One Hundred Poems, Volume IV

  For reasons at best described as bogus;

  That objectification of an object is wrong,

  And of course misogynism is scraped along,

  With the usual baseless accusations of sexism;

  It seems feminism is just rebranded puritanism.

  But in a way, I do understand their opposition,

  As all of us are bound by human condition,

  The shared longing to procreate,

  At the end of a pleasant date,

  The joy when two humans revel,

  For a physical contact at an intimate level.

  But let us suppose there are these sex robots,

  And consider the usual human dating locus,

  So what can our standard feminist offer,

  When she is hardly a pleasant talker,

  Hiding in her safe space nooks,

  With about average looks?

  'Thus it seems to be all about sex and power.'

  How could a feminists score a one night stand,

  When she no longer competes with a hand?

  And if our guy simply longs to bang,

  He can buy a robot for his wang.

  Accusation: Rape Apologist

  Because rape is a horrible action and always wrong;

  Rapists are individuals that we refuse to get along.

  In the least the victim needs to hear an apology,

  And our culprit face the legislative penology.

  Therefore calling someone a rape apologist,

  Is an accusation of a deed warranting an apology,

  An accusation without the burden of a single evidence,

  As the nature of accusation itself warrants a form of penitence.

  Hence to our accusers 'rape apologist' means the same as rapist,

  Their usage of it is as common as it is clearly blatant,

  To them: asking for evidence is being a rapist,

  The act of questioning itself is heinous.

  Therefore this term faces blatant misuse,

  Until it finally looses its edge and falls to disuse.

  The day when most are falsely accused of rape apology,

  Is the day when each and everyone of us is a rape apologist.

  Addendum:

  Luckily: it still does not mean that rape is okay,

  Unluckily: real victims will have less sway,

  And the things feminists long and want,

  The ideals they so longingly flaunt,

  They are their own worst enemy,

  Without a shed of clemency.

  Addendum:

  Did you know that rapist,

  Rhymes with feminist?

  Finland's 'Ruined' Reputation

  So someone chose to wear a white sheet,

  And the national media made it a news gleet,

  The intent was obviously to shame the protesters,

  Gathered with silly fireworks in their smallish protest,

  And of course the global media took interest for that sheet,

  Third page global news and Finland's reputation turned to gleet.

  A horror to those Finns who consider what others might think,

  And so scour the world for every single mention in ink,

  But in this case we can only blame Finnish media,

  For its very clear signs of intellectual anemia,

  By granting the spotlight to a paper cone,

  And we are forced to hear them moan.

  Trains and Snow

  There are people wrong on the internet,

  Whose stupidity is hard to forget,

  So I typed on trains and snow,

  To what effect I do not know,

  But I have said what I said,

  Let it be ignored or shred,

  I am feel done with it,

  Regardless of spit,

  You might emit.

  Mustard

  The device was all red,

  I thought it was ketchup,

  It should have been ketchup,

  But instead I got yellow mustard,

  Between the hamburger bun and patty,

  The sheer sight of it made me feel ratty!

  And where has it been all my life?

  Answer me! Or I'll use this knife!

  (No one civilized uses a knife and fork on fries.)

  Words Have Meaning

  “6:38 PM – 24 October 2014

  'Not a coincidence it's always men and boys committing mass shootings. The pattern is connected to ideas of toxic masculinity in our culture.'

  By @femfreq”

  Questions:

  1) Who invented the idea of toxic masculinity,

  2) Who propagates this idea of toxic masculinity,

  3) And who links tragedies to this toxic masculinity?

  Answers:

  1) No one knows, but feminists are very much in love with it,

  2) And it seems that feminists are ones that propagate it,

  3) Well, oh my, it is by feminists yet again isn't it?

  Therefore:

  1) Toxic masculinity is term that belongs to feminists,

  2) Toxic masculinity spreads primarily through feminists,

  3) Toxic masculinity is even seen as a problem by feminists!

  So if this were a murder investigation:

  1) Someone bought a gun,

  2) Pulled the trigger and killed one,

  3) Then admitted publicly what was done.

  Do you think any jury would take long to consider?

  So it is you that I ask:

  - What is the verdict?

  Aftermath of a Shooting

  There is every reason to be saddened,

  The entire world seems maddened,

  For it should not have happened.

  It was a crime that left its mark,

  But I wonder if anyone will hark,

  As the air becomes filled with bark.

  Yet the words will fade as will the zeal,

  For most it will almost seem unreal,

  But some wounds will never heal.

  Nine lives were lost for no reason,

  People were left scarred for no reason,

  Sorrow and pain was caused for no reason.

