Long Imbeciles Poems
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I.
Do you know of Little Billy,
now three years in a public school?
Can’t read or write at his level,
but I tell you what he can do,
he can tell you how he’s become
a ‘two-spirit demi-wolf girl,’
and that he hopes to transition
to be his ‘true self’ in the world,
he even knows something of sex,
the way some people thrust and blow,
from a book in the library,
things no seven-year-old should know.
We cannot blame Billy himself,
his mind is putty at that age,
rather I think it’s his teacher
who’s well-deserving of your rage.
a teacher who told her students
of he ‘pronouns,’ why she was gay,
festooned the room with rainbow flags,
and thinks that her voice should hold sway.
The kind you see on videos
take at teacher’s conferences,
talking of ‘social agendas,’
how to ignore what the parent says,
activists disguised as teachers,
the child just a mind to take,
some even will ‘trans’ your children,
with no thought of their future fate,
betrayed their duty to us all
in the name of their politics,
seeing children like test subjects,
enough to make anyone sick.
All while our test scores keep dropping,
creating confused imbeciles,
the teachers who’ve betrayed us thus
should really be treated like filth.
Running from the big Illuminati,
Oracle thoughts for every footstep.
Bound by several false circumstances,
Earth is my home, though does scares me to death.
Running from this dark world with nowhere to hide,
Tarot card readings spread from multiple decks...
James is who I am, why cannot you see?
Loving all, release the noose on my neck!
Ignorant; a society of evil,
Gathering by waiting on when to attack.
Uninvited, I ask that you leave this place,
Orion is the hunter; not his track!
'Ridiculous'... all I can really say,
'Imbeciles'... tainting another day!
Saturday, October 9, 2021
Having an ego is vital and yet a dangerous thing.
Most of us are terrible at dealing with the fights it brings.
People believe having an ego is rude and inconsiderate.
They refer to their ego as "self-respect", which is clearly different.
But, of course, our ego must remain under our control.
Otherwise, it turns us into as a monster as a whole.
It's just as necessary to have enemies as egos.
Enemies are the planters of the seed we can never grow.
The give the wisdom of knowing the difference between wrong and right.
And probably about learning to let go people who despise.
Both who and enemies are important for our growth as individuals.
Those who have too many egos and enemies are imbeciles.
The truth is, we're forever trapped with both of these things. And that's our reality.
Just accept that we ain't saints; It's just our destructive mentality.
Walking near cliff edges carries some risk
And some face the ultimate cost
For wind, rain and freezing can open a rift
And the foolhardy sometimes are lost
Those dumb, reckless imbeciles pose at the brink
For selfies to prove their dim wits
They might if they’re lucky get time to rethink
As the grass and the fractured rock splits
They wave down at me like idiot numpties
I see them which means they’re too close
Soon they could all be nouveau Humpty Dumpties
Such foolishness makes me morose
Oh gosh, I’m so glad I’m not on that cliff edge
Like that moron out walking his pup
But now I regret as the edifice crumbles
That I’m standing here… looking up
Tongue Study
Tongues
Steady it wags
needing to know
more, about the
the very thing that
causes wars.
peace and pain.
I study my tongue.
Much has been said
about the tongue yet
how has it pertained
to my own.
My tongue has delivered
and served, it has given
and taken, it has blessed,
it has cursed.
It has been bitten,
and it has been written,
the tongue can be tied, twisted
curt, sweet, sharp, wagging or
bragging.
It may be your
native tongue
or foreign, it may be
exciting or boring.
If quiet is your tongue
"the cat may have it".
If you use your
tongue to speak ill
of the dead, you may,
challenge a force and
be cursing your life's course.
The tongue's confession's
may sweep out
dirty secrets from the
corners of your mind.
Wise words have fallen on death
ears, words smothered by pride.
truth escaped lying eyes.
Ignoring what you saw and
twisting what was heard.
Tongues may bond
with imbeciles or angels
forming positive
or negative energy.
Be careful, mind your tongue
it is closest to your own ears
and will affect you first, rather
before the others hear.
Be not at the mercy of
an imbecilic tongue
read their eyes
and duck the darts
about to be thrown.
Do not despise the
a foreign tongue
for it is the aptitude
of the brain, the tunnel
to his bilingual, do not
expect the champions,
to cater to the dunce,
or those who can barely
master his own tongue.
In general, I have concluded
whether you live by the sword or
stand on principals, I had to
learn to manage my tongue
as I would a loaded gun.
I will not justify my tongue
when I use its power for the wrong
and neither hold my piece,
to placate the sword of the unjust.
The real power is in
the righteousness
of the speaking tongue.
For those who live by
the sharp and swarded tongue
and wield words as death
blows to the innocent,
or those who are silent,
while others suffer.
May also die
by the mighty tongue,
or by the holding of it.!
Copyright © Vicki Acquah | Year Posted 2014
Going against each others grain, so we despise
Out there are many, each other through their eyes
For it's against the against, what matters so
Encircled we are, formed we wreathe
How can alleged intelligence be whom we breathe
The viewing I now view, contradicts who we are
Gallantly pushing the button, our worlds now in pause
Never knowing the destruction they would cause
Idiots, imbeciles, superlatives they were not
To imagine their thoughts, to begin their begin
For such memories, such memories, engulfed in our sin
Inching to be what we were, now understandably slow
Lifetimes have past from those days of long ago
Mr McCheesy has large feet
wears size 40 shoes, no simple feat
plip! plop! thud! phud!
