Through false truth, the Rus reclaims hegemony,
Farming trolls to be enrolled,
'Neath bridges, clowns, see enemies,
Puking riddles on those tolled.
Then the bots deliver the hurl,
Regurgitate into the net,
Till truth is common as a pearl,
Yet what you see is what you get.
Spidered webs entangle yonder,
The language largely modeled,
And artificial minds are left to ponder,
Which words are fiddle-faddle.
Defrosted wars are flooding fields,
Entrenching fact with fiction,
In cyber realms, we've little shields,
To counter eastern malediction.
Folly finds that fear is fruitless,
Beware tourneys of tyranny,
Cavorted by the truth-less and ruthless,
Pretending reality's but conspiracy.
Clearly in my memory,
a moment of discovery,
in spiritual revery,
and I was not alone.
A kid, when I first heard his sound,
with mountains all around,
it was something new I found,
Country Roads had brought me home.
Two hours each way by bus,
eight hours washing pots, and thus,
life was hard, monotonous,
and the days were long.
I was just eighteen years old.
In school, I should have been enrolled,
but in my head, a voice of gold -
I heard Annie's Song.
Those were many years ago,
and I am moving oh so slow.
I don't have too much to show.
My life is almost done.
Too early, you said your goodbyes,
but you help me see it rise,
for my shoulders and my eyes,
the shining of the sun.
The wretched bow their head
As they shuffle along unled
Lost to the world without souls
No longer counted or enrolled
Once they looked you in the eye
Their knowledge gained held high
But now beaten down instead
Their only world now full of dread
Who now will take up their fight
Going forward with the right
They wait for a leader to rise for them
For it is unknown how it will end.
© Paul Warren Poetry
They are all about my age.
It feels like they are clones of me, but they smile.
I feel my key in my back pocket.
I step out to pretend to use the bathroom.
I almost leave forever.
But there’s a forcefield on campus.
I only have my backpack.
Which has useless books, nothing for survival.
I walk around, hearing a football being tossed and it bothers me.
I’m still on campus no matter how angry I get.
I’m still enrolled according to their computers.
I’m still wearing a shirt with their mascot.
I always end up escorted back to my dorm by the end of the day.
Sometimes, I’ll pick up dinner from the food court.
Sometimes I don’t want to talk to them.
I need to call my parents this week.
We have an agreement.
I lie about friends and classes.
I stay enrolled.
I stay on this campus, filled with people who hate it here just as much as me.
I was born in a landlocked getaway town
Where all the colors were black, gray, or brown.
Jobs at the steel mill were ratcheting down.
It was not in my future to stay.
So, I took a long walk off a very short pier,
An unschooled, untraveled recruit buccaneer
On a quest to cross Neptune’s vast salty frontier.
Hopped a slow boat to China one day.
Underway on the Crescent City, it seemed
The ocean was wider than I’d ever dreamed.
A ship load of sinners, our souls unredeemed
Steaming west toward whatever there was.
Keelung told Hong Kong to call Singapore.
Subic Bay badgered Mombasa for more.
Sea legs, as always unsteady ashore,
Even more so with liquor and drugs.
Bilge water sloshed in the depths of the hold.
The mizzen mast learned what the typhoon foretold.
I was sea duty tempered and Shell Back enrolled;
Wasn’t nothing but maritime norm.
I was born in a hard luck blue collar town.
Half the way broken and half the way down.
But time gifts its renaissance scepter and crown
To a jack tar who’s weathered the storm.
Each of the seven prostitutes,
Whose life began as destitute;
From their brothels to a roadside,
For men with or without a ride:
Main wish: to catch the adult male
And stop a day from going stale…
The picture is competition:
To whom would one loss petition?
Yes, a quite charged atmosphere
For one to in chats interfere:
A rival swipe for being too gaunt,
The rather fat with her size haunt
Open boasts about being half chaste;
How good cash paid one not a waste…
They were seven young prostitutes
Who’d failed in enrolled institutes.
In an attempt to document my worth to your esteemed organization, I hereby submit my unredacted resume.
I was educated using blocks, books, chalk, blackboards and the slide rule. “Testing” was used to “evaluate” progress and assist in future choices.
