Long Actors Poems
Long Actors Poems. Below are the most popular long Actors by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Actors poems by poem length and keyword.
"Grenades"
When Humpty fell off the wall
she stood over the mess
that bad egg left
like a marauding architect
she was holding two pistols
the smoking guns
of a life peripheral
stitched up surreal
where the heart
sits in the middle
like a key swinging
constant metronome
beat, click-click,
like time spent
running a risky
poetic kingdom
where music
like grenades
blew up and lifted
pretend leaves
departures
like a death wish
kamikaze pilot
escaping
from a dead plot
holding onto the strings
of words, lit up
like neon balloons
containing messages
the base note revealed
underneath the stained seats
of bad actors fates sealed
pretending
a life at Freedom
Saab living slipping
charm like butter
rubbing between the bars
like soap on the tongue
with Sister Christmas
enabling spoilt collaboration
with unsuspecting customers
the orchestrated lies stumble
dead and buried, white flags torn
lying under the rubble
cool assassins
never come undone
delivering their missives
what's mightier than the sword
belting out their
golden semicolon chords
the disengaged pause
now released
the trigger pulled,
click-click,
now shot like
bullets from a gun
the heart,
a grenade
cool assassins
seen standing
their ground
steam punk
for all they’re worth
in their stormy
cloud ridden
kingdom come
the heart,
a grenade
more lethal than
sword
more explosive than
bullets from a gun
disengaged
with the engaged
click-click
(LadyLabyrinth / 2023)
“But since he pinned you, baby
You're a porcupine”
“Crack, baby, crack
Show me you're real”
Childhood's false forever
Has met its end, ephemeral as it was,
This fresh adult now stolen into our lives while we weren't looking
Now directs the actors, sets the stage
For her curtain call.
She knows not yet what audience awaits
On that curtain's further side;
But be they friend or foe, ally or adversary
She means to wow them all
With the perfect performance she asks of herself.
Nothing less will do.
The world turns on in its careless way,
One day ends in another's beginning,
Sunset chases sunrise
Marching between eternity's open gates
Each is given their little space to take the stage
To shine against the pressing dark.
In my head a little girl runs laughing towards the sunset.
I turn, and a young woman returns, trailing the sunrise.
We turn together, play out our parts
With every turn
I love her all the more.
You hear it said a lot these days,
“Reparations! Someone must pay!
Our ancestors suffered, it’s true!
For that we’ve come to take from you!”
Now we could just point out the fact
none of us were alive that far back,
that sin can never be passed down,
we’re sovereign actors, here and now,
we did not commit these mistakes,
and by no right can you come take
what we have earned through our hard work,
that doing so makes you a jerk;
but I think it’s more fun, my friends,
to stretch this crap out to its end...
Since slaves were taken, long ago,
I think it’s important we know
that Europeans could not seize,
Africa killed them with disease.
It was done by the ruling blacks,
a method they used to attack
their local tribal opponents,
take people to their detriment,
so black Americans should try
to get cash from all of those tribes,
go to the west African states,
they should be targets of your hate,
they own you cash, they did the deed!
So listen closely, and take heed,
all of your woke recriminations
should target west African nations!
But why stop with colors of skin,
that’s not where slavery begins,
eighty million African victims
were seized by slavers quite Muslim,
and marched north to the Middle East,
castrated so they could not breed,
worked to death by Mohammedans,
Africa deserves cash from them!
And Europe too, one million souls
seized by corsairs, then bought and sold,
when will the Muslims pay for that?
They owe Europe and should give back!
An even greater debt is owed
to the Greeks who ruled eastern Rome,
their lands invaded by the Turks,
it’s stolen land, repay that hurt!
Anatolia, the Levant,
Northern Egypt, taken! Gone!
This truly has gone out of hand,
Muslims, return the stolen land!
And what about little old me?
I’m owed money by Britain, see,
for what they did to my Irish kin,
during the potato famine!
We were driven from our soil,
and before that, forced to toil
for those damn Saxon conquerors,
I am owed money for that hurt!
CONCLUDES IN PART II.
Noel Neill passed away,
No Superman to save the day.
If unfamiliar with her name,
Then you're too young to know her fame.
But those of us of certain age
Can see her byline on the page -
"The Daily Planet," where she worked
And Superman, she gathered, lurked.
For Noel Neill was Lois Lane,
Reporter with Clark Kent, her main
Contender as the Man of Steel,
Without that super sex appeal.
His glasses let nobody see
His actual identity
Yet Lois - nosy, sharp and wise
Could penetrate his weak disguise.
Other actors played the part
But Noel Neill, pert and smart,
Will always, in our minds, remain
The one and only Lois Lane.
For five dollars Curtis gave me a diamond
it was really a pebble but he was happy to share his abundance
The body can feel like
the wretched coat that doesn't fit
Sometimes it is all we have to keep us alive
hoping for the prize
Curtis was in a world of his own
he was wearing a coat that didn't fit
Life is good when your mattress isn’t a sidewalk
Lazarus was a beggar
with no hope and a coat that didn't fit while
sitting at the rich man's gate
who was bathing in jewels
soon death came to both
The beggar was lifted by angels to Paradise
and the rich man to a place of torment
begging to crossover to heaven
but it is there the rich man only saw the glittering jewels
and the lust for pleasure
he lost sight of the stage and its actors
because everyone wears makeup, masks and a costume
But like King David God looks at the heart
Life is good when your mattress isn’t the sidewalk
Frank Black Blacharczyk
Luke 16: 19-31
Bob, Luis and Gordon,
Names that might just ring a bell,
Lived, at least to little children,
On a street* they knew quite well.
