Long Censors Poems
Long Censors Poems. Below are the most popular long Censors by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Censors poems by poem length and keyword.
Don’t try to reason with them
or you will be called ULTA MAGA!
Never try facts or logic to dissuade them
or you will be labeled ULTRA MAGA!!
Forget discussing social issues with them,
for you will be called a racist and an extreme
ULTRA MAGA!
Don’t you dare wear a red hat -you’re a sexist,
Irredeemable, deplorable white supremacist,
even if you’re black, that’s no excuse,
you are definitely, Irrefutably
an ULTRA MAGA!
Don’t fly the stars and stripes, own a gun,
own a truck, love the Lord,
deplore the murder of babies….
You dolt, you redneck, You Illiterate yahoo,
you’re just an ignorant ULTRA MAGA!
Never express an opposite opinion,
for that will enrage the censors,
and never tell the truth
or you will be cancelled,
deemed an ULTRA MAGA!
Know your place in this Liberal New World Order.
You’re not a globalist , you’re a rabid Nationalist.
Worse, you may even be a patriot.
You must just shut up.
Obey or be attacked by your betters.
Your beliefs are all backward.
You are an ULTRA MAGA!
Never disagree with our experts,
our corporate media,
our woke faith in more than two sexes.
Never admit that you know what a women is.
You’re a sexist, a toxic male explainer.
Shut up at once. You are ULTRA MAGA!
The economy is doing great, the earth is doomed,
don’t have children but if you do,
hand them over
to our socialist brain-washing teachers
for suitable indoctrination.
They are ours not yours,
and if you insist on home-schooling
we will dox you and ridicule your smart kids.
The southern border is Closed!
Don’t believe your lying eyes.
You will be forever known as an ULTRA MAGA!
The Constitution is old, and we should rewrite it,
so it better reflects our socialist forwards looking views.
The Supreme Court must be silenced.
Disagree and you are obviously an ULTRA MAGA!
You may only speak at the polls
(though we are working on that),
and never question if they are rigged, never.
We are watching you closely.
You, you, ULTRA MAGA!
I've never twitted on Tweeter
nor am I an Instagrammarian
I've searched on Goggle
but cannot find MyFace
I ask it "how do I change the oil in my car?"
and get 570,000,000,000,000 hits
so I go make some toast and eat lunch
at least I can work a toaster
my kids think I was born in the Jurassic era
for I speak of phones with cords
that came out of a wall
and TV stations with 4 channels
to choose between
I feel like I'm swabbing the deck
on a Byzantine sailing ship
I don't know url's from www's,
or http's from html's
my mobile phone tries
to auttocronect my thumb typing
and cyber censors block my search
for 'penal colonies'
So I walk to my neighborhood park and
...lie on the grass
...stare at the blue sky
...pet my neighbor's schnauzer
...feed peanuts to the squirrels
...imagine shapes in the clouds
...watch the sun set and the moon rise
The cyber world is
an amazing supersonic ride
but the great outdoors is my landing strip
and I've just touched down
Alas, hordes of ravenous relatives from very far and even near,
Won't be celebratin' at dear old Grandma's bountiful board this year,
Since the corona virus pandemic has spread an ominous cloud of doom.
But hold on! Perhaps you can celebrate via the miracle of Zoom!
You can enjoy from afar your green bean casserole and punkin pie,
Not havin' to tolerate obnoxioius Uncle Clyde sloppin' gravy on his tie!
Clickin' a button will mute Grandpa's interminable prayer of grace,
And spinster Aunt Alice's spewin' inane babble at a furious pace!
The mute button will silence any brawls about politics and religion,
And silence cousin Cletus crowin' about his thrivin' stocks a smidgen!
It won't be the same savorin' pleasant aromas from Grandma's kitchen,
But won't the mute come in handy to silence all the bickerin' and bit..... in'!
(The censors at Soup scrubbed the last word in the last line but I think you get the point!!!)
