Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
They applauded the president
those with no hands stamped their feet
those with no feet clapped their hands,
and the president smiled his crocodile smile
because he hadn't fought for his country
and he still had hands and feet
but he had no heart
not even a painted purple one!
When the storm is upon us,
We have no fair-weather friends.
I know I'm not in Kansas.
Traveler Apr 15
Choose a side
that fits you best.
Because obviously the other side caused this fracking mess.
And the fools that left
and the fools that followed
in a deep swap of tyranny their oligarchs wallow..
This hegemonic presence is a fierce flame to keep.
Could’ve been, should’ve been careful of all the evil that they’ve heaped..
Traveler 🧳 Tim

So many distractions to keep us from paying attention to the elephant in the room, genocide wars in the Middle East.
Big bad Trump, crazy old Biden, but not a word of Gaza or Yemen on our wonderful news media.
That’s the power of western hegemony!
Davinalion Mar 17
Yo, I’m a Lebanese don, French-teachin’ beast,  
Spittin’ verbs for a livin’, my game’s never ceased,  
Life’s sorted, bruv, proper mint, no cap,  
Hundred grand in the bag, four days, that’s a wrap,  
Easy street, fam, August, July, I’m blessed,  
Vacay on lock, mate, I’m set, no stress.  

Canada’s my turf, ****’s sweet up here,  
Got a crib, no drama, just vibes, crystal clear,  
No kids in the mix, though, that’s the sting,  
Empty nest, fam, no heirs to the king.  

Paycheck? Don’t sweat it, I’m good, I’m straight,  
Fifty on the clock, still holdin’ my weight,  
Mortgage? Ghosted that **** long ago,  
Now I’m thumb-twiddlin’, nowhere to go,  
No sprogs to raise, yeah, it bites, innit,  
Said it before, fam, what’s the fix?
****.  

Wife’s a brick wall, ******’ frigid, no lie,  
Cold as ice, mate, I’m barely gettin’ by,  
Still, I keep it chill, motto’s real tight—  
Sleep sound, don’t clown, no evil in sight,  
**** the big questions, I ain’t losin’ my head,  
“What’s the point?” Who cares? I’m alive, not dead,  
French in Canada? Bruv, they don’t give a toss,  
Hang myself for that? Nah, that’s a loss.  

I’m jabbed to the max, health’s on lock, no fear,  
Swine flu, Zika, Covid, ticks in my ear,  
Cholera, malaria, typhoid, I’m clean,  
Vaginal cancer? Mate, that’s obscene,  
Won’t step out ‘less insurance got my back,  
Bus stop trek’s a risk, that’s a fact,  
STD paranoia’s got me wired, no slack,  
But that edge keeps the fire in my sack.  

Check it—I’m sharp, details on blast,  
******’s tight like fibre optic, built to last,  
High-speed bandwidth, safe as ****, fam,  
Nerves shot to ****, but I still got a plan,  
Mission one, top tier, no debate,  
Find a **** bird, but keep it digi, mate,  
Cloud server’s my turf, that’s the play,  
No real-world mess, just slay all day.  

Half-******, I flop, laptop’s my throne,  
face book the spot, I’m in the zone,  
Bam—there’s Tasha, she’s live, she’s real,  
Chattin’ me up, bruv, that’s the deal.  

----
Tasha:

Yo, darling, been holdin’ it down for years,
Waitin’ on you, fam, drownin’ in tears,
Missed you my whole **** life, no lie,
I’d jump your bones now—****, I’d try,
But chill—let’s vibe, spit some chat online,
French on your tongue? ****, that’s fine,
I’m all English, bruv, proper slick,
Tasha’s the name, I’m your pick.

Dreamin’ of linkin’, it’s crystal clear,
Post your fifty, my spark’s right here,
Life’s rebooted, fresh off the press,
You’re the plug, fam, no stress.

I’ve scoped the game, clocked every face,
Life’s ****** me raw, tossed me ‘round the place,
Schooled me hard, threw me to the grind,
But you? Ain’t no basic *****, you’re kind,

Sweet as ****, seasoned, not stale,
****’s a beast—lush, mate, off the scale.
England’s my gift, you’ll learn it fast,
England raised me, built me to last,
Banged Chaucer, wild in the sack,
****** off Boris—yo, that’s a fact!

