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Kvothe Jun 2014
There's a nail,
he's set up camp in my brain.
Hammered with daylight,
held infuriatingly fast by night.
Even the stiffest claw
would be of no use,
not anymore.
His presence would herald slumber,
were I of a normal stock.
But no. He brings attention to
the tick. The tock.
If I inch him further,
with fervour,
maybe he will abdicate,
adjacent to his entry.
But I know he'll return,
pitching by the morn,
leaving my rest
completely,
utterly,
torn.
Najwa Kareem Jan 2019
We fed ourselves on New Year's well

Gifts were exchanged over the song The First Noel

The evening before Christmas drinks were had

Many fooling themselves that they are glad

Throughout the cheer, men, women, and children in Yemen forgotten

Leftover turkeys and roasts would be hurriedly eaten even if found rotten

Starvation has Yemeni bodies eating themselves

Have you seen photos of their emaciated figures on newspapers' shelves

Pregnant women and newborn babies with dead husbands and dead fathers

How do they care for themselves when in the grand scheme of things no one bothers

Saudi military should go **** on themselves

Murderous cowards that they are playing with Santa's elves

Women in Yemen being ***** and domestic violence bring me to tears

Would they get away with their satanic work if the U.S. wasn't kissing their filthy rears

Seriously dangerous diseases running rampant

Yemenis beautiful skin no longer so lambent

So few of us care enough to choke up for our Ahmeds and for our Imans

I ask infuriatingly will it take a whole country's destruction to rise for Yemen's Marwans
Grace Jordan May 2015
You know what, this is not a love story this time. In this case, it never was. I thought it was, but I was mistaken and lied to by my lonely heart. And For once, I am standing my ground and telling you what you deserve to hear.

*******.

******* for making me so dependent on you that I was scared to stand up to you, even though you were cruel to everyone I loved. You may have thought you were cute, you may have thought it was your odd way of love, but it was honestly just an excuse to be an utter ***** to everyone and none of us should have tolerated it.

******* for competing with me. I am not a competitive person, but you'd laugh and comment how you were better, smarter, more mature. It drove me wild. Not only because your arrogance made me want to drive you into the ground, but also because it made me feel like I had to prove myself to you, brag in front of you, compete with you to feel worthy.

******* for turning on me at my weakest. Over a boy for god's sakes. I was your best friend, the one you turned to and confided in, and you started to completely disregard me over a boy I had feelings for first. You had no respect for our friendship in any facet, and it made me regret letting you in at all.

******* for always being at the back of my mind, for being so infuriatingly insidious that I have to always check up on you and worry about you even though you don't deserve it. For doing things that don't make me feel anything but pity and concern for your life, instead of being proud and maybe thinking I could accept you.

******* for making me want to **** myself. For being the selfish catalyst who showed me the cuts on her legs and made me feel so guilty that I didn't deserve life. Everyone deserves life, even the cruelest of people, and to purposefully make me feel that worthless, just to try to win me back, was the most heartless, selfish, thoughtless thing you could have ever done.

******* for being similar to me in any frivolous way, because now I am utterly terrified to be anything like you. Obsessive, rude, cruel, thoughtless, and selfish. I fear for my boyfriend, my friends, everyone around me because I know being your friend has given me the capacity to be just as ruthless as you. And I hate you for it.

******* for making me forget anything pleasurable about our relationship. All I can feel is a burning frustration when I hear your name, or an overwhelming sadness, or endless anger. None of it is pleasant.

******* for everything you've done to me, and **** the dark part of my heart that exists now because of your knives stabbing me in the back.

******* for still making me think about you, and ******* for any part of me that is like you.

I'm done with you. This is the end. Its ******* over.

And just remember.

*******.
Katie Murray Nov 2015
She was the resident insomniac
(The lack never showed on her beautiful mind)

Her green eyes pierce the dark at 3 in the morning
(The only thing sharper than her gaze was her wit)

She was the wisps of flyaway hair
The shadows magnifying her cheeks

She was a collection of features
Eyes, lips, hands
Melded seamlessly, stitches invisible under the moonlight

She waited up night after night
(Her stubbornness was infuriatingly admirable)

But the open window yielded not a soul
And still she lay there, fingers twitching erratically


She was never one for happy endings anyways
19/10/15
Jackie Aug 2013
Dear "adults",
I hate it when you look down on those of us in high school,
As if there's some sort of unspoken rule
That the time we spend in such a place
Is supposed to be sublime.

"Stop complaining."
I'm sorry, I assumed that when you asked about my day
I wasn't supposed to mask what I say
And tell you that everything is swell.

To what extent will you dismiss my discontent
Toward the discipline with hardly any discipline nowadays?

"You'll miss it. Just wait until you get into the real world."
The "real world"?
Why, suddenly, is my world not real enough for you?
From all I've been through in my life,
High school has presented me with the most strife, and so
Since when is a bit of resentment
Unjustified?

The nerve you pride
Yourself in having, presuming
That there is any amount of artificiality in my reality
Is infuriatingly consuming.

How can you think we could make any sense
Of the difficulties surrounding anything but what we've experienced?
This I cannot comprehend.
But maybe you want us to pretend?

