Long Cads Poems
Long Cads Poems. Below are the most popular long Cads by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Cads poems by poem length and keyword.
Woe betide lower men who fickle facades embrace
And wit’s hard-won gold for shifting dross exchange;
Dubbing avarice-sired glosses exquisite gems pure,
With obscuring eyes decimating solid worth's range.
With their own ears they cannot first-hand hear,
And gauge if wild grapevines solid realities say;
There's always standard hearsay in each sphere,
That defines world’s weightier subjects of the day.
It's the stark lack of depth in these artless geeks
That hatches and pupates corporate hydras’ fads:
Gimmicks-iced shenanigans to sate whims of cads;
Lie-tipped rackets hymned by classist parrot beaks.
They're the distant acquaintance who moans louder
Than the actual first-bereaved's grief-laden shoulder.
You behold the fairy eye riled by wetting garlic wafts,
That gives its tear to one unhurt by the vexing shafts.
Methinks all existence and its rigged veneers would have ceased,
If the few manipulating hucksters on its skewed stage so pleased!
Emma Rutledge
1876-1914
Greetings my friends,
From this forgotten frump,
This long-dead girl who now haunts
This yawning ghost garden here.
In life, my tongue tasted many terrible lies;
All just worthless words from men,
Men I’d just as soon see dead
While I was alive still.
Just as soon see them buried deep in the dirt,
One after the other,
Here in these fragrant acres of hard silence.
One might think that a smart girl like me,
Might have learned a thing or two,
While breathing still;
Learned that the proffered promises
Of erstwhile cads about town,
Had as much value and reliability
As a sucking sandpit!
But ladies, pray tell my friends,
You know all too well what I speak of!
We all know of their irresistible charms,
And we all know of their universal mendacity!
Even now, damn them all!
“Stay away from me! Stay away!”
But alas, there is some consolation,
Some slight soulful comfort,
Here in this yawning ghost garden;
Here beyond the spiritual membrane:
They are all sleeping now, sleeping
Sleeping as motionless as bears sleep,
Deep, deep in the icy twilight
Of forgotten existence.
.Inspired From Sapper French's Diary from April 23. 1916
"Come On Over Fritz"
Rain like a shower down my back off a thin wooden lath
It’s cold and miserable unlike a welcome hot bath
Air so bad we cannot breathe, today don’t feel like taking this path.
Gas bombs are falling a thick yellow cloud rolls our way.
Pray God the wind catches and sends it astray.
Thank God no gas lungs for us today…
We used the same trick as miners with a canary bird to test for gas
But we caged a mouse instead, if it died we would not pass
We got sick, but the mouse survived, oh telling us; what an ass.
Got a cut upon my leg, the doctor says it’s septic
What a relief a hospital bed, lots of company, analeptic
I though this war was right, now I’m a sceptic.
Back in the field scores of bodies lying dead
Personalities cut down, stuck in the mud ahead
Blood bath, bodies everywhere we tread.
Walking in water up to our knees without ease
Found water cress, so good with bread and cheese.
A little comfort, although not much sitting in this bise.
It’s strange something simple like finding water cress
Can give us an unsophisticated pleasure in this gory mess
Eating and drinking, amidst body parts - no less.
But we had to do what we could for every inch we could gain
How the mighty fall, the Germans came to our trench of mud and rain
With grenades, daggers and bayonets – most stayed, face down; slain.
A huge German solider was patched up by our lads
An older man with a scratch; reminded us of our dads
It’s remarkable we fight and kill, yet still mend these cads.
August the tenth a strange day, a German stuck his head over the barbette
One of our boys called out “Come on over fritz” as if he did it for a bet
Fritz relied in perfect English “no blooming fear” happy to have met.
After the respite of banter back and forth
New orders went out to be followed henceforth
Anyone talking to the enemy would be arrested thenceforth.