I graduated Magna cum softly from a “free” education facility with a double major in life and its unlimited learning experiences. I am presently enrolled in its post graduate “Masters” program.
I am currently up to date on all of the recent “vaccinations”, upgrades and mask wearing theory.
I do, however, suffer from a long-standing problem with a “work ethic” issue and find it difficult not to show up and produce as I believe it is important to my remaining gainfully employed.
When asked by another employee a question such as: “I wonder what he/she thinks?” I usually reply: “I’m more concerned about why you're so concerned about what he/she thinks.”
I would bring to your “work” place an open mind (not to be confused with an empty head).
If you are interested in offering me employment please contact me by snail mail as my computer mysteriously disappeared last night.
John G.Lawless
©3/20/2023
my mom is not an airhead
cause shes enrolled in premed
and when i am ill
i get a green a pill
thats why i am not lowbred.
Seems I've never done a 'back-to-school' poem
Why should I have? I never left ...
He would change the world when he was young
Fires of righteousness leapt from his tongue
Despairing of success when he turned old
He but changed himself ~ the world enrolled
I engaged her in a passionate Tango
While I checked her bank account
Almost suffered from a seizure
At the vast disclosed amount
So I wined her and i dined her
And I set out to seduce
And to my amazement
I thought she’d fallen for my ruse.
We waltzed and we quickstepped
Around the ballroom floor
Until I suddenly realised
I couldn’t dance anymore
Then, she enrolled me, controlled me
And with such consummate skill
She guided me, and she plied me
Until I complied with her will.
Such an expert choreographer
As I soon learnt to my cost
And by the Last Waltz accepted
I’d indisputably lost
It’s a marriage of great passion
And we regularly grab the chance
To celebrate our union
In the intimacy of the dance.
Now we Tango and we Foxtrot
Through a carefree type of life
I’m the epitome of contentment
Thanks to my rich and loving wife.
They say we’re a handsome couple
As we welcome and explore
The pleasures of our existence
On life’s exciting ballroom floor.
I had the easiest time letting go of my oldest.
She and I were not getting along any more.
I had to drag her to college and help her sign up.
I stood in line after line, to get her enrolled.
She who acted like I was a devil begged to return home.
The answer was no. I wanted less trauma and drama.
The middle daughter had pretty much left us at age ten.
She was an easy let-go. We barely knew her now.
The baby was ill the day we got her into a car for college.
She had to be on campus that day, so we took her anyway.
She had a temperature of over a hundred and two.
Made no difference, by then I was into my new hobbies.
Things I could not do with them around – cartooning and painting.
They would have made fun of me for it.
I ended up adopting dog after dog after dog though.
So I could take care of something after they were gone.
Every job is pure gold,
This truth, all must know,
Whatever job you may hold,
Real sincerity, you must show,
Take decision by being bold,
You will successfully grow,
Great secrets, you will unfold,
When you suffer sorrow,
To God, let your state be told,
He will give a better tomorrow,
Let your emotions be controlled
And your efforts be thorough,
In good souls' list, get enrolled,
Let your ideas be never narrow,
Accept calmly criticism-arrow
And grow wisely everyday old!
I once had a goat who loved to swim
I enrolled him at our local gym
I know, I know, it was just a whim!
Do tell!
He did rather well in beginners’ match
Girl swimmers thought him quite a catch
But he failed to get his lifesaver’s patch.
Oh, hell!
He punched a hole in the kiddie pool
So, I enrolled him in the ballet school
He butted heads with Master Abdul.
Oh, swell!
This kid simply couldn’t measure up
Until, finally, he won the Cannabis Cup
And with the money he bought a pup.
Oh, well!
SIXTH PLACE WINNER
written April 6, 2022
for "Tail-Rhymed" poetry contest
sponsored by Jeff Kyser
He is a mean hyena the child said in horror.
His daddy and mommy thought he was joking.
Not realizing there had been a lawsuit.
Mama Hyena had enrolled her son in the human school.
Don’t call him that! His parents protested. It is not nice.
But he is a hyena! The child reiterated, right, but not believed.
They met the hyena themselves that afternoon in the park.
And promptly apologized to their son.
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