Long Cheap trick Poems
Long Cheap trick Poems. Below are the most popular long Cheap trick by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Cheap trick poems by poem length and keyword.
Reading a poem about a horse
with a stain
on the author’s page. Patron
ate something saucy,
as he read of a war statue,
forking or spooning
probably pasta or slurping
poetry, precariously, I ponder,
as I wait for the oven timer
to deliver dinner. Deviled
ham quiche - the aesthetic
embodiment of
eggs & cream, cheddar,
onions & cayenne
firmly held in its shell.
I’ll eat in the early afternoon
and get a lift
to see Cheap Trick &
Rod Stewart. Not the cheap
seats, but the special ones
saved for the limo driver’s guests;
he will be chatting it up
behind the stage or
just standing by.
I can’t get past a couple
pages, having stopped
at the blot. A library lie
that these hard-covered words
are all mine, well his;
a-muse-d at a blank page,
how I’ve filled its plate,
and how
I will separate
my pie from my eye.
Invisible to the naked eye
traumatization (courtesy
chastising and reproaching -
by fellow classmates
and later in life
birth parents and inlaws
dealt hefty figurative jab)
tremendously impacted yours truly
analogous to him moving bajillion miles away
compounded by his withdrawn demeanor
diagnosed when he reached middle adulthood
as schizoid personality disorder,
thus exhibiting obvious developmental delay
bullied courtesy nasty brutes,
who scapegoated and rejoiced
with hip hip hurray,
meanwhile I experienced
terrible psychological melee
escaping to safe confines of bedroom,
where I wanted to stay
for mine remaining years of life.
Retrospective review
now approaching my doddering old age
constituted more'n one cruel (cheap) trick
played on super tramping urchin,
who traipes across virtual global stage
ensnared within whorled webbed wide
spending his hard earned itty bitty wage
spinning one strand after another.
Severely withdrawn as a doggone lad...
I wanted someone to hear me shout for help
as recently recalled
when yours truly a little barking whelp.
After conversing with Amélie Beth
(yesterday February 26th, 2021)
yes, the same sibling diagnosed
with nodule on her right lung
chatted with said family member.
Her brother (yours truly), could not sleep
last night/early this morning
what would ewe expect
this rambunctious poet do... count sheep?
Okay... wool ye go ahead and lambaste me!?
Ordinarily counting backwards from one hundred
helps trigger rem memorable cycles
(never if ever rarely reaching zero -
cipher, nought, the big goose egg...)
usually does the magic, (albeit cheap trick)
constituting one garden variety supertramp,
who within blink of eyelash nods off to dreamland
succumbing and submerging into subconscious.
More so the latter half
(regarding unsainted) days
of mein kampf
lived more satisfactorily
meaning emotions shared
between yours truly
and family members.
Suddenly important for me
(at approximately 743.999 months
athwart planet Earth)
to finagle acknowledgement
constituting care and concern
regarding welfare of loved ones.
Rather, a necessity to unleash
pent up sentiments activating
"Damn the torpedoes,
full speed ahead!"
An injustice to myself
and deprivation to recipient, i.e. Amélie
(who accidentally, inadvertently,
and unwittingly triggered feelings
of grievousness, ire, joy... )
to act adamant and withhold
for whom the bell tolled
valuable unpleasant turmoil
or heavenly bliss within
mine psychological state
most therapists and/
or self actualized individual
would concur if polled
wisest, loveliest and healthiest
personal choice to share
lest internalized heart wrenching dilemma
compromise palpable mutual
(of Omaha) kith thing catharsis
freeing restrained pent up angst
kinship therapeutic as “Wild Kingdom,”
whereby respective psyche
constituting uber brotherly spirit
doth lyft among soundcloud
shutterflying amidst
imagined lilies of field
engendering region knolled
king dome united, extolled
and linkedin courtesy nirvana.
