Long Bein Poems
Long Bein Poems. Below are the most popular long Bein by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Bein poems by poem length and keyword.
Here we go again bein' charmed by every political buffoon,
Promisin' each of us ever'thing, the sun, the stars, the moon!
Looks like Trump and Clinton will be nominated fer the election.
Lord, have mercy on this nation! Ain't very much of a selection!
One who has a proclivity fer flauntin' the truth now and again!
The other who thinks foreign policy is negotiatin' fer hotels in Kazakstan!
One who doesn't know what he's doin' and the other who thinks she does.
I fer one am gettin' very weary of hearin' all their inane buzz!
Oh, that it would be possible to resurrect Reagan as was Lazarus,
To rekindle patriotism and decency in this nation for each of us!
Entry for CT's "Political Ordeal" Contest
It ain't too many things in life I'd do 4 free
I love writing songs and my poetry
Whats on my mind, put it in the rawest of forms
Straight outside the box so far from the norm
Mind boggling gotcha head spinnin
As I continue on my mission straight grinnin
I been through all types of things in this life
Everyday that I awake tryin 2 get this right
It's all on me gotta expand my mind
And apply the lessons to my daily grind
I ain't gotta shine but I do and it's cool
But don"t get me wrong
Ain't tryin 2 be nobody's fool
Didn't get 2 be this age bein no dummy
Got me plottin on different ways to get some more money
Watchin out for potholes that life puts in my way
Forever learnin the rules of this game that we play
I feel privileged.
I have been chosen by the Government
as part of a group testing something called
Edible Clinical Marijuana.
Honestly I half expected it to look like a Burrito
because the name sounds sort of Mexican.
It actually looks more like a brownie.
I’m am about to take a bite so hold on.
Yum,
tasty!
So here is the point
I am suppose to consume
one half of a brownie
then fill out this sheet
giving them my feedback.
Hold on
I am going to have a few more bites.
Okay,
no wait,
milk would go great
with these babies.
I’ll be back.
(after a long while)
OK, sew sorry I was gonna while
I was staring inside my fridge\
for a while'
tying to remember
I think I wanted a glass of ink%
aktiually I’m dinking from the bodle@
I am eating my forth brownie
as I was instructured to do;
Did they say four or? ate
cause these. are tasty
And/
aaaahhhhhhh,,
tasty^
tayysstee^
hahahahahahahahaha""
a program on my compuwhatyoucallit
keeps underlyning my words
with read squiggles=
hahahahahahahahaha
but it diidn’t underline squiggle#
hahahahahahahahaha
wel dats stoopid
squiggle isa perfect lee
good underlying word*
stoopid Bill Gated^
hahahahahahaha?haha
sorry I ment Will Gated~
so watt was I saying ]
oh yeah+
fill the sheet)
hahahahahahahahaha
I don wanna sheet,
tha is gaross[
heeres a pen
quesshun= Sex
easy!
ansir; yes- please)
hahahahahahahahaha
?why m i bein so polite
hahahahahahahahaha
queshun!
oh wow Blues Brothers on my TV
what was I spose? to do
oh yeah watch tv
why am i so angry hahahahahah++
hahahahahahahahaha
i mean hungary
haahahahahah
h u n g r y
dere hungry>
hey look
brownies?
those look good
hahahahahahahahaha
i con't tipe with mai mouth
full dats rood/rood
i'll get bak too dis later..
sew as they say
hahahahahahahahaha
two bee contitnude
I don't see no harm in asking questions
But somebody gonna tell you you’re outta your mind
I don't see no harm in a frame of reference
But somebody gonna accuse you of bein’ blind
I don't see no harm in quoting philosophy
Mythology, scientology, or the Bible
But somebody gonna come round and order you to burn those books
The dissident is on life support
And he’s fighting for survival
Burn those books --
They ain’t no good
We’ll tell you what not to remember
And train you on what you should
I don't see no harm in raising objections
But somebody gonna call it conspiracy theory
I don't see no harm in a little reflection
But the network censors gonna bring the flames of fury
I don't see no harm in watching our past selves --
We were masters and slaves, black-face beggars and tyrants
But somebody from the Department of Truth will burn those reels
And give you false impressions
Of everything from spirit to science
Burn those films --
They're evil pure
We’ll give you new versions of the past
So that you grow up free and sure
There were cowboys, there were Indians
There were blacks and there were whites
There were women, there were men
And some of them stayed the night
There were straights and there were gays
There were gentiles and jews
There were Pharaohs at the top of the heap
And Egyptians paying all the dues
Now the letters of history don't spell pretty words
But we gotta read ‘em, anyway
‘Cause the day those pages turn up blank
Will be our species’ final day
Where the railroad tracks bend,
as night gave way to dawn,
lonely short pines and sage bough'd low,
wind singing in morning dew' song.
Her words drift off in echo'd calamity
warmth lost in a familiar revelry
still see fit to say, please stay..
try your best and don't forget
you'll always belong to me.
Way up in darkest blue,
lone somber plane flies on
leaving a trailing taunt.
Loved by one who knew
what it meant bein' strong,
and what it is to be lonely
in strength..
with a heart kept at bay
and always at arm's length.
Her words echo ever on
like ripples in a pond..
go on.
Live your dreams
just as I promise to
be the best you can be..
just not with me.
