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Idiots - a poem

Updated on February 15, 2010


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


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    • hotspur profile image

      hotspur 7 years ago from England

      Thanks Michael, appreciate you dropping by.

    • Michael Shane profile image

      Michael Shane 7 years ago from Gadsden, Alabama

      Great writing hotspur! Loved it!

    • hotspur profile image

      hotspur 7 years ago from England

      Thanks Micky Dee...glad you stopped by

    • Micky Dee profile image

      Micky Dee 7 years ago

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

    • MFB III profile image

      MFB III 7 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.

    • hotspur profile image

      hotspur 7 years ago from England

      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.

    • hotspur profile image

      hotspur 7 years ago from England

      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.

    • maven101 profile image

      maven101 7 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

    • Sherbet Penny profile image

      Sherbet Penny 7 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.

    • Ladybird33 profile image

      Ladybird33 7 years ago from Fabulous USA

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

    • hotspur profile image

      hotspur 7 years ago from England

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

    • Russ Baleson profile image

      Russ Baleson 7 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