Long Hacked Poems
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JUST A DREAM
When I was young and still had dreams,
I dreamt of fame and fortune.
With all the recklessness of youth
I had no doubts.
I knew
I knew I’d be a household name one day.
Perhaps a second Beckham
Or like Botham in his awesome prime.
Or, failing that, an actor
A mega-star of screen and stage
With Oscars on my mantelpiece.
No, hang on,
Yes, a politician
Ending up in number ten
But now I’ve reached maturity,
All that has passed me by.
No public recognition,
Just a childhood dream.
My ‘phone’s not been tapped illegally
My e-mails remain un-hacked.
Nobody follows my wife around
In case she meets a lover.
And, outside my door,
The paparazzi are conspicuous
By their absence.
I wait in vain to be approached
By the Leverson Enquiry.
So now I have to face the facts.
My childhood dreams are gone.
And when I die, I’ll literally
Go down in history.
5th June 2023
Dreaming poetry contest
Sponsor - Regina McIntosh
The wind wailed, and I could hear the trees cry;
as I approached the scar of a clear cut.
No birds were on the ground or in the sky,
it resembled a killing field somewhat.
Before me lay the bleached bones of dead trees;
abandoned limbs, a woodsman's axe hacked off.
And stumps of a forest felled to its knees;
while locals protest and profiteers scoff.
Old-growth forests get harvested at length,
and soon, they will disappear forever.
These trees lend the Native people their strength;
a living link, we've no right to sever.
As this clearcut drew a tear from my eye,
the wind wailed, and I could hear the trees cry.
RIP is what they wrote above me,
But that hasn't put an end to this thing.
The bugger's still up there happily,
Prancing and dancing,
And I can't get any sleep!
If I could get out of this box of oak,
I'd put an end to his nasty little joke.
He would never dance again.
For I would be the means to his end.
The improbable is possible,
Some time or another.
This is one thing I've learned and oft said,
Your dancing is the cause of my pain and torture,
So, get ready for the return of the cranky living dead!
I'll scare the crap out of you,
And send you to an early grave.
Then I will dance to a happy tune,
While you rot unsaved.
Finally, RIP will really mean,
Rest In Peace.
For The Dancing my friend,
Is about to end.
As you become one,
Of the resting deceased!
I threw down the gauntlet,
And said, "Dance your worst!"
He came at me undaunted,
In a terrible burst,
Of speed and flying feet.
But this served to aid me,
In his final defeat.
For one thing he forgot,
The dead travel fast.
I side-stepped his onslaught...
No repeat of the past.
I spun quickly around,
And knocked him to the ground.
I Stepped on the dancing fool,
And disarmed him of sword.
Just the thing for the cause.
No time for a messy duel.
But just then he uttered a few words,
Which gave me reason to pause...
A last request?
I was given none.
Surely you jest,
Your dancing days are done!
I chopped, hacked, and sliced on,
And drove him asunder.
He did not last long,
And no wonder...
I cleaved him open,
From knave to chaps.
Out spilled his blood and organs.
Upon his grave I'll play taps,
And dance...
Perhaps a "Tap Dance".
The time has come for he,
With his head lying at his feet,
To make observations,
Form and express opinions.
To see and watch me,
Dance The Dancing!
My revenge is complete.
The last dance is over.
And it tasts far more sweet,
To know,
In Hell, you shall dance no more,
Forever.
What's that,
I hear?
You want to wear,
The funny little hat,
And use the cane...
Ah, that's a shame.
For you see,
Where your going,
In the world underground,
No Dancing Is Allowed!
Pick them at random, the best way to start.
The very young or very old are easiest to part,
With the info you need to get the ball rolling.
You scare them at first and then start cajoling.
By gaining their trust and becoming their friend,
You'll get access to funds and accounts without end.
Tell them their computer's been hacked by a scammer,
Or they owe for back taxes, will be locked in the slammer;
But you're there to help and make everything right.
For a small monthly fee it will be alright.
Once you get those numbers then you're home free,
Then it's pay day already for you and for me.
The Belgian masters of old
gave in to the Devil's wish.
Offering Tutsi blood to
fill the Hutu tribal dish.
Innocence hacked asunder,
within the shadow of fear.
The streets, soaked in crimson blood,
yet the world shed not a tear.
The presence of God's church was
absent from the bloody scene.
Outside of reality:
cloistered lives, remained serene.
While the victims were voiceless,
slaughter grew to genocide.
And, very little was done;
their massacre; swept aside.
The U.N. let the Belgians
sneak away and dodge the blame,
And Roméo Dallaire was placed
in charge; to deal with their shame.
Forced to witness the torture
and defilement of victims.
Roméo's hands were tightly tied,
by Canada's strict dictums.
The sheer weight of Rwanda's pain
weighed heavily on his soul.
And he wrote a book about
lives, hate buried in a hole.