"How was school today?"
Oh, it was okay.
I only dealt with misunderstanding,
The pressure of classes being so demanding,
The difficulty of self consciousness
That is amplified each day by bullies' relentlessness.
I only endured mental exhaustion
From switching subjects each hour, without option.
I simply struggled with your expectation
That colleges should long to give me an invitation,
Even though I'm being forced to commit to
A life plan I've made based off the little I've been through.

School is a privilege, we know,
Yet, so is possessing a job.
So why, then, am I a snob,
When you're allowed to 'complain'?

I realize that life could be much worse for me,
And someday high school might seem like a breeze,
But until the day comes when I become aware
That the troubles of high school cannot compare,
Let me have my time to vent, please.
It's a controversial topic, but I wrote this out of my experiences with certain adults, so it isn't necessarily the same case for everyone.
Ylzm Mar 2022
A mystery you can read and hear:
reading without understanding
and hearing without seeing

The wicked studied and searched diligently
to be on the right side at the right time
only revealing and judging themselves as evil

For without the Prophet's spirit
your interpretation reveals your spirit
oblivious to its grotesque nakedness

Only in private are mysteries explained
as parables were thousands of years ago
for you don't throw pearls to pigs

Then the mystery is as plain as the news
but not as the world count news
even as time is not as the world count time

Infuriatingly frustrating to speak plainly
it's obvious and inescapable as the sun
then your eyes open and you see the blind

Broken, stumbling, falling and crawling
proud of their wits, strength, and unity
I turn to see and touch the face of the sun
wordvango Jul 2014
Search the chorus for a proper voice
a noted ring, a centering of whispered scream
like a elm glade catering on a soul cliff

the cliff, flies unforgiving, with smoke sting
a pest, but faith's river flows through amazing
infuriatingly slow
through a windowpane  a pine vestige
We see nests unveiling
the falcon's spread magnificence
in September fade
remembering.
shanika yrs Feb 2018
I am infuriatingly out glowed with ecstasy
by  post traumatic serotonin rush of the accident of
that my law breaking motor bike hit in another car
whom purely taking his turn to the left

Now it is the dawn of dusk, last few seconds of the day
but I never wanted to wash the blood of the scratches I got
instated  I purely enjoy seen them drying up
nonetheless It felt to my juvenile mind some protagonist kind of a pride about me
keep walking with blood splatted white linen shirt and black shades
I am an ecstatic
I showed both the fingers to the docs and to the hospital staff
you know the prospect patient with an insurance

I was an innocent law breaker, Juvenile
thus no wonder why I see that turning to the left is never right
and of course neither to right is right because
the hospital , that was in the right from the junction
I only rode my bike straight in narrow bleak space of
all among the mid day traffic jam of insanely busy people

by the way car driver was a good guy
though he doesn't own that hybrid black boy he drove
we shook hands , shared good byes and  I came back home
then breaking the virtue of healthy non smoking
I lit a cigarette
© shanikayrs
Brandon Navarro Dec 2014
The way your smile looks like
a few rough times came in and knocked out your teeth
but the child stayed,
your laugh and it's booming base
like I'm at a metal concert being thrashed around by hundreds of people.
The way your eyes look like someone said something mean to you but you told them to *******,
the way your skins feel against my skin soft like satin with an underlay of warmth.
How you didn't talk to me all week and I'm not mad
in fact all I did was think of you
and your smile, your laugh, your voice and your body against mine.
Finally,
the way your hug makes me realize how infuriatingly fragile I am and your arms are like the paste that holds me together.

I'm falling and I'm scared.
Just going through some times
Nevermore Feb 2015
Which is better

To feel nothing
But a halcyon calm
Like a fine summer morning,
Or to be ****** to and fro
By the ice, spray, and lightning
Of the tempest?

To stroll the meadow,
Or to climb the mountain?

I've gone through both
Yet the answer still eludes me
I remain as ignorant as I was
In the days of my youth

But what I do know
Is how my chest tightened
How my breath caught
When you sent me a message
(Your very first)
And how my lips impulsively purse
As I peek at yours
And at the speck of a mole
Resting right below

What I do know
Is how I couldn't keep my eyes
From straying towards your corner
(Still can't)
And how my hand trembled
Just as I squeezed your shoulder
Bidding you farewell

Or how I've worn out my iPod
Replaying Jay Chou's ballads
As I sang my heart out to my steering wheel
Numbly crawling through
The maddening, seething traffic

And how the breeze eats my cigarette
Down to its filter
As I stare up
Dumbfounded
Mapping out
Tracing your face among the stars

How my neurotransmitters **** me
Closer and closer to a heart attack
And how my soul weeps and bemoans
The yawning chasm betwixt us
While you sit there infuriatingly oblivious
Chattering away about Warcraft and barley tea

All these things are
The few of what I do know
The last of which
Is how I'll never have you.
To the geisha.
KM Jan 2013
How can I call it a loss
When there was nothing there
Nothing to work with
Nothing of value
You were never a friend
Infuriatingly ignorant
Of the poison you pour
Down everyone's throat

No, this is not a loss
But a liberation
Free from spite that you carry
Free to not worry about what havoc
You will unleash when I am not there
To keep you at bay
Away from my family
Away from my friends

