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Long Humor Poems | Long Humor Poetry

Long Humor Poems. These are the most popular long Humor by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Humor poems by poem length and keyword.

See also: Famous Long Poems

Long Poems
Long poem by SillyBilly theKidster | Details |

Billy the Kid's Great Escape

*
Sentenced to hang in the town of Lincoln,
Billy made his bold escape.
Both of his guards died from thinking
that a shackled young boy couldn't break away.
*
I've often wondered what thoughts were going through his head
as he stood staring out that window chained to the floor by his bed,
watching the gallows being built that would soon seal his fate.
Was he planning at that very moment his greatest escape?
Did he already know that his hanging would never come to be?
Was he already aware that before night fall, once again he'd be free?
Whatever his thoughts, they were interrupted rudely
by Deputy Bob Ollinger, one of his guards while in custody.
"Word has it you said that if we ever met again you'd kill me on the spot. 
Well here I am Kid. Now's your chance. Show me what you've got. 
It's a shame that you'll hang in another week or two, 
because I'd love to be the one who gets to kill you. 
I've got 16 silver dimes in the barrells of my shotgun. 
I'd love to try them out on you, but I can't unless you run. 
If I free you from those chains will you run for the door? 
Oh by the way Kid, your Ma was one sweet dirty whore. 
I'll kill you before you hang Kid. That's a sure bet." 
"Be careful Bob," said the Kid, "I'm not hung yet."
Bob thrusted his shotgun hard into Billy's gut. 
The Kid looked up at him in pain and said, "Now what?" 
"Don't do it Bob," Bell screamed angrily,
"or you'll be the one who'll hang for sure 
for killing an unarmed man in cold blood
who was chained helplessly to the floor. 
It's time for the other prisoners to be escorted across the street to be fed. 
The Kid's not going anywhere. He's chained to the floor by his bed. 
Anyway, I took the prisoners last so now it's your turn. 
Go and have yourself a beer and I'll stay here 
and guard the Kid until you return." 
Bob Ollinger placed his shotgun into the gun rack. 
Before he left he said to Billy, "I'll see you when I get back." 
No one can say for sure if the above dialog ever truly took place, 
but one thing's for sure, 
Ollinger tormented Billy at a merciless endless pace. 
They were arch enemies who fought against each other
during the Lincoln County War. 
Ollinger was in the posse that killed John Tunstall,
Billy's employer, friend and mentor. 
"I have to use the privy Bell," Billy said to the deputy. 
Bell kept his rifle trained on Billy as he tossed him the key. 
Billy unlocked the chains that kept him bound to the floor. 
Still in handcuffs and leg irons, Bell escorted Billy out the door. 
Billy entered the outhouse closing the door behind him. 
"Let's not take too long in there Kid," Bell said with a humorous grin. 
While in the outhouse Billy managed to slip one of his hands out of his handcuff. 
"You fall in there Kid?" Bell laughed, "You've been in there long enough." 
"I'm coming out now Bell," Billy said opening the door. 
"Sorry I took so long Bell. I must have ate something bad for sure." 
Deputy Bell then escorted Billy back to the jail cell. 
Once inside, Billy spun around and smacked hard Deputy James Bell. 
Bell lost his balance, dropped his rifle and was momentarily stunned. 
"Hands Up Bell!," the Kid yelled. In his hand was a gun. 
"Please don't do it Bell," Billy pleaded, but Bell tried to run. 
The Kid had no choice but to do what had to be done. 
He shot and killed Bell, then went and got Ollinger's shotgun. 
The Kid never found pleasure in killing, 
but Ollinger would indeed be the exception. 
Knowing that Ollinger heard the gunfire, Billy stood by the window 
and waited for Ollinger to appear in the street down below. 
One senior named Godfrey saw Bell fall dead down the stairs. 
The moment probably gave Godfrey a few more gray hairs. 
Ollinger ran out into the street as Godfrey screamed, 
"The Kid's killed Bell!" 
Ollinger looked up into both barrels of his own shotgun 
and whispered, "..and now he's killed me as well."
"Hello Bob!," Billy called out with a song in his heart 
just prior to blowing Bob Ollinger apart. 
He blasted both barrels into Ollinger's chest and face. 
Pieces of old Bob lay scattered all over the place. 
Billy smashed his shotgun in two, threw it at him but missed. 
"You'll never rifle me again," he screamed, "you son of a b*tch!" 
On the balcony he addressed the crowd whose jaws hung agape. 
"I don't want to hurt anyone, 
but I'll kill anybody who tries to prevent my escape." 
In the office he found a sledge hammer
and smashed the chains of his leg irons free. 
He told Godfrey to fetch him a fast horse immediately. 
As he walked down the stairs, he came upon Bell's lifeless body 
and many eyewitnesses admit
that the Kid looked upon him and said almost tearfully, 
"I'm sorry I killed you Bell, but couldn't help it." 
As Billy mounted the horse the chains of his leg irons startled the beast. 
The horse reared up and threw Billy down onto the street. 
He was at this point his most vulnerable laying down on the ground. 
The crowd could have overtaken him easily, but none made a move or a sound. 
Once again Billy mounted the horse
and fled with the sound of his leg iron chains ringing. 
Many claim that as he rode out of Lincoln County
that they heard the Kid singing. 
Billy had escaped danger so many other times in his past, 
but this was his greatest escape ever. It would also be his last.
*
"I had no intention of killing either one of them. My plan was to tie and gag Bell and then get out of there before Ollinger got back, but then things went terribly wrong.....I certainly didn't want to kill Bell, but I had to in order to save my own life....I never felt happier than when I gave it to old Bob. I said, "Look up here old boy and see what you're getting". I then blasted him in the face and breast. He use to ride me to the point where I just couldn't take it anymore."
- Billy the Kid


