Long Abet Poems

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


Endangered Horror Species Zoo, Part I

Alas, you may have noticed if
you’ve looked around the world these days,
you don’t see werewolves or zombies,
no vampires or mummies at play.
The whole world seems to have lost that
thade of mystery we once knew,
The creatures that stalked us of old
have become remarkably few.
There’s still a few out there, I know,
good old Dogman up in Michigan,
but for many of these creatures
their wild days have come to an end.
Now what’s the reason for this loss?
What has brought about this strange thing?
That’s easy enough to explain,
we humans are great at killing!

Yes, just as with normal animals,
we kill off what might be a threat,
something threaten might endanger out lives
is something that we can’t abet.
So just like predators and small pox
we saw the job was done,
heck, we published how to kill them
in all of our horror fiction!
Stakes, silver, garlic, and headshots,
we let all the world know how to win,
to the point out nights have become safe,
free of all the creatures of sin.
But if you still want to see them
then I have some good news for you,
you can see them all down at the
Endangerer Horror Species Zoo!

Now we got ghouls, goblins, wendigos,
your Demons, your banshees, and sprites,
we got all of the B-team monsters,
but most folks come for the big five.
I guess we should start with the werewolf,
each must roam in his own separate pen,
their spacious and lined in silver leaf,
we don’t want them getting out again.
The only ones left are the old ones,
so old they no longer transform,
they just stay werewolves all the time,
apparently this is the norm.
whatever the case, it’s good for us,
people can see them fur and all,
through a foot-thick one way mirror
that forms the enclosure front wall.
These eight foot beasts eat messily,
yet people gather when they feed,
yhey act appalled by the whole thing,
Yet they consistently watch the scene.
And when those lycans howl loud
it pieces right down to the soul,
ten times the fear of a normal wolf,
the spine tingles, and blood runs cold.
But people like feeling afraid
so long as they know they are safe,
sometimes we’ll drop a rabbit in there
so folks can watch the beast give chase.
Why do so few of these beast remain?
think silver bullets plus machine gun,
most of them now are heads on a wall,
we’re luck to have more than one...

CONTINUES IN PART II.
Form: Narrative


Redundant Again

Redundant Again

By Elton Camp

There’s an expression hard to beat
It’s a reference to “hamburger meat”

Here’s another that’s too often seen
Come and use our “ATM machine”

In a storm, folks always “hunker down”
But to “hunker up” is not ever found

An “advance reservation” is quite wise
You can’t do it afterward with many tries

There’s no sense to “aid and abet,”
Since the same meaning they get

Then consider the name “balsa wood”
Surely “wood” has to be understood

A “brief moment” certainly can’t be long
Otherwise, the very expression is wrong

Why use the two words “cancel out”
When cancel alone shows what’s about

Contemplate the words “cash money”
Doesn’t it actually sound rather funny

In “closed fist” I really have to insist
That “closed” is essential if it’s a fist

Ingredients you have to “combine together”
You can’t combine apart even if you rather

“Completely filled” uses two words when it’s true
When “filled” alone would be all we need do

We “confer together” because there’s no art
That will somehow allow us to confer apart

We “could possibly” carry out the plan
Gives nothing new that we can understand

The “current incumbent” is the one in now
An “incumbent” has to be current anyhow

How could it be that we say “exact same”
When identical is what the two words name

We ordinarily will speak of a “face mask”
Where else could a “mask” go I have to ask

So if I trip then I have to “fall down”
If I fall up, then gravity isn’t around

A plane, we say, will “fly through the air”
Could it fly through the water over there?

Enter a “PIN number” when using a debit card
That “PIN” already says number can’t be too hard

A fly is crawling on the “nape of her neck”
Where else is a “nape” located by heck?

Then there’s the expression “overused cliché”
Could a “cliché” possibly be any other way?

A “pair of twins” surely does imply there are two
Any other number with “twins” just wouldn’t do

And now think about the words, “sole of the foot”
Where else is it that a “sole” could possibly be put?

Another example of redundancy is “tuna fish”
“Tuna” can’t be anything else even if we wish

In our writing, unneeded words we should eliminate
Lest our postings others should actually come to hate
© Elton Camp  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Rhyme

Hookey Day

HOOKEY DAY

So you went off to school son and what did you learn?
will it make the world better the next time it turns?
No I didn’t go to school ma, I played hooky today
and I learned that it’s time to throw the books away.

