theperplexedpoet

[theperplexedpoet]

unqualified, unfit

unqualified, unfit unqualified, unfit

unqualified, unfit ain't qualified for shit understand Uncle Sam the respect we command it was grand if unplanned but it's gone with the sands and the man in the stands tweeting out his demands zero comprehension our norms in tatters thanks for your attention here on this matter unqualified, unfit unqualified, unfit

unqualified, unfit ain't qualified for shit understand Uncle Sam this is not how we stand crown commands hate our brand force and flame 'cross the land King li'l hands reprimands from the feeds to his klan habeas suspension our norms in tatters thanks for your attention here on this matter unqualified, unfit unqualified, unfit

unqualified, unfit ain't qualified for shit understand Uncle Sam he's unfit for command yank that shit from his hands orange twit and his klan 86 each one and do it quick do it grand just say it tell 'em, man hit the bricks you're all canned do it with intention our norms in tatters thanks for your attention here on this matter (6/26/25)

[theperplexedpoet]

that's poetry

a tell from above the smell of your love rhythm is in them the poetry of all that never was and will ever be penning it because it's all poetry turning in rhythm a world made of rhyme poet's can tap in any given time feel each expression and drop every dime take each impression and pen its design burning in rhythm a world made of flame poet's walk through them get scorched just the same turning the phrases to fit the new game capture the phases and give it a name a tell you can trust the smell of your lust rhythm is in them the poetry just discards as discussed and says what it sees penning as we must for that's poetry learning in rhythm a world made of verse poet's can free them an act they've rehearsed translate for readers the good, bad, and worst we are the seeders of all life on Earth earning in rhythm a world made of rhyme writing's a given to make sense of time it's all that we know all of us combined to grieve and to grow the rhythm defined a tell from above the smell of your love rhythm is in them the poetry of all that never was and will ever be penning it because it's all poetry yearning in rhythm a world made of dreams poet's live in them and open the seems whole worlds escaping as our plane it teems with all we're shaping unjustified means burning in rhythm a world made of flame poet's walk through them adjusting their aim turning the phrases to find and fit blame spotlight the stages and give it a name a tell you can trust the smell of your lust rhythm is in them the poetry just discards as discussed and says what it sees penning as we must for that's poetry (6/25/25)

[theperplexedpoet]

admission (only a pawn)

you never said it did not utter the sound but I take credit I know I let you down I entered this fray was just a wounded child and I learned its way with each and every mile but the path was paved with the dreams reconciled thought it could be saved for I was but a child and I regret it the weight is so profound so I take credit I know I let you down you wanted better for dusk to bid the dawn I read the letter knowing that day was gone the rules were set per plans that had long been drawn was but a debtor you got only a pawn you never said it did not utter the sound but I take credit I know I let you down I could not play in such waters so corrupt the costs to stay in they just kept going up got to the weigh in without words weighing much the role was taken and I wasn't enough and I regret it the weight is so profound so I take credit I know I let you down I entered this fray with the dreams reconciled thought it could be saved for I was but a child learned along the way the dreamer gets defiled go now to my grave still just a wounded child you never said it would not utter the sound but I took credit I know I let you down you deserved better but those cards were not drawn instead, a debtor you got only a pawn (6/24/25)

[theperplexedpoet]

where were you

so where were you when the last straw broke what did you do and what words were spoke did you play new scared of being woke just where were you when the last straw broke went brick by brick to be realized a devil's trick the wall compromised no safety nets for the falling lives it's what one gets when the top deprives so where were you when that last straw broke what did you do what did you invoke the bill was due it was freedom's note just where were you when that last straw broke came hit by hit to tear it all down by no means quick and it bore no crown we missed the threat that was all around did not connect all the dots we found so where were you as the last straw broke what did you do when it was revoked the way we knew reduced to a joke just where were you as the last straw broke went brick by brick like the plan devised a slight uptick project '25 a wealth fetish that is costing lives the hell with this it's not worth the price the final drought broken straw and back I see you're out now on the attack but what about the straws before that along this route then where were you at came hit by hit to tear it all down by no means quick and it bore no crown (6/21/25)

