Long Boomers Poems

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Consistency

CONSISTENCY

Written By:  D. Collins 6/28/16


Consistency is waking just to pay your bills.
Once that is over, we're taking multiple pills.
Like late, baby-boomers, I ain't going out like that.
I am keeping in shape, and stacking my stacks.


High Blood Pressure!!  It won't be found in me.
I get down on the ground with such consistency.
Feeling the burn, while actually doing it raw.
Building something from nothing at the very start.


I put in the work, and get deep in the grime.
Sweat like a beast, and give a bit of my time.
Old muscle tissue only lasts for so long.
Its up to me to make it vibrant and strong.


It starts with a two-pack, then works it's way down.
Giving solace to getting down on the ground.
There's nothing hard about putting in work.
Making major muscle groups damn, near snap from hurt.
Form: Sonnet


Conscience To Shame

Joplin was to Southern Comfort
what Hendrix was to smack
Morrison was to masquerade
what Dylan never lacked

Woodstock was to boomers lost
what music is to rhyme
Saigon was to those who stayed
what Auschwitz now reminds

Kennedy was to hopes and dreams
what nightmares are to some
Castro was to leftist thugs
what cymbals are to drums

Kissinger was to Nixon
an Appian Way to roam
Dr. King to civil rights
what kings are to their thrones

Walter Cronkite was to news
what context is to fact
Altar boys to feral Priests
what pretzels are to snacks

58,000 were to die
 a wall would then proclaim
58,000 were to all
— what conscience is to shame

(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2017)
war
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member Boomer Me and X, Y, Z

Still going strong, the Boomers are
in golden years. They have come far.
The new Gen X then came along.
The Boomers are still going strong.

Kids with latch keys, safer with sex,
then came along the new Gen X.
How they do thrive, like the Gen Z’s,
Safer with sex, kids with latch keys.

The great Gen Y, they sure have drive.
Like the Gen Z’s, how they do thrive.
It’s a new day. We watch time fly.
They sure have drive, the great Gen Y.

Now Alpha’s here. High tech are they.
We watch time fly. It’s a new day.
What possibly will next appear?
High tech are they now Alpha’s here.

#64 on Best New Poems List as of July 28,2026
Form: Quatrain

Premium Member Generations

Generations
By Franklin Price
8/14/2016

Generations are varietous
I wonder if that is a word
Have names that we remember
Maybe most of them you've heard

Far as I can tell it all began
With the ending of the war
With the “Greatest Generation”
Seems they always knew the score

The “Baby Boomers”  came along
When the war came to an end
Began real drastic changes
Not all of them we can defend

Then came more generations
Were lettered “X”, “Y” and “Z”
Had some names attached to them
I've  put some here for you to see

'Silent”, “Hippie”, “Baby Busters”,
 “Boomerang” and “MTV”
“Echo Boom”, “Rock and Roll”
And of course there is the “Me”

“Latch Key Kids”, “Millenium”
Almost brings us up to date
After the year two thousand one
the “Boomlets” are our fate

No longer are we farmers
Who came back from the war
Now there is technology
As there never was before

It's a shame the separation
Of generations that we use
Each one has new found obstacles
And old traditions to abuse

I'm not saying we're not different
Do not sing a different song
I'm just saying we should find a way
For all of us to get along
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member CARTOGRAPHY OF BABY BOOMERS

We were born into a world  
still smelling of ration books and hope,  
a landscape rebuilding itself  
from the rubble of old certainties.  

Our first maps were simple~  
neighborhood streets,  
chalk-lined sidewalks,  
the safe geometry of schools and
front yards where mothers called us home  
by the sound of their names,  
not by fear.  

Later, the terrain shifted.  
The sixties cracked open  
like a fault line,  
and we learned to read  
new coordinates:  
protest, vinyl, moon-landing wonder,  
the long road toward voices  
finally demanding to be heard.  

