Read some poems; mine are sure to excite!!!
Sleep all day, then pull an all-nighter.
Take some time to become a songwriter!
Unfold some origami, and then fold it back again.
Vandalize something, if you can't, just plan when...
Wander around, and pretend you're mist.
X-out something on your bucket list.
Yammer on about your favorite subject.
Zip your zipper obsessively- jeez... are you occupied yet????
We war with impunity
And weaponise such things as the
beauty of flowers
And all for what ?
When come today we have to guard the statues and Cenotaph that commemorate our fallen heroes
Only for them to suffer in death the indignity of being treated with such contempt for the very same right's and freedom they gave their lives for
You student's
You self effacing intellects
You political prophet's
You protest
You gather
You march
Underneath your slogan or banner
in righteous indignation of your cause
Such bravery
Such charity
Such courage
Such sacrifice
Once more into the breech
the rallying cry to those
with spray can in hand to vandalize
under the cover of dark with face hidden behind a bandana
I doubt their is anything you would be willing to lay
your life down for apart from maybe your computer and internet access
So next time you log on do yourself a favour and research
your family history and see if any of your family members
lost there lives and think there but for the grace of god go i
These statues and monuments are not supposed to justify or glorify war the complete opposite in fact they are
to remind us of the futility and human cost
but most importantly of all the cause Millions of people
deemed worthy dying for
I wonder if year's to come
how you will be viewed by history
Will people gather to commemorate you
build a statue in your honour
be you remembered by a bank holiday
Or will you hopefully end up instead being a
footnote in a museum
Entitled
When you don't understand your history
And talk before you listen
You run before you can walk
What did you see in me uncle?
How could you even hold me tight?
I was born just a few months ago
My tender body still didn't grow.
I slept by the side of my mom
You have shown her the smell of chloroform
You took me away from my lovely home
You made sure that we are all alone
I opened my eyes to the harshness of your touch
I realised that I'm no longer safe and sound
I cried in pain until your palm closed my mouth
I shook with fear and my eyes searched for mom
You didn't just squeeze my skin but crushed the puny bones beneath it
You didn't just kiss my lips but caused my tender tongue to bleed
Your fingers ran across every corner of my shivering little body
Your pricky moustache irked every bit of my trembling nudity.
I tried hard to shout but my voice melted in the fearsome silence of the lonely night
My eyes searched for my mom's arms but I couldn't realise that they were beyond reach
My breath choked to survive under your violent paws
My life helplessly moaned beneath your wild claws
Who are you to pluck this mom's little flower?
Who are you to burn down a father's happy hour?
Who gave you the right to vandalize my unborn future?
Who advised you rack my bones to showcase your musculature?
Goodbye world, I'm leaving.
Your retribution on him should serve others, a learning
Don't just do a few candle rallies and forget me
For, within no time, another tender stem falls out from a green family tree.
O POVERTY!
You who paid a courtesy call to that peacefull affluence home
With a diamond portfolio
And at your departure enquiry unveiled it a Pandora's box
That the son turned rebel against the father
And the daughter hearken no more to mother's rebuke
O poverty!
You, who dragged that man of irrationality to the court of nature,
And there in gave him an ignoble defeat.
O poverty!
You apprehended that woman of extravagancy tortured her
And taught her the lesson of frugality
O poverty!
Your fruit is sour, insipid and intoxicating.
The man who live by it for long jeopardizes his span
O poverty!
He who accommodates you accommodates sorrow
He who embraces you beckons doom
O poverty!
You, who vandalize a whole land without a nuclear explosion
And pour water of tears onto that healthy face
Having robed off her hope.
O poverty!
You silenced that wise retched man in the gathering of the intellectual
And gave that rich fool the privilege of giberish.
O poverty!
You, who strikes your victim with a sword of broken heart,
The one who compete a path with you mocks his life
For no offence in calling you one of the sibblings of death.
Caregiver
Caregiver,
You came into our family
As a river of hope.
Ever flowing, always there,
Providing loving care,
So we could cope.
Caregiver,
You became an uncaring taker.
With your undue influence
You spent her money
On your own selfish wants.
Under false pretenses, you dragged her along daily,
Using her vehicle for your own personal errands.
Like a foe you fought our family!
As we became wise to your machinations.
And when your goose was finally cooked,
Your last act was to vandalize in secret,
Leaving her heartbroken.
Oh, Uncaring Taker,
How unconscionable were your actions.
How hateful you became.
Why were you this way?
How I would like to make you pay,
But it's her wish to leave it this way.
***
December 9, 2019
F T I SPECIAL family
Brian Strand, sponsor
Copyright © 2018 by Mark Toney. All rights reserved.
Published 2018 in "Up In Smoke - A Collection of Poems" via wattpad.com
This feedlot of ancestral glitter
how tiresome, now a rummaged litter
a mitigated financed quitter
the addict, driven to mass rid stir!