Take your Spite
Take your Jealousy
Your Hated and Envy
And place them on someone else.
And don't fool yourself
Make the decision for me?
No, you just beat me to the punch
Telling me I was not your friend

I don't think we ever were.
Liz Anne Apr 2012
You are earth but I can’t feel the sky closing in

You haven’t seen my face but marked like mine


I’ve seen your hand in my sunglasses



And that’s just enough fight for me




Calling out does no good for petulant screams





I can’t believe you’ve never seen the sea







I know now you’ll never again want me







Ghosts in my hall and monsters in my soul









I couldn’t betray them if I tried









Silence is no sorrow I’ve ever known











Gravel and rock in my path wear and weather












All of my best feet have jaded holes













Lies untouched are never unspoken














Filth and fondness grow clandestinely
















Gazing nostalgically and infuriatingly far
















Find my ever mutable, lost, and final role


















Past is no present I’d imagine living again



















You are earth but I’m not closing in
Hannah Beth Mar 2015
Me
I want to be -

What?

That is the problem. I simply want to be.

To clarify -
I wish to be me.

See, me - it is  not the easiest thing to free. Eighteen years of uncertainty, of broken puzzle-piece searches through fear, love, art, what have you -

All for the chance to grasp even an inkling of identity;

Of me.

But, look -
I did it.
A start, anyhow. I saw my shadow, my outline,
and without hesitation
It was seized.
I gripped it tight
Refusing to let something sought so long
Slip through my fingers like water would fall.

Yet I lack time
I lack space
I lack ability,
Opportunity,
To break free of old restraints

Me - it is just infuriatingly

Beyond reach

I see you, me. I know what I need.

Yet I lay here imprisoned in a world worn by greed
Worked like a slave til eyes droop with fatigue

All I need is a door
A little room to escape

Room to breathe; breathing space

To find residence elsewhere;
Grab "me" on the way.

(Then, maybe then - I'll find peace. Some day.)
Bit of a long one!
--- Oct 2013
To escape this life
This stress
These schedules and time
My dream
My wish
Impossible yet
Yet
I want it so badly
Sunset
Warmth
To lay next to you
And to escape this infuriatingly repetitive
Stressful life
ishaan khandpur Dec 2014
Words flow simple,
Without a thought.
When you're in love,
And she's far beyond.

But the closer she gets,
The harder it seems.
To be the same love,
That made you lose sleep.

Nights filled with wonder,
Are now spent with her.
The nearer she gets,
The further you disappear.

Infatuatingly frightful,
Infuriatingly close.
Her love deems you mindless,
Wondering what went wrong.

For everything is right,
But the world seems hazed.
A misty might,
A question in the glaze.
NeroameeAlucard Jun 2016
Can you love someone like me?
Who's grown Comfortable alone in my own zone like me?
Can you really invest in me?
Are you going to be there during my best and my worst because the two things are so different you see

Can you love someone who's been rejected
Brokenhearted, dosed, depressed, yet infuriatingly introspective
Can you look past the medieval exterior and see the troubled but loving soul within?

Do I meet your short term requirements? Or am I simply not a "good enough" man?
Myri Apr 2016
Banging banging banging
Against the head board
Thinking of good reasons to do things
Head growling humming whispering
Good enough but not good enough
Every which way spinning
Convulsing
Bright lights in the corner
But how to reach it
Turn it off
It's too big of a glimpse
Into what's in store
Just so infuriatingly close
Just so far
Jack Apr 2016
I love you
Our love is anger in alleys
And fights to nowhere
Our love is dead end cellphone calls to red giants and endless trips to deeper and
deeper space
Where nothing is real nor exists and yet
reality infuriatingly becomes the universe
Our love is two feet and ground and
escaping red balloons or
a forgotten child's hair ribbon trapped in a windy tree
Our love is earth and fire and water but no wind
And the sky's eventual fall on our heads
Our sweetest downfall
I loved you first
and last and backwards and forwards and sideways and longways and slantways and backways
Our love is 'I know you' from age 11 to infinity
Take the word love and fill it with
150 years of time.
That's the love I mean.
Sarah Mar 2014
I don’t think I have ever had such a crush on someone and simultaneously been so unbelievably infuriatingly frustrated with them. Thinking of you makes me feel like my chest is on fire. Maybe it’ll help if you kiss me in the cold, or maybe  I’ll just put my heart on ice. Lovers want what they can’t have, and I’m in wanting again. You’re like wishing for rain in a desert. The lion chases the lamb but the lamb is just a little too fast this time around. I’m speaking in metaphors, but honey, we’re a walking cliche.
December 2013
Sarah Langton Feb 2017
Dear Adults,
I hate it when you look down on those of us in high school,
As if there's some sort of unspoken rule
That the time we spend in such a place
Is supposed to be sublime.

"Stop complaining."
I'm sorry, I assumed that when you asked about my day
I wasn't supposed to mask what I say
And tell you that everything is swell.

To what extent will you dismiss my discontent
Toward the discipline with hardly any discipline nowadays?

"You'll miss it. Just wait until you get into the real world."
The "real world"?
Why, suddenly, is my world not real enough for you?
From all I've been through in my life,
High school has presented me with the most strife, and so
Since when is a bit of resentment
Unjustified?