We charted our adults lives  
in ink that bled~  
marriages, divorces,  
mortgages, layoffs,  
and the quiet triumph  
of getting back up again.  

Our bodies became maps too,  
creased at the edges,  
softened by time,  
each wrinkle a contour line  
marking where joy or sorrow  
once pressed its thumb.  

Now we move more slowly,
but with the quiet elegance
earned only by those
who’ve crossed so many years
without letting go
of the small, steady thread
that kept them whole.

We were cartographers
of change,
mapping a shifting world
not with ink but 
with the gentle geography of our hearts.


Premium Member Baby Boomers and Bummers

Most Baby Boomers started out hoping to leave life
having continued our Great ReGenerativity,
progressively recycling boundless growth 
of optimal Win-Wealth is also Win-Health.

We are the last human generation 
with confidence we could leave more than we have taken in.
To give back,
to pay forward 
investment in Earth's cooperative health and safety insurance,
re-assurance.

In this early post-millennial era,
we have a great transitional dissonance
between those who continue believing it is merely realistic,
rationally nihilistic,
to give up on this hopelessly disconnected 
non-renewable 
non-inheritable dream,
already not accessible to human nature's consciousness
of internal and external climate disruptions.

And, on the other hand,
there remain those of relentless active faith
that we are here at this time,
invested in this transitional moment,
increasing Win/Win potential
transforming short- and long-term 
evolving compassionate lifetimes

To learn from Father Sun's warming voice of Wind
to balance healthy consumption
with wealthy production 
of perennial renewables

To listen
for life's relentlessly springing up reinvestment
opportunities,
not lifetime for ignoring Win v Lose waste,
risking positive neuro-energy's potential peacetime resources.

As we turn from seeking regenerative integrity
for the span of one humanely natural generation,
toward the span of one humane-divine
MotherEarth FatherSun prime co-relational life span,
old monotheistic WinWe v LoseThey issues,
flying under banners of nationalistic narcissism, 
fade into the waste stream of survival of the bullyist

More synergetically renewed by a new EarthTribal cooperative ownership,
a self-with-other Win/Win democratizing 
inter-religious identity 
nurturing caregiving Light
and receiving Power

Healthy compassion 
with all organisms not pathologically hoarding wealth
of divisive nations,
of dissociated egos,
as this new Left with Right 
double-binding 
ego/eco-intelligence
for evolving renewable lifetime opportunities 
and compassionately deniable risks of addiction
to anthropocentric narcissism.

Premium Member Shifting Sands

Shifting Sands

Chagrined but involved,
Demographics today present
The Silent Generation and Baby Boomers,
Gen Xers, Xennials and Millennials,
And Generation Z in the digital era agape,
Staring in bewilderment
And grappling with the reality imposed:
That the crème de la crème
Of the millions of US citizens
In the party of Jefferson, Jackson, and Roosevelt
Tout a socialist clown and a gaffing buffoon
(Who are both very white, very old, and very stupid)
As presidential candidates
To lead the charge to victory come November. 
Surely, there is better fruit in the land
Rooted in the shifting sands.
                             ***

Note:
   Joe Biden and Bernie Sanders were two of the leading figures in the 2020 Democratic presidential primaries.

The Silent Generation: 1925–1945.
Baby Boomers: 1946–1964.
Gen X: 1965–1979.
Xennials: 1975–1985.
Millennials: 1980–1994.
Gen Z: 1995–2012.