Long poem by matthew harris | Details |

Letter to taeljejohn

uncomfortableness, and hesitation arose that you might reassess a possibility for friendship or.... whatever with me.

A disappointment set in place in the event that based on some facet of my being (inexplicable flaws within this corporeal human male), forecast that an about face (booked on charges inherent in this googly eyed, earth-linked, kool hotmail of a yahoo) would be un liked!

Juno what i mean? 

In retrospect, no matter that this average boyish chap desires enjoyment, he admits that ordinary punctuating various stages of development difficulty coping found him msn (miss sin, missin, missing, et cetera) on ordinary interpersonal experiences!

No matter yours truly usually finds me each morning, noon or night conjuring up maximizing temporary residence on this planet earth versus bemoaning those futile and essentially counterproductive mind games sans could a, might a, should a, would a...

today = the moment to cherish, enjoy, help others, ponder the remaining years
since fruitless to expend tears
for suppressed emotional, financial, grammatical, hormonal, physical, and spiritual angst
 that roiled mine inner sanctum - mainly from decades in the past
   which unseen scars with humor this fellow (who by the way likes you) wears!

Notice the sly inclusion of my comment per -- affinity, desirability, rhapsody for you
although just but a mere inkling prevails about an ye taelje john thru
a rather contrived manner - albeit an online adult oriented website - amongst a slew
which yields to this bipedal hominid a scant few
initial responses - as if a ghost app paired in the recipient email - going boo
which unwittingly seems to turn the ivy blue!

So...no matter a constancy of follow-up electronic communiques occurs from ye
bringing tears of joy, that nobody can see
while simultaneously delivering digital glee
a reality check restrains proclivity and predilection to let thoughts run wild and free!

Immense and immeasurable mounts in moi little rock
inducing an electric arc for myself to kin neck embedded in all this schlock
for a sixth sense arises that this holme body strongly suspects yar self 
 to generate sunny watts as an s spy she lee Sherlock

but, reticence to gush with ebullience reins in a cascade
of utter delight washing o'er this less than satisfactory mwm 
 who as a boy and youth happened to b a frayed
of his own shadow - while walking along the boulevard of broken dreams
 listening to the sounds of silence on a green-day.

Thus => the following from one 

Cerebral being ™ in the am and pm
 
This ordinary human
Finds himself a mystery
Within the terrestrial
Firmament and frequently
Feels in a feverish pitch
At his existence
That seers the temple
Mounted upon this slender
Frame - wrought by the
Combination of genetics
In tandem with exercise
Which latter helps to
Sublimate the coiled 
Tension wound tightly 
Like an indestructible spring 
Without a healthy medium at large 
To channel emotions fraught within
Me might find demise
That would rent asunder literate fellow 
And thus annihilate without a trace
One true valued father of two us special
Lovely lasses as just another statistic among 
The obituaries!
 
