Long Argue Poems
Long Argue Poems. Below are the most popular long Argue by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Argue poems by poem length and keyword.
I had searched for him earlier on,
I needed his urgent assistance,
He was supposed to accompany me to an office and arbitrate on my behalf,
Then I would be able to submit the necessary materials,
He was the only one who could advocate for me.
I lay down on the rugged floor,
It was the morning of the next day,
I was in a dilemma,
It was the day to defend my project,
All my materials were still with me,
Some of these were supposed to be submitted and acknowledged,
Then I would be able to follow the pathway to reach my goal,
It was time for the defence,
I was still on the other side of the fence.
As I lay down,
Dressed up and prepared,
An inner voice urged me to leave for school,
I could hear it,
It echoed in me,
Immediately I stood up and left for campus,
As I got to my faculty,
The voice came to me again,
It told me to go up the stairs to the room where the defence was taking place,
Though I didn’t argue with the voice I considered it an unwise thing to do,
Still, I had to do its bidding,
As I approached the room,
The man was coming down the stairs toward me,
I was deeply surprised,
I quickly explained everything to him,
He accompanied me to submit the necessary materials,
He was able to meditate on my behalf,
I successfully defended my project,
An inner voice helped me.
June 13, 2025.
Rain's Innocent Guilt
by Odin Roark
So simple
Creation's reflective miniscule
Gathering force at will
Sprinkling nourishment
Sharing its cleansing
Wanting only growth
Such is the mission
Of Nature's most immaculate
The raindrop
Carrier of so many purposes
Inculpable its essence
Being not of calamitous desire
Yet collected by forces undesired
Often Tropical disturbance
Or typhoons
Hurricanes
So faultless
Its guilt
While we admonish it presence
Water spotting our car washes
Spoiling our vacation weekends
Plummeting our gardens
We ignore its due respect
Perhaps...
Embracing the small creature-less life
Might enable this E. T. of Nature's family
Dreaming only of making our lives better
A supportive existence among
Its dedicated landscape
Still
We argue its overwhelming presence
Even as its ancestors of Arctic and Antarctic
Plead for genealogical respect
We continue to deny its nemesis
Man's natural self destruction
Trying to hide behind inept rationale
For some
So easy to deny
For all
Impossible to avoid
Fighting for love because you fight when you are in love
Here we are in the heat of the moment and I’ll admit that the kitchen is making me want to leave
Not leave you but go for a walk and blow off some steam, maybe listen to some music
I don’t even remember what brought us to such a crossroads
My anger is on fire and your words are the kerosene, and love is the furthest thing, from perfect but the illusion is its perfect
Like this is the last place we should be doing this, but there’s no one else I’d
rather argue with…
So, now I’m listening to the silence because sometimes I like it better quiet
Sometimes I just want to be alone and sometimes I need space like I am in space
I know you don’t like it but you still put up with it because you love me with all your heart
So, I let you cross my heart, because I think this time my heart would die from the aching pain
Sorry for my mood swings I know I gave you a ring and you weren’t expecting this, but I know we will get through this
You always have my back, so I never have a reason to look back
I am sorry for being the me that is selfish but thank you for loving me in spite of me
Don’t spite me please when things get crazy, I know I am a little messed up and a combination of everything good and bad but somehow you always find
the good
I am selfish way too much but I will never love anyone the way I love you
Love notes written in a balloon, drive in movies, the other half of my heart is you
I wrote a record for you but still can’t find the right words to say for you when
I am lying next to you
Waited all my life for my queen and the past pain still stings
Why do these thoughts always try to control my life
Piano plays me out and I know I am not perfect
p.s. but I’ll get as close as I can for you…
As I walked down Mulberry Street, my pack and the shoes on my feet.
I see a nickel, penny a dime an empty bottle of wine.
Fletcher the old drunk, smelling a bit of a skunk still I smile and wave.
Punks have placed Graffiti on a wall, claiming ownership of this urban sprawl.
I stop for a bit and have a quaint sit on the remnants of a flower box.
I light my last smoke, watch some odd folk, they walk to the beat of their drum.
