"They" collective poem


I’d like to put together something that reflects all of our expierences as close as possible. If you had to say in about a sentence or more if you want to keep going, who are “they” to you? It’d be great to see everybody’s responses and to put them into one big poem.


They are the destructive force.


They are ignorant. Savaging the mind with ways that they didn’t invent. They are distantly attacking, a cowardly but proficient way. They have no scruples or cares yet they always beware the never ending strength I have.

And when they don’t get anything out of me I leave them with insa, (Arabic)

for too ■■■■■■■ bad.

I don’t concern myself with athletes who get high pay.

I don’t want Halle Berry please go away.

I’m the epicenter of myself you can’t control me.

I was a paratrooper in the artillery.

You don’t need to know it’s a secret for me.

Just won’t leave me alone will you?

Never let me be…

Cowards and ■■■■ talk all this ■■■■. Hit my with a phone book to cover up the hit.

Pigs, mercs, operators and the hierarchy.

When I think about it, I don’t respect them

I think it’s all malarkey.


I might go all over the place with this random poem as it comes:

They are them and you and me.
They are the ones who bind the free.
The government, the internet, the movie screen,
All will haunt you and make you scream.
they are a conception, an illusion, yet real.
They try to control everything you feel.
They are a distraction, a demon, a tortured soul.
They are spirits of plants you’ve smoked in a bowl.
They are the bottle and voices inside.
They like to tell lies and in shadows they hide.
But they cannot hurt you, and even if sometimes they can.
They will be judged and eventually damned…


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They are strangers that don’t know it.


“They say”

Who are “they?”

I always get hung up on that elusive crowd… they… them… those.

When I was young and angry… THEY were the ones who weren’t like me, didn’t understand me, were against me.

Now… They have turned into people who have just as much pain and joy in life as I do.

The head circus isn’t even “They” anymore… because I don’t want to give the glitches in my head a personality… even though there is personality to my voices… I just want to think of my voices as extra little pings of energy that jump through my brain like a pin ball…

I want to think it’s not “Them” in my head… I want to think it’s all me. I want to try and remember… the inside of my head is all me.