Long Conspirators Poems
Long Conspirators Poems. Below are the most popular long Conspirators by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Conspirators poems by poem length and keyword.
It's my body, and I'll cry if I want to!
Lie if I want to!
Die if I want to!
You might die too if I come near you.
No vaccine pricks my skin.
Absolute is my right
to randomly infect another,
yes, randomly kill if necessary to preserve
my freedom! My entitlement!
Like your neighborly sprinkler system
I shower you each time you come near.
Few people know the truth.
Bill Gates hired space aliens
now infiltrating scientists
and creating these vaccines
to poison us.
It’s my body and I’ll cry if I want to!
Deny if I want to!
Die if I want to!
You might die too if I come near you!
These shots made by Bill Gates and Democrats,
The list of deep state conspirators so long.
I know how to connect all the dots.
The vaccines pump you with magnetic goo.
And you will quickly become autistic too.
The vaccines are full of biotoxins
And millions will find their coffins.
It’s my body, and I’ll cry if I want to!
Defy if I want to!
Die if I want to!
You might die too if I come near you!
COVID is cured like the flu.
Cow de-wormer will do.
Or simply reach
For the Clorox bleach
And drink a cup or two.
Nobody knows where my family has gone.
They left along with my friends.
No hospital beds for hundreds of miles.
While the stiffs pile up in air-cooled trucks.
It’s my body and I’ll cry if I want to!
Standby if I want to!
Justify if I want to!
You might die too if I come near you!
In global pandemic,
It’s everybody.
You can cry if you want to.
No boundaries parse flesh and blood.
Together, it’s the whole human broth.
Inspired by 1963 pop-rock hit: It’s My Party performed by Leslie Gore and produced by Quincy Jones.
JULY
Honouring name of Julius Ceaser
Month Quintilis renamed : July.
Birth month of Roman General.
Dictator; Roman Empire.
stabbed by conspirators
with close friend Brutus.
His last words ' You
too Brutus ! '
Alas !
Bye !
Alone he stood against the many,
A towering rock of integrity,
Unafraid,
Uncompromising,
Determined
To fight, in the name of his friends that
Victims, of certain people and their devious
Plans, have fallen
Ready was he to struggle against this
Group* of people and the
Injustices committed, till things change
For
He knew, in his heart of hearts, that
The forces of:
Good
Justice
And of virtue, stood by his side,
Stronger by far
Than
Any of their deceitful conspirators and
Their evil schemes to support inequity
For
To glorify the group's contemptible vanity, ,
Remaining
Indifferent to the suffering they inflicted,
Upon
All those who their trust, had put, in them,
Expecting a fair play!
Shame!
© Demetrios Trifiatis
18 OCTBER 2014
The night unravels like a tattered black sail,
its edges fraying with whispers of secrets too heavy to hold.
Stars—fractured shards of a forgotten mirror—
pierce the dark fabric,
their cold fire spilling across the sky like the dreams of ancient gods.
A feral wind prowls through the streets,
teeth bared, dragging its claws along rooftops,
tearing through the loose skin of curtains.
It howls a song only the untamed understand—
a hymn to the wild heart of the dark.
In the shadows, trees bow like conspirators,
their gnarled fingers clasped in silent prayers
to the moon, swollen and watching,
a pale hunter with no prey.
It casts its silver snare across the earth,
capturing the restless in its cold embrace.
The river stirs like a dreaming serpent,
its scales catching slivers of starlight,
its voice a low, sibilant chant.
On its surface, echoes of forgotten cities
drift like ghosts—homes swallowed by time,
their stories now the water’s to keep.
The night blooms with the scent of earth and fire,
a heady perfume carried on the wind,
mingling with the sharp tang of salt from the sea.
It is a scent that pulls at the soul’s leash,
urging it to run, barefoot and reckless,
into the uncharted wilderness of the dark.
Wild is the night—
a lover with teeth,
a song without melody,
a beast that wears silence like a crown.
It devours the tame,
leaves them raw,
and baptizes the brave in the fire of stars.
Julius, I want to tell you of my dream last night.
When I describe it to you, it will fill you with fright.
From what I saw, I must tell you to beware.
In my dream, your blood was spilling everywhere.
With your military campaigns, you did very fine.
You made yourself a name from Britain to Palestine.
The patrician senators want you to believe they are your friends.
However, the façade they present abruptly ends.
They fear their power is ebbing away.
You will assume absolute power someday.
The senators don’t want this to become reality.
As any other man, you are vulnerable to mortality.
Please my lord, don’t go to the senate today.
Avoid those conspirators and live to see another day.
Acknowledgments.
My writing teacher who lit the fire,
my broken heart I had to repair,
my muse from the very beginning.
My insane desire to keep climbing,
my ambition that knows no bounds,
my taste that desires one in a million.
My shoes that will never need socks,
my spirit that is never on blocks,
my dreams that roll in with high tide.
My conspirators demanding gold,
my haters that are seething pyrite,
my copycats out doing their worst.
My feelings bubbling and determined,
my words filthy that make me gag.
My inner child that refuses reality.
My resilience and all that built it,
my reckless forcing me forward,
my microphone I share poetry on.
Thank you. A million times..thank you.
Next freedom coordinate, proximity build 1
My length of walk?