The actors who portrayed them
Started when the show was new,
Educational TV back then
Just making its debut.
They performed with mostly Muppets
And then guest stars who’d abound,
Though their constant presence promised
That they’d always be around.
So how shocking to discover
That all three have been let go,
All their years of such devotion
Ending in this final blow.
Lucky Big Bird, Bert and Ernie
And their Muppet friends are stuffed
Or they’d end up like the humans
Being rudely, crudely snuffed!
*Sesame Street
There is a club known for untimely deaths
mostly, musicians in their early life;
at the same age of twenty-seven years-
expire with no forewarning of their loss.
Rock Stars and later, actors, artists too
have joined the list by dying at this age;
most from addiction or freak accidents-
and some, more sadly, from grim suicides.
But, why the age of twenty-seven years?
What theory will unveil the reason why?
For others, this same age- slight fore or aft
have also passed from reasons up above.
Perhaps the media just dwells on those
well-known and honored for their noted skills,
who share this single age of passing on-
as vast unknowns succumb at this age too.
Fatal graveyard friendship
On the last day of my human life, I was sitting on a tomb in a cemetery, in an incredible garden of death
(In an outer district of the city.)
Just sitting, nothing special. Meditation, contemplation, thinking about death and life’s matters, and God
It was a beautiful day in September, windy atmosphere, the rain just gone, and the light of the sun sometimes winks through the leaves of trees
Everything is wet, this cemetery is so green and shines silvery, the ivy overgrown and weaved through everything
Silent solitude, amazing feeling between death and life, oh, that's why I love this thousand years old monumental graveyard
Just sitting on a tomb. Nice light brown marble building. So stable, and timeless, two people sleep here in the deep endless life
Joseph and Erma died on the same day in 1943. It was the time of World War II. On the same day? Hm, they died together. But how?
Someone knocks, the marble cover of the tomb moves under me, and someone shouts in exasperation, a man's voice
‘Hey! Man! Go away from our tomb! It’s not yours! Do not sit here! Go! We want to come out from the deep! Go! Go!!’
I stood up in full terror. The marble cover of the tomb moved off. Oh my God! A man came out! Tall and so strong!
A beautiful lady followed him from the depths. Oh my God! It's much better than all of the present top actors and models!
We talked and became friends. We walked into the cemetery. Conversations about life and death. About past and present life.
Joseph and Erma invited me to their home into the deep. Amazing home under the ground of the graveyard. Amazing, mystically demonic
Amazing home, living hall, rooms, a little church, library room, wine cellar, park, garden, dream home, afterlife living life actively on
Fantastic dinner, party, wine tasting, whiskies, and hellish drugs. Oh, I became unconscious, dreams, visions, magical lands. I have forgotten my life.
I woke up. I can’t get air. I realized. I am in a tomb. I sleep with two skeletons.
My mind is active. I want to get out of here. It is not possible.
‘You are dead! We stole your life!’ Joseph and Erma sang it.
They are sitting and drinking on my tomb.
I keep hearing them say it
in the media these days,
we need representation,
it’s the only thing they say!
Now if they say it that much
they must be quite serious,
so I looked on into it,
and ended up quite non-plussed.
’Cause based on demographics
it seems to me rather plain
that if we’re to make progress
then we’ll have to make a change.
You see I’ve noticed on screen
a third of people look black,
and for the longest time I
thought nothing was wrong with that.
But then I say the census
and I was rather amazed
that blacks were thirteen percent
of this country’s modern day,
which means there are too many
getting jobs in Hollywood,
overrepresentation
I assume is not that good.
what people have lost their shot
of being portrayed in film
because of miscalculation,
how many folks never will?
So if we are to be fair,
represent folks properly,
start firing black actors,
or you hate diversity!
But even more worrisome,
and even more out of whack,
are the percentages of gay
characters that people act.
The way our TV shows it
one-fifth of the people are gay,
but according to surveys
only three percent feel that way!
Which means what’s on the TV
does not represent real life,
and if we cannot see ourselves
how can we develop right?
To balance out the numbers
means drastic measures, I fear,
to correct representation
means less stories about ‘*****.’
But that’s not the start of it,
look at the folks some call ‘trans,’
cause celebre in Hollywood,
are they woman, are they man?
See so many in movies,
but if we’re to represent
then I will have to point out
they’re.02 percent.
Once again they’re too many,
and something has to be done,
since being represented
is vital to everyone!
To cast so many trans folk
can really do lots of harm,
you’re underrepresenting
all of the people who aren’t!
Unless, of course, these crusades
are only a load of bull,
nothing more than a charade,
a chance to virtue signal,
so shallow people feel special
without having to do work,
a chance to puff themselves up,
look down on others as jerks.
There’s nothing people like more
then feeling they’re somehow great,
and if the truth impedes that
then reality becomes ‘hate.’
I suppose we could go back
to hiring on merit,
but they’re not gonna do that…
someone might call them ’bigot.’
(Written after seeing a scary movie late last Friday night.
I think it was actually called "Lake Eden" but I changed
the title for sake of meter) the actors drove on left side of
the road but it didn't seem to be England! Does anyone
know of this movie?)
Take care if you should visit Eden’s Lake,
for Paradise can be a living hell.
Cruel bullies lurk there worse than any snake!
Take care if you should visit Eden’s Lake.
Events there made a strong man shriek and shake,
and if they talked, the trees alone would tell. . .
Take care if you should visit Eden’s Lake.
For Paradise can be a living hell.