Long Button Poems
Long Button Poems. Below are the most popular long Button by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Button poems by poem length and keyword.
Do you ever just feel like it’s too much pressure
Like you're a tea kettle screaming, but everybody keeps their don’t care ear plugs in and can't see vision lens on
So no one can hear you suffocating or see you dry drowning.
They are blindly waiting for the next bit of pressured tea
Superman isn’t coming to save you. Trust
I’ve been screaming, and he still hasn’t found me
Something tells me he has no space for me under his cape of success
Life has made a choice, and it’s challenged you greatly
No one can stop it, just the end
Even then that’s a maybe
We actually don’t know if that’s just another beginning of a new rat race
We have yet to see or begin to comprehend
I am losing my voice from screaming helplessly
Tones that have fallen upon deaf ears who also can’t see
Would someone please give me a breath to breathe
Living is like a cigarette just sucking the energy of life out of me.
Depletion of patience, in exchange for cancerous thoughts
Scared to inhale, afraid more damage it will cost
Pressure. Pop
You thought I did it just, pressed the red button
You actually thought I'd hit it?
Are you kidding? Have you not learned yet
Under constraint, beauty is produced
So the more it's compressed
The brighter the rays will shine through
Pressure is uncomfortable for a duration of time
Withstanding the forces of life will produce
Unbreakable human diamonds
Stronger every time
Hooray it’s laundry day
A perfectly lazy day
Where all I need do
Is get up once in a while
For quick transfers
Just a flick of a button
And wait for the magic to unfold
I have it so easy – growing up
My mom raised us six kids
The car weekly loaded with laundry
Heading down to a local laundromat
Imagine the mountains of laundry!
Clothes for eight, linen and the rest
Often one of the eldest would go help
Then sometimes treated to an ice cream
She had it so easy – I remember
My grand-mother’s laundry day
Piles of laundry scattered everywhere
She’d roll out the manual wringer washer
She’d use brute strength and it took forever
Then she’d hang it all on the clothesline
I think how times have changed and love how
Three generations are honoured every laundry day
AP: Honorable Mention 2020
And shall this piece of twisted wire
bring me all I could desire,
and will this ugly-looking button,
that tears my flesh to shredded mutton,
grant me up there a first-row seat
where heavenly angels come to meet?
Can Heaven in mercy ever cover
my slaying children with their mother?
What of those maids in Paradise?
I yearn for them, but what's the price?
Lo, I behold a pale white dove.
Is this a sign from Heaven above?
No more to see the golden sun,
the silver moon when day is done?
Renounce the joys of married bliss
for an airy-fairy virgin's kiss?
Should I God's earthy gifts despise.?
There's time anon to Heavenwards rise.
Silence is something you can step on
like dead weeds on a sunken grave....
like ancient worn paths to nowhere in particular,
except to forgotten places you've already been to.
I'm a battered button freak
in a world without goose steps.
Let us sacrifice our clothes
to appease the screaming ghosts of the Final Solution.
When you're naked everything tastes better,
the clocks tick louder,
a multitude of whispering voices sound gentler
and the raging rivers of the land flow farther.
Night time is the right time to be naked.
When the dogs of war are snoring
When the day's checker games have ceased
When the throbbing vestal virgins beg for it.
Being beaten is best when naked.
One can show off the welts and feel exhilarated.
One can feel close to God
and the cool moist dirt around you.
One can know what it is like to be digested by a spider.
One can bleed and cry
and plead for mercy to deaf ears.
Coraggio! Coraggio!
Basta! Basta!
It was the summer of love. I was eight -
south in the California state
with discipline, the War, and hate.
I wore a button down shirt
and hard black shoes that always hurt,
but in my heart, no one could deny
a tie dye in July.
Ten years later, I was released
to freedom, love, and peace.
made of real cotton, not of fleece.
A rainbow appeared, my mind was split.
I took a California sunshine hit
at Venice Beach, eight miles high,
wearing tie dye in July.
On time's pedal, someone hit the gas -
ten years gone, not all things last.
George once said, "all things must pass",
so, at a corporate conference
a cool free shirt and pretence -
something was awry
as I wore tie dye in July.
As we two, in a poem's words unite,
I'll tell you my best memories, tonight.
They were rainbow colors, ever bright;
and, whatever it all meant,
when, to Heaven, I am sent,
I hope that I will fly
wearing tie dye in July.
My brother lives a health food life
In Colorado, with his wife.
Breakfast is a smoothie shake.
(I eat bagels, scones or cake.)
Should you want to join his ranks,
This is how – I need no thanks.
Place these items in the blender:
(You’ll be healthy, fit and slender.)
Start out with some chard or kale;
(Spinach, too, if it’s on sale.)