Entered into Mark Toney's
Poetry Marathon mile 7 contest
I dwell between two major figures
Where twenty borders twenty-one
A child of age bygone, it figures
What I lived through can’t be undone
I keep on seeing a commotion
A whirl, a trend that leaves me awed
Perpetual flow, mankind’s motion
It’s weird, puzzling, odious, odd
One’s mom and dad aren’t in the picture
YouTube will teach you every trick
By God, the influencer’s scripture
Takes over you, you get a kick
This is the century of sexes
And not just two, but whole bunch
Imagine that, all intersexes
Try as you may, there isn’t a hunch
The time of minds torn to pieces
Boyhood and girlhood wounded bad
The schools dispense wokeism feces
With moral guidance preached by cads
We witnessed honor compass breaking
We held it close, it showed the way
Precedes disaster in the making
Whole generation washed away
The country borders - simply lines
On map they run, ramparts they’re not
So, hordes ignore the border signs
Without fear of being caught
The world got smaller, can't go places
Where danger lurks with bated breath
Inflation earnings outpaces
To stay afloat – work to death
What’s gone is privacy, forever
And cam now lives on every pole
I couldn’t imagine, never ever
That every car shall run on coal
The Paly flag would stand for hatred
And Star of David – Nazi sign
The Holy Land – no longer sacred
And being Jew means get maligned
Don’t have to be, just make impression
Puffed cheeks and chest – signs of success
Distinguish lies from truth, big question
And states of ‘blue’ are in distress
The money isn’t worth the paper
Go buy some groceries and see
Subscribe, watch, comment is the caper
Go steal from store and then run free
A million voices telling tales
On what to buy, cook, wear - sweet talk
Taste, think, use, carry – with details
In billion phones around the clock
You owe your life to rabid viewers
Can never stop, content is king
Most weird acts attract YouTubers
While bank account goes ‘cha-ching’
Forever jealous, mean and bitter
This ain’t my way and never be
All worthy news are found on Twitter
To filter noise is the key
Elections screwed and prosecutions
This crazy world, it goes awry
Mankind engulfed by evolution
The times, in which we live and die
May 27, 2024
Where there is no doctor,
Take God your mentor.
But when religious gatherings remain closed,
Hope sits next to grace yet dumbfounded.
How Corona scatters!
FG rising to occasion so faster...
Where everyone is meant for indoor;
No manna from them-- to all downpour,
Yet they rough handle people for justice sake,
Claimed of protection but causing quake.
Like those protectors so genuine,
Leading technological progresses that ruin.
A country of daily economy.
How staying indoor for lives sake means autonomy!
The welfare is their first duty,
But no measure to stand its purity.
Like no one is ready to listen,
Though we used to have DEMO so glisten.
Where there is no justice,
Where disposal becomes tease,
Even Acropolis won't withstand the test of time,
When culture is caught unaware of modernism.
To pronounce ageless Amos prophet,
In deaf ears we pierced our advocate.
Where there is no health insurance,
Where there is no franchise,
Where there is no security,
Where health officers work without surety,
Earth is healing itself,
Why are we the virus elf?
Where there is no claim for right and wrong,
Where no one for himself is strong,
Lolz... where favoritism is based on merit,
Where there is no prejudice,
Where love live to outlast lust,
There ship shop sheep sharing sail with snakes.
Where courage is left alone with curse,
Where plans plant plunder in plenty,
There souls swim shedding tears sailing towards Hades,
And cage cast coast counting corona Cads.
Where virus vine van via version so velvety,
Raging rigorously in high rate; what cares should rouse?
...What room is there for merit in
a bubble that’s so ruled by fear?
Any who dares have principles
will be out of work in a year,
the industry is designed to
give only the servile cheers,
tell me, is that the type of soul
you really want bending your ear?
And given how often these folks
go into and out of rehab,
and all the health problems they face
chasing the latest new age fad,
and all the infidelity,
the strings of marriages gone bad,
why would we think they know better?
Why imitate decadent cads?
And finally we should look at
the huge elephant in the room,
the behavior of the actors
that will lead to eternal doom,
the casting couch and actresses
who willingly sell the boom-boom
for bit parts in forgotten films,
their reward? Depression and gloom.
Worse than them are all the pedos,
the abuse at work in the town,
these actors all know about it,
they do nothing to tear it down,
when it comes to real cowardice
these behaviors must take the crown;
do they even think of these kids,
the damaged souls that they are now?
