Long Brokers Poems
Long Brokers Poems. Below are the most popular long Brokers by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Brokers poems by poem length and keyword.
We had no hand in this rape of nature
Yet we will bear its full weight and measure
Can climate be sentenced to certain doom
Is there time to resolve its gruesome gloom
Don't dare ask us to deny climate change
We've dug a hole that we can't get out of
At the "climate mercy" from high above
Self-interest trumps the collective good
Tell the top players to do now what they should
Don't dare ask us to think or act short-term
Our little spades try digging us all out
As designer-suit dudes plow dirt round about
We dutifully sift through our own trash
So we make these moguls even more cash
Don't dare ask us to bow to huge profits
Those prominent peers, posers, pols and priests
They had their fair say and done their least
Fighting useless battles over oil sites
While we differ on clear-cut human rights
Don't dare ask us to reject world order
Elites hold the power and that is true
Puny results from what we folks can do
As much as we'd like to see it all stop
To fix this we must begin at the top
Don't dare ask us to back broken brokers
Seeing in stores all that shiny plastic
Vast plastic globs float in the Pacific
We drive plastic cars that are half the weight
With which green fuel is still under debate
Don't dare ask us to save our frail planet
Each ecosystem is interconnected
Rising like tides that are all effected
Now fires and storms rage behind a curtain
Weather is volatile and uncertain
Don't dare ask us to endanger species
Air, lands, waters hope for a better day
Some of earth's environs have lost their way
Without half our insects we must move on
The planet's trees are forever half gone
Don't dare ask us to fix this mega mess
Couplet 40 Lines 337 Words
‘Oh I say isn’t this spiffing or what?’
says Jeremy taking the horse for a trot.
It will be pheasant for dinner which the butler will sort
followed by Havana cigars and a nice drop of port
in the billiard room where the gentlemen play,
then a nice game of backgammon if it’s on a Wednesday.
The silver spoon in his mouth means he speaks rather strange,
words like golly gosh, old bean- all rather deranged.
The Rolls will be cleaned for a trip to the course
where golf will be played in tidy plus fours.
Then it's off to the cricket with the boys for a jolly,
joined by stock brokers and bankers with plenty of lolly!
It’s lunch at the Ivy or tea at the Ritz
all terribly posh, just like St Moritz
where his chalet will tend to the winter delight,
skiing with royalty on champagne powder of white.
The hallway displays portraits of the old,
founders of industry which took hold
securing old money to ensure a liquidity
where one will never face financial humility.
I grope gossips
and chamois if chargrin
and sense like there is forlorn
and there is gruff and chide
oh! if love be a centre
of human life and existence
why call for cracks and grudges?
why profane like a night waves?
can it behold to make excuses?
to haunt and hallow ever?
what contagion is a nightmare contempt?
what conspiracy and blue contest?
what went wrong last blue?
or could it be a factor of woe or foe?
or still it be contemporary air to so rely?
to seize and hold , ay! to damage?
oh! Broker tell me when love
has tis become flame?
that thou is blind to reason
at least to answer imagination
suppose there is a trick
like there is a supposition
suppose there is false
and implication to act
now, tell me the leaving
the unimpaired or the unsuspected for get
thanks be to process of law
for it could never allow
supposed
so is a problem of a
poised.
If you ask our NewsMax, America One fueled, republican congressmen
who won the last presidential election - they’ll pretend that they don’t know.
But hey, these are the guys, the “honest brokers” we can trust, to figure out UFOs.
These republicans disavow Trump’s clear treason. If they refuse to follow those clues,
like video captured by the guilty themselves - how can their UFO “hearings” fail to amuse?
It’s a shrewd political distraction, a republican red-herring, to put vague “aliens” in the news
just when Trump's lawyers are figuring out which prison facility he should choose.
In this circus of misinformation, we’re offered unproven decades of government collusion,
heck, we even have that RFK.jr nut insisting that the alien saucers are full of jews.
Of course, the aliens must be from distant galaxies - in their new breed of flying saucers -
why else would they be turning down so many lucrative showbiz offers?
Will it turn out that the cute, little, ET-guys are here conducting interstellar analysis?
Stay tuned. Have the aliens come to eat us - should we be frozen in fearful paralysis?
Or will our republican overlords, so busy removing our freedoms, decide it’s time to save us?
There’s no long proven, scientific fact that the newer, dumber, Republicans haven’t disputed,
maybe the UFOs were sent back from the future, their mission: study primitive human stupid.
There is no horizon like a flat horizon!
The autumn water's stinging embrace
Is like an Ice Queen's embrace: sudden, and welcoming, and deadly...
Is like squeezing through a sieve and coming out clean,
Your Whole body emerges from brokenness, alive! and Vibrating!
Like a renewed man,
You see the far colors
With clear eyes
And there is no such thing as cold, or shivering
Only Now,
Only the embrace of a sleeping lake
And the far calls of an enduring swimmer
(He who will take his daily Constitutional in Summer and in Winter)
Cheer the heart with a sense of indefatigability,
Of not making much of the cold...
This Eternity is unlike all other Eternities!
To know your every nerve has awakened
To be somehow beyond the rim of the sky
To dare... to be.... alive!
Beyond the rim of the sky
Where the rim of the earth
Touches the rim of the lake
A thin firmament
Between two vast expanses
(and to think, we live and wake in the thinness, and not in the vastness!)