[theperplexedpoet]

exposed nerves

when our exploited vulnerabilities become exposed nerves the ones that are painting our rage across the streets the raw materials and sacred supplies that make up the art of our daily lives you give us platitudes and cliched sentiments ones that your tongues have long lost the taste for you say things like, “life isn't fair” while maintaining a status quo which holds that idea firmly in place you talk of bootstraps, knowing your scissors severed that way to means miles before the conversation of boots even was broached before feet first felt those soles before souls first felt defeat you speak and live in contradictions forcing us to do the same with your inflictions with you words you say, “mind over matter” but your actions, which have always spoken louder show the mind doesn't matter in fact, it's a recipe for disaster cooking up an educated, free-thinker the enemy of your state and it is yours no longer belongs to we the people you united the citizens and pressed that nail deep into our coffins 6ft. deep and counting when our exploited vulnerabilities become exposed nerves we will dig ourselves out of the graves you've prematurely placed us in and you will hear us for as you had forgotten the force of our fight and way of our will you will be reminded when you see our hands breach the earth you buried us beneath you will be reminded of the strength you saw in us that first stoked the flames of your fears and you won't be able to look away hypnotized by the resonance of our resolve knowing that it is coming for you and yet...we won't let you look away (6/15/25)

[theperplexedpoet]

we've got no kings

we got no kings to hold us down corporate strings tied to a crown all they bring with all their fees there are no kings when free bye, ho orange-y glow have we got a peach for you we want the world to know that we think you're useless too we got no kings not even one the word it stings, and bites the tongue comes with strings, but you can see there are no kings for thee

you have no kings, unless you bow to puppet strings, corporate cows ha, ha, ha, they'd have you moo I trust no kings, do you?

we got no kings, like we once had voices rising the good and bad proclaiming, for all to hear “we bow to no kings here!”

see all his vulgar shows with a slightly Russian hue tell him to, “suck Vlad's toes” 'cause that's not what we do there are no kings for we

(6/14/25)

[theperplexedpoet]

man-baby's toy (cue the parade)

a sad little man threw a little parade to show to the land how his power is played where once stood reason to hold his little hand agents of treason are the only that stand by his sad broad side to sign off on each whim as unqualified for each their roles as him a sad little man threw a tantrum so big his ass-kissing klan had no choice but to give into his demands all of his might displayed put forth the sad plans for the sad man's parade Yesses so ready to yes every request pens holding steady to check yes after yes once were a nation where freedom was enjoyed now a placation just a man-baby's toy a sad little man his tyrant whip waving his one percent fans and fascistic cravings dismantle the core while ripping at the heart of what we stood for and where we got our start which made him smaller and evermore afraid crown's now a collar so just cue the parade now we're a faction where our might is deployed as a distraction just a man-baby's toy a sad little man threw a little parade to show to the land his power will be stayed the roles were once filled with legit advisors he went on this build with just sympathizers and they would all burn the system together for they never learn and didn't know better now against the people our own forces deployed none of it legal the toy being destroyed this sad fragile man who's glass ego's afraid unfit for command he deserves no parade but Yesses will yes in the way that they do to honor this mess as it burns right on through each layer of check every bit of balance with such disrespect their only true talents once were a nation where freedom was enjoyed now a placation just a man-baby's toy (6/13/25)

[theperplexedpoet]

sixteen tons (updated to modern times)

some people say a man is made out of mud the borders of which is how he'll be judged borders and blood, color of skin some say that marks superior men you load sixteen tons, what do you get? ICE o'er your shoulder a deportation threat St. Peter hear you calling through acts so cold the melting pot gonna melt your soul you'd be out one morning when the sun didn't shine they see you as trouble and that's how you're defined break your back in the fields for some CEO and Noem will say, “now you gotta go!” you load sixteen tons, what does it net? straight paying taxes that you cannot collect St. Peter hear you calling through acts so cold the melting pot gonna melt that soul feel the storm and mourning, for they go hand-in-hand blowin' whistles so we would all understand they kept raising the stakes with all that they've been decrying but it always comes out that they've been lying

you load sixteen tons, what do you get? still swept up in some illegal ICE dragnet St. Peter hear you calling through acts so cold the melting pot gonna melt your soul

if you see them comin' better run and hide lot of folks couldn't and some of 'em have died one fist is hatred, the other is fear if either one gets you will be disappeared you load sixteen tons, what does it net? exploited labor and a life under threat