As nature's boundaries pray beauty
the homeward bound, lost soul's forced duty
is to give in, give up, take booty
as dignity's rebuff thrives loosely!
Monopolizing wealth's consider
the numbers game, let live on bitter
your choice is here, from us, don't quiver
but take the drug, that made you sicker!
The addicts prayer is but a flicker
of hope to ride out, faith's endeavor,
as saying NO, still presses lever
insidious pressures force is ever!
The pushers living off receivers
to modify their conscious efforts
then vandalize the paycheck's rather
and hypnotize feeling together!
Fly with small wings
To admire the serene sky
Hover the nice views
Wing lonely, afar
Recall scenic motherland
Colorful forest
Evergreen mountain
Clean, clear lakes and rivers
Yellowness rice field
Timberland in fire
The human deforestation
Vandalize the nests
The nest shattered
Will rebuild for surviving
Hold up with true song
Challenge all dangers
To keep the powerful mind
Confront the lubbers
Feathers stripped
And the wings and legs broken
Hold up with brave song
Fly with small wings
Stand tall with long-lasting song
Prevail tyranny
"From the crevices below,
A darkness rises,
It rises into me,
It delivers to me the deed to do horrible things."
"I will spray paint graffiti,
I will vandalize public spaces,
I will speak up against the authority."
"But, this is not enough,
I must do more,
Deeds that grant me attention."
"I will commit corporate fraud,
I will steal from the poor,
I will deliver false justice."
"My time is now,
I must do more harsh deeds,
Deeds
That will scream my name
Throughout history."
"I will inspire a rebellion,
I will destroy villages, Towns and Cities,
I will commit mass murder in the name of my own destiny."
" As the steel bars slam,
I recollect back on what they said about me,
They said I was inhuman,
Well I think there was never much humanity in me to begin with."
Racking anguish vandalize my soul,
as my pen crawls across the empty page,
leaving the mirror image of my vitality.
A futile exercise turns into self pity.
A useless effort in self agitation.
Months of inactivity has left my muse
abused, misused, defused.
It seems I can write no more.
Is that correct? Is it the writing or the muse?
Writing is discipline, a few words each day.
Do I countervail my imagination?
For subjects must be born within the soul,
that soul I forgot about months ago.
Should I dream of valleys green,
or ice capped mountain unassailable?
Is my muse so hermetically sealed.
Perhaps I'll find it again....or perhaps not.
A Silent One Contest
The "IZE" have it
We the people try to Rationalize
the choices we make with compromise
Let's be honest we tend to idolize
and we rarely do apologize
Are rights we try to exercise
to demonstrate and vocalize
But I have come to realize
that this is all a big disguise
Government with power to terrorize
tear you down and demonize
Smile while they vandalize
you freedom, your rights oh,but don't criticize
"For the people" as they dehumanize
baby's in the womb who are being penalized
because maternity clothes are hard to accessorize
It's my body!! We should empathize
Stand up, speak up before we are all criminalized
for doing what's right. so we don't jeopardize
Our one true freedom Jesus whom did rise
So come on America open your eyes!!
Protestors are in the streets, blocking traffic even causing death.
They vandalize cars, ignite fires with continual crimes and assault police.
The president speaks to them now, tells them - do not remain silent!
We watch a clear act of empowering these actions right before us,
Instead of condemning this lawlessness and anarchy.
This is not speaking for the law abiding victims of these riots.
It is giving the message to protestors in the streets - continue.
Do not remain silent?
This is not about freedom of speech being stopped.
This is not about peaceful assembly to continue.
This is about the destruction of property, businesses,
Violence in our streets and lives lost in the process
With a president who thinks they should ‘march on’.
Heidi Sands
I absconded with reader rabbit (Peter), to celebrate Saint Patrick's Day
Ah Sheik Hog - Ho!
One "FAKE" Wingman Flying
Via O'hare To Dublin y'know
Cuz, The Leprechaun within
me, seeks young sprig poe
whet tick friend in toto,
though nowhere to be found despite search team
loudly trumpeting thru depleting fresh air
supply terrestrially polluted atmosphere,
asper the unknown whereabouts, regarding
said royally titled quasi legally inherited bare
naked lady loving bastard oven heated affair
son last seen donning Herringbone Wool headwear
supplemented by Irish merrino wool sweater
and custom made Hemp (smoking hot) pants
informing observer with seedy, faux debonair,
and pseudo (reed "FAKE") suave cultured couture
clothing automatically camouflaging to disappear
without a trace, thee alluded to rival to the throne
(Irish to keep ye in the dark) like chocolate eclair
secret recipe (one takes to the grave), unless held
at gunpoint by bonafide Machiavellian consigliere
ruthless if necessary forcing captive to declare
high fidelity, indemnity, loyalty, et cetera to a
life of lawlessness adopting anonymous incognito
guise accepting bewig noggin with long knotty hair
tattoo skin with "FAKE" scars to accentuate fear
factor accepting (blood bonded) brotherhood till
death do you part loot, pillage, vandalize, et cetera
in a blitzkrieg effort (albeit violently) to repair
evenly distribute disparity between 1% and 99%
grassroots uprising (peopled with migrants) spear
writ ting their exploitation at the (Taj Mahal) bear
sized paws swiping at susceptibility, vulnerability,
inequality, et cetera series of unfortunate events
decreed, instilled, ordained clamped like ironware
shackling one generation after another, an outright
outdated, on par as anachronism, feudalism, stoicism
where stark difference between rich and poor unfair,
especially, cus the latter labor sweat of their brow,
which backbreaking toil essentially endows wealthy
at expense of grunt work signalling ominous nightmare.
