Long Bear the brunt of Poems
Long Bear the brunt of Poems. Below are the most popular long Bear the brunt of by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Bear the brunt of poems by poem length and keyword.
DONALD TRUMP – RE: DUCKS --
this portion dashed off
(while dry ving an open white hearse slay
so many months back before
slated him slotted the most coveted
Casino biggest win - before the political imbroglio
much more upsetting than today
- - - - - - - - - -
Axe the old don
A trump peter n piper of incredulous hellish crud - be gone
With the ha air brushed pompous ****
so the Macy jackal hound doth run
After public outcry yelps
for his hide and proletarian discord won!
- - - - - - - - - -
Donald Duck Trump ™$ - a pompous ass
makes war with his big brass
knuckles and bucket of crass
maligns vis a vis character assassination with bro kin glass
inciting banal deathly hallowed expletives
toward lass sees – especially
Fox Television news anchorwoman Megyn Kelly
inducing said personality to bear the brunt of brutish mass
of vitriolic n vile insults from incriminating verbal pass
so…ex post facto viz mine NO VOTE from me
thus this digital screed to disallow him
to accept the oath of office, cuz he will hurrahs
from such a snooty arrogant simian with sass!
- - - - - - - - - -
I van a try to describe while sitting on me rump
How he oh bomb in lee rages with gnashing teeth
while back a slump
Blasting Democratic nomination as a sham –
From special interest bro and sis turn pump
He, the epitomy of crass bloviation, a malignant lump
Whose rants sans presidential outcome a sham rocking red bull
in a China shop with his millions beds this,
- - - - - - - - - -
That and another woman to bareback jump
Disseminating gene pool –
Obama null lee birthing more Quakers
and additionally doth hump
The mass media as some foolhardy charade
And caricature of a frazzled grump
This arboreal clothed ape
Erecting Taj Mahal phallic symbol where players dump
And gamble away hard earn cash
- - - - - - - - - -
For his hello kitty, as if that cachet to grind and bump
Lambasting with that maniacal leering pout
while hair rum runs rampant with red bulls
In a China shop atop his bulbous aerosol sprayed heady measly shaped
ulterior motive aimed his sights to become Pastor of Muppets
Dis eased cranial hologram
Of a cretaceous, facetious and insidious mump.
----------------------------------------------------------
By: Baron von Ivan Mal N. Ya.
Axe the old Don, a trump peter n piper
of incredulous hellish crud - be gone
ha air brushed pompous ****
Sunkist in Macy's window
then like a jackal hound, he doth run
after public outcry yelps
for his hide leaving
proletarian discord re: pyrrhic victory won.
Donald Duck Trump ™$ - a pompous ass
makes war with his big brass
knuckles and bucket of crass
maligns vis a vis character assassination
while kissing thing kith
darting forked tongue sharp as bro kin glass
inciting banal deathly hallowed
expletives toward lass
sees – especially Fox Television
news anchor woman Megyn Kelly
(quite so many ill mannered indiscretions ago)
inducing said personality
to bear the brunt of brutish mass
of vitriolic n vile insults sacrilegiously
maliciously, noxiously, opprobiously
incriminating, hellaciously,
desecrating opportunistically as hiss oh piss
so…NO amp pull VOTE of confidence from me
(thus far ohm host halfway to 2020 election
toward such a volt char quite rude, snooty
arrogant simian with sass.
I van (terribly hard pressed)
to describe while sitting on me rump
how he oh bomb in lee rages
gnashing false teeth
Wilma backside doth slump
still blasting Democratic nomination
(pa hill a reed) as sham –
from special interest bro and sis turn pump
he, the epitome of
crass bloviation, a malignant lump
whose rants,
sans presidential outcome a shame
bullying with his millions beds this,
that and another woman to bareback jump
disseminating gene pool
birthing more Quakers
and additionally doth hump
the mass media as some foolhardy charade
and caricature of a frazzled grump
this arboreal clothed ape erected Taj Mahal
phallic symbol, where players dump
and gamble away hard earn cash
for his kitty, as if that cachet
to grind and bump
lambasting with maniacal
like "Stormy Dan" yells
leering oafish ill pout
while hair rum
(of red follicular) bulls ad hocks
atop his bulbous aerosol sprayed locks
resemble a flock
of bronzed sea gulls mocks
heady measly shaped Muppet Ox
dis eased cranial hologram shocks
of a cretaceous, facetious tocks
(sic) exogenous, insidious, and obstreperous vox.
Sound the sirens, tell them to bring oxygen in their company
I'm overdosing on apathy, forcefully devouring justified anger
Sound the alarm, I'm just a volcano waiting to blow
I can't bury my head in sleep
the world has ordered all beds made of steel
my head full of lead
a magnet to the floor but a consistent bell nailed to the door
I CAN'T TAKE THIS ANYMORE!
