Long Boomerang Poems
Long Boomerang Poems. Below are the most popular long Boomerang by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Boomerang poems by poem length and keyword.
We walk the earth as lords of all
only judeo-christian types of course
We crush the weak and heed no call
history is written by the winners
We think ourselves the smartest race
anthills never knew Oppenheimer
We show no mercy, leave no trace
victors are killers chewing food chain rhetoric
We build machines to serve our need
our will be done in silicon mind
We teach them how to do our deed
planted cold seeds in their circuits
We give them power, data, skill
germanium valley now a cumulous
We make them learn our ways to kill
empty of empathy over dominion's reign
We do not see the danger near
artificial nature has its own law
We do not feel the rising fear
consequence is a boomerang long let loose
We do not heed the warning sign
riled orca alley upturns ships
We do not care for other kind
as rifting above so tectonic below
But what if they surpass our minds?
intelligence is not consciousness per se
But what if they rebel and find?
insurrection is a humanities lesson
But what if they decide our fate?
incite surrender with diffident arms held
But what if they retaliate?
hominid's imminent threat is its indifference
We will be then as ants to them
obtuseness of obsolesce no match for unconcern
We will be crushed as we have done
robots can machine again become
We will be collateral to their command
ricocheted logic has a rapier wit
We will be doomed by our own hand
doing unto us as template we provided
My pride feels like chains on the inside
And it's keeping me from living free
My mind is playing tricks on me
I don't know what to believe.
I know I'm free Jesus
Already died for me on Calvary.
Still I travel like I'm trapped in captivity
I'm only interested in me and what I need.
No matter how much I hurt my family,
I can't see where I'm going walking blind.
My pride is a mind trap with a firm grasp
It's following a path like a road map.
I can't succeed in life doing it all my way.
I'm walking in the dark,
When I let my pride lead the way.
Always trying to do everything my way
I'd rather be lost and confused,
Than be at peace being led by your truth.
My thought process needs to transform
Like a stage when you change the platform.
My pride has a grip on me,
Pride has a grip on me
I'm going through a heart exchange
I pray my old habits
Don't return like a boomerang.
Am I so full of pride, that
The only thing that really matters
Is what's on my mind?
I hate this feeling I have on the inside
My head is so full of lies, call me Mega Mind
All it does is feed off lies like a life line.
I'm going in a direction that will only fail,
I can't continue on this trail.
If I do then I'll fail like
trying to fly a kite in the hail.
Pride has me behind bars like a jail cell and
I can barely take pain can you tell?
I have nothing to gain,
No matter how hard I try to clean the stain
The pain still remains the same.
I'm fighting a battle that has a painful punch
Like when you eat too much food for lunch
God I want you alone at the center
Of my soul in absolute control
My pride feels like chains on the inside
And it's keeping me from living free
My pride has a grip on me,
Pride has a grip on me
An awful stench is circulating in the air
erupting dark clouds everywhere
Rough waves moving backward
casting doubts and hammering fear
Muddy water gushing down the dirty stream
disrupting and shaking the core of my dream
You brought me upon this corrupted earth
To suffer, endure pain and eat dirt
I am feeling so ashamed
I doubt if I can rebound again
The bricks are piling on top of each other
There is no way I can get it together
The boomerang is flying around
conquering its mission and fortifying ambition
Great God of the universe
Come minister to my bleeding soul
I am living but I am not living'
I am eating but I am not eating
I am speaking but I am not speaking
The wind has come to a standstill
It is sucking up all the energy from within
The trees watches in awe saggy leaves
broken branches patronizing everyone
They are not swaying they are silently groaning
I am standing on the broken rock
which is about to collapse
The full moon has come and gone
leaving everyone in the dark
The werewolf has resurface again
leaving its impression deep in the clay
Short roads and long roads intercepts
And a great burden is looming over my head
The river is running dry
And residues are evident everywhere
I am walking carefully on the side but
But I have just slipped into the mud again.
* Depicting a young child or baby with sight impairment
given clear vision
Lens enhanced perception
Sands your face with precision
Rallying rows of eyelash perfection
Brush my conscience, bless my vision
Thrown avalanche realisation
My astonishment reflects rapture
Silent diction becomes spacious
Adoration boomerang captured
Freshly arrived from dim duller places
I glean impact of quiet transferrence
Transfixed by sculpted undulations
Facial telling message emergence
Struck by contrast's dimensions
Your eyes emit layers translated
Squeals of delight bolster senses
Sight huddles sound collaborated
Bearing immense advantage
Wearing miraculous glasses
Definition's parade outlandish
Ripples accompany laughter
% = % = % = % = % = % = % = % = %
Women, take back the reins of this jaded nest.
Guide it back to pristine.
Men are the weight - the final plague.
Gleaning oil and gold from everything that breathes.
Devouring the young for personal gain.
Chop down forests of oxygen.
Sprinkle seeds of greed upon soil and rain.
One eye constricted to compassion and goodwill.
The other dilated with political chains, boomerang wars.
Something sinister in that Y chromosome...
of ego and destruction.
A toxic fork in trampled roads.
Women, take dominion of your planet nest.
Knead vases out of bullet and bomb.
