Wannabes Poems | Examples

KILL THE PARROT

The words had no meaning
Just echoes repeating in its head
An arrogant squawking
Plumped feathers
Repeating mindless mantra
It all ended
The day he repeated
The savage shouts of
Of wingless wannabes 
KILL THE PARROT

Confidential human source Brown Cries

My prayers are with the young 
woman thrown in into moving 
traffic losing her face head after 
my imposter posing as me decided 
to exposed my identity as a 
confidential human source who 
wore wires pregnant for the fbi 
buying weapons and drugs 
from corrupt junk sick cops 
i am truly blessed sadly persons 
of power tossed informants in 
front of killers this young woman 
death represents the effect of 
exposing confidential human 
sources to killers and dealers 
while my imposter hops skips 
jump double Dutch on justice 
meanwhile I patiently await 
more death threats wannabes 
of who wanna brown mort

Caitlin Who

   Caitlin Who?
   Girl's yet to hear a boo.

      Let her play pro ball for a few years ~
      GOAT wannabes cry rivers of tears


    _____________________________________
    Caitlin Clark just set the NCAA woman's 
    basketball record for most points scored.

    GOAT = Greatest of All Time
    NCAA = National Collegiate Athletic Association

The Blindside

Kingpins’ suspicions are starting to grow
Reactions are seamless for a reality show
What makes the game stirring is a crazy blindside
But I’ll pledge acceptance with honor and pride

Throwing someone under the bus is not a good idea at all
Silent watchers love betrayal; they are ready to brawl.
They say, “Viewer discretion is advised”
But the content of the truth heavily upsets me; I’m surprised.

The most difficult situations are caught on-cam
Yeah, it’s too hot to handle when emotions are slammed
But when the queen bees know how to play and pretend
The wannabes follow; they also transcend. 

Anyone could show ruthless aggression to this madness
Deep inside is melancholy; There is a beat of sadness
I wish to move forward and let it slide
But everybody wants to see the dead end of the blindside

The Teenage Years

We learn from our mistakes,
From the wrong turns, we take,
From the fake friends we make,
And from the times we almost break.

Our mistakes help us grow,
But at the time, we didn't know.
We didn't want our weakness to show.
At the time, we couldn't let them know.

Our fake friends were there,
But they didn't actually care
Our secrets they would share,
And now as we pass, they just stare.

Not breaking means you're strong.
You'd know where you went wrong,
As if you weren't waiting so long
To explain yourself, but stay strong.


So here's to the liars and traitors,
All the wannabes and haters
And learning from our mistakes
And learning to spot the fakes.

Here's to being a teen
Live it up, 'cause we're living the dream.

Naked Words

wannabes today…
social media the fad
sharing baring all

© Harry J Horsman 2021

The 80s

I remember a time
when I was just a teen
The 80s had bigger hair
Than ever's been seen

The 80s had a language 
That was all it's own
Phrases I haven't used
Since I have been grown

Phrases like: "Omigod"
And "Gag, me with a spoon"
The valley girl said the word "like"
A million times before noon

There were so many groups
Back in High School
Gothic, nerds, and jocks
All of us trying to be cool.

Some of us were popular
Some of us were just wannabes
Some of us were invisible
Some were just oddities

We all were so different
Each In our own ways
High School was tough
But those really were the days

I kid you not
About the way things were
Over the years it has 
Become quite a blur.

As I look back on
My life as a teen
The 80s were the best years
That has ever been seen.

8/27/2020

Under the Virus's Double Spell

A river of pain runs through
the calamitous world, a mute assassin
tightens the lungs, usurping
our right to breathe, pouring day and night
its cup of poison, heralding a new
dictatorship over need  -- as emergency laws proliferate
and totalitarian wannabes cherish
their moment – to tighten the tongues.

In virus's reckless trophy hunting,
we 're the helpless prey engulfed
in the bosom of helplessness, perishing
by the thousands in its vast killingfield.

Our lamentation will never satiate its 
craving to devour us, as the field
grows and grows.

One day its shadow will shrink and
lose its luster, dwarfed by the
oceanic empathy, which makes us
worthy of species preservation.

The unseen serpent may have many 
petri dish, yet is destined to perish
by our planetary will to survive and
reverence for life (and liberty).

