Long Awful Poems
Long Awful Poems. Below are the most popular long Awful by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Awful poems by poem length and keyword.
The Alex Joneses among us
As we are coming up to Christmas, which is a feast
for the advertisers, and it is impossible turning
or switching on the radio or TV without getting an earful of sentimental songs flung at morning tired
adults before the first cup of coffee
PS. There was a time when one could write: a cup of coffee and a cigarette, we are glad tobacco is no longer
in our mind and body. Here someone is clearing throats
but find it best not to comment
A right-wing Christian and conspiracy theorist has been
allowed into Tweeter, X, and this has made the official
Press into a knot of outrage.
Elon Musk has done us a service by letting his Twitter be
a place for the burning questions to be aired.
Yes, at the same place where the perfectly awful
vulgarian and bigoted interviewer, Piers Morgan, spews
his opinions, for many who see him as a spokesperson
for despicable lies and shallow thinking
He is tolerated and has many fans among those who do
not reflect upon his utterings.
As for Alex Jones, a famous radio host, who has a theory of so many things and many of his views involve Jews, a group of people who hold American Politicians in a fateful grip of corruption and the weaponizing of
the Holocaust and in its holy name, special privileges
In Europe, Alex Jones is not well known I think he is
seen as an outspoken Billy Graham, a man I once saw
in the late fifties, preaching under a circus tent to
thousands of applauding Norwegians, many of whom thought he looked like Wild West Cowboy.
The good thing about an outlet like Twitter it gives
those with views contrary to the officials have a place
to air their opinions, without being branded a ban
You went for us to keep us free;
you became the killer you don't want to be.
The horrors haunt you in the night,
awful moments, deeds that define the fight.
He waits at home, your little son,
Kissing the screen he last saw your face upon.
Liberty, sweet liberty,
a precious, costly commodity;
no words we write, nothing we say
could ever your great sacrifice repay.
May we at home walk on with pride,
pride in our soldiers, those who fought and died.
You went for us to keep us free;
you became the killer you don't want to be.
The horrors haunt you in the night,
awful moments, deeds that define the fight.
He waits at home, your little son,
Kissing the screen he last saw your face upon.
We give our hearts, our prayers in love
asking for guidance from the Lord above
to bring you home to freedom's shore,
to arms of love, your little ones, once more.
Back home to him, that little son,
to kiss you and not a screen, the victory won.
You went for us to keep us free;
you became the killer you don't want to be.
The horrors haunt you in the night,
awful moments, deeds that define the fight.
Come home to him, that little son,
to kiss you and not a screen, the victory won.
Copyright, August 8, 2014
Faye Lanham Gibson
[Written during a twelve hour power cut caused by
Storms this past winter]
The storm that arrived in the depth of the night
Got even worse with the new morning’s light
Although I presumed that they’d already know
I contacted the electricity co
I asked if they knew the whole town had gone dark
Are you fixing it or just having a lark
I think that I upset the man on the phone
He told me to wear a coat inside my home
Just listen to me, I said to the geezer
I think you should know I’ve got a dead freezer
Without any leccy it’s gonna defrost
And all of its contents are gonna be lost
We’re trying to sort it all out said the man
But I would suggest that you eat what you can
So I checked the freezer to sort out my tea
My cooker is gas which is lucky for me
I made my selection from my warming freezer
Fish fingers and chips… and ice cream and pizza
Sausages, drumsticks, a tasty rib-eye
Two rocket lollies, a steak and ale pie
Some prawns that I think have defrosted before
(I’m still gonna eat them because I’m not sure)
Some old sausage rolls from Christmas last year
A fisherman’s pie I’d forgotten was here
Another small pizza with awful fake cheese
An out of date bag full of freezer burned peas
Four quarter pounders and thinly sliced beans
I think I might loosen the belt of my jeans
They say women are hard to understand
But I think men are too,
The only difference I can think of
Is the way we use the loo.
They have a hard time with the seat, they often leave it up,
Come on girls what wrong with you, it’s not a bloody cup.
You can put the seat down, just as they have to lift it up - I bet.
Be grateful that they lifted it; at least it won’t be wet.
They bring chocolate because they think,
It’s the right thing to buy
Sorry boys but there is nothing really quite like them,
for making me want to cry.
In fact chocolates are awful they make me feel quite sick,
So don’t ever buy them for me, they won’t ever do the trick…
They bring flowers to say sorry
Now what is the point in that,
murdering some pretty blooms
Yet they think, “it’s in the hat.”
They take us out to dinner
But they don’t really want to pay.
In all honesty, I’d rather stay in,
And watch Tv anyway.
They want us to admire their
great big muscled arms
But they don’t want to show us
they can use their muscled charms.
They shout at a football,
telling it which way to go
What is that all about,
I’d really like to know.
But one thing I can say about men
which nobody can deny
The world is a wonderful place
with a man to make us sigh
Someone to love and comfort us and protect us from whatever
Until a spider crawls in the bath, will they get it out- Not ever.
To all you men out there, in this wonderful universe
Just to let you know we love you all
Even though it is in verse.
You are the best and for that we are very glad
Apart from the female race, some of them really aren’t half-bad.
