Keyboard Warriors
Miracle Man
1/24/2022
Too many have become mere keyboard fighters,
sniping at others with whom they dIsagree.
Cowardly, they occupy shadows as backbiters,
and the first amendment made this speech free.
They cancel others out when not in agreement,
and use the term “woke” to show their awareness.
Social injustice voices have now become vehement,
but only one side of an issue is short of fairness.
"Every generation of Americans needs to know
that freedom exists not in doing what we like,
but in having the right to do what we ought."
Pope John Paul11
Daisy was such a bossy old cow,
one who desired to rule the herd.
Her opinions were so highbrow
the others dared not moo a word!
Daisy would moo and moo all day
whilst the others chewed their cud.
I dare not disclose the things she’d say
if amiable cows mated with the stud!
One day Daisy met up with the local bull
who really was a quite handsome chap.
She fluttered her lashes, being on the pull
but her constant sniping was a handicap!
He mated all others in the bovine brood
which put Daisy’s nose right out of joint.
He detested her for her rude attitude,
yet, she insisted on arguing the point!
Daisy was ill-bred and she’d never yield
so all the other cows chose to back away.
Bull turned on his hooves and left the field
leaving Daisy all on her own chewing hay!
Although Daisy was the farmer’s oldest
she was just as nasty as the farmer’s wife.
He complained the old cow was the coldest -
I wonder which of them caused more strife!
The farmer didn't suffer from guilt or derision
when the slaughtering man came into town.
He allowed the butcher to make the decision
as to which cantankerous cow he'd put down!
12/10/18
Barry was a simple man
Who had a simple plan
He would be the greatest collector there has ever been
Of all outstanding Barcodes anyone would have seen
So he collected them from sun-up to sun-down
He was seen sniping these line patterns around the town
And his walls and ceilings were all covered
There was no Barcode that was undiscovered
But alas one day when hunting at the local tip
He fell in front of a bulldozer and that was the end of it
Some say it was a sad way to end for an avid collector
While others said he would be happy as a new wave instigator
For he was the human Barcode once the bulldozer ran over him
With the lines from the tracks on his body as a final fairy-tale whim
So Barry the Barcode collector can now be seen
The third Sunday of every month at the Barcode Bazaar looking extreme.
© Paul Warren Poetry
The pettiness of people is pervasive.
Those who feel better when others fail.
Feeling contempt and envy when others succeed.
Reflecting ugliness behind their backs.
Makes them feel better , superior somehow.
People sniping at those after leaving the room.
Talking ugly of those behind their backs, those who cannot defend.
The world is rife with such little people.
Those who manipulate with words and deeds, hoping
to bruise the gentleness of others kindness. Seeing ulterior
motives where none can
be found. Those who stomp on the
hearts of others if their sin is wearing it on their sleeves.
The gotcha society so reflected in today's headlines and the internet.
The world is crawling with little people looking to push
underwater all those who cannot navigate the shark infested
waters of our world.
Take a look in the mirror... not a giant to be found. We are all little people, not a Saint in the bunch.
Much work we all have to do.
They call me NightWolf
I'm walking these reservation streets Im known to imitate buffalo hooves
Im walking knocturnal Im a black owl sniping prey at night like I should
I RIP MY ENEMIES TO BITS LIKE A ONE MAN PACK OF WOLVES
And people wonder why I can be known dark as soldier knight tearing deer apart bit by bit Im known as NightWolf
As a good gardener would do,
she had to evaluate the quality of her trees plants and fruit,
She saw that some were rotten; they had spoiled at the root.
Unforgivness and resentment suffocated her delicate tree,
It was time to prune the essences of it in its entirety,
Finding the initial cause was how she would now prepare,
Going a little deeper into the earth that had many layers.
From the time this tree was a seed,
It had glitches, cracks and lived amongst weeds,
Perhaps damaged from the packaging
Or banged up through the sifting
Causing some deformities and in need of some spiritual lifting.
Resenting the other trees,
For they were far more stunning than thee,
This garden had suffered through many damaging storms,
Causing animosity that took on different shapes and forms,
sometimes her fruit seemed a bit bitter and irate
Forgiveness was the only cure to transform this ugly hate.
Sniping away at what was easy for her eyes to see,
Then changing the soil all together to make it once again healthy
For in a season or two, what all this work would do
Would allow this trees fruit to look and be brand new.
By: sabina Nicole
Contest: secondhand emotion
Written: 1-14-12