Long Cassette Poems
Long Cassette Poems. Below are the most popular long Cassette by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Cassette poems by poem length and keyword.
By Parizo Van Thulare
And so you hush
Again you let me down
Leaving me to fry
With my emotions to cry
Why you suck my veins dry ?
You let me wait
As always you fail
When you pledged you were a saint
Yet you changed like hail
You enjoy when the stage is yours
When is my turn to dance to my favorite song,
Away you run with the cassette
How am i supposed to feel those beats ,when you play me ?
How am i going to sing those lyrics ,when you torture my vocal cord ?
I thought i had a basket of wheat
Yet I'm puffed with a whole grain
You think this is a game ?
This time you wont taste victory
What we had is now history
I can't take it no more
This time I'm gone
For better
And for good
The restless night had ended
abruptly. Caught between dreams and
consciousness, the town was arching towards
the sprinkled light of dawn. A perpetual regularity
reigned over the dusty path that led wayfarers and commuters
alike in and out of this forgotten cluster of humanity. Somewhere
out there, a man cursed, and, as if to answer, a woman laughed. A
repetitive metallic clang—the whines of an iron plate being hammered upon an anvil—
twisted with a dog's tedious, short barking to form a discordant ladder of dread, telling how the day might turn out. Punctuating that were the weary shouts of
the night guard. An advice. A message. “Awake! Morning is here.” “Awake!
Morning is here.” A woman walked beside countless others in a long, silent
procession. Steps measured and heavy, hardly disturbing the dirt, eyes ever
forward, locked at the sunrise. Life hadn't been kind to her. At forty-five she
looked sixty. It was just her luck that age had been frivolous enough to come
early, and sketch a crude lesson at cubism across the pages of her skin. The
grey streams on her hair had become a roaring river of high
monsoon. The frozen, dark pools of her eyes had given way
to the smokestack dullness. On that day, like the day prior,
she had woken up with honks of a garbage truck out on the
street and drunk the cheap, inky tea that she
had made for herself and her son.
Bathing under a valveless tap, she
had put on her helmet, and set out.
The siren from the jute mill had blared
with an obscene loudness and promise.
She had to answer. She squared her shoulders
and trudged on, reeling back into the open maw of her
her slow, almost languid death, like a cassette on rewind.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Date: 31 / 12 / 2016
Suddenly over the sudden years
I have felt an encumbrance; I sense an albatross -
the weight of sundry uncharted days.
Times I chronicle today as if I were a wax cylinder
and not the broken spool in a cassette tape.
A subfuse goose whispers: Record the sky for me.
I must write ‘sky’ ten times a day
so that the abated will not be forgotten.
Yet how to keep a goose-gray sky fresh
when the days are so metallically shiny and blue?
None recall the monochrome stories
we once told our color-blind children?
They have grown beyond such things.
I have so little time, yet must set down
the legend of little boy gray,
his history has almost passed away,
now eyes have no corners to see.
I knew him well, alas the roads to that tale
are backhoed by cartoon rainbows.
History calls me out into the park
where a lineage of dog leads the nose
to a yesteryear, a brawling time
free from the wow and weight of newness.
we lived then as historians leading other historians
upon trails of immemorial sensations.
Meadow larks meant something once,
but now look at them, they strut like roosters
over the journals of the dead!
History cannot now be cured; it is far gone,
its prone, hump-backed form encumbers
like a speed bump.
Wordsworth and his damn golden daffodils -
as if we did not know already.
I hover over histories sickbed
my impedimenta droop like the dewlaps
of a prodigal deity.
Only a moment ago history ran through hill and dale
as naked as an infant,
its fields were alive with love, war, and kapok -
a stuffed, full metal jacket;
a saucily heraldic Kevlar.
I breathe into histories colorless lungs,
there are flocks of moribund geese tucked into each
alveoli and bronchi,
they have plucked themselves naked,
they long for the ten sky’s
named in my cinereal histories.
I shoulder this burden of faded things,
this molting albatross,
all the trappings of then and thereupon,
these I place now in an ash lined
and crumbling
vault.
