Long Camouflage Poems
Long Camouflage Poems. Below are the most popular long Camouflage by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Camouflage poems by poem length and keyword.
Slewed and screwed by another Farage barrage
No longer a skewed malicious mirage
Stronger imbued with pernicious camouflage
Wronger spewed such vicious sabotage
Doom Monger crude officious collage
Slewed and screwed by another Farage barrage
Rabble rousing by ghoulishly espousing
Nige will oblige and foolishly perform
Leader and feeder of each reader
Preach on every seedier media platform
Separate the wheat from the chaff
Oi Oi hoi polloi hate ploy to annoy
Deform is now somehow the new norm
Just naff spaff for Reform riff raff
Slewed and screwed by another Farage barrage
Public school fool cruel rule at large
Faustian now Trumpian drool tool in charge
Attacking…spits dismal dimwits ransacking
Society in bits because of these gits
The entirety cracking by fracking Farage
Abysmal Brits twits’ backing hacking
Downed & drowned in sewer spewer discharge
Slewed and screwed by another Farage barrage
The agenda to go on a racist rant rampage
Malignant belligerent immigrant bender centre stage
Scary animals lairy trapped in a rage cage
Bashing gender and any woke offender
Views shunt the news take the front page
Bespoke cloak to stoke the healthy wealthy
Choke broke folk...stealthy..slashing
Tax to scratch that rich b***h itch
Poleaxe..abuse the yoke but will still bewitch
Vicarious defender of the nefarious splendour
Of this salacious mendacious joke bloke Pretender
Slewed and screwed by another Farage barrage!
Wild and eccentric
Delicious sin
A naughty pick
A bull with no pen
Only a disk
No real relation
A fantasy twist
Of imagination
Goosebumps formed
Fine hairs erect
Becoming warm
A sensual wreck
Body of brick
Persuasive and stern
Delightfully sick
Passions burn
Smooth brown hair
Camouflage his horns
Convinced it's fair
She bears the thorns
Position of authority
Gives any girl a rush
But without priority
It remains a crush
On the edge of my seat
Heart thumping
A good girl's treat
Throat lumping
The screen went black
Fingers crossed
Mild heart attack
The ending was lost
How could it end
Right in the middle
Wrapped up in the wind
Satisfaction brittle
Slightly livid
Feeling deserted
My heart still amid
The author flirted
Leaving me to decide
What comes next
As though he lied
I'm feeling perplexed
Hungry for more
I try distraction
But I'm still on the floor
Solving this fraction
Perhaps this explains
The best seller label
Audience left in chains
For the few who are able
How clever was he
Giving a thousand endings
Some would agree
The sequel is pending
Tears trickle, as my eyes mourn love:
Love erodes amidst acid tears.
Feelings weaken with every drop:
Drop by drop, tears dissolve feelings.
Sorrow extinguishes passion;
Passion drowns in tears of sorrow.
Emotions are tethered to love:
Love anchors fleeting emotions.
Trust is the compass that guides hearts:
Hearts cannot find love without trust.
Lies camouflage lust's intentions:
Intentions are concealed by lies.
Faith believes in eternity:
Eternity exists through faith.
Death cannot sever bonds of love:
Love is eternal, beyond death.
Two soulmates, conjoined forever:
Forever forged as one, not two.
Have you heard of Fisher Folk
Masked and disguised
Often difficult to see
When in front of your very eyes
Some will see through the disguise
Once engaged in conversation
Others will never see a Fisher Folk
Blinded by their manipulation
Fisher Folk do not fish
In waterways of any kind
They only fish in ones psyche
Fishing…. human minds
Fishing information, only for personal gain
Needing constant compliments and praise
This is how Fisher Folk
Spend their devious, “its all about me” days
Also known as “Me People”
And other choice names
Pretending to show interest in you
When ‘Self ‘ is the name of their game
Some will never see a Fisher Folk
Being blinded by their camouflage
Others will see straight through it
Quickly seeing the mind sabotage
Fisher Folk are generally likeable
Often intelligent , charismatic ,smart
Though their interest in others is inauthentic
Not from a genuine or loving heart
Like a living statue, the age-old tree
stoically stood there—anchored
and silently growing in majestic being.
At the tree trunk’s ground level, stood
a tiny squirrel—the happiest
of its anchored tenants—manipulating
its prized find with animal dexterity
mimicking that of a seasoned magician.