St. Peter hear you calling with dreams so bold the melting pot gonna melt that soul some people say a man's value can be gauged based upon where he was born and he aged born and aged and what color skin some say that marks superior men

you load sixteen tons, what do you get? sent to slave labor camp in a jumbo jet St. Peter hear you calling through acts so cold the melting pot gonna melt your soul you load sixteen tons, what does it net? hate from some people that you ain't ever met St. Peter hear you calling through acts foretold the melting pot gonna melt that soul you load sixteen tons, what has it meant? target of the United States government St. Peter feel you reaching with hands so cold yes, the melting pot done took its toll (6/12/25)

[theperplexedpoet]

start the revolution without me

betrayed by the puppet prefecture sitting high up there on the benches hypotheticals and conjecture fill their filings to build pretenses forfeiting duty and balances all for fealty to King Pouty in true cowardice it pronounces “start the revolution without me” through ages the people empowered and the wages of freedom were paid now we have sycophants and cowards pissing all of our freedoms away fed by rabid mob mentality and the desire to just own the libs forgoing all rationality they're allowing fascism to live we have electorate dysfunction the orange-nose brigade on the hill all clowns acting with no compunction and behaving as ignoble shills forfeiting duty and balances all for fealty to King Pouty in true cowardice it announces “start the revolution without me” through pages the people empowered set our own constitutions to track now thanks to sycophants and cowards we have to take our own power back from this rabid mob mentality out here simping for Trump to gain clout just a cult of personality didn't just buy in, they bought him out betrayed by the oath and badge bearers who have failed us now time and again a colluding klan of mask-wearers whose only loyalty is to him forfeiting duty and balances all for fealty to King Pouty in true cowardice it pronounces “start the revolution without me” through stages we've been dis-empowered disillusioned and hung out to dry put in this position by cowards who think that we all deserve to die fed by rabid mob mentality they get off seeing pain inflicted aims of their bile and banality will burn us all down as predicted we've no party of opposition just complacent finger-wagging hues fund-raising off of their positions who want those same powers to abuse forfeiting duty and balances all to cash-in off of King Pouty in true cowardice it announces “start the revolution without me” (6/11/25)

[theperplexedpoet]

let me out the simulation

let me out the simulation for this dumpster keeps on burning this purposeful immolation it is far beyond concerning so much more than desperation despot AI has been learning now called an Administration complete with blood thirsty yearnings knew the AI would destroy us thought it would be machine born not fake patriots so joyous to see our foundations torn both the flag and Constitution the Dude Wipes of Trump et al booth: now cue the revolution bring about the curtain call architects were artificial as was the intelligence wounds were more than superficial each cut has a resonance that will show up in the records of pages historical via scars that have long festered from time immemorial yes, the pages are repeating and the dumpster's still on fire you called the forecasts misleading yet we're here upon the pyre let me out the simulation the whole damn thing just makes me sick this purposeful immolation unleashed by a true psychotic as an act of desperation despot AI has that one trick now called an Administration hallucinations run rampant knew the AI would destroy us thought it would be machine born not fake patriots so joyous at our sad embrace of scorn both the Constitution and flag the Dude Wipes of Trump et al pieces caught there in the ass sag priming pages for the fall and it all is self-defeating at the end of the empire yes, the pages are repeating and the dumpster's still on fire let me out the simulation I need a moment of reprieve away from the immolation a moment of fresh air to breathe cannot stand the desperation and the hatred that he seeds despot AI's sick fixations that would see each of us bleed knew the AI would destroy us thought it would be machine born not fake patriots so joyous to see our foundations torn (6/10/25)