JAY TOWNSEND JOHNSON HENRY ATTEMPTS TO HACK INTO THE MILITARY ORDER OF THE PURPLE HEART BEST BUY TAX CARD SAD ABUSE OF POWER DATA BREACH HACKING MILITARY FAMILIES PRESIDENTS DAY CONTINUED DEALS SEATED IN THE PARKING LOT HACKING INTO ACCOUNTS SENDING THREAT ON LICENSE PLATES GOD BLESS THE MILITARY ORDER OF THE PURPLE HEART GOD BLESS ALL WHO WERE WOUNDED OR DIED IN COMBAT AND THIER FAMILIES GOD BLESS AMERICA STOP DOMESTIC TERRORISTS FROM HACKING MILITARY FAMILIES SAD WITH THE JUSTICE DEPARTMENT FBI RELEASED THE LATEST GHOST RANSOMWARE ALERT VERY SIMILAR TO THE DATA BREACH AT TAMPA GENERAL HOSPITAL JAY TOWNSEND JOHNSON HENRY CRIMINAL GROUP HACKING INTO MEDICAL INFORMATION CHINA HAS THE SAME INPUT SINCE COVIDBHACKING INTO AMERICAN MEDICAL INFORMATION THIS GHOST HACKING SYSTEM OPERATION GHOST CHINA JAMAICA FIRM IDENTITY FRAUD JUST HACKED INTO BEST BUY TAX CARDS FROM THE MILITARY ORDER OF THE PURPLE HEART MY GOD HOW BLESSED I AM SAD JAY TOWNSEND JOHNSON HENRY HAS A TWISTED BADGE SHE USES TO ABUSE POWER FALSIFY HELL ON EARTH HACKING INTO AMERICAN MEDICAL INFORMATION AFFECTING VETERANS AND THIER FAMILIES MILITARY FAMILIES IN AMERICA AND ABROAD BASICALLY COVID WAS GERM WARFARE TARGETING UNDERLYING PATIENTS IN ORDER TO HACK INTO MEDICAL INSURANCE INFORMATION FOR IMMIGRANT MEXICANS JAMAICAN CHINA LEADING TO THIS NEW RANSOMWARE GHOST STAY VIGIL GOD BLESS AMERICA
I read about this true story - it happened in Elizabethan England - and was so
upset that I needed to write this poem to get it off my chest. It's been published 3
times.
FIGHTING CHANCE
The mobs that packed the place
Were slavering for blood;
They sniffed it in the air
And, drooling, watched it flood.
The bears and bulls were dead;
A horse was dragged to fight,
It whinnied, reared and bucked,
Its nostrils flared in fright.
The pack was at the horse,
Their hungry jaws like traps;
That brutal, bloody scene
Was met with cheers and claps.
The gore of horse and dogs
Had turned the dust red-brown;
Those snarling dogs no match
For hooves that thundered down.
The dogs lay scattered round;
The roaring crowd was awed;
But then demanded more:
A second pack was called.
The horse, insane with fear,
Exhausted, fought to live;
The dogs were fresh, but he
Should have no more to give.
His will to live was strong;
The dogs were on his back;
Defeating mastiff jaws,
He tossed and killed that pack.
The rabble drunk on blood,
Addicted to it then,
Still called for more; the horse
Was hacked to death by men.
Jack Horne
The Pilferer
He stole her statements ...
and made her speechless
He hacked her thoughts....
as he read her mind with ease
He chased her dreams .....
as he knew her aspirations
He stole her actions rendering her idle,
as he completed all her task
He captured her memory
as he has filled with his images
He is a pirate of her life's ship
as he holds the ship's steering
He is the pilferer, for his recent
pilferage is her heart!
But he stealthily placed his' in that
place and now her life is pumped
by the throbs of his heart!
Her actions dictated by his thoughts
Her destination is chosen by his mind
Yet in a secret cabin souls have united
singing the tune of fusion of love...
Magic of love, pilferage for love!
Hypnotically frozen spell of love!
© Anulaxmi Nayak, 2015
19th August 2015
Somebody hacked my computer.
Poor little innocent thing.
She was minding her own business,
Not bothering one little thing.
Then I clicked on an interesting picture,
Not knowing the trouble I'd bring,
Confusing my poor little puter,
Causing her to run hide in the stream,
Of air waves surrounding all puters,
With info and email and such.
I tried for days to coax her out,
But frightened she ignored my touch.
A threatening message had come on,
Immediately warning me,
To call this number right away,
And they'd help me for a fee.
If I did not call them,
They'd have to shut me down.
My puter trembled quietly,
While I searched around,
To find someone to help me,
Find my stricken friend.
My daughter to the rescue came,
And to this put an end.
She did a factory reset,
And got me back online.
My puter's feeling better now.
She's cleared her little mind.
My daughter soothed her shattered nerves,
And stopped the unseen crooks.
She really saved the day for me.
She's cool, she knows what cooks.
at times the soul gets clenched
in an unspeakable grief
in a demoniac grip, it chokes and wriggles
the pain of being stung by a dozen scorpions
or hacked piece by piece by an axe
tremulous grows the heart, over love that is spent
seeks in vain to revive the joy that is gone
strains to lift the veil that shrouds the soul
wrestles to come out from the desolate cave of black solitude
the more it struggles to wade through the mess
the deeper it plunges into the morass of despair
clung on talons of excruciating pain,
wailing a long wail of never being understood
the mind goes berserk
whirling and churning.
anytime the volcano might erupt,
emitting pyroclastic cloud
with the asphalt lava spilling out,
blowing life with its violent breath.
yet, have succeeded in putting on
a merry visage during day
laughs with the laughing crowd
but retires at night to the solitary cell
to release, in agonized sighs, the stifling anguish
and soak the pillow in a flood of tears
how long can one seek to hide oneself
in the cover of vapid cheerfulness…..?
why try to save the face when there is no face to lose?
sure the fig leaf will one day fall off
to stand in stark nakedness before the world aghast
April.2.2022
This or That, Vol.11.Poetry Contest
Topic-Fig Leaf
Sponsor- Edward Ibeh