The nerve you pride
Yourself in having, presuming
That there is any amount of artificiality in my reality
Is infuriatingly consuming.

How can you think we could make any sense
Of the difficulties surrounding anything but what we've experienced?
This I cannot comprehend.
But maybe you want us to pretend?

"How was school today?"
Oh, it was okay.
I only dealt with misunderstanding,
The pressure of classes being so demanding,
The difficulty of self consciousness
That is amplified each day by bullies' relentlessness.
I only endured mental exhaustion
From switching subjects each hour, without option.
I simply struggled with your expectation
That colleges should long to give me an invitation,
Even though I'm being forced to commit to
A life plan I've made based off the little I've been through.

School is a privilege, we know,
Yet, so is possessing a job.
So why, then, am I a snob,
When you're allowed to 'complain'?

I realise that life could be much worse for me,
And someday high school might seem like a breeze,
But until the day comes when I become aware
That the troubles of high school cannot compare,
Let me have my time to vent, please.
Rose Oct 2014
You’re one of those amazingly indescribable people;
infuriatingly abstract and so intriguing to someone like me.

Like over-romanticised black coffee,
and being woken up by birdsong and dawn
after sleeping on your arm so it feels like a stolen limb,
a whole part of you is weightless, numb
and you never realised how heavy you were
until you tried picking yourself back up.

And you’re like new school shoes
and my lopsided ears that made my glasses,
tilt to one side,
so no one else saw the world like I did.

Like finding money in the grime,
of the sofas abyss, or behind the
loose tile were I’d hide gum
but then realising its counterfeit.

And yet, you were like the major C
but my strings weren’t tuned
and I left you flat.

You are like the final sunset of summer,
your profile burning in the bonfire,
the ash gluing to your eyelashes,
and your feet buried in the sand
toes peeking through
but already gone.
arielle Oct 2018
jealousy
ragged breaths
green eyed monster crawling in the pit of my stomach
long fingernails clawing my sides
a searing urge to prove myself
a desperate want to kick you in the face
a concealed longing (from even myself) yearning to have that too
to not feel this way
to be there in your place
and wipe out that infuriatingly smug look off your face
i hate her
time scratches past infuriatingly
catching upon every tangle along the way
stretching tortured moments taut
excruciating
tearing when its all too much to take
holier than thou
Jack R Fehlmann May 2019
So suddenly, certainly, the certainty
Itself, as it was does seem to vanish.
It had been... Had it not?.. Been.
Real as the hidden clauses, was it not love?
Contingent upon unfaultered perfection, love offered
Promises given, whispered and offered in acts and,
In written words poetically dedicated and surrendered.
Known to be as it holds a cadence it, this, unspoken unobtainable and loafty demand that nothing less,
No hint of weakness or need of any but your own be shown.
At pain of loss, at loss of stature and withdrawal of unproven unconditional love whispered across those infuriatingly
And unforgettable lips I know I do and will and forever still promise to, try after, cry over forever to fail for, you, yours, our love. As I know no want no need, no other will be mine, as it seems neither are or will yours be mine... Love.
As human and imperfect and made of lesser things than the stone you desire, I am destined to fail, every attempt I make at being perfect.
Artemis Sep 2021
I dance my dance
high up in the clouds
and among the stars

here, I am limitless
here, we are infinite

but the Earth is still below us
this world of concrete and precious few jungles

it is omnipotent
or maybe I am

regardless, there it stays
infuriatingly solid
must I return?

five more minutes
Elizz Jul 2018
The moment you opened your eyes
My heart started fluttering
Part of me thought I was going to die
The other rational part told me to just calm down it was fine
AND THEN

I got ******
Because in my ears echoing as if I were in an opera hall
I could hear your infuriatingly stupidly smug laugh
Haunting me and hounding me like Marley's chains rattling at old Scrooge
Your smile flashed across my opened eyes like a new projector
And I didn't really appreciate that
I've begun to notice that your laugh only comes out
When you've successfully flustered me
I can feel the beats of butterfly wings trapped against the ribs that have become their cage

I thought these things were supposed to be in your stomach not your ribcage
But now that I find myself off on a tangent
I would just like you to know
That if there were ******* butterflies in my **** stomach
The acid in my stomach would dissolve them
So I guess that this isn't an accurate example of how you make me feel
But then again as a four year old climbs into the chair I'm sitting in

I honestly wonder what is
Maybe one of these days I'll bother looking away
Long enough to actually find out
Guess these butterflies won't be dissolved
Maybe if I put them in an envelope
That would fix the beats that speed up my pulse
Roses are red violets are blue...The fact is, I could write encyclopedias about how ****** and stupid Lord of the Rings is. And don’t even get me started on Harry Potter—what a pathetic, daddy-issue-ridden mess.

If I were up against Harry and his little twerps, I’d punt them like a field goal. It would be over in seconds. I’d crack their skulls before they got a single word out. And even if they tried their weak nonsense, I’d just cast Silence. How are you going to cast a spell when you can't speak? An entire world, a sweeping saga undone by one common spell.