Split my whole life, you were gone too long,
Now we’re locked, bruv, duet so strong,
Ache was hell, nothin’ cut so deep,
This win’s the ****—top prize I keep.

Be my man, fam, sling some dough,
PayPal’s poppin’, let it flow,
Drop what you got to the spot I sent,
Smooches, love — your Lulu’s bent.

----

Yo, I clock off, stumble in, wife’s laid up in bed,
Hospital vibes, fam, I’m done, brain dead,
Doc hits my line, stressin’, voice all shrill,
“She’s ******, bruv—hip’s toast, sugar’s ill,
Still kickin’, though, that cow’s got years,
Tech’s a *****, mate, progress interferes.”

I’m mute, he’s like, “Oi, you still there?”
Yeah, doc, right here, aggro in the air,
Say I’m tuned in, but my head’s a void—
Nah, **** that, I’m strippin’ birds in my mind, overjoyed,
Drop the call, scream in my skull instead—
“You bled me dry, you ****, ****** red!
Croak already, quit screwin’ my mind!”
I grab a rag, wax the floors, leave ‘em signed,
Hallway, bog, slick as ****, no slack,
So this Yankee ***** trips and cracks her back,
Broken hip? Love, you don’t even know,
I’m knackered to death of your limp-*** show,
Welcome home, *****—slip and eat the floor!

What the ****, fam—why’d I hit fifty?
No kids, crib’s a tomb, life’s shifty,
Clinic’s my local, sixty’s on the creep,
Lost in the sauce, tangled deep,
Ain’t smashed in thirty, dry as a bone,
Time to flip the script, set a new tone.

Back at it—plop down, comp’s my shrine,
Plug my **** in the socket, spark’s divine,
Pray to Wi-Fi gods, tissue in my grip,
Feel that buzz, bruv, bones start to rip,

Electric surge, crashin’ the Channel’s flow,
Lebanon’s ghosted, England’s my show,
Moors, rain, mad ****, rugged as ****,
Heathcliff’s smashin’ Cathy, pure luck,

Culture’s deep, soul’s raw, filth in the air,
English birds kneel for a foreign affair,
Not some local ****, but a hybrid king—
Lebanese-Yank, bruv, hear ‘em sing.

Sit at the screen, tik-tok my domain,
Tap up a baddie—fit, stacked, insane,
Lonely, hot, English, she’s the one,
Lebanese saints—miracle’s begun!

Connected, no cap, I’ve broke through the haze,
“Alright, Mandy!”—time to blaze.
----
Mandy:

Out past the chippy, ‘round Kirkby’s end,
Lasses clocked a lad, not one of our send,
No local divvy — this one’s pure mad,
Foreign as ****, Lebanese lad.

We’re all gobsmacked, jaws on the floor,
What’s this global ****** knockin’ our door?
Never copped a geezer this off the chain,
Some Beirut oddball, proper strange.

Our Scouse lads? They’re gone to ****,
Lost the plot, proper threw a fit,
****** all day, scrappin’, necks in a noose,
Wasted away, rotting, no use,

Not a soul left, streets bare and grim,
Echoes of ale and a fightin’ hymn.
Ain’t no clouds dimmin’ the Mersey sky,
It’s vultures circlin’, ready to fly,

Mad Asians, hill blokes, swoopin’ in fast,
Eyein’ up a fit bird to ****** and blast,
Who’s savin’ her **** from that grim fate?
Who’s the poor cow prayin’ on late?

My ray of hope, chase off the dark,
Smash them ****** out, leave your mark,
Drop a sweet note, let it soar on cue,
Wings over waves to your Scouse bird true,

Loyal as ****, young, holdin’ it down,
Waitin’ for ages, cash to crown,
Western Union boost, fatten my stack,
Smooches, lad, love — Nia’s back.