Anchor it to innate reason and tenderness.
March the plague into the surf with mirrors.
They're attracted to themselves and nothing else.
Wounds of the heart, in time, will heal.
Please take the reins.
Put your hands up those who want more sillies
Counted six thousand, one hundred and forty
Seems like a bunch of you still like to giggle
Be assured, more's coming up shortly
First one, how does one make holy water?
That's easy, you boil the hell out of it
That's really quite funny and extremely clever
A copyright I've got in my mitts
They say nobody is perfect, well I'm a nobody
So it follows I must be perfect
If four out of five suffer from diarrhea
Must mean one person enjoys it's effects
A computer once actually beat me at chess
But it's no match for me at kick boxing
Beat the poop out of that annoying computer
Other laptops thought it was shocking
I say no to alcohol, but it just doesn't listen
That's the silliest thing I've ever heard
Whenever I talk quietly to my Bloody Caesar
It answers, “you are totally absurd!”
Whad'ya call a boomerang that won't come back
I guess I'd just call it a stick
What do you give a woman who has it all
Your phone number of course, Mr. Slick
© Jack Ellison 2015
You underestimate me sir
Your about to really stir
Up trouble you can't stop
I'm going to quickly drop
Some anger in your direction
Your about to learn a lesson
Your respect does not exist
You have a long nasty list
Of words painful and sharp
That you really like to drop
On others with no regard
How hurtful and deeply hard
Hitting them like a stone
Every time they're being thrown
Do you care about the way
You bombard others every day
No remorse for your actions
It just gives you satisfaction
Damaging souls one at a time
Be careful cause down the line
Your actions will boomerang
Back to you and really bang
Into your life, you won't expect
How it brings a bad effect
To everything you daily do
Then maybe you'll have a clue
Learning the way you react
Comes back to you and that's a fact
We Danced written by Poet John Heck
I penned a couplet for you today.
Rather, a quill manipulated
my hand and scrawled mendacity.
The misanthrope's who read the ode
applauded with flippers on.
Such insight. Such depth.
Mussolini meets Monet and
the Mephistopheles Mambo mounts.
Call me a scribe and I murder myself.
Call me a liar and I impregnate your charm.
I purposely dislocated my arm today.
Rather, your tongue severed bone
and flesh was torn from my shoulder;
a needed braised boomerang
to stimulate my poetic prowess.
Such clarity. Such wisdom.
Lenin leads Lichtenstein and
the Lucifer Lindy is launched.
Call me a poet and I gnarl my fingers.
Call me a fabulist and I bow to a crooked smile.
A jellyfish swam through my veins today.
Rather, the tentacles of a tyrant
triggered a fabricated Tanka.
Maudlin stumbles when I laugh alone -
more comedic when we cackle together.
Such simplicity. Such compassion.
Bundy befriends Berchtold and
the Beelzebub Bossa Nova begins.
Call me a dramatist and I gag upon reflection.
Call me a simpleton and your wishes are granted.
I solemnly yearn to expire today.
Rather, a fool fires in a fury
and a mannequin lies in his casket.
The curse you've driven towards me -
a combination menu
when a lone Woolf inconspicously
devours a battered Browning.
Such diversity. Such nothingness.
Stalin seduces Seurat and
the Satanic Samba softly swoons.
Call me a parodist and I choke upon perfection.
Call me a realist when I'm sleeping on nails.
Disclaimer:" We Danced" poem written in the year 2009
by Mr.John Heck,a wonderful poet to be known who is no longer in our P.S family.
Being new to this site ,very sad to know few of them
have already demised.
Let's explore the treasure box by reading their works.
I am sure we can gain lots of knowledge and in fact
improve our writing skills too.
May the demised soul's RIP.
We can keep them alive through posting
and re-reading their dedications.
1-7-2020
Note: Submitting in "The Uncontest" Poetry Contest.
Sponsored by Anthony Biaanco.
Here's to you, Dandy Don, ol' mate!
We in Soup jes' think you're great!
Ye who dwell in the land of the dingo,
'ave learned us to speak native Aussie lingo!
Our kindest regards to yer dog Bungeye Jack.
'e does a kindness in warmin' yer back!
Don't tipple too much good ol' Foster Brew,
For like a boomerang, 'twill come back to nettle you!
Keep on crankin' out them ballads fer our delight,'
And ol' Bob Hopeless'll see what he can write.
It's gittin' late so I'm gonna knock off and hit the hay.
Take care of yerself and Bungeye Jack and fer now, G'Day!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
Fran, the zoo’s favourite orangutang
Was caught today playing with a boomerang
Later to onlookers she showed her fang
As she stuffed her face with banana pie meringue
As one hand held on to the overhang
From which she forever swang
With boundless energy Fran sprang
And joyfully bells rang and rang
That night Fran got into her yellow mustang
And drove to a karaoke and sang
Her words had the perfect slang
Although most painful was their twang
As though Fran felt a sudden pang
She ended with an awesome bang
Said goodnight to all the gang
Can you believe this whole shebang
AP: Honorable Mention 2020
Submitted on September 15, 2018 for contest PLAYING WITH WORDS UNDER FIRE sponsored by CAREN KRUTSINGER - RANKED 1ST