I absconded with reader rabbit (Peter), to celebrate Saint Patrick's Day
Ah Sheik Hog - Ho!
One "FAKE" Wingman
think Monty Python's
Flying Circus skittering
on thin ice - Skidamarink
a dink, a dink...
hither and yon, to and fro
Via O'hare To Dublin y'know
Cuz, The Leprechaun within
me, no spring chicken bro,
nevertheless oz offer friendship in toto
good day to thee with cheerful adieu.
Though nowhere to be found despite search team
loudly trumpeting thru depleting fresh air
supply terrestrially polluted atmosphere,
asper the unknown whereabouts, regarding
said royally titled quasi legally inherited bare
naked lady loving bastard oven heated affair
son last seen donning Herringbone Wool headwear
supplemented by Irish merrino wool sweater
and custom made Hemp (smoking hot) pants
informing observer with seedy, faux debonair,
and pseudo (reed "FAKE") suave cultured couture
clothing automatically camouflaging to disappear
without a trace, thee alluded to rival to the throne
(Irish to keep ye in the dark) like chocolate eclair
secret recipe (one takes to the grave), unless held
at gunpoint by bonafide Machiavellian consigliere
ruthless if necessary forcing captive to declare
high fidelity, indemnity, loyalty, et cetera to a
life of lawlessness adopting anonymous incognito
guise accepting bewig noggin with long knotty hair
tattoo skin with "FAKE" scars to accentuate fear
factor accepting (cryptic blood bonded) brotherhood till
death do you part loot, pillage, vandalize, et cetera
in a blitzkrieg effort (albeit violently) to repair
evenly distribute disparity between 1% and 99%
grassroots uprising (peopled with migrants) spear
writ ting their exploitation at the (Taj Mahal) bear
sized paws swiping at susceptibility, vulnerability,
inequality, et cetera series of unfortunate events
decreed, instilled, ordained clamped like ironware
shackling one generation after another, an outright
outdated, on par as anachronism, feudalism, stoicism
where stark difference between rich and poor unfair,
especially, cus the latter labor sweat of their brow,
which backbreaking toil essentially endows wealthy
at expense of grunt work signalling ominous nightmare.
my decrepit, shellacked, pain
it stretches my melodic thinned soul
into flickering multi-colored
shattered pieces
of what could have been (Might-have-been)
of sad, no-one gives a dam tunes
stroked on loosen string
sounding like two lovers crying in the night
till my cracking stiffen back
slowly bends over
as I try an musically scrutinize
each fallen departed melody (piece)
but my imperfect memories
brake my vandalize, person
and my meek legs become weakened
I buckle and fall shamefully
on jagged hostile rocks
because I, let myself realize
just how forcibly violated
I truly am
no truer look, need be closer
and i fall
upon my own bed of soiled grief
shouting and crying
only to ball up
in a self aware hate
I loathe, you singing liar
not because you stolen
my words on paper
but how you came about it
hurting little souls and tiny young fingers
to reach your goals
just to sing
on a glittering cover hell-bound stage
Initially we florish and feel comfortable.
We till the ground and it yield much flowers and fruits for food and finance.
We export and feed other nations with our goods.
Despite our great population,
We never lack for once
We were named after our effects on sister nations:THE GIANT OF AFRICA
Suddenly, we move to kakistocracy
They sat at dire controls and play indolently Slowly downward in remote we abuse our land We have no more regard for our source of Opulence
We distroy the fertility in our soil
We divert to refining system
We're told, the source is fine
Figure massively hewn in hardwood
Voracious Head leader set upon it and misrule us
We vandalize our wealth
From the out of refinery,
our farm land has kicked up a fuss against us Won't petroleum dried up oneday?
And we still yearn to become the greatest state After which we have been attacked by jumbo spirit of recession
The melt-down of our Economic is of great length.
The great nation now totter like a kid with spindly leg which falls
When the going gets bad,
What is the way out?
We have traded in vain in the beach of insanity. We die of hunger and suffer.
All we have to do is to retreat back to our yester-Source
Let's sacrifice and appeal the angry farm land For the soil bring forth thorns and thistles
instead of good fruits
Let's make a lull propitation to the dissapointed gods of the soil.
In order to reverse the curse placed on our farm land
So as to bring abundant food for our livelihood.