An eyes abated with tears
More than what the heart
can bears
A soul dashed in the
darkest shadow
Leaving no hope of a better
tomorrow
Pains of a broken heart
Happiness and human
have been set apart
A world full of terrors and
fear
That's all what the soul can
hear
Traces of a forgotten smile
a smile that didn't get to
last for a while
a battlefield full of shaded
blood
and the land polluted with
innocent blood
Storms of trouble and
tribulations
Pains of tarnished
reputations
Tears of shattered dreams
History of awful beams
Love now dines with hate
Destiny now left in the
hands of fate
Cries of heartbreaks and
betrayer
Tears of afflicted pain by
adulterers
Empty street full of closed
doors
Food that's never sufficient
for the poor
World full of famished
creatures
That blesses one with pains
and tortures
People that will make you
go through hell
Even when you mean to do
well
Tears of disappointment
and frustration
Traces of lost affection
That's all what you will find
in a world without GOD in it
Even when there are so
many pleasures inside it
Your misery can never be
forgotten
and your pain can never be
hidden
Emptiness of a broken
heart is what you will feel
and the aching of a
bleeding kneel
The only option is to hold-
out to GOD's helpful hand
For you to have a rest
assured mind
Cos he alone can heal your
broken heart
and give your soul a chance
of a rebirth
Written: May 27, 2024, For Robert James Liguori Contest, Inspired From Glenn Hughes Song " Burn"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The sky spills scarlet, a burning stain,
Even after midnight, ghosts remain.
Shouts of oblivion and a lady's name,
A swell of her palm burns a voracious flame.
The city is burning, a blaze at night,
Her inferno evolves, a frightening sight.
We labeled her as coarse and dissed her claim,
Ignorance of the reality intensified the flame.
Devil egg yolks, they dissed, an awful deceit,
Her envious says ripped a tear in the peat.
Wrath you all, she said, that you'll not learn,
My departure bars any hope for a return.
They chuckled, ignoring the sarcastic refrain,
Until she whispered, Burn!, and shared her pain.
The ground trembled, a warning unheard,
We were transfixed, by the horrible word.
There is no time to leave, no way of escape,
The inferno's outrage is a merciless drape.
There's not much time for prayer or despair
The fire devastated it without compare.
I went to church for yet another day
Lit another candle and started to pray
Thirteen years ago she passed away
Our Twentieth anniversary would have been today
I walked back home amongst falling leaves
I should have worn a shirt with longer sleeves
I poured a fresh cup of some hot green tea
Her empty kitchen chair just staring at me
Brought out of my trance by the ringing bell
Who it would be, I couldn’t tell
Probably a solicitor with something to sell
I jumped up thinking, what the hell
She stared at me with a knowing smile
The awkward silence lasting quite a while
Something was familiar about her style
My memory bank shifting through long closed files
“Hello Joe, it’s been a long time
What the years have done to me is an awful crime
I looked you up, I hope you don’t mind
You are not really an easy man to find”
She came in and we caught up on our past
We were high school sweethearts when I saw her last
We went to college down different paths
Too many years ago for me to do the math
It’s hard to start a fire in a worn out heart
The grieving widower is my long played part
She was very patient right from the start
Feelings of grief don’t soon depart
I hope, my love, that you understand
For always and forever I will be your man
But the time has come for me to love again
And I am learning how with a new, old friend
And now she comes to church along with me
Helps me up and down on bended knee
As I still light a candle in memory
With a new light lit inside of me
Will you please explain to me
All the ways you actually
Thought your secret little plan
To annihilate your loving man
Was going to be so cool
Acting like he was a fool
Not wise to your evil ways
All the hours of the days
You were scheming never knowing
Little things you did were showing
Him a little more than you
Thought he figured out and knew
He wasn't fooled, he wasn't blind
Now your being left behind
And you have no one to blame
Your the one who played the game
Cheating on a love so true
He was devoted to you
Giving you all of his time
But this sad and awful crime
Left his heart turn into pieces
Till the day he finally seizes
All his courage to walk out
He didn't scream he didn't shout
Closing the door quietly
Leaving you to silently
Stand in shock what did you think
He was gonna stay-- you fink
The king was fair but he chose his wives in a haphazard way.
Subjects of his kingdom said king would one day “rue the day”.
It happened after wife number seven, an awful mean queen.
The ones who watched it happen, said it could not be unseen.
She wiped the throne room with the king’s decapitated head.
Who did that? Asked newcomers, but no one already there said.
For the red queen was a terror, who loved mopping the floor.
With others emotions, and she had more devilish deeds in store.
The bishops and knights ran off to other kingdoms, over the lawn.
There were no rooks in sight, and one crippled horrified pawn.
If chess was the game, I guess the queen had won, but not fair.
The last time I saw her she was climbing high on the stair.
I hate to be crass, but is my butt showing?
It certainly was, all big, pink and glowing.
We lied to grandpa, as grandma asked us too.
He was so happy, he did the old soft shoe.
The nurse gave us a wink, a nod and a thumbs up.
They had been trying to get him to drink out of a cup.
Grandpa’s hospital stay had been awful for many.
He was not as virile and sexy as he was when he was twenty.
He thought he was a lady’s man that is for sure.
Letting them all know he had been around the manure.
Grandma gave him leeway, he was not at all well.
When he realized his butt showed, he would give us all hell.