[theperplexedpoet]

here endeth the final hour

the hour is close to final the poet is close to dead came from a place so primal somewhere deep inside my head now no such thing as limits the same could be said of masks all that I am I've penned it now there's nothing left to ask the hour is close to final the poet is close to through each verse a scream so primal it was all that I could do to hold them beyond limits and to bleed beyond the rage put all of my heart in it and I left it on the page was never gonna make it I didn't have the power I thought I could delay it the crumbling of the tower though I have said it before all of those roots have flowered and so here forevermore this piece marks the final hour the hour is close to final the poet is close to done the force itself was primal so I never would have won beyond the outer limits of the self and of the mind should not have ventured in it nor ever engaged its rhyme was never gonna make it I didn't have the power I thought I could delay it the crumbling of the tower though I have said it before all of those roots have flowered and so here forevermore this piece marks the final hour the hour is close to final the poet is close to dead came from a place so primal I acted on what it said and there I touched the limits that my life was lived beyond put all of my heart in it and so now all of its gone was never gonna make it I didn't have the power I thought I could delay it the crumbling of the tower though I have said it before all of those roots have flowered and so here forevermore this piece marks the final hour the hour is close to final the poet is close to lost the battle cry felt primal but it carried such a cost now no such thing as limits all the boundaries are crossed been empty for a minute so it's time now to sign off was never gonna make it I didn't have the power I thought I could delay it the crumbling of the tower though I have said it before all of those roots have flowered and so here forevermore here endeth the final hour (4/28/25)

[theperplexedpoet]

the poet's journey broke him (deep within midnight's mind)

am never leaving midnight it's here I fall behind the hero never fit right at least not in my mind I have gained zero insights proved too tricky to find having none of my own light ever be fit to shine am never leaving midnight it's here that I belong this hero never had fight just all but went along stepped from the warmth of daylight I knew then this was wrong now come to read the last rites for I was never strong the poet is judged broken his body, soul, and mind his verdict has been spoken and committed to rhyme am never leaving midnight 'tis here that I'm inclined to give the hero respite for it was not the kind of label that would incite a fitting state of mind the ending's for me to write that's how it was defined the poet is judged broken his body, soul, and mind his verdict has been spoken and committed to rhyme this shadow but a token as all are realigned the poet's journey broke him deep within midnight's mind am never leaving midnight it's here that I belong had crumbled there at twilight as everything went wrong the hero in the spotlight was not part of my song these echoes of the last rites won't carry me for long the poet is judged broken his body, soul, and mind his verdict has been spoken and committed to rhyme this shadow but a token as all are realigned the poet's journey broke him deep within midnight's mind am never leaving midnight it's here I fall behind the hero never fit right at least not in my mind (4/26/25)

[theperplexedpoet]

age of night (when the pawn first)

can no longer gauge the light as I set this page in flight finding that they staged the plight here within the age of night when the pawn first found midnight he took sanctuary there it was where he learned to fight and where his soul was laid bare saw the battle on the board knowing that he was unfit and yet still he drew his sword and charged forward into it when the pawn first felt the blade carving chaos on his skin knew that he had been betrayed by the one cast from within prophets knowing the outcome placed a pen there in his hand the shadow reaching out from edges of the shadowland can no longer gauge the light as I set this page in flight finding that they staged the plight here within the age of night when the pawn first felt the blood saw the light that it contained as such he unleashed a flood but it never hit the same in the battle on the board he would fight to no avail he would find no true reward and in that regard he failed can no longer gauge the light as I set this page in flight finding that they staged the plight here within the age of night when the pawn first saw himself in the pools that he had formed swore that it was someone else as the prophets once had warned so he tried to look away as to not see what was done what he'd known right from the day that all of this had begun can no longer gauge the light as I set this page in flight finding that they staged the plight here within the age of night when the pawn first knew the score did all he could to deny that it was anything more than the pen just telling lies in the battle on the board from which he saw no escape he would fall upon his sword as they called the final take can no longer gauge the light as I set this page in flight finding that they staged the plight here within the age of night when the pawn first found midnight he took sanctuary there he knew what it could incite believed nobody would care (4/25/25)

