Long Cashed Poems
Long Cashed Poems. Below are the most popular long Cashed by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Cashed poems by poem length and keyword.
Her mocking salutation in salute.
Sudsing down your brains drawingboard in a victoriously ill repute.
Nature's pendulum holds you in it's dungeoness pattern of holding, then you go down it's chute.
Hell's guillotine greased, oiled,
sparkling it's grinning teeth bare,
waiting to have you.
At an altar of self sacrifice,
to the taste willing flesh- au pair.
Hands thrown to the four winds, and you down her stares.
Tripping while galking at her balcony.
Every which way you roll in the dis gust.
Whispering sorrow across the Glade.
Comes that silvery voice in alchemy.
Across the fortress, under seige that no longer serves as your own, but betrays in mutiny.
Conscience, erased clean, washed to arrays of vacancy, vagrancy, shift phased,
beamed, deemed, worthily-unworthy.
But chosen just the same.
A frozen mural of the living.
Ignoring perditions telltale signs.
It's propriety flashing in a neon haze.
Emergency.
Lights out.
Divergence.
True colors bleed.
In the ritual that brings a nightcap on the
remains, of the day-
That fell against the dusk-
Beneath the shadows of lights cusp.
The repose that lies unrebuked in between-half lifes and sinew.
Half full of temptations brew.
Whole mind to be punched drunk.
Shenanigans to ensue.
The undeads morphine pushing Angel.
Karma Sutra supernatural instructor
of compromising positions of mortal danger.
Too much for you proofed.
Her nails painted quaint,
and tender while tenderizing you in hellfires tinder;rotisserie spit
the choke, the ribbing in the
private joke;
The masterstroke, of sparkling sway, taking away care, caresses
for play.
Sugar cube down in her fairey gleeming's; melting into the half empty cup of
silver stomached linings, a slivered casket in the red district on display.
With silver bullet pan flash with
no cares handling.
Fondling, her cashed in-massaging in her squeeze;
spits in your eyes, takes what is clear- in front of you unto blackened fade from audacity; a sidewinder
of curvaceous sleaze.
Spellbinder.
I'm bewildered by what I see yonder,
Now hold yer horses, let's cease to wander.
We're fixin to meet yer coffee boiler.
He's the new one who's not a straight shooter. Whoah!
I reckon he's got an excuse for it.
And he will tell me why he didn't quit.
I'm stumped why he bamboozled you last night.
I thought I'd be cashed in for that big fight.
But I thought we should cowboy up!
You know I'm gonna call that wrangler's bluff.
We'll not run from trouble and skedaddle.
A strong man must sit firm on his saddle.
Grab a bandana, and fetch a canteen.
Nobody's guessed where this trail's gonna lead.
I once road down a lonely darkened road.
The burdens that I carried formed a load.
But I stood determined to cowboy up.
To set my trail straight and clean myself up!
That waddler will learn to ride for the brand.
By my wise warnin' and wisdom's command!
Those punchers all hat, surely no cattle,
Soon learn wild broncos make 'em chew gravel.
Cowgirls too!
These days, cowboys must learn to communicate!
And get the best result negotiatin'
Big change is ridin' hard across the range! Whoah!
(A guy told me today with total confidence that for women, men are a dime a dozen. That has never been my experience which inspired me to pen this piece.)
I could have collected empty soda cans
from the side of the road and cashed them in
They were worth five cents apiece back then
I only needed two for that dime to buy
a dozen men’s time and attention
sparing myself those Saturday nights
wasting away in my room reading
as I listened to old records or the radio
or sitting at a table alone as other girls
danced held in the arms of a guy
I didn’t know they had purchased
for less than a single penny
I could have had a whole harem
if in the winter I had shoveled snow
I had nothing else to do and nowhere to go
His name is spoken, heard and seen
As part of every goddamn scene
Sweet be a cap on every bottle
It all goes on, without a throttle
A new banknote? Oh, there he is
The Arc of Trump? Well, soon be his
The Center for Performing Arts?
Rename attempt, sans playing parts
Half of White House's gone for good
Big void where once the building stood
Leave stains, not marks, is way to go
Our pride’s absorbing every blow
A golden phone, "Made in US"
Except it's not and what a mess
Cashed in our loyalty like a chip
When crypto fails, abandon ship!
