Idiots - a poem

Idiots

If my heart bursts

It will be with fury

For every idiot that lives

Inflicting the death on us all

 

We name them under our breath

Call them all the wasted words

Under the sun and

Still they breathe

 

And if my footsteps cover

The trace of harm in others

May they call my number

And give me my due

 

Justice is a figment in men’s minds

Only God in longevity may hold their gaol keys

but God, God, God

The tears fall and fall and fall

 

I don’t know why idiots rule us

Their heartlessness has no limits

If we are the slaves of idiots who are we

But greater fools?

 

If but one day I could cut one down

It would infect my bloodied hands

With the stench of their disease

As sick and cruel as any of their kind

 

And given the knife, the place, the time

I could give no assurance of not joining their tribe

Because their blood is mine

And it flows in idiocy through us all

 

So we’ll bomb and slaughter

Make the rope too long, kidnap and torture

We’ll squabble about right and wrong

And melt ice caps and sing our nations’ songs

 

And if you and I never meet in the middle

To hold up our children and see

And if my heart doesn’t burst with fury

It will stop and melt with guilt and sadness

Comments 12 comments

Russ Baleson profile image

Russ Baleson 6 years ago from Sandhurst, United Kingdom

Lots of passion and fury Hotspur, this reminds me of one of my favourite Bob Dylan offerings - Masters of War. Russ


hotspur profile image

hotspur 6 years ago from England Author

Thanks Russ that's a really pleasing comment - love Bob Dylan....even the Christmas song he did recently! Cheers!


Ladybird33 profile image

Ladybird33 6 years ago from Georgia USA

Wow, this is full of passion and I felt it. I love poetry and this was so good!!!


Sherbet Penny profile image

Sherbet Penny 6 years ago from Galway, Ireland.

Great stuff, I'm totally behind you hotspur, to many debating sheeple, not enough wolves, I'm a big fan of ranting poetry, always steeped in passion and I guess by reading when you started writing this piece, you wrote it in about a minute, and had to stop your arm from wrestling the pen, love when this happens.


maven101 profile image

maven101 6 years ago from Northern Arizona

A quiet desperation, percolating...the vox populi is alive and well in this verse...idiots, yes...but useful idiots to some...Thanks, Larry


hotspur profile image

hotspur 6 years ago from England Author

Larry, I actually think that you should collect your comments together and make a big poem called 'Big Hub' (love the use of Latin, it connects us back to our original Italian mobster roots). As ever, appreciate the comments.


hotspur profile image

hotspur 6 years ago from England Author

Ladybird33 thank-you for your kind words, glad you liked it.

Sherbet, yes was a quick write. Had it here unpublished for quite a while - ranting not usually my style but sometimes enough is enough - as we see Blair dodging the bullets again. Thanks for visiting.


MFB III profile image

MFB III 6 years ago from United States

In darker moments, with my pen as a sword.

©-MFB III- All rights reserved

In some of my darkest moments,

when rage at the world

overwhelms my sensibilities,

I can almost feel the urge

to answer the call, and let

my pen truly become a sword.

Sneaking out in the wee hours,

when most of the world dreams,

with all the training afforded me,

by the U.S. Marines,

I would spirit myself

into the quarters,

of some of the world's

most evil of men,

and drive my pen

with furious righteousness

into their left eyes,

only after I had deftly

deflated their right,

leaving them as truly blind,

to the needs of mankind,

as they were when

they were sighted.

Then I would sign

their finely groomed foreheads

in blood with two words:

"Serial Quill-er!"

Oh, how the media would expound

upon the mad poet,

set loose on societies

upper echelons, tragically executed

by a simple writing implement.

They'd rant

or wonder at the ambush

of the dead who knowingly

trampled the rights

of the common man,

or made grave mistakes

that cost many lives,

for the glory of cash

and power, and greed.

Each one's eye sockets would become

my inkwell, and their souls

my postscript to a perfect world.

Alas, the military bled all

of the desires to kill from me,

long ago in the last useless war fought,

and they don't make pens

long enough to reach,

the tiny brains of most

of the leaders of world affairs

and molders of tragedies.

So I content myself

with a handful of

finely crafted pens,

that are delicately

feathered on one end,

and sharpened to surgical

precision on the other.

Then weekly I post the faces,

of the worlds most worthless maggots,

on a large dartboard in my studio,

and spend a few delightful minutes a day,

aiming for their eyes.

and pen-atrating their pixeled flesh

Sort of voodoo for the soul

one might say,

It's not a solution

but it calms the rage a bit.

I also post a lot of what I consider

my worst poems on that bored too

and I puncture-ate them as well

poking holes in theories

that were created without merit,

thereby satisfying the blood lust

against what's wicked on this planet.

I am currently working though

on a catapult for typewriters

and word processors,

those useless hulks of metal,

that are now relics,

in this computer age.

They would do quite nicely

as ammo for assaults on

all of the ignorant heads,

of the states of madness,

perpetuated against us.


Micky Dee profile image

Micky Dee 6 years ago

Wow Hotspur- put me down for what you said and what MFB III said. Thanks to all the above! Keep-hubbin-BuB!


hotspur profile image

hotspur 6 years ago from England Author

Thanks Micky Dee...glad you stopped by


Michael Shane profile image

Michael Shane 6 years ago from Gadsden, Alabama

Great writing hotspur! Loved it!


hotspur profile image

hotspur 6 years ago from England Author

Thanks Michael, appreciate you dropping by.

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