Suddenly, like an elevator running
straight-up to the top floor,
she swiftly shot up the towering trunk
to the toned leafy hair-like tree top;
There she silently sat herself
within the chameleon-like
camouflage foliage of survival.
After a moment of rested assurance,
the tiny squirrel just as quickly
descended the seeming smooth-barked
trunk where she sat—quietly gazing.
Suddenly aware of the liberating
experience between we three, I became
one with nature and her liberating message
to us all—whose ancestors had given all
that we might mutually survive
in that moment of deep consciousness,
I remembered the trying times when we
would cut down trees for sheltered comfort
and kill small squirrels to fill empty stomachs
while some of us filled empty nooses of trees.
Let us not forget how far we have come
and how far we have yet to plow onward
to get where we must and ought to be.
We too must be squirrely wise as we grow;
scurrying up the triumphant tree of liberty.
The God of the east thunders,
the desert walls burst out in tears,
soaking the thirsty earth,
watering perishing grounds,
and welcoming the virgin's birth.
A sudden silence engulfs the room
as they appear from behind tainted grey masks
marching down the deceptive aisle
robed in four years of treacherous lies.
They camouflage deceptive grins,
concealing buckets of emotion
and disguising their internal commotion.
Daily struggles, meaningless fights
They stand in their bribed gown pretending to be alright.
Empty paper with meaningless words,
could not repair the damage caused to innocent souls.
Hugging and kissing, dancing and swinging,
they made a toast in honor of the king.
But just as they thought it was over
a legion of angels walked in
forcing them to pay for their treacherous sins.
©2013 Christine Phillips
My grandparents lived on farms – both sides of my family.
My mother’s parents and my father’s parents.
Overalls and button down shirts with pockets
Work boots for grandpas
Except my single grandpa did get dressed up fancy
For Saturday night dancing with his girlfriend.
He smelled wonderful too, wore a lariat with a turquoise stone
Shined his shoes as if he was going to church
My maternal grandmother was the only one I knew.
She wore a navy dress with large white polka dots
When we had weddings or funerals, and low heel shoes
The rest of the time I remember her wearing aprons over dresses
My mother was the first woman I saw who wore pants.
She preferred them to dresses, and took to polyester in a big way.
Remember the pantsuits of the seventies? I swear she invented those.
Matching tunics with wide legged pants.
My father wore plaid shirts or camouflage jackets
Unless he was going to work; then he wore a dark suit.
He was a salesman with a skinny tie.
He always looked crisp and clean; mom used starch on his clothes.
My style was wide bell bottom blue jeans that we called hip huggers.
When I was younger, and tops that looked maternity in the seventies.
This was the real style which horrified me in 1974, as I had to wear these blousy tops two years in a row
because I had a baby at twenty and twenty-one.
My new style is comfort. I am sixty-eight. I wear tennis shoes.
Elastic waists, soft clothes that are not tight, I love feeling free.
My husband is the same way – comfort clothes, elastic waists.
We like eating tasty foods; no blue jeans for us now.
We have three children. They dress according to their lives.
One has six children, but she dresses fancy and so do they.
Another has no children, she’s a professional. She dresses in suits.
Third child alternates between casual and fancy; working mom of three.
Our grandchildren are eclectic fashion displayers also.
Super controlled grandchildren wear traditional clothing,
Approved by mom or they do not leave the house.
The ones who are wild like our middle daughter have pink and blue hair.
I see dresses that are too short - the same as I wore in middle school.
I see pants that are too tight on boys, like we saw in the eighties.
I see boots not as cute as Nancy Sinatras or or go-go-boots.
Masks are the new fashion statement for the younger generation sadly.
Be kind to others
As you would have even your ecopolitical enemies
and win/lose ZeroSum competitors
be kind,
feel kinship,
speak kindly,
listen cooperatively,
take turns co-investing in win/win solidarity
with ecological empowering
enlightening interdependent Us.