After checking the Sears and Roebuck and Montgomery Wards catalogs until their pages were torn and faded, we took one last look at the sales ads in the local newspaper, donned our socks and sandal, and jumped into the station wagon to head out to that brand new shopping place called ‘The Mall’. Wheee doggies it was something. That joint was a jumpin’. It was cool and hip and out of sight. I mean it was really far out man. The mall had everything you could imagine, all in one building. There was store after store jam-packed with VCRs, rotary dial phones, cassette tapes, console TVs, One-Hour Photo, Blockbuster, and Toy’s-R-Us. It seemed like they had everything under the sun ready for a layaway plan.
After paying for the purchases with paper checks written in cursive, we’d head on down to the food court or the all-you-can-eat buffet for lunch. We’d sit on the red plastic-covered chairs and light up a couple of Kents, Chesterfields, Viceroys, Virginia Slims, or maybe some Lucky Strikes. We’d take a couple of pictures with our trusty Polaroid to commemorate the day by adding them to the family photo album. At the end of the day, the kids would jump into the back of the station wagon for a nap while we drove the two-hour-long trip back home. It was a good thing we only had to stop for gas once because, after all that shopping and eating, I only had two dollars left from the fifty we started out with. Seems like the high cost of just living is one thing that will never die.
On Main street’s sidewalks,
the store sign say they are closed,
is Christmas canceled.
(sounds of a baby crying--waaaaaaaaaaaaaa waaaaaa waaaaaaa awaaaa)....
The world that we live in now is filled with so much corruption;
I believe today that we've on the eve of our own destruction;
What can I do, what shall I choose;
How much will I lose;
tossing to and for;
Nowhere to live no where to go;
This world is beautiful as you see there's no more hope for you or for me, you see;
the world may end today
but I also know that it may end tomorrow, tomorrow...
the world will end tomorrow;
the world will end tomorrow;
wooh ooh ooh
wooh ooh ooh
ooh ooh ooh
Storms and rains;
Hurts, hunger, and pains;
All of these exchanges;
why must we hang;
Evilness prioritized, prejudice;
All of this makes me sick;
Spiritual ill gains;
People afraid of dying;
Grown men crying;
wooh ooh ooh
wooh ooh ooh
ooh ooh ooh
The world will end tomorrow;
wooh ooh ooh;
The world will end tomorrow
Dropping of bombs, Beatles love songs;
Mans right, someone says that God is wrong;
I'm not the one with the knife;
Why can't little black boys in Georgia fly their kites;
This isn't right;
That ain't white;
Why must I relax;
It isn't black;
I'm your brother;
Even though we've gotten two different mothers;
wooh ooh ooh
wooh ooh ooh
The world will end tomorrow;
wooh ooh ooh;
The world will end tomorrow;
Storms and rains;
Hurts, hungry and pains;
All of these exchange;
Why must we hang;
What can I do what shall i choose;
How much will I lose;
Tossing to and fro;
Nowhere to live nor to go.;
This world is beautiful as you see;
There's no more hope for you or me;
You see
The world will end tomorrow
(From the 1974 LP/cassette by James Edward Lee (The World Will End Tomorrow) 7/1974
I heard about you from my from my mama's mom
Heard about you when my parents took me to church
Heard about you from the people in the aisles
I heard about you
I heard about you
I heard about you in a jail cell
I've heard about you in the hospital
But I was wondering while I was listening
Are you free and able take to heal my condition
Are you available to come into my life, my life
I heard about you
I heard about you
I heard about you when I was just four
I heard about you when they slammed my hand in the car door
I heard about you when my PaPa died
I heard about you all my life as I ask the questions why
I heard about you in my dreams
As I wait I cried I heard about you in my prayers at night
I heard about you you can change my wrongs into right
I heard about you
I heard about you
I heard about you in the daylight
And your name was, and your name is Jesus Christ
And God the Father and you're the Son
I offered Wonder when you come
The way you left and the way you return
Vertical but with power you restored in me a chance of Grace
I plunge ahead engaged in rage but I found solage
I found restraint, I Found You Lord at heaven's gate
They talk about you in the news
I heard about you and man's views and now I confess and I realize
I am blessed you're by my side
I heard about you from my mama's mom
I heard about you when my parents took me to church and when I was young grandma died And my brother cried when father died I heard about you and stories of lore
I heard about you as I done my chores
I heard about you and what you done for us
You laid your body your life down on the cross
I heard about you I heard about you your Father's name is God
And your name is Jesus Christ
written by James Edward Lee
06/24/1974
(from the demo cassette/LP "The World Will End Tomorrow" 1974(c)
Way back then when I was ten
the year was nineteen ninety-three,
Mom was so proud when I said aloud
that I made the school spelling bee.