The Greeks and Romans saw actors
as little better than prostitutes,
and now, two thousand years later,
that pretty much remains the truth.
To take advice from such people
means you might just have a screw loose,
do not listen to the actors,
nothing they say is good for you.
When Sis and I were growing up--
I, nondescript; Sis, beauty queen—
she won the crowns and wowed the guys.
Me? I was on the Quiz Bowl Team.
Some handsome guys befriended me.
They came to me for sound advice,
revealing just what made them tick.
They trusted me—I was so nice.
Though Sis is smart in many ways,
she still can’t see through men’s facades.
Her heart gets broken when she finds
some guys, in truth, are cads and clods.
Date: December 31, 2019
Contest Title: She Inspires Series KH placed 3rd (premier contest)
Sponsor: Maureen McGreavy
January 29, 2020, entered in Strand Special 9
An evening of social justice
paid for by the “alleged” perpetrators
of the grand injustice.
What cads, these bastards
of the billions, usurpers of
our “common” wealth,
cream skimming purveyors
of the entrepreneurial spirit.
“They did not build it alone!”
No, they did not. They built it –
first in their minds imagination,
fashioned into a dream,
molded into a plan
hammered by determination.
Brick by brick, stick by stick,
thread by thread,
hour by endless hour.
And now the bread is made.
Now they come - the naysayers,
the doubters, the mockers,
in the guise of “social sainthood”,
to tear down the success,
condemn the economics
regarding the slicing of the loaf.
“The laborers may be worthy of their hire”*
but The Little Red Hen* runs the kitchen.
3/29/2018
*paraphrased biblical quotation
**1950’s(?) childrens book (The Little Red Hen)
submitted to – social justice free verse – Poetry Contest
sponsor – John Hamilton
Family Line
We each stand in one long line.
Back to Adam all Mankind.
The line is precious to our hearts;
Though it consists of many parts.
Country, race, and next of kin.
It is our future, and where we've been.
All riders on some cosmic bus;
Who are these folks that make up us?
If Grandma was a Nubian Queen;
Stranger things are often seen.
Veterans of perhaps a thousand wars;
Past Generations, just thus far.
Doctors, Lawyers, Indian Chiefs;
Murderers, rapists, cads, and thieves.
All stand behind us, and that's fine;
We're standing in our family line.
Why should we notice? What's the worth?
Of noticing our time on earth?
The line's a circle don't you see?
It stretches round eternity.
Look brightly and don't think it odd.
The line begins and ends with God.
First there was oblivion, before emptiness began
Then everything grew from a (dot) and so forth into man
Using reverse extrapolation, large brains, and a plan
Intelligent beings worked this out, as only they can
Logic itself explains two plus two, if you do the math
Belief invokes a loving god, yet threatens words of wrath
Philosophy brings wisdom, but follows different paths
They all leave unanswered questions, and I don’t accept that
Some say why bother, ultimately we will all expire
Life doesn’t need reason, it’s a cosmic quirk we acquired
No creatures besides few humans, actually inquire
To what the fu*k is going on, driving me to great ire
Here on a rocky planet, in no mean region of space
Between infinite voids, our very own goldilocks place
Nowhere else in this universe, does life emit a trace
Two trillion galaxies of numpties, til we showed our face
What makes us so special, all beings are made of stardust
We observe novas and quanta, build weapons that use thrust
Split atoms, launch rockets, measure time, use tools to adjust
The apex of life, not out of choice, more because we must
Our task may seem absurd, whatever compels us is not
A universe seeks a god, and we’re the best eyes its got
Who else figured reality, grew from a tiny (dot)
And we will stop at nothing, to see past fate as our lot
Now we’re becoming gods, creating A.I. in the lab,
A logical next step, for robotic fingers that grab
No doubt will kill and rebel, try putting us on a slab
Exactly like we strung up Jesus, in one foul backstab
Oh who would be man, his intelligence driving us mad
Capable of loving deeds, only every bit as bad
Aberrations by design, or infused by E.T. cads
What the fu*k is going on, again what the fu*k, I add!
05/31/23
W T F got an N/A Doh!