As the world turns (indiscriminately oblivious of the harrowing days per one simian), an agreeable, amiable, edible, immeasurable, likeable, pleasurable, sensible woman (such as yourself - predicated on a gut level intuition) goads more seriousness to share

Plaintive unheard heart strings o mine that wail
Displeased with this marriage fraught with travail
As if in a maelstrom whip-lashed vessel without a sail
Yet - averse to lambaste or rail
Against abby (whereby we pass like two ships in the night) who married this male
When each of us happened to seem more similar 
   And thought each ourselves to fail
At any endeavor, though now confidence 
   Buoys my heart while she doth ail

And exemplifies attitudes, beliefs, efforts, 
   Idiosyncrasies, pathos that life does rot
Ill suited to Matthew Scott, 
   Whose bon vivant manifesting faith in him
   Perhaps from herself deferring many domestic 
   And child rearing tasks not
Of course being boasting - even when scissoring the umbilical cord
   As a now beaming papa, whose daughters 
   Blithely ignore "mother" a lot
Thus necessitating this quest 
   For a counterpart to offer succor 
   To eden (age 16) and shana (14 on february 4th, 2013) 
   Yet accepts that i must dispel any dreamy fantasy even this ours - a mere jot
At this juncture knowing full well how unwise to set myself up for disappointment
   By thinking and rushing like a fool, 
   Where angels fear to tread
   Though "chutzpah" i got!

U r slowly filling my mindscape with joy
Thank you so much - for accepting without complaint how atypically words this writer wannabe 
   Named Matthew Scott Harris dozen ploy.



Long poem by Brian Cooper | Details |

Snow and Oil - Oil and Fire

Together we are like crisp morning snow and dry sooty oil poured onto the ground in our different ways. I putter around the home like puppy dog waiting for his next meal and she toils away at her job as an angel looking for her wings yet to be put on. Her words sweet like honey butter and light as a crisp cool spring morning gentle breeze while mine is both gruff and gentle, being abrasive at her lovely unique humor and at times cuddly as a big teddy bear. 
Don’t know why she loves me so, but I am glad to know her loving heart compared to my sometimes dark and light temperament. Luckily for me, the glow of her bright soul of winter’s snow covers up the dry personality of black oil that is mine. We are of two hearts entwined where the heat of my oil in the bright hot sun will melt away the brightness of her snow, so I let her go be the person she is as I slip further into the background to be covered by the green grass. 
I reside still in the ground permanently whilst she has floated to the clouds ready to rain her beautiful light touch on someone else who is easy going as the green grass swaying in the gentle wind. Together they shall hold tight together and she shall nourish him before the cycle begins anew. She will melt into him and him into her as nature’s course was meant to. 
I remain in the ground subdued, anchored where I am by the very nature that gave them a life together.
It’s early spring now, the snow is melted into the green grass, but nothing will grow where the sooty black oil was. He scooped up the oil and dirt that mixed together into a container marked ‘recycle’. Keeping busy with work, he was no longer a puppy waiting on his next meal. Running on automatic though, his heart black like the sooty dried oil, he cleaned up around the small cabin. “Time to make old things new again” he silently told himself. His mind sought an answer for the scorched heart he still had from years of pain. Peace had found him, but the loss of his wife and son still haunted him, like the darkness that closed in around him. 
He sought to drive away the pain as far from the dark house he had hid in. He drove away from his memories stopping at a nicely lit dancehall where he could get lost in the crowd. Sitting in the background, he noticed a spark of light in the dark. Like an owl’s piercing stare, a woman with fire in her eyes held his gaze from across the room. They grew ever so close, until the world seemed to fall away. They danced the nights away like flames on a bonfire reaching for the sky. One bright day, he sought to quench his black heart’s desire to fill his empty soul.
 She came to him and they danced skin to skin. His heart beat with black oil hot as her flaming eyes. A well erupted in him like an oil strike in the desert; she quivered against him and both collapsed in a passionate embrace. As each lay satiated, the night passed in the blink of an eye and night became day. Both stayed together until the winter was upon them decades later. Both clung to each other with the strength of his heat and the fire in her eyes keeping them warm. 
One day, the cabin’s caretaker did stop by to see them. They held each other in a lover’s embrace; the fuel expired and their fire had gone out. He made arrangements, stayed until things were done, and off he went. He drove into the cold winter’s wind to find relief for the vision stained upon his heart. “What makes things come and go?” he asked “Lucky are those that find another and nourishes each like snow melting onto thirsty grass and quenching each other’s needs” he thought. 
The next night, he thanked the brightly burning stars above in the black sky for lighting the way home to his wife in the gently falling snow. “A fire in the dark” he said as he looked up, remembering the couple in the cabin. As he stepped out of his truck, the bright snow glided on the invisible wind, pushing it to fall where it would meet the grass in nature’s seasonal dance. 

