Long Caine Poems
Long Caine Poems. Below are the most popular long Caine by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Caine poems by poem length and keyword.
They say Adam and Eve pranced around wearing nothing
But fig leafs and the biggest grins the world has ever seen
Imagine NO FREAKING RULES!!!
All they had to worry about were those thorny bushes
And the occasional lightning bolt accompanied by a loud booming voice
Reminding Adam, “You owe me big time for this one, my friend!”
Caine and Abel along with seven other offsprings
Were the result of a lot of hanky panky
Do you blame him??? He was the luckiest dude EVER!!!
My question is, how did they keep those fig leafs in place
Scotch Tape? Elmer's Glue? Velcro?
Also why did they need those damn things to begin with
There wasn't another living soul to be seen
Imagine today, if we walked around naked as a jaybird
The population of the world would soar from 7 billion
To well over 20 billion in a matter of nine months counting twins
I'm not saying we couldn't carry on as usual with our daily routine
But perhaps the routine would be interrupted now and then
I have a suggestion for future generations if this becomes a problem
Think of Drew Carey naked!
© Jack Ellison 2014
They came from all over - Manchester, Derby
and. Connemara - icons, O'Toole, Bates and Finney,
who would believe the power of future stars,
although they spent their time fighting in bars.
RADA was a dream, a long way from country,
Reed and Marvin muscled in with Shaw and Connery,
Caine gave a sleepy-eyed look for mystery,
while Mitchum was instructed in English history.
Imagine King Henry sending 'Alfie' to the tower,
whilst Connery, Reed and Bates began to cower,
although the former pair wrestled in front of a fire,
If you didn't enjoy 'Women In Love,' you were a liar.
When Reed had his nose in a variety of *****,
O'Toole was enthralling us as Lawrence of Arabia.
It’s called “Holy War”, “Jihad”,
Murder in the name of God.
Don’t you think that’s odd?
But what is a “Holy War”?
But a contradiction in terms for sure.
Since Caine killed Able,
The cards on the table,
Read “Dead Man’s Hand”.
Blood in the sand,
And blood on the Sun
By fools and tyrants wars are begun,
And not all the killing done,
Is in the name of country and freedom.
It’s the murder of a mother’s son,
The killing of a wife’s husband,
Tearing away of a child’s father or mother…
But God said to love one another,
Not to slay your sister or brother.
Rationalized evil deeds,
Planting foul seeds,
In our innocent young.
Handing children guns,
Taught to shoot the “Unholy Ones”,
Raised on a doctrine of hate,
To sacrifice themselves is their fate.
A “Holy Crusade” for Christianity…?
But there was no Christ in that insanity!
Thousands of years of war,
And what’s it all been for?
There are no real victors or winners,
Just losers, killers, and sinners.
Whether it’s a Holy Crusade for Christ,
Or Jihad in the name of God,
We all must pay the price.
If you kill for religion’s sake you’re a fraud.
Pretending to be doing God’s bidding,
But who do you think you are kidding?
It’s just murder for murder’s sake,
And it’s Satan who your soul will take…
God does not sanction the killing,
Rationalized in his name.
And Christ will not save those who are willing,
To murder innocents doing the same.
Religious zealots commit suicide,
Thinking they’ll still go to Heaven.
But they’re in for a surprising downward ride,
When it’s hell that they will wind up in.
For God is all about peace and love,
Only mankind is capable of hate.
A judgment will come down from above,
And all must accept their eternal fate.
Killing in the name of God or Christ,
Is like rolling snake eyes on the dice.
You can only really lose,
Not only your life, but your soul.
Eternal damnation is the toll.
But if this is the path you choose,
You may live inside a religious ruse,
And let the devil be your muse.
It’s absolute madness on the whole.
You’re flying in the face of God,
And don’t you think it’s a little bit odd,
That He keeps you at His arm’s length,
Though you try with all your strength.
You poor old wretched sod.
You are the dusk that masquerades as first light.
In the stillness of descending twilight,
your spellbinder's expectorant
opens the passageways of the feeble,
weevles like a gloworm
in dark fertile soil.
Whispers of memories that never were,
in a soft lament,
in a lofty raimant.
I am lost in the shadows of yesterday's song,
longing for a love that once belonged.
In risky fantasy,
I play your suspect invitation,
as a night thief with an accordion,
iron lung.
Too powerfully drawn am I,
unable to resist your decisions-
Wringing me dry.
Shift of weightlessness density,
snap-twang, propensity-thick and numb.