Exhaling the sweet mist of nicotine addiction, happy this is my only vice.
A dandelion grows through a crack screaming for me to take poetic note.
A Mercedes parked in front of the attorneys office, ill gotten gains.
Trash blown into the inner recess of the arched doorway in which I sit.
A drug store receipt a note perhaps a declaration of love or don't forget the milk.
The cast iron manhole cover states proudly, Made in Chicago.
Ahead lies the Mulberry Street Mission a line already forms.
Where dinner and biblical mumbo jumbo are being served.
The old woman greets everyone with a smile and tells them Jesus loves you.
I'll wait until she goes inside I don't want to argue.
The wind blows and sunshine falls on my face.
I notice out of the corner of my eye a normal folk (Non-Homeless).
Taking their own cigarette break enjoying the same sweet addiction as myself.
Our eyes meet in acknowledgement of we are the same, for the moment.
The Mulberry Street bus rambles by spewing noxious fumes.
The city's wind artwork slowly turns hoping someone will take notice.
My last long draw on my cigarette, I grab my pack and pull myself up.
then One foot Two foot I resume my journey to the Mulberry Street Mission.
(In Memory of Fletcher Campbell 1940-2015)
A HUNCHED BACKED MOBSTER
It’s sunset in late afternoon, where towards a water pan,
A pride of lionesses, approach with a much rehearsed plan,
Followed by a clan of mobsters,
Hyenas cackling luridly like monsters,
All wanted the impala buck, upon seeing them he ran!
The impala was unfortunately no match for these fierce lions,
Nor the clan of hyenas running after them in defiance,
The lions caught it with a crunch,
But the hyenas wanted this munch,
A stand-off between two enemies, who have no alliance.
Hyenas with much stronger jaws and now many in number
Threatened the lions, who did not fancy forever to slumber,
And decided to not argue this kill,
Hyenas hunchbacked, thick necked, will
Now demolish this meal, free from any lion encumber.
The Hyena a predator and scavenger with intense criminal intent,
Classed as a species of only few, the Hyaenidae, this meant,
Was regarded neither as dog or cat,
A thief, a lowlife, a rat,
A brazen mobster, who leaves behind him a rancid scent!
FOOT NOTE
But should hyenas bump into the king of the bush and his brother at the Kruger National Park,
Visitors, will be in awe as hyenas back off, outgunned and outwitted,
They will slink away!
Never had much luck with women
Until I tried this stuff I was given
Now they just flock around
Love to smell me as I get on down
Chorus
This lynx effect is just perfect
Pulling power I've no regrets
I just spray this on and hit the town
Sure makes those girls hang around
Now I buy it every week
I spray it on to make them freak
Some guys think I'm just a jinx
But yeah' I'm cool cause I where my lynx
Chorus
This lynx effect is just perfect
Pulling power I've no regrets
I just spray this on and hit the town
Sure makes those girls gather round
And yeah I’m out every night
These girls argue, fuss and fight
I buy them just a single drink
Then I spray on my sensual lynx
Chorus
This lynx effect is just perfect
Pulling power I've no regrets
I just spray this on and hit the town
Sure makes those girls hang round
Copyright 10th March 2014
K.C.Leake
All Rights Reserved
Making him argue with me about something silly, so we can make-up.
Stealing his pencil so he has to put his arms around me to get it.
Walking to class a different way, because I know I’ll pass him.
Jogging together or racing him to the top of the climbing wall.
Having him walk me to class even though it’s out of his way.
Playing, “yeah, but have you ever seen one of THESE?”
Driving the countryside to see the changing fall leaves.
He’s weird, I’m weird, our weirdnesses mesh perfectly.
Hearing a love song and thinking, wow, it’s about him.
Watching him workout, study, or talk to his friends.
He’ll call me at 2am and tell me to stop studying.
Making up stories to tell him in silly voices.
When he brings me coffee between classes.
When he picks me up, like I’m weightless.
Stargazing together on chill fall evenings.
When he picks out my outfit for the day.
When we get ready, together, to go out.
Studying at a coffee shop together.
