#PewDiePieDidNothingWrong
This where I stand without a single shade of doubt.
As long as the audience's laughter comes out,
A comedian is surely upon the right route,
And there is no topic not to joke about.
But for some claiming offence is all they can spout,
And so they twist anything before their snout,
To ensure that laughter doesn't come out.
Their power relies on buzzwords to make you pout,
And without any: only wind hears their shout.
Thus - they write lies so that laughter does not sprout.
> PewDiePie is a victim of yet another media attack.
A meaningless word in ten years
There is a growing tempo,
With this insult you so often bestow,
A word that should not be so easy thing to throw,
And I cannot help but notice how its use continues to grow,
It makes me believe it is the only word you know,
Without an argument it is your ammo,
Against all who dare say no.
How can you not see,
This error with your latest spree,
How you continue to shriek like a banshee,
And resort to violent delights with ever growing glee,
How you lash at anyone daring to disagree,
Deafening your ears to any plea,
How can you not see?
You shout it at ears,
To brand enemies to your peers,
You use it so often its innate weight disappears,
But as long as it still ends careers,
You shout it at ears.
Thus with time,
People forget the crime,
The word becomes less than a dime,
Wiped clean of its grime,
It held one time.
How do you not see,
That you shoot at your own knee?
By calling all a nazi?
And you still spew,
When the only one is just you,
In everyone's view.
In less than ten years.
So ends a taboo.
It begins anew?
Do you hear the beat of drums,
Do you hear those beasts of war,
While you fiddled with your thumbs,
And pretended it is not what came before,
You picked a fight without ammo in your guns,
And your back begins to shiver from the growing roar,
You can no longer hide from this beat of drums,
Nor turn your gaze from the beasts of war,
It is more than a slap at your thumbs,
They have fought battles before,
And speak in strange tongues.
And so it begins all anew?
All those corrupt dinosaurs with fake news,
Think it is far beneath them to ever lose,
That none can challenge their views,
A truth that they alone can choose,
That they do not need pay dues,
For the power they so abuse,
Oh, how it must confuse,
As they fail to bruise.
It has begun anew?
Trump 2020
You try to sever,
Yank floor with a lever,
Make him lose this endeavour,
Think as you might: you are not clever,
And your grasp at power might slip whenever,
Because no empire in history has ever lasted forever.
It warms my heart to hear him speak truth to power,
And rattle the very foundation of its tower,
Wading through insults they shower,
Turning all those smirks sour,
And making them cower,
With his willpower,
This is the hour,
I call him our.
Here is something,
He is better than nothing,
He has guts inside his stuffing,
There is a change of direction coming,
It will not be stopped with your mere huffing,
Lie all you might: it is you who we find disgusting.
300 Russian hackers? To sort emails? REALLY?
I suppose you could go through emails one by one,
But the whole inefficiency of it makes me stun,
There are far faster ways underneath the sun,
For me to tell how - you don't need a gun,
Because database queries are quite fun,
Keywords allow the job to be done,
And it could be done by anyone,
Your claim's validity is: none.
> What annoyed me when Milo met Bill,
> On real time.
Trenches of a culture war
Here is a moment of peace,
Before the next pressure release,
And I could stare into my timepiece,
See how alternatives are on the decrease,
Without any change or a ways to make it cease,
They are running out of time to escape the end of a lease,
And therefore; I shall savour this ever so fleeting moment of peace.
So much for that peace
And here comes ever more shit slinging,
Without arguments - it is all they are flinging,
In hopes that a siren stops its singing,
And ever fewer are cheering,
As their aim is stinking.
Nothing but fake news
Everything you have said on record,
Will become a pawn on their chessboard,
The original context will be outright ignored,
Every ounce of ethics is loss they think to afford,
Whenever they wish for political points to be scored,
And they will craft whatever narrative to be their sword.
Trump briefly mentioned events of last night in Sweden,
Guiding spotlight to how it is no longer any Eden,
How the country itself has been long bleeding,
Yet it was not the story that was leading,
No mention of the loss of freedom,
And people raped and beaten.
Another case worthy of emphasis;
A failure to brand Milo as a supremacist,
Made them join ranks of video vivisectionists,
Words edited out of the context to rob doubt's benefit,
For they fear his habit of being such a successful polemicist,
And I doubt this will be quite enough to bring down their nemesis.
Ultimately these feeble swords of theirs will shatter away,
Have a look at what the King of YouTube had to say,
'Try again motherfuckers' - he is still here today,
And eventually there will be a price they pay,
They truly are the dragons we wish to slay,
And I can hear bells of their doomsday.
They may consider themselves left or right,
But in reality they remain the exact same blight?
Future Filtered
At this rate - the future of social media is filtered,
Someone decides what lies spread unhindered,
By controlling what messages get delivered,
Opinions and facts denied of being considered,
Until your perception of reality is disfigured,
A point where facts alone make you bewildered,
Simply by being against falsehood glittered,
Attempts at dialogue opposed and not mirrored,
A state that no society can survive uninjured.
If today is any indication; I fear the future filtered.
A thing about free speech
There is a thing about free speech,
Something harder to practice than preach,
But it is nevertheless something to learn and teach.
There is a need for devil's advocacy,
So that all views can be chal
lenged rationally,
And the need is higher when a view is held unanimously.
You have to stomach even what is foul,
You have to hear the argument even if you scowl,
And you have to: it is the only way to know you are not afoul.
John Wick: Chapter 2
I saw this thing days ago,
And it was a quite fun action show,
One that leaves the viewer a positive glow,
And that sums ups pretty much all that I can throw.
I'm sexy
I need a topic for a poem.
> 'How about: "I'm sexy?"'
Fuck off.
> 'So rude.'
Just who I am - it ain't more than that,
So feel free to diss,
I will just flick it aside with my hat,
And no matter how you hiss,
It will not make you a cool cat,
I hope you understand why I dismiss,
The premise just falls flat,
And it will not garner praise or even a kiss,
Not even a single pat,
So calling myself sexy - it is just me taking a piss,
And that's that.
Huh? It seems I am done for today.
A poem about online polls
Can you bear the shift in public opinion,
Admit that your world view holds no dominion,
Over those you consider as mere minion,
Is their dissent something to listen,
Or will you call it mere fiction?
Will you refuse your opponent's diction,
Because it happens to violate your prediction?
Is your poll facing sudden eviction?
Do tell;
All Takeis and Allens of the world.
Lone wanderer
A lone cough echoes in the dark,
A man in blue jacket in his midnight lark,
There is not a single hound to bark,
The cold has left the city stark,
No one stands there to hark,
See the path to embark,
Or witness his mark,
Steps upon fresh snow.
Trump's "thin skin"
Imagine a regular playground after rain,
There is kid with tiny hands and silly hair to bane,
A shove to a pool of mud means that there is laughter to gain,
Imagine if that odd kid were to give tears their reign,
And forced to walk all day with a muddy stain,
Can you imagine how hard it is to abstain,
He would run to his mum to complain,
We could give speed with a cane,
That odd kid deserves disdain,
Think of laughter we attain,
Drive him off our terrain,
And not to do is insane,
It is just life mundane.
Yet that odd kid with silly hair,
Once shoved - plays it quite fair;
He grabs and shoves in similar flair,
He does what none thought he'd dare,
It is muddy clothes that everyone wear,
Suddenly it is the bullies that shed a
One Hundred Poems, Volume IX Page 5