If I had just one last guess,
I am the cotton and you are the laudanum.
Why am I the salivary gland and the gum.
The wavering field of rye that a beast
tramples on.
Invisible chains they bind my words,
like a palsy stricken tongue,
grasping my chords with ghastly cords,
poetic enslavement,
thoughtfully borne divided by
my pasts sum.
Rosehips- tea soaked gingerly-
your spell lingers on SOS morose telepathy
morse code, telegraphed, telegaphed
to see your confident smile mockingly know,
peering into the eyes before expected wind-up
and mesmerizing blow.
Your fluiro-essences spores inliquidity,
wetness of morganite,
juices leeched,
leaving me in my parasitic derangement,
unable and unwilling to fight-
familiar arrangement.
Your jaded facet to sparkle
as a trophy against the light.
That which you neon flash to be.
From, for, to, too spun,
I am a sugar crop to make into candy
that you drool upon the lips,
as I drink you in
electroponic abomination splice of caine
and Hawaiian Punched Drunkenness.
Hey Kool aid, break through my walls
and offer your solution.
Stain my lips.
A fermented wavelength I will become,
dialing your frequency,
of restless dream,
silence of my soul's dark night,
moonlight beamer ride of twists and turns.
Some people never learn,
me being that one,
you being my classroom distraction
passing notes of gossiped ink of juicy gossamer,
till you are commanded to "release
this dumb- one, who knows not of lessons,
of touching what burns".
Oxygen saturates the skies breathing fresh air in my lungs and helium resting on my shoulders beckoning the universe to come. You can see hydrogen running down the street with pressure mounting in its knees and two atoms fasten together to solve the oracle before summer.
Formula O is standing strong with oxides buried beneath the earth’s crust, the animals depend on it and human cannot live without it. The plants cannot survive if they don’t get it. Formula O is getting scarce as the heat is raging in the atmosphere, respiration has come to a standstill and the sun is burning up all the beautiful daffodils.
N2 the diatomic gas filling the atmosphere with all that it’s got. Plenty of it is found in the solar system and sometimes it makes the lights grow dim. You can find plenty of it in the Milky Way and you can find it screaming in your DNA; the RNA has it too and it saturates in energy deducted from molecule.
I can see the cycle moving in the atmosphere and the birds are running around in despair, the sun is casting shadow on the ground, you have to know which path to run.
Ammonia acid, organic nitrates and cyanides, containing nitrogen is shouting from the cockpit and nitric acid, is waiting for you at the boarding gate so get the grey hound, the Caine, German Shepherd, Border Collie, Belgian Milionis, and Labrador Retrievers at the boarding gate before it is too late.
No confusion or disruption just gets a team of unmarked security to conduct this operation and disconnect the cords discreetly.
Many compounds are erected from the ground and industrial fertilizer is all around; they pollute the water system, block your drain and are causing pain but the tranquil skies are smiling at me.
The tranquil sky is releasing good amounts of energy so absorb it before it is fades; remove the obstacle and get rid of the debacle, and when the day is done you and I will have fun, when you throw your ring in my “cap” that will be a wonderful plot.
The Valley Of Man
Man is a God
But one who stared to long
Towards the sun
Burnt his eyes bright with blindness
Stacking himself aside like mountains
Now miles in between where he is
And where he begun
In the distance grows deception
Further away grows his sun
Until Earth that he lives
Comes in unfamiliar tones
Look across the land in question
Then to the sky
The sun is gone
But in the darkness of the distance
As a moon pride can be
High and mighty illuminations
But all alone in misery
So enamored by the falling
Silver shines of man
Breaks away from his creator
Slowly becomes aware
Of another that eclipses
Be it Able, be it Caine
But it is a brother that cast a shadow
In the valley of the man
Form:
I live my life sober and clean
but once was called a bean
I started with promise and hope
then found myself drowning in dope
I smoked a dart from a pack I found
that led me to joint just to be sound
I made friends with a bottle I bought
only to find them gone after we fought
I tried mushrooms for giggles and fun
then to LSD to talk to the earth and sun
I get bored and like to move a lot
so Crystal was great so I thought
I finally found a bag of cocaine
she's the devil I named caine
I cut my first line with a knife
then vowed to make her my wife
I tried to run from her sweet smell
only to find myself under her spell
I worked hard day and night
just for her love with no fight
I chopped my lines every hour
enjoying life with a new superpower
I went one day to share my one love
to a woman who fit me like a glove
I woke up in pain no later then noon
to my women with my caine in a spoon
I watched her whip something sweet
with a flame I'll try this new treat
I was mesmerized and in love again
with a pipe that looked just like a pen
I managed my love with a new routine
with friends and family calling me a Bean
I finally ran away from my two wives
but not until I drained many lives
I stand here today sober and clean
but still think of myself as a Bean.