Aye haint gonna mention anyone by name,
and git myself poisoned
with deadly tocsin, a most wick
kid demise act of vengeance cheap trick
boot Mayan tent to write this poem,
a message came tummy mind rather quick,
and fuel a contrived rumor hoop fully
spreading like wild fire
from this nada so sainted Nick
juiced for pure sport and to kick
start and spellbind denunciatory, deprecatory,
and derogatory unfounded slander
toward one country bumpkin,
who lives in the sticks of Hick
ville, and unfortunately
shares the same body as me,
an old curmudgeon full of (lix) spittle,
with lovely bones that crick,
thus, while spur of the moment whim arose
(take bull by the horns
asthma late grammar used to say), aye chose
to hash out matter of fact playful verse,
while ma doppelganger doth doze
and trump scathing "FAKE" news expose
zing ambivalent (nee loathsome)
punishing sentiments
ach'n ma heart
with daggers of icy sin tax
directed as rhetorical linguistic floes
vicariously experiencing euphoria,
red hot poker glows
within the scabrous, tenebrous,
and villainous haughty yahoo
an unprepossessing, quite,
and nattering kooky human
immune to voodoo
he coon sitters himself smug,
throughout every single sinew
of his (and mine) corporeal essence
directly descended
from storied Machu Picchu of Peru
yet his (ah, and mine)
suppressed genealogy branch
also includes, an a meow
zing small percentage of Neanderthal Jew
evidenced by genetic test 23andme,
which helps explain primate characteristic
dragging (sic) hairy knuckles,
where thick callouses grew
thus aye conclude
(just in the nick of time
as he who must not be mention) drew
a breath upon awakening
from a nap bright tailed,
and bushy eyed anew.
Circa April 17th, 2120, or 1820 military time,
yours truly attempted crafting id est feeble rhyme
far from madding crowd, nevertheless yet lovely
bones and flesh quite spry, still considered prime
(moost procreative, prodigious, and progressive)
stage, since (case ye didn't know) approximately
eight score orbitz round Earth's sun still noontime
chronologically analogous to protracted lunchtime
whereat the average offspring jetson or (daughter)
Born twenty years into twenty second century alive
and well (still hashtagged as precocious) with drive
to safely, sidestep, and surmount establishmentarian
archaic, formulaic, and mosaic Judaic/Christian give
wry master of words (me) take poetic license to jive
reasonably rhyming nope heart tickle early misthrive
moost definitely dirty deeds done dirt cheap (trick)
super tramping space cowboy lobbing power-drive
re: frequently innocent prelapsarian double entendre
(Jean Jacques Rousseau) Noble Savage he doth strive
even though hanky panky tinged entire his/her story,
Homo sapiens animal husbandry hastily did wive.
We had a garden gnome named Griselda
the bane of our small bungalow
she was nasty and mean, at times quite obscene
the worst that you ever could know!
Her garden mate, Gregor, had feared her
but one day he mustered the nerve
with all of our backing, to send the girl packing
with cleverness, cunning and verve.
But she was vindictive by nature
and wouldn't let 'bygones' be gone
if it took all her years, she would stir up our fears
her plans were all plotted and drawn.
She waited 'til we'd quite forgotten
her villainous, vile, evil reign
then with fierce aggression, she took bold possession
of our lovely, dear, docile domain.
She poisoned the pansies and lilies
and shredded the sweet climbing vines
she disturbed my repose, when she broke the windows
with a shriek that sent chills up my spine.
She tore down my front porch swing
shattering the flowerpots and planters
mad wreckage in her wake, as she sought all to break
taking off to the back at a canter.
I squared off to defend my back garden
grabbed whatever I thought I might wield
at first, on my guard, as I entered the yard
I found she was hardly concealed...
And 'though she seemed alone in the garden
I soon found that I was mistaken
for, succinctly put- I was bound head to foot
and carried off, unhurt but shaken.
Griselda had built quite an army
it seems, in her time far away
for gremlins and trolls, from the caves to the knolls
were under her terrible sway.
They answered her orders directly
and smugly, she smiled and she smirked
a gleam in her eyes as she planned my demise
as her minions continued to work...
Heaving in stones from the quarry
they were piling them higher and higher
and my strength gave away as to my dismay
I saw they were building a pyre!
But Gregor'd escaped all their notice
as he'd hid 'neath the back garden shed
and despite his wee size, he would prove her demise
at his bellow, her company fled.
He used a cheap trick, an enchantment
that he bought from an old witch named Rue
and it seemed there were thousands (as far as the eye scanned)
of Gregors that came into view!
Her face was distorted with terror
and she promised that she'd stay away
and off like a blip- she jumped on a ship
and sailed to somewhere near Bombay.
It was the second morning of “daylight savings time,” and the change was noticeable.
My BF Peter has a doctorate in applied physics, he's an expert, so I asked him, “How do they move the sun?”
He gave me one of his patented, blank looks, “What, who moves the sun?” He answered.
