Long Agent Poems
Long Agent Poems. Below are the most popular long Agent by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Agent poems by poem length and keyword.
if I were in charge of the world
I'll make everyone spiritually and racially equal
No longer barter on monetary things
judge as only through the King Our Father brings
if I were charge of the world
Would be less or no more hatred
God would see to this
No more religious persecution our one Father God the solution
punished as only God choose and chosen
if I were in charge of the world
You wouldn't kill anyone
You wouldn't hurt nor harm to children
You wouldn't ignore the homeless the poor
Or if I could I maybe would
I will take care of the agent and the old or if I could I maybe would if I would if I were in charge of the world
1/2/20
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr 2020
Cliche Heaven
Be it as it may I'll try my hand at some clichés
and address the elephant in the room soon when pigs fly.
It’s a win- win situation, put your game face on, work the crowd
as we wrap our heads around comparing apples to orange.
We are all data driven, with an ace in the hole, stick a sock in it
while stepping up to the plate and peeling back the onion
and easily hit it out of the ballpark with a world of hurt.
Be my team player, run with this, my agent of change
but don’t throw me under the bus as you think outside the box.
We can touch base later seeing where the rubber meets the road
and put boots on the ground, a perfect storm, deal with it.
Here’s my two cents, if it works I'll go off the beaten path
driving route 66 on the road not taken when it’s up for grabs,
and taking a walk in the sun, learning the new math.
That said, don’t put me out to pasture, wait for it,
there’s no sign of my slowing down, its going viral.
These are the signs of the times, take the bull by its horns,
It’s a brave new tomorrow and all bets are off.
Don’t force my hand to be up close and personal
I’m a rebel without a cause and to die for.
Don’t get bent out of shape raising the bar in the winds of change
There’s something for everyone, just another babe in the woods.
Stay tuned, like, duh, as a matter of fact, at the end of the day,
it’s a last ditch effort as you live and learn the luck of the draw.
Pay it forward, that’s the ticket, give and take, get a wake up call,
same song and dance, say what you will, you’re as sharp as a tack.
It’s all smoke and mirrors, just splitting hairs to reinvent the wheel
and walk the red carpet for a quick buck to pay as you go
Heaven help us,
I believe there's an app for that.
"Tease for Two"
“Ein bisschen Zucker
mit Ihrer Sahne, Sir?“
German accent
smoky toned
she purred
Periwinkles suavely winked,
then played with his -
cufflinks
“Not now Schvee Tart”
he said holding his attache tight
looking across the room
grinning Lupine Blues
a slight smile on his lips,
bemused,
“Service calls,
her name is
"Q”
Across the dance floor
all eyes turned
Parting tall bus boys, handsome waiters
matrons with their peach blinis, their tart apple martinis
flustered debutantes
all poetic unsure
first time daters
dilettantes
rubbed their -
eyes again, they blinked
made way, made room,
for Q's
sashaying soliloquy
serious multi tasking
sensual stiletto Hell-on-High Heels
slick Scarlet lip-glossed
VaVaVoom
As it should be
entertaining control,
further into the room
across the dazzling polished dance floor
no pastie tasselling girls
on well-oiled silver poles
The Special Agent
slinked
The Old Boys
raised their drinks
He stands
She sits
"Ist das eine Waffe
in deiner Tasche,
Special Agt Schmidt?"
She glances at her
Bulgari Serpenti Incantati
and in English says,
"This better be good,
Now is not the time to quit"
Like a wolf
Periwinkles
grins
"Q," he low growl says,
"I propose a change in destination,
I've taken the liberty to buy you
feathers for your wings -
tickets Q...."