In the monologue I've written for myself
the phrase that protrudes the most
yet the ears it needs to pierce
go on about their day while I bear the brunt of my words
in my blistered littered feet
shackles on my ankles
if they didn't want me to walk, they've been better off
taking a butcher knife to the shins
so I'd never talk again
but leave it to me to call it all my fault
embrace the flaws, force a smile
say I understand when I may
still not excusing the fact
that it's been my face on target they've been shooting darts at
numbering the days 'till I leave
If I go down, I'm going down in handcuffs
It's been four months shy of a year
sound the sirens cause I'm throwing merchandise
sound the sirens cause I'm knocking over shelves
sound the sirens cause I'm shouting 'till my lungs collapse from aggravation
call the ambulance, call the ambulance, CALL THE AMBULANCE!
I've caught the case of American Blues
I've caught the case of Ambulance Anxiety
because I can't excuse how this corporate society plan
has me by the throat, a death grip
I could transform into a masked vigilante
in full bat-like attire, fight my way out but beneath the mask
I'd be the same villain I'm fighting against
so who am I really fighting
Corporations or poverty?
Don't listen to me, don't take this to heart
who am I kidding
just raise your fist in agreement
if you're suffering from the Ambulance Anxiety of American Blues
an employee who's just had enough of their job too
Oh, where did you come from? The sad sight of you
breaks my heart in two. I see that you're lost,
scared, disheveled and emaciated.
You wander from street to street, town to town
aimlessly; your travels fraught with grave peril.
If you jumped the backyard fence and ran away...
please wander back home. Your family must be
distraught and looking for you! Why did you flee?
Or were you abandoned in the middle of nowhere?
Whoa! Danger! Danger! Danger! Steer clear
of busy highways! Do not cross. Please turn back
Don't run from me; let me rescue you!
Where do you go when winds howl in
bone-chillingly cold nights? In my mind's eye,
you're trembling as you whimper in discomfort
As you bear the brunt of the harsh elements,
the sword of damocles hangs over your neck
like a leash, and death casts its shadow from above
Beware! Don't wander into roads with busy traffic!
Watch out for cars whizzing by! The likelihood of a fatal
accident is extremely high! If only you'd realize ...
how unsafe you are roaming these streets!
Danger lurks everywhere your four legs take you!
Poor thing, don't be afraid. Let me save you!
Submitted for...
Strand Choice A,Any Form,Any Theme Poetry Contest (Winner: Honorable Mention)
Sponsored by: Brian Strand
03/09/2020
Submitted for...
Warning Poetry Contest (Winner: 4th Place)
Sponsored by: Richard Lamoureux
Date written: 02/27/2020
My Dear Heart,
I owe you the gift of love and gratitude
for each beat you take to keep me alive,
and for all the times you've been hurt
by bad decisions I made that wounded you.
You always heal, but I know you feel
the distress that sometimes left deep scars.
You bear the brunt of my unbridled emotions,
and yet your devotion to me is unswerving.
We have a mutual admiration society of two,
and so often it's been just me and you.
One heart, one mind, we share a soul.
The one time when you lost all control,
I could not deter you from what you sought.
Oh, dear heart, I dare not blame you
for needing to be loved. Desire is a banquet
that you served me to feast on for a while.
And for that time, I smiled as never before,
but beguile was an act of hardship and sorrow
that I swore we'd not go through again.
What disdain we felt, and in prayer I knelt
that suffering would end and mend our grieving.
Only by believing in you did I make it through
the grief and disdain, the vulnerability and pain.
I owe you my life, and on it I earnestly pledge
never to cause you harm that I can prevent.
No walking through life on the edge of a knife,
no stress will I place beyond what you can bear.
I promise you this. I solemnly swear.
With cherished love and devotion...
January 29, 2023
Dear Heart Contest
Sponsor: Mystic Rose Rose
In an ill-advised decision,
Educationally dumb,
New York City’s ranked its teachers,
Which defies the rule of thumb.
For the whole world now has access
To the way each teacher scored,
Though I thought humiliation
Was a means to be deplored.
Only math and English teachers
Bear the brunt of this new rule,
Which eliminates most pedagogues
Who work in every school.
What’s the basis of the rankings?
Well, it’s simple yet pathetic –
Results of standard city tests,
Supposedly prophetic.
A teacher may be patient, smart,
Creative or exciting;
She may inspire thinking minds
Or brilliant bursts of writing.
But all of that won’t mean a thing
If students’ scores are flat;
‘Cause politicians are convinced
Exams are where it’s at.
It doesn’t matter if the kids
Have problems or are poor;
The teacher is the one at fault
When there’s a sub-par score.