The libraries are all down sized
The books are being digitized
They all come with audio feed
So, no need to learn to read
Just log in no extra fee
For all of it is duty free
Til but for dust the shelves are bare
And you can’t read what isn’t there
For print and paper last too long
Outlive the writers now long gone
And there seems no way to beat
The censors cry “delete – delete”
It doesn’t fit the narrative
Therefore, we cannot let it live
And with no copy, soft or hard
No one could truly quote the bard
Whose thoughts and words, double-entendre
Could rock the boat, put us asunder
John G. Lawless
©1/27/2023
I don't see no harm in asking questions
But somebody gonna tell you you’re outta your mind
I don't see no harm in a frame of reference
But somebody gonna accuse you of bein’ blind
I don't see no harm in quoting philosophy
Mythology, scientology, or the Bible
But somebody gonna come round and order you to burn those books
The dissident is on life support
And he’s fighting for survival
Burn those books --
They ain’t no good
We’ll tell you what not to remember
And train you on what you should
I don't see no harm in raising objections
But somebody gonna call it conspiracy theory
I don't see no harm in a little reflection
But the network censors gonna bring the flames of fury
I don't see no harm in watching our past selves --
We were masters and slaves, black-face beggars and tyrants
But somebody from the Department of Truth will burn those reels
And give you false impressions
Of everything from spirit to science
Burn those films --
They're evil pure
We’ll give you new versions of the past
So that you grow up free and sure
There were cowboys, there were Indians
There were blacks and there were whites
There were women, there were men
And some of them stayed the night
There were straights and there were gays
There were gentiles and jews
There were Pharaohs at the top of the heap
And Egyptians paying all the dues
Now the letters of history don't spell pretty words
But we gotta read ‘em, anyway
‘Cause the day those pages turn up blank
Will be our species’ final day
Mommy and Daddy abandoned me for good
Teachers beat me constantly with baseball bats
Because they're practical for batting practice
I'm not sad because of all that stuff
While walking home from school it happened
I wost my wittle hat right off my pointed head
What's worse it was the wind that did it
What the F is wrong with that
The wind snuck up from behind without warning
Became my mortal enemy from that day forward
It became such a catastrophe for little me
My hat means everything
I hate the wind so much it makes me spit
Perhaps I should stop breathing it
The air is nasty
A tiny lad needs his hat in winter
The thought of my head cover gone forever
Floating away lost in the clouds somewhere
Makes me want to cry out loud
Scares me to think there is no law to fit the crime
*Authors disclaimer: The letter “F” used in this poem stands for “fun” or “fog.” The author can not say for certain which one. (He was out walking when this poem came about and lost his little mind.)
With further education at some future date the letter “F” might stand for something else. Perhaps frog or phrog (for the more intellectually inclined.) More schooling will be required to imagine that. (I hope I have satisfied the censors.)
Also: The authors parents were very nice people (for those of you who might be inclined to cry at this time.)
I guess I'm obsessed
With keeping my breath
I've small use for obtuse youth
And their smug, shrugging abuse
Blinding meeker minds
By the blither of twitter
Where shameless selfishness
Is seen as glitter
Where 'fake' news and 'reality' TV
Both struck by theft of identity
Our testaments and towns
Are burning to the ground
Those with nothing to lose
Are lighting the fuse
When corruption erupts
And common sense, chucked
When science is declawed
And law is outlawed
When propaganda censors flaws
We've cast the last straw
We are democracy's
One hope ~
If we vote.
9/16/20
N/A in 'Clutching at Straws' contest
Judged 10/08/20
Blankety blank blank blank
Blankety blank blank blank
So how do like my quatrain so far
Getting pretty low in the tank
To resort to this ridiculous bit of nonsense
Must be pretty damn desperate I'd say
You can fool some people some of the time
But never you friendlies each day
When juices stop flowing you'll know right away
One can spot it right off the bat
Obviously when I start that blankety blank stuff
Instead of love and all of that
Maybe I should take some word rhyming pills
But they're so damn expensive these days
Two thousand dollars for just twenty-five pills
Need a job as a gigolo to pay
Well I'm gonna end this blankety blank poem
Threw in a bit of smut ha ha
Got by the censors with that blankety blank stuff
They're freaking out, sure good for a laugh
(A Repost)
Yes, perhaps you're right, my mind's gone off the rails
Imagining a world without conflict, lunacy would prevail
If that were the case, loony bins would be over-flowing
The majority of people I know wouldn't kill a fly knowing
But that's about it... oh possibly kill some nasty weeds
They wouldn't try extra hard if at first, they didn't succeed
Loving folks who love loving, especially the opposite sex
Don't know what it is, maybe something below the neck
The belly button is partly it but methinks a bit further south
Not the belly button, it's got a feature resembling eyebrows
Trying to be adult, but I'm sure you know the area I mean
Begins with yum, ends with holy crap, it's like a damn machine
Okay, just heard the censors breathing hard down my neck
Well we only live once, might as well enjoy it, what the heck!
Naughty, naughty, really naughty
Oh how I love being naughty
Gets everybody's shorts in a knot
When I write humour that's potty
Relax my friends, they're only words
Let's not get all high and mighty
We all partake in potty humour
With some of us it happens nightly
Helps the love play along quite nicely
Besides the searching and hunting
My palms are getting all sweaty now
Feel like bumping and thumping
This is becoming really quite naughty
The censors are gonna have a fit
They'll surely get a big kick out of it first
Then they'll ban it from the mix
But if perchance I get past the censors
Got a lot more to send your way
If the “word police” knock on my door
I'll say, “Engleez I no parlay”
© Jack Ellison 2013