Add an orange (peeled, of course),
Pollen from a beehive source,
Lemon peel, some grapes, a peach,
Mango, kiwi – one of each,
Pineapple – just one fresh ring,
Some acai to add some zing.
Can’t find all the fruits he’s chosen?
Use some berries that are frozen.
If you have a real ripe pear,
Toss that in to give some flair.
One last item from your stash –
Spirolina, just a dash.
What that is, I have no clue;
But I’ll bet it’s good for you!
Press the button – your machine
Will mix it up and turn it green.
Drink it up, just like you should;
My brother swears it’s really good!
As for me, I think I’ll pass
On drinks that look like fresh-cut grass.
Also, other reasons lurk –
Making one is too much work!
Special offer for forbidden fruit two for the price of one
Discounted pleasure until ultimate stock clearance lasts
Adam’s apples included
Unisex versions available
Sustainable and organic
Nails and planks for the eye flat-packed easy to assemble
Build your own bloody cross instructions included for free
Whips for self-flagellation
Strictly for over 18’s only
Change water into whine
Serpent skin negligees and rings for nipples and manhood
See-through loin cloths for aspiring Buddhas handmade in hell
Mount pleasant meets fig tree
Biodegradable Lotus blossoms
Kamasutra deflowering guaranteed
Eider ducks in a row and Noah’s Arc for foaming bath tubs
Pull the plug on solitude and play Eros full steam ahead
Rubber dolls with vacuum function
Touch Mahal at the press of a button
Mandala and kind Karma on the spot
Meanwhile Hey Judas blasts sounds through supermarket isles
As encouragement for a little temptation at the bread counter
Self-rising yeast and sugar watchtowers
Lick away your sins until kingdom comes
With crispy pretzels from Salt Lake City
Nihilist colouring books on display no glossy crayons needed
Agnostic wet dreams wrapped in silk brassieres and braces
The end is nearer than the cashier
A reaper tills luscious fields of plenty
Until blinders fall under a heavy load
30th December 2019
Just like football I am trying to reach the goal
Zigzagging down the field of life to keep from getting bowled
It is first down in the morning as that whistle rocks my head
Just a little button hook to get me out of bed
I am tackled within three steps as my son bursts through the door
His sister went long with his mobile phone to even up the score
I coach them how to play together, not to scream and shout
Both are yanked from the game for a personal time out
At ten AM in the second quarter I think I am gaining ground
The dog intercepts a pass by the cat to turn the game around
Racing out the patio door that dog and cat did mesh
It cost the dog a bout in his cage for unnecessary roughness
Halftime brings the team together to analyze performance
After lunch we play again to make good a second chance
The clock winds down with end zone in sight, dinner takes a tumble
An audible I had to call because the cake I fumbled
And finally in quarter four, the game down to the wire
A revelation that no one else could manage this empire
Though touchdowns are sweet in life, one thing I came to know
Sometimes to win the game at hand you only need a field goal
Swing like a tennis pro
Swoosh as badminton flow
Dance and twril as you whirl
The magic bug zapper racket
See a bug I fling to attack it
Keep that button down
Brave electric courrent sound
Die little insect die
Goodbye you nasty fly
Mosquito a crisp bye bye
No wasp or mean bee
Better never threaten me
If I hear a buzzing sound
Now I can hold my ground
Armed with my bug zapper in hand
I am in command, Mother Nature understands
Slap a roach on the wall
Poor spider no place to crawl
Any bug I see
Sting them before they sting me
To the strong the world belongs
Total power gives you calm
Tiny vermin a slap a pat
A tush moving swoosh
A graceful wave a playful swing
In my hand my bug zapper I cling
Slight twist of the wrist bugs burn crisp
Now my space a bliss
Gone all tiny pest
Bug zapper I could kiss
As burnt lip and fringe hair confess
I was one of the cool set,
navy blue duffle coat, scarf around
my neck, seated at a table
in Pepe's Coffee Lounge
discussing Baudelaire
and T.S. Eliot and the demise
of the political elites.
The conscription ballot hung
over our heads helmeted
in a flowering of uncombed hair
in the winter of 1966.
We thought the world was about
to tip, that the old regime
was coughing its last
on Craven A and Camel cigarettes.
Booze was cheap and jobs
chased us down the street.
In a hundred buried silos,
annihilation was just a push
of a button away.
We partied hard beneath
the threat of that mushroom cloud.
We're old now, sit under the cloud
of our own thoughts, replaying
scratchy, worn out tracks
retrieved from the sleeves
of our neural LP's.
What we tore down back then
has been replaced with more
sinister demons that eat away
at the collective soul.
In the end, everything
is just reabsorbed.
Some of us still frequent
coffee shops and discuss
Baudelaire and T.S. Eliot,
still write poetry,
shed a tear
at the melancholic beauty
of a setting sun.