  What words could ever take your pain away?

  Is there a way for happiness to hold sway?

  In my prayers: I hope there is some way.

  That No Man's Sky (For science fiction novel)

  Have you ever looked at stars above,

  Where I have travelled for my love,

  Seen wonders and dangers sort of,

  Both laughed and cried thereof?

  Perhaps I could lay claim to it all,

  If I were not so insignificant and small:

  But if I possessed the size and mass of stars,

  I still fear that sky would never be mine or ours:

  For it is a no man's sky.

  The Amber Rose Slut Walk

  'Thanks for taking out the trash.'

  - Shouted the brave opponents of patriarchy.

  Now I would not want to seem rash,

  But isn’t the police actually a part of the patriarchy?

  Anyhow, a woman and a gay man were escorted away,

  For the patriarchy agreed there are things you cannot say:

  'Regret is not rape'

  - @Lauren_Southern

  'Rape Culture and Harry Potter … Both fantasy'

  - @Nero

  So how about we stop for a moment and actually think,

  The patriarchy shields those who long to bring it to brink,

  Because they are the exact people patriarchy takes for drink,

  Sheep that will always back away with a mere mention of a clink,

  So feeble that they must be shielded from seeing dissent; let that sink.

  The people on these walks are the useful idiots,

  And nothing more quite seriously,

  It is oblivious stupidity.

  The First Day of Autumn

  It
is not an exact date,

  But rather a natural state:

  The air itself feels cold under sun,

  And leaves of the trees have started to run,

  Dyed with splashes of yellow and soft orange,

  They pool and clod along corners without shortage,

  Thus you can smell it when you step outside,

  As you see how the world has been dyed,

  When night's frost covers stones,

  You feel it in your bones,

  The autumn is here.

  The life as it is

  Once the cards are dealt you cannot reclaim chips,

  For all lives follow an ellipse,

  Ending in eclipse.

  Yet it follows no scripts,

  And love will not touch your lips,

  If you refuse opportunities to swing your hips.

  All of us face our many stumbles and trips,

  But our future is still within our grips,

  If you choose to endure its nips.

  We linger on with or without tips,

  It is always turbulent and forming rips,

  Yet what we need might be fish and chips.

  #NationalPoetryDay

  Ooh: it is a hashtag that is made just for me!

  But what should I write for you to see,

  Do I have enough wit to smile with glee,

  To challenge this popular poetry spree,

  Or would I simply buckle down to my knee,

  Under the pressure of all that talent shown for free?

  After all...

  One tweet is so easily swallowed in the sea,

  Its voice no bigger than the bite of a flea,

  Unless someone makes a counter decree,

  Thus turning it into a cry of a banshee.

  The perks of being an art teacher

  Have you painted an image of candlelight,

  Used reds and yellows ever so bright?

  Something innocent: we all agree,

  And something of a sight to see,

  If drawn without a candlestick,

  The works might go down: quick.

  And as for our 'humorous' art teacher,

  Unintentionally drawn genitalia is a feature!

  The Martian

  'The mother fucking martian!'

  I honestly do not know what to say,

  And it is the dawn of a new day,

  All those praises I could bay,

  Yet unheard they must stay,

  I just adored it all the way,

  If you can: go see it today.

  A Queen's Buttock (For a fantasy novel)

  What is it that I fear,

  My mind wonders here,

  While I paint this smear,

  Onto the statue's large rear.

  I'll be beheaded if ever caught,

  For an act that is mundanely aught,

  Yet my vandalism is not for naught,

  For laughter is a thing to be sought.

  Thus behold the Queen's buttock!

  Comment Sections

  'The need to censor correlates inversely with the validity of claims.'

  Comment sections and creditability in a single nutshell:

  To spot propaganda our propagandists try to sell,

  Check how the comments are moderated,

  Or whether they are even tolerated,

  As comments exist for dissent,

  Facts without consent,

  As the bane of lies,

  Before our eyes.

  And naturally propagandist cannot have that,

  The mice cannot be told there is no cat,

  The fear helps keep them unaware,

  Hides issues from their stare,

  By meaningless nonsense,

  Without logic or sense.

  Thus they hope you listen and believe,

  The world view they perceive,

  For reality is too real,

  For them to deal.

  I'd rather take a hundred vulgarities,

  Per one factual sneeze.

  My role in #GamerGate?

  'Nada?' - It sums it up quite well, doesn't it?

  But how did I get here?