The relationships, the dynamics, and the way characters are often placed in dangerous situations where their vulnerabilities are exploited, it’s unsettling. There’s no escape from this undercurrent of grooming, particularly in the way characters like Harry are pushed into morally gray situations, all under the guise of “destiny” or “greatness.” These are children. They should be protected, but instead, they’re put on pedestals and used as pawns for an adult’s war. It’s deeply disturbing.

Then, there’s the complete failure of Albus Dumbledore as a figure of authority and wisdom. What a complete failure he is. This man—who’s supposedly one of the wisest, most revered characters in the magical world—does nothing but pass the responsibility for everything onto others. He’s a coward, manipulating children to fight his battles, all while withholding information, and putting them in harm’s way. He doesn’t have the backbone to act when it matters, and his inability to learn from his own mistakes is a flaw that plagues him throughout the entire series. It’s as if he’s incapable of making a single ethical decision. He’s not noble; he’s a manipulative fraud, and it’s an insult to the very concept of leadership.

Let’s talk about the Wizarding World, shall we? A society with magic so powerful that it can literally solve every problem you can imagine—yet it ignores the real-world issues that plague its own citizens. There’s no effort to address poverty, child abuse, or any of the things that would actually make a difference in the lives of people. They could solve world hunger with a simple spell, or cure diseases with a flick of a wand, yet they choose to turn a blind eye to the suffering happening around them. There’s no technological progression; nothing seems to move forward because the entire society is stuck in an outdated, backward system that can barely handle the modern problems that keep popping up. But why bother changing anything when you can just wave a wand and pretend everything is fine? The whole system is utterly nonsensical.

And the writing? It’s embarrassingly basic. There’s nothing to it. Everything about the prose screams “children's book” in the worst way possible. It’s repetitive, formulaic, and devoid of any real depth or complexity. The descriptions are lazy, often using the same tired adjectives over and over again. The magic is treated like some child’s toy; there’s no real explanation for how it works, just vague references to the “mystical.” Nothing is ever fully fleshed out. It’s all just there, existing for the sake of advancing the plot without any thought for coherence or world-building.

And Voldemort? Don’t get me started. He is the weakest, most laughable villain to ever appear in fiction. He could’ve been defeated at any time, but somehow, this “evil overlord” manages to survive through sheer incompetence and plot armor. He doesn’t even have the sense to **** a baby when he has the chance, let alone successfully carry out any of his grandiose plans. The whole idea of him as a villain is a joke. It’s a tragedy that such a character is even given any weight or importance in the story.

The disturbing undertones that run through the series are perhaps the most overlooked aspects of Harry Potter. Let’s talk about how Snape, a grown man, seems obsessed with Harry’s mother, Lily. He’s this bitter, twisted character who can’t seem to move past some deep-seated emotional issues and makes the whole thing about his personal revenge fantasies. His fixation on a teenage girl, and later Harry’s mother, feels far more like a grudge than any noble sense of duty or redemption. It’s disturbing in ways that go unaddressed. And don’t even get me started on how the children are treated like slaves, especially in the way they are kept in the dark about their true roles in all of this. They’re pushed into war, taught to fight, and are left to deal with the fallout of decisions they have no power over. They’re nothing but pawns, manipulated and discarded when it’s convenient.

Rowling constantly sexualizes underage characters. She describes 14-year-old girls' bodies, their “curves,” the way boys “notice” them. Hermione’s sudden transformation at the Yule Ball is written like a ****** ******* reveal. Why does she need to be sexualized? She’s a kid.

In the end, the world of Harry Potter makes no sense. It’s a place where magic could solve all of society’s problems but doesn’t. It’s a series that asks you to believe that the same people who can make objects levitate or conjure food out of thin air are somehow incapable of improving anything let alone  their world. The entire premise is based on a series of lazy tropes chosen ones, magical worlds, and grand destinies that don’t hold up under even the slightest scrutiny. It’s a patchwork of stolen ideas, slapped together with no real thought or originality. And let’s not forget about the endless repetition. The magic may change, but the problems, the structure, and the tropes remain the same. It’s the same story told over and over again, with no real growth or evolution in the narrative.

This series is nothing more than a well-disguised piece of trash, a work of shallow, repetitive nonsense that has been falsely elevated as some sort of cultural touchstone.   Its Christians so. it makes complete sense. They love this kind of crap. It's the core of their whole reality. So no wonder they eat this garbage up It’s a poor man’s fantasy, made for children with no taste and no real understanding of what great storytelling is. It’s insulting to anyone who has ever read a truly great book, and it’s insulting to anyone who knows how to think critically. It’s lazy, it’s derivative, and it’s full of everything wrong with modern literature.  Kind of like the Quran. If you really want to see what magic looks like, look there it has a flyin horse with a humans face. But Larry Trotter this is just smoke and mirrors, designed to distract from the mediocrity at its core.

Voldemort? One of the weakest, lamest, most pathetic villains ever. well Sour ron  from LOTR is bad too real bad he shows up he gets killed by a girl  bam ! done.    I there a bad guy in the  Game of thrones books  I mean the Mt.  but he's a mongoloid   not really a bad guy more like lenny from mice and men .    Anyway  The  padawan training schools the inane pointless traditions, the ridiculous jokes. And let’s be honest, Harry Potter desperately wants to be Star Wars. They want the whole "Padawan learning the Force" thing, but it’s just embarrassing.