Thomas Jefferson (1743–1826): 3rd president of the U.S.A. (1801 to 1809).
Andrew Jackson (1767–1845): 7th president of the U.S.A. (1829 to 1837).
Franklin D. Roosevelt (1882–1945): 32nd president of the U.S.A. (1933 to 1945).
Form: Verse

Premium Member A Mother's Day Poem

You loved me and accepted
                                    me, for who I am
                                  Loving unconditional
                                  I was your little lamb
                               And Auntie, though your
                                    womb was closed
                                No baby born as you'd
                                      once supposed
                               With the baby boomers
                                           boom
                                    No baby in your 
                                      nursery room 
                                     Yet truest love, 
                                     my Aunt to me
                                    The sweetest gift
                                      would ever be
                                  Your gift of love for
                                      each you knew
                                         Oh Auntie,
                                         your love 
                                        was so true
                                      Though you're 
                                 lifted from this sphere
                                        May angels 
                                         bout' you
                                    Close and near
                             Whisper in your precious ear
                               BJ adores you Auntie dear
                                A whispered "Thank you!"
                                       From this heart
                              Undying love cannot depart
                                   May these words lift 
                                           up to say
                                          Aunt Betty;
                                    Happy Mother's Day
                                             
                                                <3
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member The Weeds of Avalon

life is a messy slurry 
Tyson fury
an Olga tumble
an Ali shuffle
a low Cal rumble
in nuclear jungles
hammer and sickle
stars and stripes
a polka dot pickle
cocaine in the middle
PURPLE PEOPLE EATERS
a tsunami ripple
a wobbly foal
grizzly claw
napalm fronds
fishponds made by bombs
divorce court
building doomsday bunker
your first kiss
soccer moms
dodging pervs in the park
a cachexic dream
crack house society
butterflies sipping cream
OWLS FURRY DREAMING
grand slamming the babe
sand made into glass
back stabbers
section 8 scammer
just for kicks conceive
watch the tadpoles grow into nervous tics
where the hell is thAT bubble headed babysitter
It's 66 minutes past 6
life is jaws that kill
jaws that lick
kids wilding
the earth is far beyond sick 
life is smartphone indifference
boomers and millennials navigating the river Styx
with floaties and a soggy boat made of paper prayers
life is a forgotten god
gaming in his lair
searching for us
in the muck 
finding attic junk
a crucifix
a triple six
circles and cycles
tricycles and unicycles
flat wheels 
banana peel religion
slipping
into
wiccan ditches
warlocks-angels with PhDs
living on the street 
with lepers kissing pristine witches
life is one big blurry lake
sipping opaque
rolling of the dice
felt tables aflame
it's all a game
cardboard homes
the man tossing bones
convicts in nursing homes
brevity versus eternity
caskets and bassinets
golden years sacrificed to red hat enraged 
under waged ogres...with no impulse control
what will be etched into my stone
"He was a self-centered prick of a father
couldn't be bothered with the kids
wielded a big cold ugly stick
long on criticism, short on compliments
but slick with the iPhone
knuckle-walking drone
E=MC I got Hammered

...all lives are too soon forgotten
even by the weeds circling pauper crosses
and the granite monuments of Avalon.

Premium Member The Game of Generational Stare

Boomers watch flames in burning fires inside,
They dream in vinyl, staring with eyes open wide.
Some call this gaze: 'Lead paint glaze' of despair,
It's the first move in the game of Generational Stare.

Watch them stares; wait on, don’t be afraid,
Each blank look is a frozen charade,
With eye glazed over in blank despair,
The soul is on pause, before getting there.

Gen X's likes to keeping you waiting a bit,
With a tardy delay before they transmit.
With their eyes half-closed, pause on snooze —
They’re living out their sixties blues.

Millennial's are stuck waiting on a chord,
for the pause between press and record.
This delay happens throughout the day,
Even when they should be on their way.

Gen Z's don't enjoy small talk anymore.
They must wait for the buffering chore,
to finish on all their active screens,
including their I'm live-now machines.

Is it apathy? Or does a panic attack loom?
Just give these generational's some room.
For brains to engage and eyes to make contact,
When reality moves - goes beyond the abstract.

Watch them stares; wait and don’t be afraid,
Each blank look is a frozen charade,
With eye glazed over in empty despair,
Souls are on pause, before getting there.
Form: Rhyme

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