then flirtatiously adds,
"Simply adore your bling"
(LadyLabyrinth/2019)
1. lupine/wolf
2. lupine/lupinus, genus blue flowering plant
3. Libertango
Big war inc.. Is currently promoting, a war in Ukraine
And war in Isreal and Gaza, the war not being prom-oted
Is the truly global one against all humanity.' It did get some
Exposure when epstien got jail, a little more when maxwell
Followed, and some more when Angel studios produced
(The sound of freedom film) that hollywood I hear was by
Nefarious means suppressing and spreading misinfo
About, it became a blockbuster film ( it is drawn from true
Life actions ) of ex- c i a agent Tim Ballard, and shows
How child and people traffiking is a ' real buisness ' which
War facilitates.! I think anybody reading may get the
Picture.?
o in the big market of universe
I didn't find any salesman,
I didn't find any wholesaler,
I didn't find any company / agent
who sells and makes the happiness- peace
if there is anyone
I'm the first buyer
but no one still I found
no one still informed me about this
o I'm not disappointed seeking this
I’m not distressed hunting for this
but I came back to me
and I come back again and again
I seek myself; I find out myself
out to inwardly
there I find the happiness-peace
which lives in my self-satisfied mind
which lives in my demandless self-bliss
-December 31, 2019 CTG, BD
In a mall that could only be described as a circus of chaos, Penney and Gus found themselves in an absurd game of cat and mouse. The air buzzed with a mixture of excitement and anxiety—it was just another day at Mallville, where the ordinary became extraordinary, and every moment held the potential to be either hilarious or downright dangerous.
Penney eyed the bright signs that advertised "Escape Rooms: The Ultimate Adventure!" The fluorescent colors felt oddly welcoming amidst the pandemonium that was unfolding before her. She couldn't help but smile at the absurdity of it all. Who would've thought that the mall's Easter Bunny would become an unwitting ally in their escapade?
“I never thought I’d be saved by a giant rabbit,” she murmured to herself as they ducked behind a row of chic retail displays, barely avoiding Michael’s frantic gaze.
“Look! It’s a bunny!” Gus exclaimed, his eyes shining with an idea. “If we can trick Michael into thinking that bunny is the true prize to chase after—or maybe even a secret agent—we might just have our distraction.”
Penney nodded, catching a glimpse of the furry creature adjusting his oversized glasses and attempting to regain composure after the chaotic encounter with Michael. The bunny, apparently, was more than just a seasonal mascot; he looked sharp and surprisingly agile.
As Penney and Gus strategized, Michael was already on his feet, brushing away faux grass and chocolate-covered Easter eggs from his attire. His nose still dripped crimson, but his focus remained unwavering. “I will find you, Penney! You can't hide forever!” he yelled, the intensity in his voice suggesting he was ready to unleash chaos on anyone who got in his way.
Gus noticed a group of teenagers nearby giggling as they filmed the unfolding drama for social media, creating a modern archive of what could easily be titled “Mall Madness.” They seemed oblivious to the seriousness of the situation—distraction was their specialty after all.
“Hey, you!” Gus called out, pointing dramatically at the teenagers. “Zany TikTokers! How about a collab? We need an epic stunt for your next viral video!”
Soot on LA highway signs. Billboard of you,
a real estate agent. All endeavor slides
toward inertia, extinction, forgetfulness.
It’s very tropical. Vegetation invades
the house unless constant inputs of joy
apply. The scientist in you feels the
great ape in you. The great ape feels
death growing wide. What about work?
I devote my present to my future existence.
In what way, in what sense
does one continue to resist. As
a dessicated cell, a mole of elements,
an ancient’s aura, a daguerreotype-like
shadow on a sidewalk, persistent headache,
paleolithic herbivore, potential energy, will.
Some wake up and pray, say thanks for
another day. Others curse their luck, stale breath,
the very thought of the rosy dawn makes them ill.
Lonely as leaf fall.
Nature knows no pity or self-pity
according to antiquity, the roof soot of the city.
I admire fire, tools and ore. Agriculture.
Cities, empire. Trading and taking (war).
Numbers, counting, writing. Libraries, discoveries, zero.
And the single-minded universe
that’s only a paper moon
without your love.