From origin as work
Defines energy in momentum
Obstruction is capable mathematics from here
On in to the document
As sun crests new yorks harbor
In California I awaken to writing, publishing
Shower of body is not reachable
Nor the causeway of commerce
Food procurement
The framers cannot be gained by days end
Patterning a fold....this is that budget measure
Finish map with lifeline tent
Proximity build 1
Copyright © kevin mathenia | Year Posted 2025
What document is, is property title declaration
Cannot assert pre fraud rights to persons
collected from fraud rulings
As will allowed resignation letters and speech
I retain my liberties
Exchange of documents in error
Creates bribery and non resolvable conflict
In exchange of rights.
New transitional living document for intake
Cannot be drawn from singular unit budget measure
No access authorization will be drawn from operator error
[email protected]
Having signed the law pre fraud
I will re draft my document myself
Published
I was given the Shangri la template lease
for two years pre fraud
Addition of coordinate to point(s)
Coordinator points
Mobile mailbox assignment
Postage is in fraud trail review of co conspirators
Not my publishing
One coordinate jam in thousand oaks, no tranquility
Operating wifi device currently
One homekey building down here
One worse in Ventura
Oxnard mid build
Caught legislating?
Complaint has been made concerning money given to fix homeless
Undisclosed amount
Amount may be written off against non profit forms
Never and always a resolute alternative to a fold
Bothersome appointee
Maintains ahead of the generals adjourning?
Best wishes,
Allison Weis, James Desio and Ryan Vogt
Greetings!
Thank you so much for submitting
your letter to The Washington Post
— Chicago Tribune opinion team
2107 characters left
These messages are being captured and archived in compliance with the Presidential Records Act or the Federal Records Act
Thank you again for sharing your feedback and helping us shape California's future.
Sincerely,
Governor Gavin Newsom
Never advisable to be naked!
Unfolding ability to assume changes
Depict funeral mesh opaque
Wobbled iron lock conjure
Wakens particular persona to inhabit
Wardrobe wonder honours
Peter Pan collar innocence
Embellished bow breasts for bombshell
Rhinestone on satin stimulant
Deceptively deep, spacious
Dark wood doors swing away to exhibit
Dresses with waves vivacious
Forest of newfound favourites
Frocks rustle, slide, beg to be fondled
Fascinator lavender fragrance
Mysterious occult conspirators
Ultimately select pretty arrangements
Musty garment rots ambiguous
19th January
Happy Birthday Keri ( Mum )
- see, I fashioned my life
to suit me!
The din of darkness,
The cacophony of impostors,
The symphony of ignorance,
The decadence of progress,
Colonial heritage,
The empire of the pharaohs,
The agony of the pyramids,
The ordeal of free men,
The heat of infernal furnaces,
The burden of ancestral tortures,
The cradle of humanities chained to hatred,
The lament of immemorial torments,
The tale of forgotten shadows,
The macabre mass of intertwined destinies,
The accelerated decrepitude of fallen hopes,
The stigmata engraved on the parchment of time,
The funeral howls of a persistent memory,
The sepulchral embrace of an eternal night,
The tumult of trials in the scars of history,
The flashes of an untamed reality,
The epic of souls thirsting for redemption.
Proselytes and orators with fiery ideologies are ready to spark a conflict whose repercussions could shake the very foundations of society.
Land of asylum, sanctuary of xenophobes,
Doors of the chapels of drug addiction,
The reconquest of frustrated nostalgics,
The liberation of supremacist rantings,
The silence of the proletarians,
The promotion of social inequalities,
If monotheism were of divine essence,
Racism, slavery and colonization
Were not going to be sanctified,
In their so-called holy rags.
The conspirators demonize the plots of the marginalized,
The manipulators have an army of fanatical parrots,
The future of the earth is punctuated by catastrophes,
These madmen are already exploring the stars,
There will never be peace on this cursed planet,
The rich need the chaos generated,
Through war, misery, corruption and plunder,
The tombstones pile up,
Taciturn spectators of human tragedy, erected in a landscape devastated by the ravages of ephemeral power and limitless greed.
Political extremists and religious fanatics
Preparing for the final confrontation,
Africa will be the next global battlefield,
Sub-Saharans think they are escaping the horrors of poverty,
By crossing the Sahara on foot and swimming the Mediterranean,
While the multinationals of the new world order take advantage to plunder the natural resources of their subsoil.
Death Bed Poetry: Dylan Thomas
Alcohol and co-dependence make poor conspirators
Delivering more a life driven by inquisitors
Dylan Thomas poet and drinker
Part time lover and full-time thinker
In fading health and across the sea
He gathered himself for one last spree
The White Horse Tavern welcomed the man
And there he started his final stand
"I've had eighteen straight whiskies. I think that's the record!"
Alcohol, pneumonia, and Doctor Feltenstein were more than he could afford
Caitlin flew in to remark, "Is the bloody man dead yet?"
Comatose and failing, the bard was not quite there yet.
Still and silent, and lying abed
A few hours later and Dylan was dead
having gone "Gentle into that good night"
with no further words and such little fight.
Thus, the end of our Welsh poet Dylan
a bit of a rogue but not such a villain
who now learns Death does have dominion
in spite of the bard's differing opinion.