Long Bulldozed Poems
Long Bulldozed Poems. Below are the most popular long Bulldozed by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Bulldozed poems by poem length and keyword.
After thousands of years
due to global ice melt in the permafrost
my carcass has been unearthed.
Not surprisingly I was hairy and
proto-Slavic.
Some idiot named me ‘Derick Specimen 974.2’,
My spirit watched as they soaked me in warm water
then froze me up again.
How many times must my remains
be poked about like this?
For centuries I have been interned,
exhumed, washed away
and bulldozed into dust,
leaving my genetic footprints all over
their dumb brains
and now some fool
looks upon my preserved remains
and names me ‘Derick’!’
Just wait until I dig one of you up
ten thousand years from now.
I won’t care how bald and scrawny looking you are,
I’ll name you: Aphrodite
even through your flaccid popsicle of a scrotum
is clear for all to see.
Through the mire, lie rows of houses,
in fact there all around,
This is suburbia the sprawl,
Spreading in all directions,
Concrete and steel surge upwards,
Indigenous trees bulldozed down,
Roads dark alleyways fester,
Behold this was once my town.
Weaving through leaky tunnels,
Stench permeates foul air,
Organization of the multitude,
Rats in a Rubik’s cube maze,
Where else can we go,
peasants of urban growth,
Incognito behind our masks,
Eyes burning, smog chokes,
A caveman of bricks and mortar,
Blind man who doesn’t need light,
Awoken from my life of slumber,
Searching for the high ground,
Find a weird monstrosity,
Towering above my head,
A ski slope, shopping mall,
I only seek, milk and bread,
Never seen the future coming,
Perhaps looked, the other way,
I helped create this Frankenstein,
To call it civilized would be a mistake,
Once reaped what was sewn,
Now concrete over everything we see,
Where in hell, has the sky gone,
Dystopia now, Can this really be?
COMPLETELY YOUR CHOICE (43)
Sponsored by Brian Strand 18/02/2021
My words were rewritten until they became yours
As grammar and syntax perfected your thoughts
Pages lined with highlighters polished me to extinction
I wanted to resist all of those good intentions
Yet I knew you wanted your best words for me
You weren't listening so you couldn't hear what I was asking for
Poor boy me I lacked the courage to say it loud enough
I felt my voice become tiny as my heart disappeared
Sure my words were somewhat awkward
Still I had things to express that way
My rhythm was imbedded in the word play
You crumbled my granite and turned it into clay
It happened slowly a bit day by day
I was there hidden in the disconnected details
Crystal blue eyed observations to share
Becoming myself on the verge of aware
You could have found me there
My words weren't lacking weight or substance
Like a series of road signs I pointed in a certain direction
I wasn't looking for polished perfection
What I desired most was emotional connection!
The trip must have seemed hard
You couldn't see past the curves in my road
It was to difficult to decipher my emotional code
So instead you bulldozed through my mind
with a big truck weighted with your own heavy load
If only you could have lingered and waited
Maybe you could have been sated
My words were interplayed and related
The strength of your ego I had not anticipated
In your wake I was left dejected and frustrated
There had been points of interest along the way
sprinkled star dust amidst the Milky Way
Beneath were gardens in which you could have come to play
There was no rush, I wanted you to stay
Until my liquid thoughts were morphed into hay
There before you
I had erected statues of delight
adorned in billowing fabric made of light
Perhaps you were blinded by my bright
unexpected in the middle of the night
You could have occupied my pleasure
Below my surface a spring fed treasure
A gift for you beyond measure
You could have witnessed the essence of me
Even though you came so close
you just couldn't see...
This is an old one that I have significantly reworked.
He speaks for the uprooted.
A man of sorts, a twiggy Buddha.
He who interprets
the conferences of frogs,
the unpublished works
of kestrels and voles.
He’s an advocate for the underbelly
of a microbial heaven, for every kind
of uncouth animalcule.
Ancient is he, yet as fresh as tomorrow,
in green ponds he fishes for sunlight.
He plumps grassy pillows,
quilts nests for the slumbering and slippery,
gardens all dewy meadows.
He speaks for the bulldozed,
the displaced. The native and
the nomadic.
He tracks the sins
of the truculent muckrakers,
the yellow iron caterpillars.
He glides over bogs with the frogs.
Slips between the stringy and tall,
if there are no forested ways
he ambles where the wind ruffles.
He talks to the bears - they tell him
how things are going in the suburbs.
Swimming pools and trash cans,
have still to be negotiated. There must be a treaty.
He is leafy, kits and coyote love him,
Whistle-Pigs chirp like sparrows; blow their noses
to trumpet his approach.
When ducks quack his many sermons
shotguns misfire.
He is a preacher, a teacher to tics and turtles.
He is the bosky bedfellow, not a straw man,
or a hollow man – he is variegated and verdant,
a green man for me and thee
at least for now.
Where are the magpies?
Where the ruined cathedrals
where are the birds
that once made their homes
in the hollow heads of saints?
Here all dwell in the new or the old
the days between are bulldozed,
the waste rubble resold.
Crowds seek out boarded-up exits
other crowds construct entrances
for new homes
that when assembled resemble all other's.
I need a hill to howl upon.
The land is flat, even the water is flat.
Mountains are small or not at all.