*Copyright 3/15/14


Long poem by Peter Duggan | Details |

Vera's first write

This is a write that I helped Vera with, as many people have asked her to write something. I helped to make it a better read for her, though I did not think she needed my help….Peter



Hi everybody, my name is Vera as some of you already know, and I am the wife of Peter Duggan. I came on this site to cheer Peter on, and also to read some poetry which I do enjoy at times. I have made a few friends on this site and correspond with some, and a few of them have asked me to write something. Now I have never done anything like this before, but I decided to humor these friends any way.

     I could not really think of anything to write about, but then I thought of a subject dear to both myself and Peter; the transformation that he has gone through in the last five years. This might be of interest, and indeed some help to others who are having problems within their relationships with others.

   We married in London in sixty five, Then emigrated to Australia in 1967 and our marriage was going very well, filled with love and laughter. But then Peter decided to join the army, and volunteered to fight in Vietnam, because he wanted to do something to repay this wonderful country back for letting him live here.

   When he came back to Australia, this was when it all went pear shaped. Peter started to change; he become very aggressive and Psychologically cruel to myself and our three children and was like a keg of dynamite just waiting to explode. He would argue about everything and anything, and got involved in many very nasty fights. No one could tolerate him for very long, and myself and the children often felt like we were walking on eggshells whenever he was around. He turned to alcohol, and cannabis, and he was always off his head on any one of those drugs. Having said all this, Peter was never physically aggressive to me or the children.        

     Anyhow, this all came to a climax, when he suddenly walked out on us all and decided he wanted to live like a bum. Said he wanted his freedom. This was the last time I saw him for a year. When because I loved him so very much, I asked him to come back to us again. He came back, but nothing really changed, in fact I told him he would never change, and I honestly thought our marriage was beyond repair. He had done so much counselling, read every book on self-help, and tried religion [all the major ones], but nothing really helped.

    Then one day about five years ago, Peter was perusing through the net, desperate to find someone to help him get rid of this evil that lurked within him He came cross a man named John Sherman, who claimed that he could help people with this simple little action, that he gave Peter to do. In his desperation Peter put his whole life into this simple act.

   He never strayed from this path, and after a month or two things started dropping away. Each day he seemed to get more, and more happy, so happy in fact that he seemed to bubble with happiness. His anger started to drop away gradually until it diminished completely. He still loves to argue, but he never has to be right all the time and treats it all as a game. How anyone can change so dramatically, is completely beyond me, but the miracle happened; the evidence is before me. If I ever won the lottery, I would donate half of it to the Sherman foundation, and would be totally happy to do this. But the only thing that we can do Is spread the Sherman’s work any chance we can get. We both owe them so much.

    Anyhow, this is my first write, and I hope that many people might gain something from it. Peter and I are now the the happiest couple that ever walked the face of the Earth. I thank all of you that chose to read, this. Whether I’ll ever make a second attempt one never knows. But I surely enjoyed writing this. Peter helped me to arrange the words, as I had no confidence in my own abilities…..Vera