"But green's the color of spring
And green can be cool and friendly like
And green can be big like a mountain
Or important like a river or tall like a tree"
Verse from Bein' Green by Andrew Bird, sung by Kermit the frog
Grasshopper, caterpillar, praying mantis, gecko, and iguana
Really healthful veggies and fruits like grape, apple, pear and lime.
Eyes like mine, fields, tennis courts, and plants like marijuana!
Emeralds and jade, Kermit, Hulk, and Shrek, and yukky slime.
Nature wears it best with trees and leaves, and ivy that can climb.
21 st CENTURY PRAISE
In the event of my passing
My soul goes on ever lasting
I'll bein the arm of God
Lo, this is my message
Oh, Lord tis my passage
Yet am I ever amazed
Tis my personal fave..
My 21st century praise
I am satisfied I am blessed yes I
But yet none the less
I'm on a heaven and I'm in awe
Oh, this is my message
Oh, Lord tis my passage
Yet am I ever amazed
Tis my personal fave..
My 21st century praise
And in the new age passes time
I'm now presently found
Faster, evolving but I rely on the calling fine
All things created by God, ALL
So, this is my message
Oh, Lord tis my passage
Yet am I ever amazed
Tis my personal fave..
My 21st century praise
I 'ma caretaker but God is the creator
Creator of all, creator of all thing
God doesn't need computers, email,
God talks to you in person
No need for Twitter God gave me birds that tweet
Don't you see them flying from tree to tree
My prayer all the communication I need
My prayer all the communication I need
So, this is my message
Oh, Lord tis my passage
Yet am I ever amazed
Tis my personal fave..
My 21st century praise, this my 21st century praise
4/11/10
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr.©2010
I’ve finally come home from my island
I don’t remember life bein’ this hard
I’m a castaway who never saw no ship
I’m a prisoner who never entered the yard
Who will take me in
Back to their civilization?
I’ve been ringin’ on doorbells, lookin’ in boxes
Checkin’ for a sign of love
The masters had it in for me
So I prayed to the masters above
That somebody take me in
Into their civilization
What am I really?
Who am I truly?
Where do I fit in?
With my problems all solved
I guess I’m evolved
Adaptive and reactive
In civilization
They came for me on my island
But I didn’t really wanna be saved
Amid the icicles of self-reliance,
Let me carve out my home in a cave
Who will take me in
Back to their civilization?
Now its purty well knowed that cowpokes prefer to ride a horse,
An' movin' pitchers show 'em astride prancin' horses of course.
But Hank, a cow-puncher fer many years ain't like th' usual pack;
He prefers to mount a cantankerous mule that he calls Jack!
Ol' Jack sets th' rules in most matters, keepin' Hank on his toes.
Its joked 'mongst his pards that he's bein' led around by his nose!
Jack has a mean kick leavin' hoof marks imprinted on Hank's chest!
Hank's a stubborn one but in stubbornness, he comes in second best!
Jack'll sit on his haunches when Hank tries to tighten th' cinch.
Hank'll yell an' cuss tryin' to saddle him but Jack won't give a inch!
In his own sweet time Jack'll rise on all fours allowin' Hank astraddle.
What a sight they is gallopn' along, Hank tryin' to remain in th' saddle!
When Hank tries to lasso dogies, th' rope gits tangled in Jack's feet.
(Th' trail boss gits irate with Hank usin' language I dare not repeat!)
Both Hank and Jack is useless in th' corral on annual brandin' day;
Says th' boss, "Both you an' yer mule git lost an' stay outta th' way!"
I reckon cowboys who use mules fer ridin' th' trail is mighty few,
But them that does says tho' they is 'mulish', they is steadfast an' true.
When he gits ornery, Hank'll whisper sweet nothin's in Jack's ears,
Like bein' put out to stud for the enjoyment of his retirement years!
When cowboys sprawl 'round the camp fire after the days work is done,
They strum guitars and tootle harmonicas and sing to have fun.
Real cowboys don't sing Honky-Tonk or She Done Me Wrong stuff.
They leave that to rhinestone cowboys, considerin' it to be so much fluff!
Real wranglers sing about ropin' dogies and fixin' barbed wire fences,
Roundups, brandin' time and the magnificence of God's grand expanses.
They sing of home on the range, rodeos and dinin' on bacon and beans,
Cattle stampedes on stormy nights, the old corral and dance hall queens.
They harmonize about ghost riders in the sky who've met their fates,
Tumblin' tumbleweeds, cool water, tin cups and eatin' from tin plates.
They sing about bein' back in the saddle again and the streets of Laredo,
And belt out songs about horses named Old Paint, Ol' Dan and Tornado.
They yodel the cattle call and sing about when the bloom's on the sages,
And croon about their yellow rose of Texas and their pitiful wages.
Real buckaroos sing about Christmas in the bunk house and rye whiskey,
Cattle drives on the Lone Star and Abilene trails and a life so very risky.
They sing of the grumpy foreman and when the works all done this fall,
And tweedle about ragtime cowboy Joe and many a barroom brawl.
Real cowboys sing about ridin' the range, the chaparral and dusty trail,
And leave Hank Snow to warble about lost love, honky-tonks and landin' in jail!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(c) 2014 All Rights Reserved