  Well; if you got time to hear,

  I thought of using twitter to shill,

  But knew nothing and that's true still,

  So I went to check the only '#' I recalled,

  Gamer misogyny that got feminists enthrall'd,

  I found shit posting, trolls, and demand for ethics,

  But kept my distance until I spotted something pathetic,

  Arbour Tool's jab - made in poor taste - on Pratchett 's death:

  ...

  …

  …

  Thus I made an account to tweet out a single poem,

  And here I am still: with ever worse poems.

  Death of a Computer

  There it lies dormant,

  If were to remain formal,

  I could cuss for its passing,

  For the moments it's flashing,

  Before turning silent as a grave,

  How I do long to misbehave,

  For this technical failure,

  Or pay for any favour,

  Just to bring it back,

  It remains black.

  'I hope I can at least save the hard drive.'

  'If I did not: this is the first poem of a collection.'

  UN picks fight with gamers?

  'Another funny thing from twitter: as seen today.'

  Were I to be entirely fair:

  UN doesn't know who sits on what chair,

  The curse of all organisations: with both time and prestige,

  In addition to the lot longing for feathers to boost personal esteem.

  Thus on paper this fight should be a source of few easy feathers,

  As the people at UN are well paid and possibly even better,

  While gamers are easily the butt of every single joke,

  So what could go wrong: if UN decides to stoke?

  Ask the media: gamers have little to no creditability,

  Yet they do show the tendency towards demonstrability,

  Largely due to attention for details and willingness to grind,

  It is inadvisable to go at them if you are swinging your fists blind!

 

  Thus were we to look at the silver lining: things will be peer reviewed,

  The gamers will do it for free: and it is how this will conclude,

  While entire UN stands as the butt of a colossal joke,

  After all: gamers know how to stoke.

  Jar or Pickles

  A glass container,

  A cucumber retainer,

  Filled with murky green,

  Inside my fridge it is seen,

  Waiting for days and months,

  Frozen rest within vinegar baths,

  Until not a single slice lingers more,

  And the sight of it all has become sore.

  This is my ode to you,

  My jar of pickles.

  The news of today

  Not a beat of Bee Gees,

  What news tell of refugees,

  There is not a solution in sight,

  Does anyone know what is right?

  Everything seems to be wrong: today,

  Who has something worthy to say,

  We know not: and it feels wrong,

  And so we try dance this song.

  Thus are we staying alive,

  Or just living a lie?

  News of today.

  A poem a day

  What set me to this path?

  It is almost like math,

  I think it is rad,

  Or is that bad?

  Or perhaps it was that thing about pork chops,

  It threw my mind through multitude of hops,

  Anger and fury shouted from my lungs,

  Rhymes spun as if I had tongues,

  And forgotten as they came,

  Consumed by a flame.

 
The new computer will arrive through mail,

  Though it progress is like that of a snail,

  It reminds me of the 40~ days lost,

  Poems that I might not post,

  Few true gems I think,

  I say without blink.

  What set me to this path?

  It is almost like math,

  I think it is rad,

  Or is that bad?

  Battle of Ideas

  No weapons brandished,

  No lives pointlessly vanished,

  Today we fight a battle of ideas,

  We test arguments with reason,

  And challenge all that we know,

  So a better future we might sow,

  For silence is the death of progress,

  It arms those who long to oppress,

  Places our necks on a chopping block,

  And the blade swings: if we dare talk,

  So brace yourself for the battle of ideas,

  As free speech is tyranny's only disease,

  And the cure to injustices we face,

  So speak up: make your case!

  #CocksNotGlocks?

  'Incompetent media stunts…'

  Whatever you thought you were doing,

  Please consider the bodily fluids,

  Then the orifices it went in,

  Perfect for public spin?

  Something to dangle in cafeteria line,

  Next to your plate while you dine,

  Then as a mark between books,

  Taken from library nooks?

  There are more things for you to fondle,

  So why settle down for some dongles,

  Wave your fake vaginas with guts,

  And bring twerking robot butts!

  Or would that suddenly cross some line,

  Like: sexual objectification isn't fine,

  So consider what you try to protest,

  What you long to have expressed.

  Classroom of dildos wont stop a shooter,

  It will not be the answer of our future,

  And frankly: a classroom with a gun,

  Unlikely any better in the long run.

  So how to combat the lure of Herostratic fame,

  When none will face the mirror of blame,

  To see loneliness and lack of future,

  That pecks hearts like a vulture.

  The Canadian Prime Minister

  Congratulations: I suppose,

  Here is my rhyme and prose,

  For the reason I heard of you,

  Is the result of your verbal cue,