Leaving the Party

When music shifts
To mad disjointed riffs
With lyrics so vexed
Songs of malcontent

When chatter declines
To rants written as warning signs
Sparking profane rumble
Mumble and grumble

When drinks don’t dull
The rank drift of bull
Saliently served in heavy portions
It’s time to leave the party.

Check out these other poems with similar themes:
The Misinformation Machine
Beguiling Grove
You Did This
Breakfast at the Diner

Keep on Truckin’

Dear truck drivers,
We see you,
And we’re sorry.

We’re sorry
You have become pawns
In this red-herring drive
To divide and conquer.

We’re sorry
Your sights have been swayed
By digital drones
Led by
A killer queen bee
Determined to destroy
Democracy
By distributing
Disinformation.

We’re sorry
They told you
It’s a fight for your freedoms,
As you willingly surrender
Your freedoms
To their lies.

You are free
To turn off
Telegram, Gab,
And Rumble
To abandon
The anger
They taught you
Hoping to release
Your rage.

You are free
To deliver happiness
In truck loads
Of three-ply toilet paper
Farm-fresh vegetables
And other essentials.

You are free
To return home
To embrace your family
And live free
From social media driven
Strife


There were so many thoughts running through my mind this morning, I had to get them down before they left. Please forgive the collection of mixed metaphors, alliteration, and imagery. I promise to revisit this post later and make meaningful revisions.

Going Trolling

Turbulent trolls, triggering my crusade.
Your slanderous slurs ignite fevered flames
Souls jaded by your less-than-subtle shade,
Beaten down by trending, trolling games.

Like bombers blowing up vital bridges
Sabotaging decaying foundations,
You guide your flocks to unstable ledges
Moored to bottomless fears and frustrations.

How do we withstand your explosive guile
When you beg for attention hustling hate?
You corral control through clicks rank with bile.
Unless quelled, we will surrender our fate.

We win by withholding vain attention
Rejecting myths you constantly mention.

HOPE(less)

Last spring
I heard the birds
Sing
Their happy tunes
For all

I hoped
It would
never
end

But beasts of prey
Cried angry
Lies from
Their lofty perch
And chased
The birds
Away

They abandoned nests
In this chilly
Land
Their joyful chorus
Gone
A single feather now remains
Beckoning  me
“hold on”