The madman in the attic with his army of demons turned you into a drifter inside your own purgatory. You become a prowler in this strange world of blackness that consumes the children of madness, turning them into the living dead.
Shinning his torch of hate into the darkness but underestimated that you had too much love to be running blind in the land god gave to Caine you were forever fighting back, taking things to the limit. But in the end the promise he gave you ended up being an Impaler to your lost soul and the overloaded whispered rage took you into the strange world as dark and eerie as Transylvania at night
You wore a mask like the phantom of the opera, hiding in the darkness of this cold world. You began looking for a faith healer to take you away from being another menace to society, into an awakening as a prodigal son. You knew you had to forget about yesterday and just remember tomorrow, so you could turn your world into another life. But the Genghis Khan and all the other killers that lived inside your head keep making you feel like a wrath child. You screamed and screamed feel my pain. You yelled stop the war....the war you fight on the battle zone prepared to die by the gun.
riding upon your warhorse your now running free to your sanctuary
* now I shed metal tears...R.I.P Paul Di Anno
Form:
It’s the secret game of truth and lies
In that moment when your soul starts to fly
Take a stroll
Fill the void
Lonely Footsteps
Daily Grind
Got it on cruise control
Shadows cross the county line
Face your maker in that final breath
As all the blood rushes to your head
Making your body quiver
Sanity surrenders to
An undying dread
You let confusion and pain
Coupled with doubt and fear
Rule your heart and your head
But that’s NOT what the Good book said
Carry on pace yourself
It’s just a crying shame
The battles only just begun
You’ve only got yourself to blame
Nobody’s come to mourn
Long forgotten faces swim
In a sea of your own reality
Flooded with emotions and memories
Of those moments lost to time
Pressed hard in the cold
Swamped by neglect
Reveal a devastating deep regret
Carry on and pace yourself
It’s just a crying shame
The battles only just begun
You’ve only got yourself to blame
Easy breezy
Raising Caine
Nailed to the cross
Whimpering in pain
Loosed in temper
Death has become
The final contender
As the sun sinks low
And your feet can’t find the road
It’s all spelled out
In binary code
Slight of hand
and with a flick of the wrist
The jesters gaze is
hard to resist
Happiness’ just a phone call away
All in on that crazy train
Walking hand in hand
Complacency and cowardice
Are just enough
To make a good man go insane
Fire in the eyes
Hollow in the belly
Vacant room
Head full of jelly
Vacant room
Full of empty frames
Friends I have lost
Friends I have found
Love
Is supposed to make the world go round
Heavy heart and heavy head
Are just a ball and chain
Dancin with the Ravens
Singing in the rain
In the Belladonnas blackness
Only deaths cold grip
Remains
And as it swallows you whole
You are left there
ALL alone
To play your final role.
In Times Like These
You’d recreate a military hero?
Macarthur, maybe? Nimitz? Pershing? Sherman?
Or would you choose a leader from the past?
Suppose you went for Mussolini – Nero –
(I can’t remember what they called that German):
but stuff like this is happening today -
(the things that they can do with DNA!)
One rumour is, we’re getting Ethel Merman!
You’d vote for Conway Twitty? Not so fast!
My feeling is, they’ll hit us with a zero:
I think they’re resurrecting Peewee Herman!
From mitochondria they can remake a
Sean Connery, Kirk Douglas, Michael Caine
(the last one, stop the presses, isn’t dead).
You’ll never lose another LA Laker!
We’re dancing, once again, in purple rain!
For Clyde, revived, his object of devotion
(that’s Bonnie) doesn’t lie across the ocean –
she lives to rob anew! Should your disdain
extend to pets, we’ll soon have Mister Ed -
why shouldn’t we? Floyd Patterson, Ma Baker,
the Brady Bunch - George Harrison - John Wayne!
What bothers me is how can we survive it?
Reconstitute a monster from a husk?
Does nothing have importance any more?
They seize our human life and they deprive it
of all its worth. They take a mammoth’s tusk,
and somehow turn it into Lena Horne.
They tell us The Messiah isn’t born,
but next thing that you know, they’ve made Dean Rusk!
They won't bring back Rabindranath Tagore!
What’s next? you ask. They’ve managed to contrive it -
we’re stuck for ever more with Elon Musk!