He yells and screams and stomps his feet
So, heads of states are rife with grief
Hey, "pay attention to this matter"
Or chance become a worthless splatter
It's one step forward, two steps back
"Go make a deal or we attack"
The weak and meek don't win no war
Phone calls end war, he’ll stop few more
Vane jester of his own court
Amusing pledges, then abort
It hurts to watch, foresee effect
Entire world's pain in the neck
Forgiving History wouldn't be
No lion shall behave like flea
With vanity's his love affair
Except in bath, it's good nowhere
May 30, 2026
The Florida of My Youth – Work
By Franklin Price
10/11/2019
Was not born with silver spoon, that dangled from my lips
Had enough to eat and drink, but not for extra sips
Could not get a real job, until fourteen years or more
With some imagination, I would earn some bucks before
Collected empty bottles from the grass beside the road
Cashed them in, for two cents each, a dollar was a load
Picked guavas, growing in the wild, and took the gathered lot,
To the Factory, on the Island, for the jelly in the pot.
Sold salve, I found in comic books, by going door to door
Was not the Fuller Brush man or would have earned a little more
Headed shrimp at Port Canveral, from the many shrimp boats there,
Should have been a little older, but the boss man didn't care
It was another time and place, when you helped out if you might,
To earn a little money, for the exras, seemed so right
Gave me a good work ethic, and it made me feel real good
To contribute to my wants, not needs, in any way I could
When old enough to have a job, I got my SSN
Did not get at your birth, in those days of old, back then
Got a job at SS Kresge, cleaning tables, washing floors
And dishes at the counter, long ago it closed its doors
Had my driver's liscense so I drove myself to work
Earned a dollar for an hour, it was really quite a perk
Gas twenty cents a gallon and burgers but a dime
Used a Georgia Credit card, didn't see it as a crime
When I got to High School, I worked at a different store
Was at WT Grant, where I earned a little more
A dollar and a quarter, for an hour, I was rich
Could now afford new tires, that would keep me from the ditch
Learned about the business, stocked and priced the items there
Designed and decorated diplays, in the windows, with great care
Watched out for shop lifters, even caught me one or two
Everything that I was told to, was everything that I would do
When I graduated High School, I went on to BCC
Found that college education was not the thing for me
In March of 1965, I enlisted in the Force
Not the Army or the Navy but the good old Air of course
GAMBLER OF THE FAMILY:
He is a young vibrant guy,
Who has a very innocent appearance,
So he is fairly cherished by everybody.
But in every situation he is always the wrongdoer.
His family calls him Ricky...
Friends call him Wager.
He is the firstborn child of his parents,
And he has two brothers and one sister.
I'm very close to the family.
The father is late,
So he is expected to act responsibly,
Since the mum is not fit and he is the eldest child too.
Unfortunately, he is not acting as such,
But his siblings are living logically.
Out of wedlock, he has a son who he doesn't care for.
Ricky's father left some properties for them,
Therefore they wouldn't suffer.
The father kept advising him when he was alive,
Due to the kind of life that he is leading;
He can't save for the future,
Neither can't plan well for his own life,
Since he is enticed to gambling.
One day he was arrested for that reason,
And it caused the father a big time shame.
Yet, he is never willing to change.
Always bringing home troubles...
Anytime he gets a job and start working.
Now the mum says he should stay at home,
Just for the family to be free from debt incurrence.
People are always chasing him for their monies,
For not rendering his services after been paid.
He uses the monies to gamble.
One day the mum was washing,
When he told her he's going to town.
Till today, Ricky hasn't returned.
Unexpectedly, he took along an issued cheque,
Which was issued in his name,
Purposefully for the sister's tertiary education.
(ie;For full payment from first year to final year)
It was sourced from the father's long-term investment.
No one knows where he's gone to,
After he's cashed out the cheque.
Doesn't pick up calls when the family phones him.
Some friends say they saw him somewhere,
Whilst he's being searched for.
Others too say they've not seen him at all.
The sister is now staying at home,
And everybody is not happy about that.
The mum is really concerned about his life,
As she sits all night thinking about him;
Praying Ricky returns home,
For she don't want anything bad to happen to him.
.
they are most likely to exploit
they are most likely to cause tensions
they speak ill of him
they wish not to be happy
that they continue to divide their loyalties
against him.
then those they wishes he'd favor
would be his enemy to undermine his
love aspirations
they applaud their successes so that
he will be unraveled and
less likely to see reason to
love again
his tomorrow's are the subjects
of their togetherness
that they see profit in keeping him single
they create complications with barriers
they refuse to see that his happiness is the key to
his ambition
even him calm is words to speak
that they act like witches
and are sorceresses who are mean
and unkind
rank him low
and his mind will be less likely to seek relationships
and he will not aspire above his rank as person
kind the smiles of witches
the frown of men do tell
his anger and frustration
speaks of his eagerness
to a world were woman hast
madest unkind
they value his wealth with his work-keyness
that the sources of his labors
are cashed to spend
they refuse to see that other are watching them
and the trapps and plans they make
will be turn straight back at them
The two Cowboys stood at the cliff of a great divide.
Jacob stood, starring across the opening with Bill still
in his saddle, close by his side. The rocky scene was like
A kaleidoscope, every color, ever known.