Long poem by Briana Lynn Minard-Adler | Details |

Bradlee Joe Rasmussen

Bradlee Joe is mine, he's always been mine,
The younger brother of David Authur Rasmussen Jr.,
Those gorgeous brown eyes staring at me, natural hair color,
That's brown; just like his brothers, but he dyed it blonde.<3
That gorgeous angel face, I think of him everyday all day, think of,
Those memories, that smile, that laugh, that voice, those strong arms,
The strong arms that hold me, just like his brother used to.
The sweet things he says to me, those precious eyes look into,
Into mine, the way he runs his fingers through my hair, the way he tickles me,
The way we play wrestle, the way we talk, the way we look at each other.
Eyes full of wonder, wonder how long we'll stay together, then he says,
He says "Baby we'll stay forever", and I believe every word he says,
My God if he only knew, knew how he makes my heart pound, the way,
The way it's just so easy to talk to him, man I can tell him anything, and I know,
I know that he'll keep it a secret, that's why I trust him with everything,
Everything inside of me. Everytime he asks me if I wanna start,
Start over with him, I always say yes, because I love him!!
No matter how much he hurts, I'll always love him, I do, because,
Because I know it's real, I love him with everything inside of me,
I want to wake up next to him everymorning and fall asleep,
Fall asleep in his arms everynight, say "I do" to him, have his,
Have his children, be in love forever, my God I've never felt this way before.
I fell for him the first moment I saw his gorgeous smile light,
Up that dark lunch room, the way you hugged me tight, exchanged,
Exchanged numbers with each other, and the way we talked on the phone for hours on end,
Oh how I wished for you to be mine, How I still wish to change,
Change my name to Briana Lynn Rasmussen.
Babe I can't inagine a world where you don't exsist, babe without you,
Without you I'd honestly die.
The son of David Authur Rasmussen Sr. and Sandi Rasmussen,
The brother of David Authur Rasmussen Jr, and Cheyeene Rasmussen,
The cousin of Kenneth Michael Hampton, better known as Mikey :) You have
Have a older bro, a younger sister & brother, and you have you,
Father's eyes, your brother's strength, your mother's beauty, and your crazy,
Crazy sense of humor.
With you I can't stop smiling, laughing and giggling.
Babe I am finally home, it's been a long time, and I am glad you kept the bed warm for me,
My home is with you, it's the only place where I belong, and babe I am so glad to be home.
I love your curly hair, I love the way you hold me, the way you kiss me, the way yoy,
You love me.
I love everything you do, and everything about you,
Babe I really do hope that day comes where we say "I do."
Hell I'd do it right now if I could, if you wanted me the same.
I want to be the mother of your children, I want to be the on;y woman you come home to,
Come home to after work, the one you give sweet kisses to, and the one you tell,
Tell me about your day, the one who wants to fall asleep in your arms, and 
Wake up in your arms with my head on your chest, see your sweet smile everyday,
Hear the words "Good Morning Baby, how'd you sleep?"
I'd reply sleepily "Great, how bout you Angel?" I love everything about you, everything
Everything you say, babe I love the fire in your eyes, the way you are protective over me,
The way you fight for me.
Babe I just wanna be your forever, and when we die baby,
I want to be laidto rest next to you, or with you in the same casket, because,
Because I'm only me when I'm with you, you are the only one who keeps me warm, The only one
Only one who makes me feel like I am home, like I'm finally alive,
Like I'm finally me, babe you are my better half and really honestly,
I've been so lost without you, and I am so glad to be back home.


Long poem by Vera Duggan | Details |

Veras first poem

Hi everybody, my name is Vera as some of you already know, and I am the wife of Peter Duggan. I came on this site to cheer Peter on, and also to read some poetry which I do enjoy at times. I have made a few friends on this site and correspond with some, and a few of them have asked me to write something. Now I have never done anything like this before, but I decided to humor these friends any way.

     I could not really think of anything to write about, but then I thought of a subject dear to both myself and Peter; the transformation that he has gone through in the last five years. This might be of interest, and indeed some help to others who are having problems within their relationships with others.

   We married in London in sixty five, Then emigrated to Australia in 1967 and our marriage was going very well, filled with love and laughter. But then Peter decided to join the army, and volunteered to fight in Vietnam, because he wanted to do something to repay this wonderful country back for letting him live here.

   When he came back to Australia, this was when it all went pear shaped. Peter started to change; he become very aggressive and Psychologically cruel to myself and our three children and was like a keg of dynamite just waiting to explode. He would argue about everything and anything, and got involved in many very nasty fights. No one could tolerate him for very long, and myself and the children often felt like we were walking on eggshells whenever he was around. He turned to alcohol, and cannabis, and he was always off his head on any one of those drugs. Having said all this, Peter was never physically aggressive to me or the children.        