I went to the cities and I walked down the streets,
and talked to the graduates where they work and compete.
I looked at the systems that they have contrived
and it’s hard to believe that we’re still alive.

I heard bankers scheming financial plots
to turn all of the haves into have-nots,
to place the whole world under total control
in endless poverty with no hope of parole.

I heard doctors and lawyers speaking in tongues
to patients uncured as the innocent hung.
Big pharma was addicting whole populations
as wall street convulsed in financial elation.

I saw shadows behind men high in power
as the world grew darker hour by hour.
The light at the end of the tunnel seen
was in the hands of an interrogation team.

My thoughts became knots, all tied up in the hype
that the media weaves through the lines of it’s type.
Life was distorted by camera and crews
***** called art and fiction called news.
 

Did you study your lessons and pass all your tests,   
will you use what you learn to become a success?     
I learned that the minds of those studying there               
are molded by evil for tools of despair.                       

They're captains of industry, the corporate select
who ravage the earth and cause human neglect.  
They measure success by raids and attacks—  
and the depth of the blade in society’s back.

They control the planet and technology
that could energize earth, pollution free,
but they profit more from machinery  
that fouls the air, the earth and the sea. 

Go to their schools and you’re taught to agree  
with the policies of the powers that be. 
To aid and abet them in criminal goals 
of pillage and plunder and global control.

To cast aside all conscience and sense
and leave the future to pay the expense.
To covet and hoard, collect and amass
and consume the earth to the last blade of grass. 

These are the men of letters and worth
of corporations destroying the earth.
Go sit with their scholars and sully your brain 
I’ll pass on the classroom and keep myself sane.
Form: Couplet

My Epitaph Writ Large

My epitaph writ large...
courtesy third person singular.

Mise en scène pour décès
pardon his feeble attempt at French,
a unilingual English language
quibbling, and scribbling mensch
strongly advises applying
left handed monkey wrench,
which custom designed tool
assigned impossible mission
to discern sense and sensibility
regarding following poetic thread
subject of a fool's errand.

Mein kampf witnessed, punctuated,
and evinced courtesy final breath
automatically triggering (tumblr
to activate) final curtain call
and unremarkable death.

As stipulated in the living will
cremation of his lifeless body
cremated into soft gray powder.

A prerecorded hashtagged obituary
downloaded to individual smartphones
and simultaneously appeared on
the following poetry websites:
COSMOFUNNEL, Hello Poetry,
Neopoet, My Poetic Side, Poetry Soup,
PoetryNook, PoetryVibe, Prose|
A community of readers and writers,
and All Poetry.

He hesitated and lost out
on game of life big time
even fumbling crafting reasonable rhyme
noshing, spending, and whiling
inordinate amount of hours
squirreled away in his bedroom
surrounding himself with reading material.

He amassed fountainhead of knowledge
quietly engorging cerebral gray matter
whereat noggin swelled up
rivaling globe, but Atlas shrugged
at him, whose head
resembled the first Chinese brother
who swallowed the sea.

Odd his voracious appetite
to buzzfeed with one
after another binary byte
zealous precocity to engross himself
with storied reading material 
that does extremely excite
(at the expense of healthy socialization)
where his imagination took flight,
nevertheless myopic eyes of his

did glean insight
keeping his cute button nose
between pages of choice morsels
to appease hunger
keeping himself awake
drinking high test coffee
during darkness aided by jacklight
processing meaty material with might
experiencing abundant, exultant, 

intoxicant, over-extravagant
joie de vivre day or night,
a balm, elixir, inebriate... quite
the panacea to abet emotional incapacitation
which entails crafting poems
oftimes spending efforts
with efforts undertaking rewrite
unwittingly garnering a fanbase
courtesy ideology doth unite.
Form: Rhyme

Disappointed Devil Hood Das Fume and Fret

Disappointed Devil - Hood Das Fume And Fret

'Curse darned demon
     of that thar
     underworld nudged me abet
as a permanent solution
     to a temporary problem
     i.e. principally no money
     and rising debt
not for a long time didst