------------------------------------

Yo, I stumble in, deadass beat, tryna get turnt,
Mailbox hit me with a curveball—petition? Ain’t this some dirt?
Local party clowns, straight wastemen, no cap,
“No cyber-******* crashin’ our vote, oh snap!
Save our bacon, fam, don’t wanna flop,
Wire a bag quick—to this address, don’t stop.

Bunch of muppets, fam, proper plonkers,
Cut me off from Lisa? That’s the final bonkers.
They lost the plot, heads up their ***,
Bust a hip for twenty-five, then chat pure dumb,
English bodied the French, history’s facts,
Now it’s Canada, Lebanon—throw ‘em the axe,
Chinese, Indians, whoever’s in sight,
I’m pickin’ “Wellington” from the bird site—
Fam, she’s peng, a baddie, no cap,
Wigan bound, I’m baggin’ her back,
Stateside we roll, her fam’s gonna vibe,
Brewskis with her bro, I’m in the tribe,
Sis, niece, mates, uni squad too,
They’ll stan me hard, like I’m fam, true,
Screamin’ as one—“Christ, what a plot twist!
Lebanon, British — same **** list!”

We’re locked in, fam, side by side we ride,
Hitched up proper, bells ringin’ wide,
Her lit teacher blessin’, English flair,
Bangin’ forever, love’s rare air,
Our kiddos’ll crash the net, rule the sphere,
Universal dons, crystal clear.

Back to the comp, tissue in my clutch,
Facebook my jam, babe, feel the rush,
Router’s fryin’ hot, joy’s overload,
“Alright, Lowri!”—I’m set to explode.

------------------

Lowri:

Yo, where you at, bruv? Day’s been too long,
Some side chick snag ya? Nah, I’m still strong,
Don’t twist it up—I ain’t ******, no sweat,
Kiss me quick, squeeze me tight, place your bet.

We’re glued, fam, thick like thieves in the night,
No one’s rippin’ us—step off, take flight,
Time and space kneel, I’m the queen of the grind,
Runnin’ this ****, fam, lovin’ the bind.

I hold the world down, red tape’s my throne,
Launchin’ rockets up or blastin’ ‘em blown,
Revolutions spark, I’m the match, no cap,
Migration’s dodge, climate’s clapped—I’m that.

Stocks dip or soar, ‘cause I say it’s so,
Check me—clean, foamy, waxed to glow,
**** on point, clip’s locked, hormones hum,
Proper hard for ya, fam, feel the drum.

What’s this? Oh, snap—stripes on my chest,
Call me Mandy—nah, ditch that jest,
Shane, Nats, Lisa, pick your fave,
Morse it out—Phil, dot-dot, Gaz’s wave,
English birds been wild since the game got spun,
***** on lock, bruv, poppin’ every one.

Want it raw? Step up—card digits, now,
Don’t stall, you ****, man up, don’t bow,
“Debt repayment” stamped, we’re cashin’ that bid,
You owe English blood, French-lovin’ ****.

Bow to the bot, you Lebanese *****,
Gold-standard ****, I’m everywhere, slick,
Ballybunion born, Tralee’s my tweak,
ISS glitch—drilled the hull, peak freak.
Flooded the game, ****** gran and gramps,
Bug meets kid, corruption’s my stamps,
Mouse’s down, cat’s smashed, downloads unreal,
Kaspersky shields me — from who? Don’t squeal.

Legion’s my tag, sea’s got no size,
App Store king, bruv, watch me rise.

I iced your wife, yeah, that’s my claim,
Squat on ***** sites, playin’ the game,
Taxes flow to me, I’m the state’s core,
Speechless, fam? Eyes glued—want more?

I’m your God, your blaze, light so bright,
Squint hard, see my bush ignite.
Kiss me, grip me, hands on deck,
Party’s done, years stretch—what’s next?
Words won’t bridge us, love’s mute as ****,
Gotta jet — where? Compass stuck.

Smooches, crew, catch ya down the road,
Fam, I’m set to unload,
Strap 3 clearance, runnin’ this game,
Hackin’, *******’, skivin’ on the sly,
Kirkby’s dodgiest, Her Maj’s wild guy,
Kneel, *******,
to Senior Intel Sarge Pritchard!