Now, onto A Song of Ice and Fire. A dance of crap and more crap, with fire and ice and zombie dragons—except he never even does the zombie dragon thing in the books. I’ve suffered them so you don't have to . They’re meh, at best. The first three are mediocre, and even then, the highlight is when Brienne is in the bear pit and ,Jaime still has to rescue her.

The only somewhat interesting part? The Hound and Arya. Arya steals the whole show, so it makes sense that HBO gave her the final ****. She’s the only decent character in the entire series, other than  the actor that almost redeemed 2 dimensional Tyrion, who they otherwise absolutely turned to bubble gum. In the books, he’s a scarred-up, grotesque little pervert missing his nose, waddling around like the disgusting freak he’s meant to be. But no, they had to soften him up, make him "relatable." Sure, whatever. Then he shoots his dad on the toilet, spends half a book brooding about it, and that’s his arc?

And Catelyn Stark? God, he couldn’t have killed her off fast enough. Reading her chapters was pure suffering. Then she's a zombie for a sentence or 2  ? Almost as bad as reading Sansa. Every time I saw "Sansa" at the top of a chapter, I wanted someone to put me out of my misery. Like the brother diddler, god how horrid and yes  know we weren't supposed to like her.

But even as bad as Martin is, he’s still not as bad as Tolkien. That crap is unreadable. I have never seen anyone abuse semicolons and colons more in my life. And the songs? Dear God. Nothing makes sense. It reads like an acid-trip hangover. angry cockneyed drunken english professor playing tea party while writing a how to assemble a nap time  Ikea fairy tale manual.  yes the sentences are like that I wrote that in his style. It's infuriatingly impossible to slog through.

Bilbo and Sam? Supposed to be lovable and relatable, but they just make me sick  Cry, Cry, cry,  walk walk walk, Cry cry cry..... And then there’s Gollum, who is even worse. Nothing about him is funny, cute, or remotely entertaining. It’s just sad   not in a a tragic way but ,stupid.  And everything is magic ring. The ring is magic. The sword is magic. The chain mail is magic. The horses **** magic. The river is magic. The tree is magic. Is anything not magic Jesus Christ.  Why even d do anything?  It's like the Star Trek matter energy converter. If you have that, why do you need anything? I mean, they could have at least said exploration for exploration's sake for discovery. At least that's something. But all of those books the return of the king, the two towers, it's not that. It's not exploration for exploration sake. And if the bad guy is already so powerful, what does he care about any of that? If he's incorporeal?

And don’t get me started on the eagles. Gandalf could have just called the eagles, taken the ring, and flown to a thousand different places. But no, they had to march to Mount Doom because, apparently, that’s the only place in the entire world with lava. How stupid is that? The whole thing is pitifully dumb, derivative, unoriginal,  and the way people worship it like some holy text is beyond me. He had no competition when it was written.  We do now .

Tolkien didn’t invent ANYTHING . Every single bit of it is stolen. Even his so-called "Elvish language"—stolen. He didn’t create wizards. He didn’t invent dragons, goblins, magic swords, dwarves—none of it. And to top it off, you can’t even read those books. They’re so poorly written.  Its like trying to enjoy Canterbury Tales,
except somehow worse    sooyta to the roo tay   but bogged down with pointless lore that contributes nothing to the actual story.
Create a list of names of some guys that do nothing and Contribute absolutely nothing to the plot. Just to **** them off, create characters that were almost starting the light, and then a couple chapters later killed them wrong. Great. someone that seems like they could be important, but a book later killed them off. He'll just **** everybody off. Why not **** everybody up? The whole thing is stupid. Just get the ring and throw it in the fire. Why do you need 4 books to do that? What he needed was an editor, but he needed was someone to say, really have. really. Have you sang these songs out loud in front of anyone and not gotten beaten up? I don't know how that ever became anything. The only thing I can think of was it was either cry about all the people that were lost in those sport wars. Watch paint dry. I mean, I don't know. There must have been nothing else being published. Talk about a slow Newsday.

And then there’s all the fetishist, ******, misogynistic nonsense buried in the ******* subtext, but I won’t even go into that. The fact that his work became anything at all just shows how low the bar is. Point made . Point proven .  People will accept anything if you  know how to slap the right label on it. Appeal to the English's pride or target a black audience  and . Boom its gold baby. Madea goes to middle earth.   And Sour Ron.. Thats your bad guy? Seriously?  Why did he not just **** *****  or Frilzo  or whatever his  pathetically stupid name is ?  What he wasn't evil then or he had no power or was just taken a knap. Oh but when  Froe ***  get the ring ..Oh hell nO !  son you gonna die.  What?

Same with Star Wars. Disney saw it for what it was: branding over substance. They knew they could put guys in cardboard armor,
cram aluminum foil up their butts . Slaps satellites on  on their backs  HAVE THEIR KNEES SHOOT ROCKETS   ?    What ? after all these years R2  could fly ? no one is really dead  and  knee rockets the whole time  ?  wow ! ,  As long as it had the Star Wars name, people  will eat it up. And that’s Andor. They’re walking around with AK-47s and  African World War Two. surplus military gear, yet I’m supposed to believe this is a world of advanced laser technology?   Hello. Hello. Check. Check. Check.    And I'm supposed to be enamored by the writing or the storytelling. Give me a break.