The way he makes me feel happy.
The way he makes me feel smart.
buying him things, like clothes.
His twangy western accent.
The way he says my name.
Dancing without music.
His exciting otherness.
The way he smells.
The butterflies I feel knowing he’s coming to town - tomorrow.
Trump Administration Advances Plan to Relax Gun-Export Rules found Poem
The Trump administration
Sought to relax export rules for American small arms,
including semiautomatic rifles, handguns, and sniper rifles.
Because the NRA said
the solution to gun violence
Is more guns
for everyone in the world
Everyone should be able
to buy American made weapons
The best in the world after all
And everyone in the world
needs what the US
Wants to sell
?
The shift,
is championed by gunmakers
who say it
will make them more competitive
in the international market.
Critics argue
an export policy
that favors commercial interests
could put the national security
of the United States at risk
or harm diplomatic efforts.?“
“This decision is also politically tone-deaf
as our nation reckons
with a gun violence epidemic.”
?A State Department spokesman
said that the change
would ease the regulatory burden
on American gun makers
and allow them to compete better globally.
Currently, the Department of State
monitors exports of nearly all weapons
.
“The world of firearms exports
is full of questionable, dubious characters.”
the Department of Justice
and Department of Homeland Security
criticized the change
because it could make it
easier for transnational criminal organizations
or terrorists to get American-made guns.
But the NRA
They don’t care
More guns for all
Is the solution to all gun violence
And sadly, our President
Has sold his soul
To the NRA
Who offered him
Millions of dollars
In blood money
note: this may be too political and in your face but I don't care. I have had enough of this nonsense. We must stop the carnage in our streets! That’s my two cents worth and I am sticking to my guns pun very much intended.
My father was the wisest man I've ever known.
He never raised his voice or even a hand to me.
It wasn't until I was older, and the years had flown
that I realized his wisdom was reverse psychology.
Dad asked a lot of questions and gave me leeway
to allow me to decide for myself, right or wrong.
Some decisions made; I must admit led me astray
but Dad's guidance kept me from being headstrong.
I was never disobedient or rebellious as a child
but Dad's approach to rearing was a good technique.
He avoided saying, "No" to me, and when he smiled,
his gentile persuasion was not in words to speak.
I remember thinking I didn't want to be college bound
Dad didn't argue the point, saying, "It's your decision."
Another accepting smile left me thinking, how profound!
I was having second thoughts that might need revision.
Reverse psychology is an effective form of influence.
If told not to do something, most people can't resist.
Or a suggestion that we SHOULD seems an issuance
like a command. A strategic method to cease and desist.
It's a game of mind control without brain cells knowing
that they're being subtly manipulated in an influential way.
Without telling a falsehood and having a nose growing,
it's an intervention where the opposite outcome is in play.
He took a plane to Rapid City
Hoped the bike trip would be pretty
Took a cab to where the trail began—
He had the spark of a younger man.
Next day he cycled on the Mickelson Trail
Though he knew he was in a moving jail
Higher ups told us he must be kept down
If left alone, he'd gain a crown.
It wasn't fair that he be free
Breathing pure air, loving scenery
He had dissed our people, defied our creed
His attitude offended, more than his deed
We tracked him down, he had to fail
No free pass on the Mickelson Trail
No free bird, flying into the sky
We clip the wings of those who defy.
He got to a valley so pretty and green
I looked at his joy, I felt it obscene
In Buffalo land, I brought him low
No escaping our rules, no letting go.
Know that webs exist of every kind
You don't see the cords, but still they bind
Trip a wire, that's it for you
They don't care for your excuses, you can't argue
The cops won’t shield you, won’t take your side,
Your story ignored, or your story denied.
You’ve crossed a border few understand—
You're hunted now in Mafia Land.
There was a fellow with a note pinned to his chest
He lay in the street, the knife through his vest
He had offended a religion, but others die too
like a reporter who exposed crimes ugly but true.
So keep your head down, and try to conform
There are penalties if you stray from the norm
You walk a shaky bridge over a steep drop
Don't expect a parachute, not an angel, not a cop.