But here, beyond the rim of the world,
We are Sane!
...until we get up and out
And put on our clothes
Over our wet swimming suits
And go...
And go... (I can't say it!) back into the madness
And the close press of thousands
Each yearning for three cubic feet of their OWN air
Back into the state in which,
Everybody brokers
A Deal with Time
Begging her to end their insanity
For a while,
And give to them
Little, Eternal Spaces
Like This...
clad in rags, he wanders on Wall Street
he is invisible to hustling stock brokers
he is a man with no money, no property
a hapless struggler of excessive loan burdens
bitter winter winds blow across Broadway
he is invisible to affluent theatre-goers wearing warm winter coats
he is a man who watches them scurry past the cardboard box that is his bed
like a rain-dog, huddling in the shadows of alleys and doorways
he hears deafening explosions of New Year fireworks
he is invisible to the revellers
he is a man who cowers, recalling gunfire of a war he fought
echoing through his mind in restless nights
the incessant thumping of traumatic stress
he is invisible...a victim of post-Vietnam, Afghanistan and Iraq
who once bore a uniform and served his country with pride
he is invisible suffering alone, paying the price
through severe disabilities and permanent scars
with sadness, he watches voters going to the polls
he is invisible, a veteran with no voice in elections
he is a man who cannot vote without an “address”
a placard on a pavement might catch the eye
unemployed, homeless, unseen
but most of all forgotten
he is a man who seems invisible
but he is still a man
-------------------------------------------------------------
This is co-written by Paul Callus & Carolyn Devonshire
in remembrance of our war veterans.
[Published @ Muse to Move (A.P.F. Publisher UK 2017]
Looking at his house
He sees nothing special
A pile of wood and sheetrock
Bigger than others
But he owes more than it’s worth
His house is underwater
A term he doesn’t understand
In real speak the house belongs to the Bank
To the brokers and the lawyers.
Wanting a piece of the American dream
He misrepresented himself
Taking crumbs from the table
So to speak
Fudging a number here
Adding a zero there
The smart money said it was alright
Don’t worry they told him
Everybody’s doing it.
He and his wife were barely making it
Hoping just to hang in there
Things would get better
They kept telling themselves
But it was too good to be true
The economy went south
Things went wrong
Lost a job
The bills piled up
He and the wife stopped talking
Broke, he feels pushed aside.
There are two sides to every lie
And in this one
There’s a bill somewhere
That’s long overdue
And so my friend
It will have to be paid by me and you.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------New Years
Will bring, ring .
Out with the old and into memories hoard, history it goes.
In with the new, unknown, and with it, new adventures.
For us seniors, and others, it is me myself and I
who transition the micro, millisecond between then and now.
We are surrounded by four walls and the tapestries they display.
Images of the spirits of our ancestors, as for me, three generations.
They are accompanied by images of my family, three Daughters,
three Grand Sons, two Grand Daughters and two Great Grand Daughters.
Ten souls that make up four generations and counting.
Although a fifth, these eyes will never be graced by nor souls to known.
Along with Family hang the pictorial images of Ex-wives and some Ex-lovers
who once gave to me, some of themselves, some of their hearts and souls.
These souls, along with four Chinese beauties have been my companions
throughout the transition from one year to the next, as me, myself and I,
bid good bye to the adventures of 2025 with the first half hour of Perry Mason,
and greeted 2026 with the last half hour of Perry Mason, a movie and sleep.
When One awakes on the first day of a New Year, One has to wonder ???,
what the power brokers, the politicians, the dictators, the none humanitarians,
the hateful, the vengeful, the spiteful, the greedy, all the religions on this
little blue planet have instore for us *****sapiens, humanity, birds, fish,
the animals, the forests, Mother Earth, herself and all that resides within her
and upon her sphere that allows her to be a perfect home for all sentient beings.
B. J. “ A ” 2
January 1st 2026
Epilogue
May Mother Earth, May Man Kind
Come to know what neither has known in their life times .
Total Love, total Peace, total Forgiveness, totals Acceptance .
Somewhere in this world today,
An addict will quit drugs or alcohol.
In a Recovery Program, or try his
own way.
I know it's so cool to have a loser
around.
But give it up, folks, many sober
people abound.
You don't know them because they act just like you.
They don't brag about the gift
of being substance free!
They are teachers, doctors, lawyers, brokers.
So stop sneering when you see
an addict.
Many are more sober and way famous far more
than me or you.
So instead of giving up on a helpless bloke,
Say a prayer that they will be saved and remember..
"There but for the grace of God, go I!"
And that, my friends, is no joke!
September 17, 2020
5:15 am PST
Young lovers living in death's shadow
Autonomous hearts bound by love's oath
Freely skirting the binding traditions that cluttered their way
Secretly espousing an innocuous, private romance that openly challenged convention
Amorous compatriots plotting a treasonous tryst
Initiating a temporal rapprochement that yielded a spiritual legacy
Twining branches of two long-severed limbs
Brokers extending a healing love that widened a poisonous rift
Sweet incense of sacrificed lambs rising from the rancid pyre of conformity
Dispossessed of title and home, but vested with a nobler destiny
Accepting their perilous fate with a blithe resignation
Bearing a reproach not of their own making
Short-lived nightmare exchanged for an everlasting vigil
Distilling their fleeting time together into love's eternal quotient
Attaining immortality in the mutable literary discourse