     I feel so distressed didst,
     where no amount of
     optimism could get
back joie de vivre ebullient elan,
     that oft times fines me jet
ting hither and yon, to and fro,
     until spent energy met
fatigue, whence sand

     man gave his pet
tickle yore sleep inducing
     sprinkling granular set
tat heave, albeit
     non off fence sieve tet
deep slumber didst
     hone like a whet
stone, less drastic alternative versus

     welcoming grim reaper, yet
eventually, aye reckon
     this human machine
     moost give up the ghost
boot not now,
     cuz this moment hike ken boast...,
an immediate diminution
     of anguish, viz unlike as told

yesterday, the monthly doled
social security automatic direct
     electronic deposit extolled
joyus relief, viz checking account
     death rattle didst sense a gold
din shimmer and em bold
qua slight monetary profusion
     lowering destitution,

     asper dearth of monies
     allowing ease to un fold,
which severe dire straits rolled
forward respite 
     with money for nothing
     oppressive full (rick kitty)
     full Nelson neck
     i.e. near choke hold

rejuvenated brittle psyche mold
during self feeling auld
also attendant temp
     purred critical pull
away woe decreased yielding
     (all "talk" and no action),
     following thru with desperate,
sans destructive (irreversible)

     actions unable to hold,
metaphorical tiger of despair
     by the figurative tail,
     where soul of mine
     almost got "sold"
for a pittance (NOT penitence)
     to the Prada devil
     (or similar facsimile thereof)

     rational self didst scold
     spewing idle "FAKE" 
     hollw we ning suicidal threats,
     not necessarily bold
cuz, this scribe did not write

     his last (nor first,
     second, third...) will
     and testament before death,
     would hove found 
    me stiff and cold.


Si Vis Pacem

You see them loot on city streets,
attack people and leave them beat,
take what they want with no regard,
it’s ‘easier’ than working hard.
We see them take a human life,
with no regard for people’s rights,
defraud taxes, both poor and rich,
spend your hard work without a hitch.
Will the police protect you then?
if the politicians left them,
but if your view and thoughts are ‘wrong’
they help the thugs to get along.
Your life must be in your own hands,
a never-changing rule of man,
the wolf is always at the door,
if you want peace, prepare to war.

We’re so secure in modern times
that it seems bizarre to some minda
to think foreigners could invade,
some relic from a darker age,
to the point that they will decree,
“Let’s only use diplomacy,”
forgetting that the wretched lot
that usually rise to the top
crave what you have, and do not care
if war is what will get them there.
But why have these guys no struck yet?
an ever-present fear of death,
the fact that we will kill them back
is all that staves of their attack.
Reason can never convince them
to give up power’s addiction,
and when the sheep-dogs go away
then these wolves will come out to prey,
with no thought of the blood and strife,
they’ll take your land and rape your wife,
the wolf is always at the door,
if you want peace, prepare for war.

We can’t forgive the greatest threat,
the evil we’re forced to abet,
the specter we call government,
forever plays on sentiments,
divides and riles openly,
draws power from our liberties,
and even here, in a free state,
a tyrant lies in each, and waits…
Waits to seize what it never should,
while claiming it’s for your own good.
our founders knew just what they are,
tried to stop them going too far,
to this day they chafe at restraint,
make it a reason for complaint,
but their intentions are well known:
they see themselves upon a throne.
From senator to bureaucrat,
we’d do well to remember that
the wolf is always at the door,
if you want peace, prepare for war.
Form: Rhyme

Valentines Day 2021

Valentine's Day 2021

Yours truly not necessarily
romantic fellow at heart
more accurately methinks myself
lame and inadequate sorry excuse
for reasonably rhyming spouse,
but courtesy after sipping

(née - chugging away
like snorting caboose)
Welch's sparkling white grape juice
maybe accompanied with entree couscous
generic and garden variety
run of the mill by the floss husband
ordinarily fancy free and footloose

feigned being inebriated
noisily squawking - imitating
deafening honking lunging goose
creating ruckus whereby resultant outcome
whereby wife playfully threatened me
to hang me (all choking aside) with noose,

(I needed to gibbet a chance)
as ye can accurately dead deuce
nearly turning unnatural shade of chartreuse,
thus I immediately called truce
after hiring team of animated experts
Rocky the squirrel
and Bullwinkle the moose.

Once upon a time I
bouncing up and down
analogous to yoyo
rode proud on his high horse whoa
considered himself, albeit kiddingly

as pure as the driven though
fell prey to basic proto
human barking animal propensity
desire under the Elm you know
all to well that biological urge

goading species to reproduce
when consummated minus
utilization of prophylactics
to aid and abet begetting embryo
unborn or unhatched offspring
in process of development,
particularly human offspring during
period from approximately
second to eighth week after fertilization
(subsequently termed a fetus).