was all you could hear
miles before he would appear
Many would hide to hold themselves safe
not wanting his cheesy feet near their face
many scorned, poked fun, gave retreat
all ran and hide, but never to seek
Mr McCheesy felt alone in despair
for he truly felt no one did care
mock him, tease him, laugh did they
each time he passed anytime of the day
One darkened morning
a fierce storm came calling
torrential rain lashed heavily down
ground gurgling, mud pouring
all ran, found cover, all prayed
When all was calm was plain to see
the devastation they did not forsee
disbelief, shock an all forlorn
wheat and corn was all gone
sodden wet mud laid bare openly
mangled limbs from drowned trees
Roads now broken, buried in ground
how was they going to travel around?
stuck, cut off from outside life
they knew to be in heavy strife
In distance a familiar sound echoed flew
splish splosh splush vibrated through
Mr McCheesy the man with large feet
pounding down the ground skillfully neat
Creating a road solid and sound
for everyone to convey around
feet echoing sounds they once did fear
now welcomed with loud roaring cheers
Lone warrior working his large feet
In rhythms of phuds and splats
Mr McCheesy on hearing their claps
spurred on reclaim land to reap
Added cheers erupted, boomed loud and clear
"you've made the horror disappear
Mr McCheesy you've saved the day
hip! hip! hooray! hooray!"
From that day forward none laughed at him again
ashamed and guilty of their bullying and pain
for he was their hero he saved the day
a statue was erected in his grand name
We are all unique with qualities of difference
some dont see, only show of their ignorance
god gave to us for reasons unknown
were all different it is often shown
but the devil he teases and tempts with his sin
turns us into imbeciles and cruelty sets in
If ever your teased to having cheesy feet
remember the tale wrote above
cheesy feet who saved that day
gave so much and forever his love
26.08.20
One mystic blue night in June
I will steal the silvery full moon,
break it into sharp-edged shards,
and sow them in the backyard
in the shadow of dark clouds at noon.
The dark devils will enter with lust
my anguished heart beating fast,
hit by the moonless night hard,
and make my boiling ancient blood
turn to thick and brown corrosive rust.
The dark brown blood of mine
the night will drink like wine,
losing the shining full moon
it will make a black one on its own,
even more dark than the dungeon.
When the wolves will be tearing
the neck of the stillness freezing,
the chilled air from the sky will alight,
the ominous bark will shred the night,
telling me it’s time for moon plucking
from the shadow of the devils lurking.
At the end of the year on a frosty night
the time will come when in bitter spite
I will turn the harvested new moon
into deadly ball of the firing cannon,
and hit hard those who lure romance
that skillfully wraps with mute trance
the innocent hearts trapped in love.
With the sickle moon’s sharp curve
I will tear open the deceitful throats,
and slash the sweet lips that gloat,
and in an instant cleverly ensnare
naive soft minds, attracted unaware.
One night in the wasteland dark,
where the starved wolves will bark
at the new moon’s harvest time,
and when the stars will be gleaming rhyme
as pure crystals in moonless sky I'll see,
the lurking imbeciles, I will bury
in the shattered moon’s ruins palpable,
for they say I am desperately despicable.
August, 14, 2017.
Contest : Hello Darkness My Old Friend
Sponsor :Anthony Biaanco
Pantaloope the pink dinosaur was puffy and proud
She was quiet though, shy, not terribly loud.
Does not show ignorance like dumb students do the day through.
They yell and scream and insist on their way as imbeciles do.
You can see that Pantaloope the Dinosaur has a smart brain.
She can sit quietly, and let others talk in snow, wind or rain.
She is a polite listener, and she does not interrupt you.
She shows her wisdom in so many ways daily before she’s through.
Other dinosaurs are yelling when the teacher tries to talk.
The principal is called, and they have to go on a little walk.
Pantaloope the Dinosaur never has to leave the classroom.
She is hailed as a leader in person and on Zoom.
Unorthodox nonestablismentarian epitome
Describes celibate bent aegis.
Mein kampf illustrates gravitas.
Underdog muted lest intimidation
think bully brandishing fist in my face
threatening to buzzfeed me
a brassy knuckle sandwich.
While breezily reading Judy Bloom,
(whose material geared
toward young adult)
book titled Blubber - published in 1974,
(which year found yours truly - me
undergoing amazing transition
classified as puberty)
bemoaned childhood's end - id est mine
interestingly enough romanticized boyhood
livingsocial within Lake Woebegone
(way before Garrison Keillor
named said fictitious town),
purely swiftly tailored
harried styled fabrication,
although that first decade
found torturous growing up years
more so courtesy
self exclusion from reindeer games,
thus during lunch or recess
(two most favorite classes)
bullies turned me into minced meat
taunted and teased
a severely socially withdrawn boy,
who never shared emotional agony,
he internalized verbal slings and arrows
eventually physically succumbed
from brickbats indiscriminately
lobbed at painfully shy
once upon a time happy go lucky lad,
(with a button nose),
when he whiled away days of his life
as the world turned
first at Lantern Lane
for about a half dozen plus years,
then at 324 Level Road
for approximately
one third of present existence
unbeknownst to him
that psychologically dark shadows
lurked within the outer limits
of the twilight zone
haunting corporeal essence
attached to those lovely bones,
now saddled with excess adipose tissue,
especially around belly of the beast
housing hunger artist
starving for knowledge,
and peopling his overactive imagination
with exemplary protagonists
blithely thwarting incendiary threats,
cuz of natural born defense against
gunning character assassination
courtesy fearsome imbeciles
hell bent on nasty, short and brutish fiends,
who did their collective bidding
vis-à-vis cut throat leviathan,
who overshadowed and locked in
propensity to live free and clear
analogous to unfettered noble savage
cannibalizing yours truly (me) as fancy feast.
Soul asylum salvation sought
as if survivor of mental health challenges
akin to foreigner trying
to sidestep gingerly self annihilation.