The Squirrel

The Squirrel
Agile, gray-brown fluff
 burying acorns in the yarded scruff,
future mighty oak spawned nests of hope
 stretched out branch trapezed along a tightrope,
chatter banter circular frolicking unfaint
 tail challenge waving screech complaints,
acrobatic voyeur of the crowned aerial topography
 where forest backwood wilderness rise with progeny,
to accommodate and nurture eagle wannabes.

Sapphic Nonesense

Beware, social media's worldly platform,
Blameless, guilty wannabes shower esteem,
Heady headlines bathing in common manure.

Knowing one’s neighbour.

Selfie, groupies searching for public reason,
Poetry kindled reframed and lovers bonding,
Gossip transferred digital nonsense bemused.

Silence youth golden.

Sapphic stanza contest
Sponsor William Kekaula

Digital Translation

Ten fingers
left and right palm pig squeezing a thief’s prayer merry

One finger
covetously dipped in the pie hole green apple gouging

Nine fingers
raven cloaked in vulture reaper robes condor circling

Two fingers 
giving the universal sign of double cross peace

Eight fingers 
talking black market side deal shogun spidery

Three fingers
got a pirate hook grip anchored in the purse sea

Seven fingers
be flagpole nose lying king Nero pose wannabes

Four fingers
preying mantis quotes holding the predator smile idoly

Six fingers
covered in silver serpentine tongue saliva oozing sticky

Five fingers
richly shaking down poor nations through debt slavery

Zero thumbs up
sell those Judas war coin lovers on the submarine ferry

Wake Up

im tired of old wannabes, trying to diss a generation they will never be,
never see, Now the leader of these wannabes is one nick trim, particularly
 old and dim. the new generation is active and caring, loving, not easily scaring, and im tired of people, afraid, dissing us just because, they cant be easily missing us, and i want to make our voices heard, to stand up to an angry herd. 
noone i know actually cares about actual social media affairs, so face your fears.

Response to "The Social Media Generation"
(by a 12 year old)

E Klaman Bottles

the chimneys teeter
held semi-erect like a
“mommy helped” gingerbread
        decoration
balanced on a black canvas
artfully decorated by
Jonathan Livingston Picasso
    wannabes

the miniature cityscape of a
rusted AC left to die among
more modern towers stand
   nonchalant 

the canvas frosting tops
a fine cakework of masonry
its valor and pride
long since diluted
betwixt pretenders –
more modern masons who
knew neither pride nor patience

yet the carefully splayed art
laid by proud callused hands still
to my eyes the same as it was
to the pointed finger of his bride

a nights rest well earned
as its relief blossoms
in the sun’s setting.

a gull peers below
as patrons never looking up
escape with proof
of their existence

Voting Blues Again

Voting Blues Before May9 2018

Comes 9May, we the voters might have our final say....
Come what may, we hope to decide the politicians who can stay...
But certain factors are distinctly making our choices go astray...
A revision of electorate delineation that reeks of racial play...
Giving meaning to the big  fancy word gerrymandering, as they say....
Mysterious shuffling about of voters, the reports are coming in...
There is even a report of a man long dead, his name is still in the voting list...
Awaiting in courts are complaints of duplicated house addresses...
Giving rise to cases of tens of voters in a single house address...
It is on record, up to as many as 60 voters are housed in a single address...
Of course, the evil of money as in money politics is all too obvious...
Political frogs and political big shots  wannabes....
Will switch camps shamelessly, so long as big money comes in...
As warned by 92yr old Dr M, even winning political frogs...
Might jump and tilt the balance of power, money talks...
But hope for justice  is what all enlightened voters dare to dream...
Comes 9May, can there be a realisation of new better dream...?

Threatened Abortion

Threatened abortion 
May that never be our portion!  But wait!    
 where goes all your dreams?                                              like shooting stars, They beam,                                        right before your eyes like in a film
   cream de la cream- we all were once wannabes. expectations like the delivery of a 9months pregnancy, 

hopes like ropes, ends like fences, means like pins.      we all embark on the journey to the future like swiming through a croc-filled pool.                                                   the good news is that those dreams have not been aborted, they were just threathned

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