The best thing that ever happened to Star Wars was Ralph McQuarrie. Hands down.
I turn off **** ringer,
nonetheless...
telephone still buzzes
twenty four seven
eight days a week
automated telephone calls

digitally recorded message
perfectly spoken English
differentiation to distinguish
"FAKE" simulation
all bot impossible
totally immune to escape

gagging hospitable invective
electronic jawboning immunized
against antipathy, cruelty, enemy,
hostility, insecurity, pleasantry
Yukon run to tallest mountain
dive into Mariana Trench
get catapulted into

outer limits of twilight zone,
yet NEVER be free and clear
getting wirelessly zapped
with visual ad audiological
offal dregs and spam
oh... , yes even after life,

while weightlessly
pinwheeling in limbo,
particularly during eternal sleep,
when dead souls repose
six feet deep
or corpse undergoes cremation...

yepper, infiltration into atomic core
blithely battered, jimmied,
cherry lee pitted, tweaked,
worse fate than return of Zombies
electrical essential existential
incorporeal surreal auditory ordeal

spurs indiscriminate human
to relish golden silence
spawning best selling novel
to flesh out fiction
Utopian treasured island story
winning unknown author

instant acclaim and glory
describing village people
livingsocial, free and clear
without annoyingly,
egregiously, infuriatingly,
maddeningly, quaveringly

vexing, nauseating, disrupting
blitzkrieg courtesy aggravating
trumpeting autonomous programs
hijacking brainstorming concentration
thwarting aim tug get back on target
(even when carrying on camping)

sundering coalescence
regarding colonizing black screen
aborted doomed genesis
of brilliant fleeting idea,

thus one smart
generic garden variety
longfellow forced to
grovel along boulevard
of broken dreams.

Any resemblance between above
hyperbole and living persons
purely coincidental!
I turn off **** ringer,
nonetheless...
telephone still buzzes
twenty four seven
eight days a week
automated telephone calls

digitally recorded message
perfectly spoken English
differentiation to distinguish
"FAKE" simulation
all bot impossible
totally immune to escape

gagging hospitable invective
electronic jawboning immunized
against antipathy, cruelty, enemy,
hostility, insecurity, pleasantry
Yukon run to tallest mountain
dive into Mariana Trench
get catapulted into

outer limits of twilight zone,
yet NEVER be free and clear
getting wirelessly zapped
with visual ad audiological
offal dregs and spam
oh... , yes even after life,

while weightlessly
pinwheeling in limbo,
particularly during eternal sleep,
when dead souls repose
six feet deep
or corpse undergoes cremation...

yepper, infiltration into atomic core
blithely battered, jimmied,
cherry lee pitted, tweaked,
worse fate than return of Zombies
electrical essential existential
incorporeal surreal auditory ordeal

spurs indiscriminate human
to relish golden silence
spawning best selling novel
to flesh out fiction
Utopian treasured island story
winning unknown author

instant acclaim and glory
describing village people
livingsocial, free and clear
without annoyingly,
egregiously, infuriatingly,
maddeningly, quaveringly

vexing, nauseating, disrupting
blitzkrieg courtesy aggravating
trumpeting autonomous programs
hijacking brainstorming concentration
thwarting aim tug get back on target
(even when carrying on camping)

sundering coalescence
regarding colonizing black screen
aborted doomed genesis
of brilliant fleeting idea,

thus one smart
generic garden variety
longfellow forced to
grovel along boulevard
of broken dreams.

Any resemblance between above
hyperbole and living persons
purely coincidental!
Inxs of recorded messages  
transmitted automatically
to my telephone number
by automatic dialing device.

I turn off **** ringer,
and disassemble (carefully
as disabling a time bomb)
internal workings nevertheless...
telephone still buzzes
twenty four seven
eight days a week
automated telephone calls
digitally recorded message
perfectly spoken English

differentiation to distinguish
"FAKE" simulation
all bot impossible
totally immune to escape
gagging hospitable invective
electronic jawboning immunized
against antipathy, cruelty, enemy,
hostility, insecurity, pleasantry
Yukon run to tallest mountain
dive into Mariana Trench

get catapulted into
outer limits of twilight zone,
yet NEVER be free and clear
getting wirelessly zapped
with visual ad audiological
offal dregs and spam
(minus the green eggs)
oh... yes even after life,
while weightlessly
pinwheeling in limbo,

particularly during eternal sleep,
when dead souls repose
six feet deep
or corpse undergoes cremation...
yepper, infiltration into atomic core
blithely battered, jimmied,
cherry lee pitted, tweaked,
worse fate than return of Zombies
electrical essential existential
incorporeal surreal auditory ordeal

spurs indiscriminate human
to relish golden silence
spawning best selling novel
to flesh out fiction
Utopian treasured island story
winning unknown author
instant acclaim and glory
describing village people
livingsocial, free and clear
without annoyingly,

egregiously, infuriatingly,
maddeningly, quaveringly
vexing, nauseating, disrupting
blitzkrieg courtesy aggravating
trumpeting autonomous programs
hijacking brainstorming concentration
thwarting aim tug get back on target
(even when carrying on camping)
sundering coalescence
regarding colonizing black screen

aborted doomed genesis
of brilliant fleeting idea,
contributes to conspiracy theory
linkedin with ghost calls
thus one smart
generic garden variety
longfellow forced to
grovel along boulevard
of broken dreams
on a green day.