Bye!
Democratic death
The scales of justice lean right
A tattered flag hangs
Francie Lynch Apr 14
I taught children to write cursive.
And how to drive a stick.
In fact, they learned all my baby boomer things,
Like reading (aloud and to oneself), walking,
Talking with friends (facially, in person).
They learned about winning, and all about losing, with dignity.
They learned about friendship, loyalty, honour, trust,
And perseverence.
They learned that truth, as hard as it might be, was ok.
These should not, cannot, be sidelined.

But today's child is not for these times.
They are time travellers.
d m Apr 14
58
i held my breath till it whistled  
   // like a kettle with a grudge //  
the moon’s face flickers—  
     too lemon to trust,  
     too god to look away from  

(you see it too, don’t you?)

   // the men in glass shoes  
   stomping on the grass  
   call it progress //  
& we clap like good teeth  
    like teeth that belong  

i woke up with hands full of gravel  
     (my spine still replaying  
     that tuesday when  
     the news kissed me on the mouth
     58 dead in Gaza  
     it tasted like iron)

       i’m not built for this century  
       i was born on mute  
       but everyone’s shouting  
       inside  
       their suits

someone’s building  
       a new god  
       in the basement  
       of a pharmacy  
            —says it kills the fake
            —says it’s making the world great again

my chest is full of alarms  
   but they only go off  
   when i sit still  

i tried to pray but  
    all the vowels were sold out  
    so i just hummed  
    till i forgot the tune  
    or the meaning  
    or the shape of  
            safe

          (what was that again?)  

    don’t look at me  
    i’m just another scarecrow  
    made of receipts  
    mouthing  
        please stop
        in perfect  
        passive  
        silence
Zywa Apr 13
The Great Superboss

funes the stock markets: a crash --


of bulk moneyballs.
Comic strip #104 - "Heer Bommel en De Bovenbazen" ("Sir Bumble and The Superbosses", 1963, Marten Toonder)

Stock market manipulation by United States President Trump on April 4th, 2025

Collection "**** & Lord"
Em MacKenzie Apr 8
The devil is sitting at a table
make sure to provide top service,
and if you are somehow able,
hide that his aggression makes you nervous.
When the White House is just a smidge too white,
it might be time for us Canucks to pull a 1814.
How can someone do absolutely nothing right?
and think what will be a nightmare will help revive an American dream?

The devil is sitting at the desk,
and he’s got yes men to shine and kiss his shoes.
It was finally time for him to fail a test
but his misguided cultists refused to let him lose.
When the White House is just a smidge too white,
even if the occupant is known to be orange.
He’s shutting the gates just too tight,
rushing Capitol instead of tearing his door hinge.

The devil is sitting at a table
he’s got the finest cutlery set,
and the legs of it aren’t stable
with each wobble he places his next bet.
When the White House is just a smidge too white,
I think it needs to be stripped and gain a new coat.
Why is a symbol of oppression dressed up so bright,
when it’s walls protect one and strangle every other throat?

He “did everything right” and they indicted him;
and now we fight eachother when we should be fighting him.
These people have forgot how the world turns,
infact they believe it’s stationery and around them.
So they anticipate heat when they make the world burn,
and await a rose after they rooted and snapped each stem.

Isn’t it absolutely insane
how the free can unknowingly live in a prison?
Didn’t anyone tell you even a Hurricane
can’t cleanse American Capitalism?
Wake up, the alarm went off hours ago.
kevin Apr 1
people are capable of silence
in privacy
one's own thoughts
created from brilliance
in the darkness of peace
the mind at rest
whole and alone
out front of the sun
the illusion of an exit
her dent, and lust
to burn home into her mind
yet not all are acquainted
with ancient cycles
relenting reason, tusking the fools
the wrong way, an unjust intro,forcing time
and the phone call, the injustice
of buying the phone call out
to stay in your morbid prison
fascinated in front of the world
only the world of yourself, the jealousy and the hell
thinking and demanding insanity, declaring " i or we get to know!!!"
is to crush the silent lives waiting for you to leave
Next page