Yet there are midnight Magpies,
there are crows cawing in woodland churches.
Mythical back-eyed catbirds roam
from home to home. Many places are
not condemned to the newfangled
and yet still unoriginal.
Some magpie nests and appear almost near,
just under the eaves of a middling nowhere.
Where Can They Go?
So axiomatic, they'll be displaced
from forest homes, they harbored many years.
Now, over time, their shelters were replaced;
their land dug up by building engineers.
The deer and fox, wild turkeys, many more
inhabited these backwoods, then pristine,
along the banks of nearby river shore,
enjoying nature's ways, yet hardly seen.
But, now they're roaming in our private yards;
no longer can enjoy their wild enclave.
Their virgin forest bulldozed, ground to shards.
No altruistic thoughts the builders gave.
Rejecting asseveration - no regards,
their mega-mansions built with disregards.
Sandra M. Haight
~1st Place~
Premiere Contest: Triple-A Challenge
Sponsor: Robert Haigh
Required Words To Use: axiomatic altruistic asseveration
There was a crooked house
in a crooked part of town
Where you could down a pint or two
and let your life calm down
A place to relax and to de-stress
with friends and glass or two.
Yes we loved that little crooked house,
with its ice cold special brew.
It was a warm and friendly place
met always with a smile
A place to sit and talk and laugh
and for us to sit awhile.
A place to go and socialise
and meet up with your mate.
A place to take a new found friend
or maybe a new date.
Alas one night there was a roaring fire
and the crooked house burned down
The structure was deemed unsafe to stand
and so was bulldozed to the ground.
We're sad to see that its now gone
and our beloved crooked house is no more.
Just sodden pile of bricks and stone
lay in a rubble on the floor.
So thank you friend and Landlord,
Landlady and bar staff.
For the friendly service with a smile
and for all the friendly chat
for all the beers served and drank
and the laughter and fun, thanks alot
we hold dear in our hearts and minds
Good times never forgot
Thanks to the little crooked house
1/27/21
"Styrofoam"
It's not hormones, testosterone
Or Pheromones
I was at the crossroads
Moved towards what was familiar or unknown
Never did any good to postpone
I can really feel it in my bones
Nearby all these Madrones
Time has shown
In and out of all these biomes
The elements shaping the land and stones
Hung up the phone
Then came the dial tone
I've sinned, and I've atoned
I regressed, and I have grown
Sippin’ out of Styrofoam
In and out of different tidal zones
Had to get it on my own
It almost always was homicide if their was a broken Hyoid bone
It was always kept a secret or widely known
They're really focused on drones
And clones
Yet they also want to continually probe
And spy on the entire globe
Was close to the cosmos
As well as the locker of Davy Jones
From here to Nome
Always been a rogue
After the motherlode
Sometimes I was on paved streets, or often I was on dirt roads
Staying composed
Solving problems with or without the use of codes
Before the doors are closed
Meanwhile, people still having continual episodes
Got it done smoothly, or I just bulldozed
Those
That attempted to oppose
And stick their nose
Into my business, that's a no
Eeny, Meeny, Miny, Moe
Catch a tiger by the toe
Took them out with the undertow
Quickly they sunk below
Or by going blow for blow
A.K.A. Toe to toe
The same could be said for many, including so and so
The flesh and organs beginning to decompose
Food for insects, vultures and crows
It's not a hoax
Did the least or I did the most
Put it out there or was a ghost
Got it done easily or cut it close
It's gross
Far too often was comatose
Because I overdosed
Couldn't stop myself, or follow advice from my folks
I know, what a joke
Even though I've been woke
I couldn't stop my addictions, or say "Adios!"
More than just words being wrote
It'd do you some good to take note
Humans at each others throats
Quick to gloat
And to go right for the throat
Especially over your affiliation and how you vote
I either did or didn't have a rain coat
Humans quick to find a scapegoat
We either were or were not in the same boat
Stood sturdy like an oak
Behind continual clouds of smoke
And enough alcohol to make a moat
So that a boat could stay afloat
I felt a small tremble below
And knelt on the floor ‘cuz I know
Something wasn’t right out of class
And a second much bigger blast
Left crumbs of glass from a window
Who is aware I can follow
Into the sun, I mean shadow
A family of grades amass
Breathtaking view
A mushroom cloud did overflow
And blanketed the afterglow
From the effects of the jet gas
That took the freedom to trespass
Instantly my school was bulldozed
Breathtaking view
5/25/2016
5 Words Contest
My 5 words are: WHO WASN'T EFFECTS
BREATHTAKING FAMILY
I am Irish,
I do not patter a brogue, not lilt, or prate the Celtic.
I’m annexed English, cockney, a dead queens piglish,
chameleon tongued.
Something took me, shook me like a spade
until an un-rooted soil fell, a ground crumbled
grew tropical jungles of alien expression.
Years press, some bulldozed, some were the wrecking ball.
Found my clay feet stomping, squishing mud,
fostering images, a mire between a to zee
but never enough letters to fit a parlance;
my placeless patios, my me.
America, a melting polyglot,
I’m still slanging, hanging words out to dry, new words
told contrary-wise estranged in an outlandish manner
of palaver,
a poetry of sorts,
sounds unbound and breathing
but never replete, yet a bellyful
to live in the eyes and ears.
Speak slowly and I will hear you with my lips.