Any resemblance between above
hyperbole and living person
asked courteously by his name
of the human league,
I police tell the caller
purely coincidental!
orchestration, and utilization,
a moss fungi (fun guy) attests his marriage
synonymous with symbiotic relationship.

Nostalgic acquiescence about fictitious life,
oblivescence about current travails
and reminiscence about
transcendence into utopia
prompts me to revisit livingsocial,
now that yours truly
among the grateful dead.

As a saprophyte,
the missus buzzfeeds off me lovely bones
once plump with excess adipose tissue
otherwise known as body fat,
a connective tissue
that extends throughout body electric
found under your skin (subcutaneous fat),
between your internal organs (visceral fat)
and even in the inner cavities of bones
(bone marrow adipose tissue).

Over the ensuing two score and ten years
after pledging our troth, the missus
(opposed with a vehemence
keeping her maiden name,
or even acquiescing
maintaining surname
with hyphae fun nation),
and yours truly at one time or another
from the day we met
until the present moment

invariably, intolerantly, intimately,
intentionally, intemperately, insultingly,
insufficiently, insidiously, insincerely,
insensitively, insensibly, inscrutably,
inquietly, injuriously, inhospitably,
inharmoniously, infuriatingly, infernally,
inexorably, ineffably, indubitably,
indescribably, indelibly, incredibly,
increasingly, incessantly, incalculably,
ineluctably molded unnamed spouse.

Truth be told, the grudging acceptance to wed
made indirectly and courtesy
unbeknownst and linkedin
to our unborn eldest daughter
about four months in utero,
when marriage date chosen
July twenty fifth nineteen ninety six
since yours truly and my then girlfriend
abstained from birth control
tantamount to playing Russian roulette,
and decided to let natural insemination
trigger conception between
twelve and twenty four hours after ovulation.

Neither of us the least bit prepared
economically nor emotionally,
which urge to procreate
superseded sense and sensibility,
and in retrospect,
I readily admit flagrant
negligent ****** recklessness
(no matter physical ******* monogamous),
and an adamant refusal to use prophylactic
or more commonly known as ******.

Though excited to sow seminal seeds of life
a panic stricken state afflicted me,
when consensual concurrence
to consummate copulation occurred,
nevertheless ecstasy at potential fatherhood
brought courtesy the resultant
unexpected positive result
yielded from pregnancy kit.

Back in the day libidinal longing
(in my pinion) wracked ****
of accursed celibate
Norwegian bachelor farmer wannabe,
where merest suggestion
of ******* thoughts
hounded doggone muttering
dove head lettered man
all the way to Antioch
feverish pitch I could not block
found mine doodling ****
to crow night and day
without let up to dock
****** solitude a worse fate
than therapy zapping gray matter
with wave after wave oven electroshock,
a divine sterling erectile rod
hoping gallivanting frisky felines would flock.
courtesy sucker punched by vehicular travails

Truckload of banshees muffled
as more'n yours truly wails
he feels wheely tired
as one after another
significant snafu devilish

troublesome impish of the
poe pervert car -
tell driver unveils
scarier than Stephen
King's macabre tales
one illusory monster with

(by Scott) matted pointy scales,
who infuriatingly rants and rails
against dependence on
unstable, unpredictable, and
unmentionable car rear,
where his ruffled quilted wings,

stand on edge quiver and quails
analogous to how Jack
and Jill arduously lugged pails
splashing water to and fro
hither and yon some

drips drops long as nine inch nails,
actually pleasant sensation
though futile schlepping,
sloshing, and spilling bucketful
after bucketful eternal

rhyming task without reason
synonymous with Sisyphus,
but lo and behold
agony no longer assails
only fleeting ecstasy, think
Bos taurus came back

to animal farm -
carting... yup countless hay bales
(sh....) stolen goods,
under the whinny some nose
of neighboring Equus
at Clyde on dales,

one Mister Ed, a horse -
laugh he exhales,
said bovine won't be cowed,
cuz fodder knows beast,
that charity never fails.
Dennis Willis Oct 2019
Living in this thin slice
almost flattened
'tween was an' gonna

How does everything
fit in here now
this infuriatingly
slippery small
picosecond
Holding the universe
while it wonders
where it goes
and is going
while it stays now & here
we imagine
all around it
like frightened chickens
scratching notes to self
peck it anyway
Why can't I feel
today's end
I don't argue with idiots.
But you are always so infuriatingly wrong
that I just have to jump in and tell you.

I tell you how rude and unforgivable you are.
How you expect everyone to adore you,
but, honey, I have some advice;
you can't make people like you.

Take that as a compliment.
You'll thank me later.
And then I can say
I told you so.
this is from exactly a year ago

— The End —