     Anyhow, this all came to a climax, when he suddenly walked out on us all and decided he wanted to live like a bum. Said he wanted his freedom. This was the last time I saw him for a year. When because I loved him so very much, I asked him to come back to us again. He came back, but nothing really changed, in fact I told him he would never change, and I honestly thought our marriage was beyond repair. He had done so much counselling, read every book on self-help, and tried religion [all the major ones], but nothing really helped.

    Then one day about five years ago, Peter was perusing through the net, desperate to find someone to help him get rid of this evil that lurked within him He came cross a man named John Sherman, who claimed that he could help people with this simple little action, that he gave Peter to do. In his desperation Peter put his whole life into this simple act.

   He never strayed from this path, and after a month or two things started dropping away. Each day he seemed to get more, and more happy, so happy in fact that he seemed to bubble with happiness. His anger started to drop away gradually until it diminished completely. He still loves to argue, but he never has to be right all the time and treats it all as a game. How anyone can change so dramatically, is completely beyond me, but the miracle happened; the evidence is before me. If I ever won the lottery, I would donate half of it to the Sherman foundation, and would be totally happy to do this. But the only thing that we can do Is spread the Sherman’s work any chance we can get. We both owe them so much.

    Anyhow, this is my first write, and I hope that many people might gain something from it. Peter and I are now the the happiest couple that ever walked the face of the Earth. I thank all of you that chose to read, this. Whether I’ll ever make a second attempt one never knows. But I surely enjoyed writing this. Peter helped me to arrange the words, as I had no confidence in my own abilities…..Vera


Long poem by Therese Bacha | Details |

Our Endured Love

                                ~Our Endured Love ~
                      
Today and yesterday I am who I am not asking myself during 
my life lived with you,how many times have I lost my energy 
morally and physically, my answer everyday every minute every 
second Why? 
That was the only way to search for solutions, discover a road 
that would prevent us from getting lost again, I ask to allow 
your soul remain generous protect me and my heart, walk together 
face the sunshine, and seal our lips,
with a kiss. 
             
Give me the whole of you, allow my body never to sleep, awaken 
my instinct, allow the nights remain young, before our time is 
over, I cant loose you,  I prefer to burn alive, your power saves 
me, your eyes when inflame they light our candle, and puts off its 
flame with your tears, because I love you, 

I am willing to vanish, leave my dead body as a gift to be free 
from that pain, stare into my eyes, find me attractive, don't 
break my heart, my life feels ignored when years ago it was 
your treasure. 

Today I do not know who I am without you, feelings abandoned 
me, I prefer to live with my pain, my soul wouldn't want life without 
love in it, which belonged long,
before to you.

We looked at our teary eyes for hours, we needed not to talk, just
hold each other for years to come, as we both cannot live without 
one another, that is the power,
of our love.
                              
He took me outside held my face into his strong hands, turned towards 
the sun, and kissed my boiling lips. We both melted into each others 
arms, kissing under the sunshine, I was marked by a strong reaction 
towards romance.
Pulling from his pocket a letter gave it to me still holding me tight 
he said,this is my answer to you, please read it.

To My Woman:
You have been very patient because you know how much I love you. 
But in the past year I was living in the darkness within me unable to 
forgive myself of feeling lonely,even if we were together,I was hiding 
under my hood blaming myself of not working hard enough to support 
you mentally,I felt I was not good enough for you as a husband,today 
I promise you to bond our relationship with hardly no obstacles.

Our humor will be included,communicating,understanding,giving,loving 
all those together will allow our solid marriage to evolve no matter what 
were and what is and what will become. The circumstances of such a 
future nothing will be allowed to shake it anymore I promise you that.

When I am with you,we will feel we will heal to seal our love we sleep 
we dream we wake up we kiss we hug the bed is warm to sleep our 
bodies heat cannot resist to shelter our hands from that heat when 
burning lips utter whispers on fire our bodies under the sheets has 
too much love. Oh come my love let us share our love like never 
before your bodies smell awakens all my existence when 
I am with you.