Back in the day
gathering rosebuds while I may
thy pure motive to lay
me down with barenaked lady
futile (yet Prince Valiant) attempt
to placate seething hormonal secretion
surging testosterone seemingly went away
(I strongly suspect absent libinal longing
courtesy side effect half dozen medications)
bodes ill with spouse
marriage doth severely fray.
Form: Rhyme

Blood, Flesh and Bones

O, for thy blessed skin, draping thy torso
Radiating key images to beholder’s sight ‘n mind
Acuities thus forged, save for the blind
Launching love at first sight

Much like hair, eyes, nose, lips
Whose contours spark admiration, adoration
Forsaking traits of souls laying buried deep
Worthy of love ‘n awe for all eternity

For doth the skin ‘n exteriors
Not speak to us or those espying
Forcing choices ‘pon us
Via seeing, not feeling nor sensing?

Yet beneath them all lie our vitals
Blood all infusive, red for all
Raw flesh, in glistening pinks
White fat streaking ‘tween stacks of flesh

Deep lie the bones, white ‘n firm
Body’s scaffold, same for all
After death, remain for millennia, then some
Betraying neither clan, tribe nor race

Yet ‘tis the skin ‘n façades
That push us to love or scorn
Redeem or rebuke, reject or abet
Enacting blanket measures

Punishing for being ‘n traits inborn
They as choiceless as we, yet ‘tis bile we pick
For the power we have, the power they don’t
‘N all for traits no more ‘n skin deep

We speak of them in cursory tones
Yet ‘tis more ‘bout us bereft of epiphanies
Judging them as though we knew
Little did we know, ‘tis our souls we reprove

Yet beneath all anatomy, resides the unseen
Defining our humanity, our core
That amorphous, transcendent, colorless yet real
Soul, spirit, essence, kernel

Where love and pain vie, for the heart’s space
If life’s to have meaning ‘n gist
Must cleanse itself of all rancor
For love ‘n honor to prevail, our crux to occupy

Then gods we invoke
Of love we claim they be
But only us does s/he cherish
The rest can vanish or perish

‘Tis claimed hell awaits, those not of us
That gods will save us
Not them with skins to loathe
Gods that peep no deeper than our own eyes can

What’s honestly to be made of such gods?

Mario Versus Contra

(Mario)

Here comes the carpenter                                                                 
who wears a crimson hat                                                               
Don't mock him dear                                                                          
for being a bulgy fat

He is the Super Mario                                                                           
who's a bold savior                                                                      
Likes to jump on enemies' head                                                             
...very odd behavior

Has only one aim                                                                               
to get princess Peach                                                                       
Get her before the foes come                                                              
save her from their reach

(Contra)	

Now come the commandos                                                             
both clad in camouflage                                                             
Landed in Red Falcon's Area                                                         
...their territory full of mirage

Loaded with machine guns                                                            
they are here to abrogate                                                                
For they are the chief saviors                                                      
to abet mankind's fate

Cutting through the challenges                                                           
they will surely succeed                                                                  
As everyone is supporting them                                                              
wishing luck in their deed
Form: Rhyme

The Tunnel Vision

You can keep swinging in your smile
as your eyes see through the cylinder only
where the flowers radiate the scent
where the leaves wait for the rustle
of the fondling wind
where stars wait for the music
of the magical light peaks
where the blue sky waits 
for the golden kite
in the cloud towers
Where the staircase raises the ears 
for the sound of the footsteps
Where the mahogany branch
craves for the feet of the pair of the larks

The cylinder refuses to take
the wide angle lens
adding to the view
the greedy rats 
the spilling vats
the leopard like hungry cats
the pus and pain of the flats
that our apartment is proud of
housing the autocrats
None in your tunnel
You don't battle
Against the stale apples
the de facto brothels
in the apartment in isolation
with no ventilation

You are of course better off
than those who have
the same tunnel before the eyes
Only the field of view with no dew
For them in the queue
The rapists and rape victims
The murdered and the murderer
The cheats and frauds
The figures flawed
Nothing good and well
The earth a hell

You are better off
With your cut-off
eliminating the minuses
Including only the pluses
where the thorns
aid and abet the blossoming of the rose

We like to keep disjointed
And highlight the negative knives only
Turning blind to the beehives
And the humming bee
bridging you and me

You do have the ear
corresponding with the tunnel vision
to hear and respond
and build the blueberry bond
between the flute and the music
The circles concentric
of the lyrics of life
and the drumsticks 
______________________________________________
April 28, 2018
Tunnel Vision - Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Kai Michael Neumann

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