Is there any other place you would rather be Bill?
Bill said, No Jacob, I don't believe so.
Jacob slowly, climbed back on to his horse and pulled the
reins and headed North. He started whistling a happy note
and Bill listened as he followed Jacob to the valley
slope.
Deadwood City here we come, looking for gold and lots of fun,
Jacob shouted! Yep, Bill shouted back, and we need to keep us
a fully loaded gun. The Cowboys laughed out loud as they rode on.
The Cowboys knew Deadwood could make a man so very rich
and they had contracted the gold fever itch. The day's travel was
so very long and hot, and the sun began to sink below the mountain's
amber, rugged tops.
They found a place to camp before nightfall and how that fire crackled
as they ate beans and corn fritters, and over coffee talked.
You know Bill, said Jacob. One Summer could set us straight and you
could pay off the old farm and fix that crooked gate.
Yeah, Bill responded and then you could marry Jenny. Maybe start
a family and maybe even buy the Ole Mill. Yeah, said Jacob, so surreal.
The Cowboys lay starring at the stars in the sky that clear, crisp night
and dreamed of all the things that gold could buy them, until daylight.
The Cowboys made Deadwood and Oh, the sights they seen.
They panned every river and every stream. Then at summer's end
they cashed it all in and headed back to Tennessee, to live out their lives
and share with their family the story of their Deadwood dreams.
instrumentalists mind, I rested thought
employing it, only when needed
shifting to heart, I became self-taught
gentling touch, voice of conscience heeded
Thomas Jeffrey Hanks was a man of varied pranks
one done on me, he scored, long ere acting repoire
ignorant to his scheme, concluding I'm redeemed
poem he took was mine he gave it to some slime
First slime look slides away, rights to print on display
check at seventies rates, in my hands with the dates
paper signed check now cashed--ten scores, swan dive a
SPLASH (i.e. me'swan song to bellhoppin' Tommy!)
Not an actor yet but a fellow employee
his instruments lack tune, methinks he acts too soon
treasure chests, pirate ships, but today banking trips,
sharp move long-term needy, money a bit noisy
cash smash wallets--purses, but not the dead men curses.
Tom was a man of opportunity, a year older than me, who had hutzpah, but I cannot be like him, which the above phrase describes. When Ron Howard of Happy Days/Opie, was with us for a while--not right then--but Splash, Apollo 13, The Da Vinci ... I would never annoy him and ask him about his conscience--ever. My poem Tom submitted with my Signature of Approval was entitled: "The Collection Plate" and it leaned on laughter. Nothing risque or vulgar--Pastor, Priest, and Rabbi--especially men of the cloth--the magazine that wanted my poem for an upcoming issue, was; "Hustler" late 70s issue unsure of the year, and my title may have to accommodate their subscriber's eyes, but maintain dignity and quality of my poem which I reviewed before release. To the good old days Tom, a man who made dreams come true for me ... and you didn't do too bad yourself ... and btw, it's 1976 because I gave you Cher, and Ron Howard, Cindy Williams ...
Zen Tango
Nothing could and should take command
If you think you need the punishment
Let love get the better you watch the light gun fire
Ahoy deep in the skallow of Todd
Your trip in the ethereal all murky with fog
Surprise the laughter makes us a believer of something different
Just fine like a good bottle of wine if it's free
Mafia black with a crimson glow
I couldn't talk where was my free will
Through jungles of monkeys who show you your path
Back from the swamps i'am sure i'll never turn back
Aware of the maybes and what if's and some highway of life
Wait one distracted minute after the other
When it takes over you got to run for cover
My best days of life taking on a challenge
My worse days of life simply caring
You see something that's not there
But the background was finely drawn, dogmatic intrepid oblique
I was sergeant stink I couldn't think the other way I could only think of keep this distraction until it sunk through my skin right to the bone
I did it all for to get that feeling so I could check the box
I am not a robot
Citizen Skin
It's you it's me It's all around us
It's Poisoned you with goodness
Significant to have a measure in your soul
Could this be freedom
The ignorance of denial the rejection of society
Man made comfort started with the shape of a rock
Expectation zero years fall memories never made
Except when you broke your own law
Abandon all hope those who pass through these gates
See what makes us great get pissed on everyday
What is obvious is oblivious what is honest is how you will be seen
Make the family work you can't go back
So no regrets no discount truth's no packages that are labeled
For your glory
Mostly labelled for your head to create a cost of your own free will
No sentimental regards to those smoking companies
To the Government who cashed in on addiction
The freedom to have no voice the freedom to live invisible
Look in front of you and tell me whats yours
All your life signed over to these whores
Shout as loud as you can people have tried
They purposely give you it for free.
Then wait and remove the carpet from your feet
Then freedom is worn on a soldiers
New pair of socks