I ran to the bedroom undressed to put on a beautiful sheer night gown 
to show him who I am in body and soul both so young our bodies were 
crying out begging each other to embrace to share the compassion 
through love making yearning for his lips his touch his eyes his voice whispering how much he loves me I was feeling a woman climbing 
higher than expected if this is love I am a woman in love.

We lived till old age and never 
did we not kiss under the sunshine.

Therese Bacha     
5/8/13
                                                                               
                         


Long poem by Tadon Archer | Details |

Twisted

They had his life story twisted as he plotted his death in advance
outsmarting his enemies evading cops and *****es
People hated him they wanted him dead
They said that he was good for nothing
Humiliated him showed him as a negative image in the public trying to
take him down
Telling the viewers he is nothing but a thug and a negative role model to
the children
But that’s what racist people do they care less about a nigga that trying to
make a change and get out the gang life
He was a poet, a rapper and a political leader in many of his fans' eyes
Always encouraging them to hold on and stay strong things will get better
and tomorrow will be a better day
He was a motivator speaker always helping the poor and the hood
He wasn’t afraid to claim where he came from
He wasn’t afraid to speak his mind when things weren’t right
A lyrical genius that had his enemies spook and fans confuse
A lot of rap stars were envy of him because they weren’t as real and
talented as him
So they started riots and destroyed his sense of humor tried to drive his
fans away from him
They wanted him to fall
And his life couldn’t get any worser when he was shot five times in
Manhattan by two armed men
On his way to the studio not knowing he was going to get shot
He was set up by a snake that acted like he was his homie
I guess his rapping buddy didn’t know what hit him
Because he had to take the blame while the true phony set in the
background and orchestra the hit
  
And the one who did it is still living repping bad boy records signing
people and then sacrificing them just to rank higher and get up to the
highest club
It’s a shame how can you still hold your guilt for so long for almost killing
your own kind
You’re still being controlled by a white man you didn’t even shed a tear
when your homie die instead you celebrated
Because you knew on the business side you were going to blow up
You’re a cold hearted person and the only thing you care about is money
and fame
Selling your soul and going through gay rituals just for money man you
gotta be mess up
And my guy was marked for death because he wouldn’t **** Quincy Jones
in the ass
So what is the music industry all about?
Do you really have to sell your soul and do gay things or sex orgy in order
to get what you want which is money and fame
Man ya got it all twisted because I thought that you rise to the top
because of your talent
Not doing insane things like changing your religious and worshipping the
devil or sending many of your fans souls to hell doing blood sacrifices or
voodoo killing people
Man this game is dirty all the real people are either dead or gone
somewhere far hiding from the secret societies that’s trying to kill them
And now we’re stuck with these phony ungodly rappers on TV That sold
their soul and did crazy things to get where they are at
Now what type of example are these so call rappers to the children in my
community
They are nothing but puppets slaves that has to take orders from their boss
in order to sell records
What a shame but nobody will never be the greatest like Makaveli retire
from the rap game and still making millions
While people are selling their souls trying to make a million


Long poem by William J. Jr. Atfield | Details |

My Dearest Daughter

My Dearest Daughter

Melanie, dear Melanie, I know that you know my thoughts
are always about you, my concerns are always for you,
my heartache weeps for you, this you know
for there are numerous pages in your possession
that make it clear, unfortunately though
there are none that express the opposing view,
the view where joy, pleasure, the peace
you bring into the life of this single parent.
As I read over a note I wrote to you a couple of weeks ago,

“ Melanie, I pray that things will come back to that space,
a place we go and get us back to a life of some normalcy,
or at least as normal as possible for you and I,
where you might give over your anger, your hostility,
your pain, your frustrations, your external as well as internal
self-destructive behaviour to a more peaceful, beautiful young woman
– my lovely Daughter -  I only see in glimpses, as fleeting shadows,
of you caressing the corners of my eyes as you slip by
– like a summer breeze on it’s way to rustle the leaves on my tree –
on your way to your room, where you hide from me
or from your room, in stealth mode, to wherever it is you go
- this Daughter I love, no matter where her emotions might lie,
no matter how many she beats me with them
or the methods she uses to beat me with them –.
Please be back soon !!!, please do not be angry with me ???
              Love
                               Dad . ”

I realize, Melanie, that every time I write something to you,
It is always about some negative experience we have encountered,
or you have encountered that has a negatively affected me
and that I have responded to in words – words written –
for seldom do my words penetrate the walls you have erected,
seldom do they have opportunity to form in my mouth, to move my lips,
for your ears, like you, are so very, very far away.
I do not understand, why Melanie ?, maybe it is your age ?,
maybe it is mine ?, - I should be your grandfather –
maybe it is because of your experiences ?, or maybe ?,
it is the experiences I have created for you these past ten years.
I just do not know Melanie, I can not say, I do not have the answers.

