One Hundred Poems, Volume VIII
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About this ebook
Just as before, I have written a single poem a day regarding various contemporary events:
I literally have no excuses...
Luke Cage
Under the stars...
Spiller of beans...
The last stand (For a fantasy novel)
BBC's quest for equality through bigotry
Dishonesty... or honesty?
Yeah... too tired.
Neo-puritan eunuchs react to pussy
Exploding Head Syndrome
My leopard girl
A new puppy
A stray cat on my stairs
Words...
Tell the truth
Autumn
Dinsee Nuffin!
A poem in a minute
Tyrants on the rise
Who wins a debate?
Let me try writing a eulogy...
Nasty Woman
Autumn melancholy
Hello darkness...
Scene at a train yard
Witnessing that addiction to power...
Documentary: The Red Pill Movie
Adults among children
An investigation 're-opens'
A hero of free speech
'#GamerGate' mentioned by UN yet again...
A long ride
Twist in my sobriety
Brink of doom (For a fantasy novel)
This American need for lube
Imagine all the faces...
The Rubin Report
Snow falls
The end of an election cycle...
Day of the vote...
Trump won...
'Literally shaking'
Election aftermath
The salt price has collapsed...
Just a cold spell...
The current year... ?
Political landscape of a nation...
An exercise of incompetence
Wishful thinking
Something little cheery...
Fake news...
Made up gender pronouns...
Winter shower
Six minutes...
Ash and smoke (For a science fiction novel)
International Men's Day, six days later...
Audit the vote?
Castro kicked the bucket...
#TrudeauEulogies
Waiting for my Godot...
A knife and a car...
Then and now...
First day of December...
Words of confidence...
Simple questions...
Just a moment...
Well... At least the sky looks blue
Independence day
'69...'
Rings...
I guess FBI is now #GamerGate too... xD
Something post-modernistic...
Winter gloves
Something happened...
Rogue one
Love
#PizzaGate...
Top Gear is dead
Orange city
It was Putin!
Unit 81 (For science fiction novel)
'Sentient trucks' of the media...
Plaster
Bruised toe
Three poems in a day
Chemical castration of four year olds
President Elect Trump
Wishful thinking...
A Marxist University Professor...
Sins of Fathers
Adolf Guevara Shirt
Pettiness of a world leader
Eve of a new year
It is the current year
Passengers
Until we see again
Cold air flows in...
Four arrested...
What's next?
800
Tuomas Vainio
I write, I read, and the typos are still there. It is the crux of my life. Anyhow, my published works should not be overpriced and in some outlets you might be even able to set your own price!
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One Hundred Poems, Volume VIII - Tuomas Vainio
I literally have no excuses…
Sometimes you need to run a distance,
Ignore your hardship's insistence,
Struggle on without assistance,
Go onwards with persistence,
To achieve any goal distant.
With all that said: I still push it aside,
It is not a heavy burden to bide,
My hands are not even tied,
Yet today I will let it slide.
I cannot even claim that it is hard,
But my spirits remain marred,
Or so claims this blowhard!
But tomorrow is another day,
I will do it then: I do say!
There is a volume to edit and publish.
Luke Cage
Imagine a slow moving train,
How the wheels creak with strain,
And you will understand this rendition,
Its slow and boring by any honest admission,
But slowly it starts to build up its speed,
Wherever the story might then lead,
The plot keeps going onwards,
Without unneeded wanders,
To a final fight quite lame,
Perhaps the outfit is to blame,
But the real focus lied upon society,
On the natures of corruption and propriety,
And there lies what is truly fascinating,
Preachy messages without berating,
A look towards things ignored,
How people wield a sword,
Against their fellow men,
Instead of using a pen,
To work for a better fate,
Sow seeds for a future great…
It was like a gospel for stoicism.
Under the stars…
The stars are free,
So I sit in the dark and see,
And for a while nothing bothers me,
Even if I can only name mere handful or three,
I still enjoy the view split by the branches of an ash tree,
As that autumn wind follows the river and rushes towards the sea.
But I have to get up and go back inside,
And find a way to my bedside,
With worries still aside,
Dreams can ride.
Spiller of beans…
The truth is a terrible weapon,
A cut of its blade very few can beckon,
Thus any truth teller can be made into a felon,
If truth goes against the authority backed deception.
To strive for truth and honesty is a dangerous game,
And the level of playing field is never the same,
Drenched in gasoline you play with flame,
And only protection is a famous name.
Thus I respect any spiller of beans,
For theirs is the risk of becoming sardines,
If they ever reveal workings of a political machine,
And fate lies at the mercy of those beyond their own means.
The last stand (For a fantasy novel)
Do you hear my heart beat,
Are you getting cold feet,
It is not going to be sweet,
But it is going to be a feat,
Not just challenge to defeat…
So will your back fold like pleat,
Can you stand up with the beat,
Or is that urine that you excrete,
Do wish to suckle mother's teat,
Rather than fight for your seat?
Do feel the surging pulses of heat,
This is not a time for any conceit,
Our city requires actions concrete,
There is nowhere else to retreat,
They are burning our city's streets.
So we stand up,
We grab your weapons,
And we reform our lines here,
Because we are the last line of defence.
BBC's quest for equality through bigotry
Bigotry replaced by bigotry is still