Celebrity Dreamscapes
Washington
Wall Street
Hollywood
Nashville
Where regurgitation overflows
And Barmecidal bait boxes
Morph their delights by the hour
All the while
Gluttony's promised feast
Ignorant of cyclic famine
Awaits the pernicious fate-agent
Scouting to burrow like a weevil
The new crop of innocence
Trusting destiny to the winds of chance
Confident redolent success smells
French perfume
Garlic enhanced delicacies
Fresh tanned leather of opulent travel
Are theirs to have
How fragrant the illusory air becomes
The temperature of anticipated fortune's shift
Where once a round-shouldered indigent freshman pounded doors
Now seemingly triumphant
Unknowingly erect as a naked rose stem
With yesterday's portent of rich reward
Rapidly sheds its petals
Mulch for tomorrow's next planting
How fleeting the enigmatic feast of notoriety
Time's incumbent qualification
For re-introducing innate principals
Cautioning today's attention
Is but a requisite for tomorrow's elusive truth
Yet
Fearful of fruitless coming years
Too few embrace cognizance over
Fading Klieg lightsParty snubs
Absent red carpet entrances
A maître d's forgetfulness
Yes
The harvesting of one's experience
Might suffer drought and winds
Scattering past efforts
To but memories of dust
Rather than priceless benchmarks
To reveal the authentic self
Yes
Such a disposition may well make "Being" difficult and distant
Where the "take a number and be seated" readout at DMV
May well become a feared test
Where waiting
Becomes a ticking-off-process
Asking if one can hold onto the simpler distant past
Those surprising coming-of-age sensations
The first time rewards of libations' survival
The generous thank you once felt by the first kiss
And yes...
One's elation upon receiving that first driver's license
We think
We review
We ponder "what price" aspiration
Ambition
So often blind to trickery
Frequently stumbles upon start marks
Not meant to be
Distant finishing lines
Not meant to be reached
Still
One can take a number
And eventually hear one's name called
To be who you are...
Or not
Sue S. Side Almost Won Out As The Tomb Poem...
(alternately titled: a page taken from the play
book of Little Miss Muffet.)
"Oh...My...Argh..." "Somebody...
Please...ease...help...me...ee"..., and
then dead silence, this comprises,
the sole thread bare strand
i.e. plaintive desperate plea – recorded
by emergency 911 agent Brand
N. Burg-Harris, a close family member
of the deceased, who
(said relation) hand
dully appeared aghast, shell shocked,
white as a ghost,
et cetera damned
near roundly dismissed,
but extraordinarily grand
lee escorted to safety,
as some VIP, who
under a "normal," regular,
and/or typical case, would be
gingerly brushed aside land
ding in the loony bin, what with his
babbling like a lunatic understand
ably very little attention paid,
but the sheer immensity,
sans horror surpassed any
concoction hatched, analogous
to grotesque japaned
artwork by necessity didst demand,
an extremely over
active imagination, thus
no "FAKE" spiderbiter words
exist to expand
to embellish, fabricate,
and/or surpass,
a terrifying, nightmarish,
and hideous circumstance
in summary visa a vis dis
covering Goliath manned
doubles (mandibles - jaws of steel),
wherein barenaked remnants
of Matthew Scott Harris protruded,
which humongous mouthparts
of gigantic sized
Tarantula pierced poison
into dangling, flickr
ring, and twitching
scant visible remains
of renowned Arachnologist, academician
passionate serious
die hard "Spider Man."
No qualms how you treat me; I'm just too soft,
And I've got lofty kindness, I'm patient.
But why? You me so hard and so much off,
And leave me ill as a constant patient.
Like I never deserve any fairness?
Or was my day cursed as from birth?
From much liquor, you're of extreme highness.
What's it worth then, if living is for death?
No season to believe any reason,
It's all chaotic dilemma and pain.
you life! For every past mal-season;
What's good to loose all good, would my soul gain?
you agent of , darn and you fate!
If I'm tested too sore, then what is faith?
-Arch Micheal-
#ArchWrites
#Life