Be not unkind to
or against Others
As you would not have even your Lose/Lose
non-ecological monoculturing,
out of control,
beyond healthy curiosity,
runaway wealthy StraightWhiteMale privileged,
RightWing negative Patriarchal Capitalists
become un-ecologically unkinned
against you
With the nearly unforgiveable audacity
to camouflage
patriotic nationalism
with anthrosupremacist rights of Earth ownership
to remain stubbornly win/lose
against healthy matriotic ecological views
of cooperative co-empathic integrity
As also Green CoPassionate wants and needs
roots and seeds
for polypathic communication
Refining win/win messages
healthy choices
wealthy voices
that regenerative democratic energy
is not necessarily not PatriarchalCapitalism degenerative
RightWing Yanged-out meanness energy
does not yet equal Yintegral Green LeftWing
exponentially spiraling synergy
As monotheistic Yang
equals not not ecological Yintegrity
exponentially squared
As EarthSpace that kindly matters
is also not not resilient Time
ecologically ex-potentially squared
in-formationally cubed
and kindly spiraling health dynamic
co-relational fractal wealth
Is not quite the same
as either proving
or disproving
that controlling PatriarchalCapitalism
reversed through principles
of both polyculturing and communal
healthy root systemic wealth
begets necessarily ecological kind co-relationships
Not bipolarizing out of control
not judging
disapproving
criminalizing
punishing
taking win/lose revenge
blaming with leftbrain verbal dominance,
overpowering by shaming right mindbody
neuro-sensory
co-passionate prime non-zero kind attachment
Zone of internal
polyentheistic nondenial of divisive secularizing turmoil
inviting WholeEarth Tribal co-investments
re-memeing
cooperative Green Indigenous EarthWomanist
kind memories of PolyCultural Communalists
Who really just don't have time
for all that nonsacred
monotheistic PatriarchalCapitalist sin
and mean ignorance.
When I wash dishes
I look out at my bird feeder,
noticing which political species are best at cooperating,
easy democratic process,
remaining focused on collective nutritional energy gains,
"we're all in this together" feathers of kin kind
And, which are more elitist,
not so good with sharing a modestly seeded pot;
blue jays predatively pecking,
crows taking over with raucous self-appointed authority,
ganging up against non-supremacists
preferring win/win democratic health.
But, this morning's meditation
looks over at a nearby large bush,
now January cold barren brown
camouflage, more than shelter,
for local birds of all species
waiting their feeding turn,
frightened by my neighbor's cat
or a hawk flying ominously overhead
or human noises leaking through my windows.
This small bird sanctuary,
Or is it an asylum?...
Perhaps both, depending on the bird,
harbors those waiting,
patiently, impatiently,
How would I know?
for their turn at their nutrition tower,
their seed Commons,
their energy media feeding station,
local source for economic and political exchange,
gossip,
social busyness.
Each bird flies back and forth,
some dressed in drab everyday,
others more business-ready flashy,
but all conjoining waves of flowing energy
in-between asylum bush
and open season feeding sanctuary.
Sometimes listeners and watchers,
and then short-flight toward feeders,
communicants
receiving sacred wafers,
seeds,
investments in cooperative multiculturing futures,
gifts of a generous green Earth.
Then,
suddenly,
they are gone.
The feeder Commons
abandoned.
My meditative hiding
and curiously waiting medicine bush
bereft of waving winged energy
breathing in and out,
feathered wings up and down.
Time to go back home
to more private nests
thoughts
feelings,
or, perhaps
to visit my neighbor's cooperative feeder,
another decaffeinated sanctuary
outside his own warm interior asylum.
Hello. It is nice to finally meet the princess of the
Dragons.
You are Princess Regina I was told. You aren't
What I expected. How do you happen to be in
The area reporter? I learned the helmets you all
Wear make you invisible. While you travel, and
The colorful clothes you wear match your dragons.
What great camouflage. Does anyone know that
You exist?
You live here on a very lofty mountain cliff
With many caves here in the skies. This is a
Phenomenon.
Princess Regina, can you tell me about your
Training that you have under gone?
How would you like to enlist?
Hello. It is nice to finally meet the princess of the
Dragons.
My riders are top echelon.
This is no gist.
You live here on a very lofty mountain cliff
With many caves here in the skies. This is
A phenomenon.
I just found out that these dragons are bigger
Than Mastodons.
Do I look like an experimentalist?
Hello. It is nice to finally meet the princess of the
Dragons.
I am not one to be put upon.
I love riding through the mists.
You live here on a very lofty mountain cliff
With many caves here in the skies. This is
A phenomenon.
Now it is time for you to be gone.
Remember there are only a few who believe
That dragons and man can coexist.
Hello. It is nice to finally meet the princess of the
Dragons.
You live here on a very lofty mountain cliff
With many caves here in the skies. This is
A phenomenon.