Anywhichway Melanie, I just want you to know how much I love you,
- more than all the space that fills the heavens themselves –
how much you mean to me
- more than all the heavenly bodies that inhabit all the universes,
all the galaxies, all the dimensions, all the planes our minds our eyes
will be able to see, to perceive -
and how much of a delight you are,
- like the sun at dawn, in the twilight hour, at high noon,
like all the suns in all the heavens
could possibly radiate down upon this old soul.

I truly enjoy you as a woman, the person I am watching blossoming,
brightening up the time we spent at that house warming party
and again at Linda’s fiftieth birthday party in Maple Ridge,
the days we spent on the road, to Vernon, the stay, and back.
You were a delight Melanie, everyone could see and feel that,
as you wandered through those great times with all of us.
You are a humorous and beautiful young woman Melanie,
and it is not just words from a prejudiced old father.

                                Love
                                       Dad .


Long poem by Roy Jerden | Details |

Call Me Tex

When I was just a teenage lad, and growing up out West
I never wore a cowboy hat or fancy leather vest
Never put on cowboy boots or western shirts with snaps
Never wore tooled leather belts, much less a pair of chaps

To be in style the Ivy League was what one wore to school
A skinny tie and button-down was how you dressed up cool
We wore Weejun penny loafers and tapered chino slacks
The boys all sported flattops, kept up straight with wax

Rock and roll and sock hops, my dance was then the twist
Cotton-eyed Joe and two-step didn't even make the list
Good ol' Willie Nelson could hardly make a sound
'Cause the King and Frank Sinatra were the coolest guys around

But when I joined the service, and moved outside the state
It didn't matter where I went or if I spoke my name out straight
For a while I thought I had some kind of omnipresent hex
'Cause anywhere outside Texas, they'd always call me Tex
 
When I said over yonder, they'd all say “Over... Where?”
When I talked about a horny toad, I'd get a funny stare
It didn't matter if my name was Buck or Roy or Rex
'Cause anywhere outside Texas, they'd always call me Tex

When they shipped me overseas, I thought that I would die
Couldn't get a Dr. Pepper there, or any Frito pie
When I wanted longneck Lone Stars, all they had was Beck's
And all those Europeans would always call me Tex
 
Any label kind of burned me, so right then I made the call
I'd learn to talk just like those guys, to hide my Texas drawl
I practiced on my diction, with elocution persevered
And soon the sideways looks and grins had finally disappeared

I traveled all around the world, got married overseas
Learned myself a few more tongues and got a few degrees
Now if I talk to British lords or English-speaking Czechs
When I masticate the lingo, they never call me Tex

Finally made it home one day, after way too many years
Came back to salute old pals and maybe share some beers
I wondered how the touch of time had treated all those lads
To my surprise, those preppy guys had all turned into their dads

Each one wore a cowboy hat and dandy leather vest
Some sported a bandana, some with bola ties were dressed
Some shod those M.L. Leddy boots with fancy pull-on straps
Each had a set of bootcut jeans and western shirts with snaps

Something then came over me, something that felt right
I heard my voice inside me say "Well boys, ain't y'all a sight!”
That educated accent that I'd worked so hard to gain
Had evaporated quicker than a light West Texas rain

I guess that you can travel, and learn lots of fancy stuff
But with friends who knew you when, there's no way that you can bluff
They might be polite with you, and humor you no doubt 
But you're better off to cut it loose and let it all hang out

They all let out a holler, yelling “Waitress bring the checks!
Give 'em to that ugly hombre yonder with the handle Tex.”
Now if I were any other place, I'd likely wring their necks
But when I'm home in Texas, then you can call me Tex


Long Poems