Days of math sums and bubble gums
have faded through the years,
but I sing along to a certain song
and it still brings me to tears.
It was a big fad to dress all in plaid
and wear a necklace with a peace sign,
ponytails and ripped jeans worn by every teen
and neon colors were thought to be mighty fine.
I loved cassette tapes that let me escape
at least for minutes through my headphones,
while I would read and write notes in a Mead
after school when I was home all alone.
Kids shopped the malls and covered their walls
with posters from every teen magazine,
what made us sob was each new heartthrob
from every band, TV show and movie we'd seen.
With Rollerblades and a new pair of shades
we roamed the sidewalks until it got late,
our backpacks were heavy and filled with a bevy
of boring English assignments that could wait.
For many hours I could stay and sit and play
with Nintendo games, stickers and Treasure Trolls,
then aside they were tossed and some became lost
except for right here in my heart and my soul.
That time proved to be the most fun for me
O, how I wish that I could relive it again,
way back then when I was just ten
and the year was nineteen ninety-three.
What's a simple man like me
Doing in this part of town
Especially at a time like this
When the sun is going down
I crank my Barry Manilow
Up on my cassette deck radio
Letting all the boys round here know
That I'm down with the sound and flow
That's when this old rusty Ford
Creaks up to the light
His girlfriend turns and gives a wink
And a great big green teeth smile
I get the notion then and there
That he's the jealous type
As he spits a wade of tobacco juice
All over my Pintos driver side
Steps down from his conglomerate
Lumbers over to me
The kids in school are sure to hear of this
As I'll soon be history
Roughly pulls me out the window
Shaking me off like a bad habit
Saw my life flash before my eyes
Luckily I had enough sense to reach out and grab it
Just then he catches the music
That's now playing loud and clear
Turns with a look plastered to his face
Asking who is that he hears
I tell him Barry Manilow
He's the one who writes the songs
Just then he starts a-humming
If he knew the words he'd sing along
His girlfriend calls up all their friends
Who quickly show up to the scene
Looks like we got us a Copacabana
With the lights flashing from red to yellow to green
It all came to a climax
As Barry, Mandy sang
There wasn't a dry eye on the street that night
As I quickly saddled my Pinto and drove away
I let out a huge sigh of relief
As I sped through all the lights
With "Looks Like We Made It" blasting through the stereo
Thanking Barry Manilow, once again for saving my life
Air Force One has crashed into Manhattan.
To get the president out, it takes a special man.
For success in this task, there is quite a bit of doubt.
Once I go in this place, I should not come out.
The whole island is a maximum security prison.
I get a full pardon if I succeed in this mission.
The police have saddled me with some heavy loads.
There are twenty-four hours before this bomb explodes
This microscopic explosive is in my carotid artery.
The Duke of New York holds the president in captivity.
He has already lost a finger to the Duke's untamed savagery.
For help, I have Brain and his girl Maggie.
Another inmate helping me is someone known as “Cabbie”.
There is something else important that I must get.
Secrets of nuclear fusion are recorded on a cassette.
I have to get this and the president to safety.
I hope the president likes to listen to “Bandstand Boogie”.
Based on the 1981 film "Escape From New York"
Hot off the heels of Back in Black
A face melting 10 track
From the opening with cannon blast and more
It went to number one, Back in Black only number four
What? You question and rightly so
How did Back in Black peak so low?
Not sure, but none are out done
All AC/DC albums are number one
Even Powerage (the anti-disco disc)
And Flick of the Switch
Will scratch where you itch
(don't scratch the vinyl)
Or Fly on the Wall some say
Doesn't fly the AC/DC way
Hey it's all AC/DC when tracks are laid down
So put it in the 8-track, cassette or CD
into the player and rock your hometown
So when I listen to AC/DC my neighbors do too
All the way through (the mists of time):
For Those About to Rock (We Salute You)
(P.S. Thank you Daniel Mannix for the history of the Coliseum in Rome
AC/DC wouldn't have had the inspiration without reading your tome)
(P.S.S. AC/DC music has spawned more air guitarists
Than any other group or suzerainty or boxcarists)