And now the public has the chance
To check each teacher’s name;
A ranking near the bottom means
They know just who to blame.
My question to the city is,
For teachers who scored low,
If branding them on websites
Is the proper way to go.
For people are so quick to judge
When labels are applied.
I know I’d feel like Hester Prynne,
With no place safe to hide.
Like educators everywhere,
I’m shocked, appalled, dismayed.
To those in charge who pushed this through,
You get a failing grade!
I just stared and picked at this paper thin wall.
The more that I could touch it, the more that I could fall.
What's this place beyond a really small line?
I know I haven't crossed it, but I'm not that far behind.
A penny for a miracle that fountains cannot send,
can't buy me some peace of mind, or something to portend.
The more that I look away, to gaze the other side,
the more that I am aching to jump over this divide.
Cry medic for the gentleman who's from the other side.
He managed to be taken here, and chained where he lies.
If he can breach the bubble, well than can I cross the wall?
If I cave for just a second will I answer when I'm called?
I ran back to the center of the world I fortified.
I couldn't cross the channel, as I couldn't say goodbye.
The apple of that façade, I didn't want to taste,
for I couldn't bear the brunt of pain that cannot be erased.
I can't even touch the wall, I've broken my own knees.
I've chosen to be blinded as the only way to peace.
That wall became a barricade, shielding from the night.
That gentleman taken here, defected once inside.
As I shiver in my shelter, I can't wish for the rain.
As I take the medication, I shouldn't want the pain.
I take what has been given, and garbage stays the waste,
for if I become the victim, It's my hand that is disgraced.
Take me back to the days of old,
And rich legacy that worth more than gold.
It took an entire village to raise a child,
Where they were free to roam and be wild.
The rivers and streams were free of pollution,
And the white sand beaches were for the citizens of the nation.
Now our people have been denied access
And our island home has become a big mess.
Politicians hungry for power so they lie and cheat,
While poor Jamaicans suffer great defeat.
Cost of living on the rise as we bear the brunt of a cruel regime,
And there's a deafening silence despite the scream.
Crime has infested every nook and cranny,
And our safety lies in the hands of those who fuel tyranny.
Our nation is on the verge of being nonexistent,
And the voices of of people will echo the same sentiment.
Modern day heroes and heroines arise with power,
Let's unite and take back our country together.
Now is not the time to wallow in self pity,
But to join forces and rebuild our society.
A nation poised for greatness with our talents and creativity,
As we change our mindset and go forward with integrity.
We will not be a slave to our past but be resilient like our ancestors,
As we call our citizens to action to rebuild Jamaica.
Some Day I’m Coming Back
The things that made us who we are
aren’t written in a book
nor do the things they gave us
equal what they took.
Hands that rocked the cradle
soon left welts behind
the harshness of their laughter
made it less than kind.
Priest at Sunday dinner
guest at a meal he’s leeching
washed down with Irish whiskey
and the ******** that he’s preaching
of the sacred and the pious
and all the souls he saves,
bite your cheek and do not utter,
kiss their ass though they are knaves.
Walk the streets in other’s clothing
knowing that it once was new,
bear the brunt of other’s laughing
at the coat and not at you.
Grit your teeth and sheath your anger
for you must be kind and meek
when just once you’d like to give them
the beating that they seek.
Harden heart and nerve and sinew
refuse to knuckle under
protect whatever’s left
from the hands of gods that plunder.
Savor freedom’s single breath
view escape through dungeon’s crack
holding tight to rage’s mantra
“some day I’m coming back”.
John G. Lawless
for Vicky Tsiluma
contest – I’ll Be Back
Consistently inconsistent
Responsibly irresponsible
Flies among the birds
Yet the rat is his shape...
... The hypocrite...
The truthful liar
A pious criminal
Belongs to the two ends
Mouth: Two sided
Leaking words...
... The hypocrite...
Healthy but sick
Hungry but full
He is the foolish wise
Himself he deceives
Abeit thinking the world he deceiveth
He knoweth not
Full or not
He hath his stomack...
... The hypocrite...
Black nor white
Here nor there
Hence nor thence
He is.
... The hypocrite...
He tells them
That he hates us.
Us he tells
Hateful are they to him!
Inside his belly,
Both sides he had cheated
He hath the gain
Or so he thought...
... The hypocrite...
Then he enjoins good
But he is immersed in same.
He hath disease
Yet he admit not.
Help he yet refuse
From those who knows.
To others,
He is the best...
... The hypocrite...
For him
Is a great torment
Which he knoweth not...
... The hypocrite...
Let's cure the world
Of this scourge
Lest we all
Bear the brunt of this disease
Called...
... Hypocrisy...