[theperplexedpoet]

memento mori

this too shall pass this too shall pass this too shall pass we have but a moment to shape and live our story life is but a portent a brief memento mori thought it might outlive me that words were meant to last so I penned them glibly knowing this too shall pass volumes they did give me and each shall turn to ash still the muses bid me knowing this too shall pass we have but a moment to shape and live our story life is but a portent a brief memento mori thought it could forgive me transgressions of the past so I penned them glibly knowing this too shall pass once believed it hid me this mirrored looking glass so I let it kid me and that too came to pass we have but a moment to shape and live our story life is but a portent a brief memento mori thought it might outlive me that words were meant to last so I penned them glibly knowing this too shall pass (4/24/25)

[theperplexedpoet]

a menagerie of masks

a menagerie of masks broken pieces of the whole he did everything they asked no matter the cost or toll he drank deeply from the cask to facilitate each role a menagerie of masks broken pieces of his soul shadows cast show each the cracks where the light can still get through thought that meant he'd make it back turns out now that isn't true seems there's no end to the act just more of the grim obscene shadows cast show each the cracks through which his truth can be seen a menagerie of masks broken pieces of the whole all that with which he was tasked he did with little control he drank deeply from the cask thinking it might fill these holes a menagerie of masks broken pieces of his soul shadows cast show each the cracks where the light can still get through there by virtue of attacks why they wear a crimson hue proof of each of the impacts scars he's taken from the scene shadows cast show each the cracks and he now knows what that means a menagerie of masks broken pieces of the whole thought everything in his grasp never once thought of the toll he drank deeply from the cask no compassion, no parole a menagerie of masks broken pieces of his soul shadows cast show each the cracks where the light can still get through thought he knew what all he lacked yet he never had a clue still he tried to get it back from within the grim obscene shadows cast show each the cracks through which this truth can be seen a menagerie of masks broken pieces of the whole he played each part that was cast with no thought of cost or toll he drank deeply from the cask to facilitate each role a menagerie of masks broken pieces of his soul shadows cast show each the cracks where the light can still get through thought that meant he'd make it back turns out now that isn't true (4/23/25)

[theperplexedpoet]

finish line (everything is set to fall)

I can see the finish line know what these storm clouds portend see the cuts of its design and I don't like where this ends recall each and every sign being displayed on approach these aren't things to which we're blind they're just subjects we don't broach I can see the finish line and it's why I'm vexed a bit not concerned with place or time but the mass grave next to it started with a fit and fine now the bottom lines are red all complacently resigned to take our place among the dead for as we climbed the tower passed the writing on the wall we missed that here in the hour everything is set to fall I can see the finish line know just where all of this leads watch the gluttons as they dine from troughs into which we bleed know how appetites inclined to always have their tastes met will ignore the costs defined by the demands that they've set for as we climbed the tower passed the writing on the wall we missed that here in the hour everything is set to fall for the games played by power and the hate that they install caused the vines and roots to sour which has compromised us all I can see the finish line know what these storm clouds portend see the cuts of its design and I don't like where this ends (4/22/25)

[theperplexedpoet]

in the shadow of the mountain

in the shadow of the mountain as I find my center there replenishing from the fountain for the pool has much to spare I surrender what I carry and I make a grateful plea knowing as I do it's barely but a drop within this sea in the shadow of the garden as I lay my burdens bare begging for a glimpse of pardon from the wounds which brought me there I rest as an empty vessel having given back my all facing that which I have wrestled that which led me to the fall I give it to you, Earth Mother all this energy I hold use it that you may recover from our avarice and cold in the shadow of the mountain find I'm feeling all the ways that we've polluted the fountain that humanity betrays the many gifts we've been given as I make my humble plea understanding what's been bidden is not only about me thank you for these gifts, Earth Mother for the cleansing light you give I shall use it to recover to remember how to live in the shadow of the garden where I rest my weary frame having watched as the world hardened know it bids I do the same I'm here to reject that notion to commune and realign a show of love and devotion for that which you have designed I give it to you, Earth Mother all this energy I hold on this path I have uncovered of which ancient tongues foretold in the shadow of the mountain with the garden casting too your light rushes through the fountain and the waters are renewed each are made whole in this visit both the pool and fool who dared it's the grace from she who gives it and it's always freely shared thank you for these gifts, Earth Mother for the cleansing light you give I shall use it to recover to remember how to live in the shadow of the mountain (4/19/25)