“Well, yes,” I said, “I suppose the “who” is important, but HOW do they move the sun? Peter can be dense sometimes.
“What are you TALKING about?” Peter asked, his head tilted in confusion.
I explained, “It’s daylight savings, ya? The sun is different, SO - how do they move the sun?”
“They don’t MOVE the sun,” he said, in a smug "I've got a PhD" way, “people set their clocks ahead an hour.”
I was stunned - Could it all be a cheap trick?
How, (I snorted in my mind) could they get everyone on earth to do THAT?
I didn’t argue, but I didn’t set my Apple Watch ahead or my laptop, or my desktop, or my iPad or Alexa - his “apotheosis” was obviously wrong.
He’s a new PhD, they just haven’t told him how they do it yet. I can wait. I patted his hand for support.
Peter also says that, out there in the “multiverse,” there may be an earth where I don’t have homework. First of all, isn’t it just like a guy to believe all of that “marvel comic” stuff?
“So, Superman’s real then?” I asked. He just lowered his head - burn: I had him there.
Secondly, can he get me/us to this planet “No homework?” NO.
Applied physics may very well be useless.
.
.
Webster: Apotheosis: a perfect example of something
**I used this incorrectly on purpose (crossing heart) I swear.
Noble Macbeth! Perverted by a scheming wife, Oh sorry fate!
So write the critics ,mainly men, but you, Macbeth, and I know better.
She was the fourth witch who brought home the message of the spectral three.
She was the helpmeet of your choosing who spoke out what you dared but think.
Yet noble you were, like Lucifer, lord of the false dawning light,
And proud you were as he who scorned Creation for being not his.
While they who love continue creation, grow fruitful as the vine,
They who hate are barren, must hate the seeds of life and wish their death.
So with you, the vanquished of Banquo’s seed, whose death was life.
You have one weapon yet, to mock what you cannot beget,
To declare all vain, an illusion, a cheap trick, an idiot’s tale
Though you named “King” do wear the gilt-rimmed crown, I hear your end’s approach.
I hear the rustling of leaves, and though you hang the herald of truth
On the gnarled trunk of a dying tree, green leaves and fresh wood advance.
To the hill they come to close you up and cross your vain ambition.
Where died a seed a plant shall grow whose leaves shall heal the nations
Sassy sobriquets schooled sissy spindleshanks...
studious sexagenarian skinny scruffy scribe
My utmost humblest apology
for inducing the following
cerebral calisthenics upon your cranium,
but the cost of friendship
with yours truly
(me – a foo fighting,
eagle eyed, beatle browed, beastie boy
christened Matthew Scott Harris)
doth newt come
like some hootie and the blowfish
super tramping
cheap trick linkedin to
wings at the reo speed wagon
spinning zz top soundcloud.
Scathing, scolding, screaming,
scorning, searing, sing,
sociopathic sarin soaked skewed
squirt, sputtering, squawking, sleepily
staggering, stabbing, swaggering
sweltering sadistic, sarcastic,
savage, systemically systematically
stigmatized, supersized saber sharp
schick shaving, shunned, sabotaged,
scarred, scorched, smote, sanguine,
stippled, speckled schizophrenic
sensibility, spurring, seething,
somewhat stultified, sophisticated,
spellbound spirited scabrous
schlemiel schlemazel, stenciled,
sundered sniveling sanguine storied
snakebitten sojourning smartass,
skeptical shoddy sophomoric
screwball, subtly sagacious,
stunted, sclerotic, scrappily
shuffling short, Shylock
styled sideburns Semite,
sainted Shasta sipping
shriveled sad sack,
sullenly syncopated, synthesized,
slobbering sybaritic, scruffy
sheepish sketchy scalawag,
Socratically scrutinizing, seizure
stricken, stoically sneezing,
shamed Skidrow skeezer, shifty,
sweaty, sham shaman,
supremely spidery, schmaltzy,
sylan seeking subsidized succor,
self shuttered, sequestered,
sidelined, shiftless, shabby,
semantically snazzy, soldiering,
shrieking, skulking, somber,
stooping, Segway scootering,
schmart spendthrift, Swahili
speaking, straitlaced, streamlined,
spongebobbing, sandal shod
sealegs, squarepants sporting
spectacles, sedate, sensate,
sentient, ship shaped,
shanghaied, salubrious,
slithering, snakish, stuttering,
sluggish, smashface scarred,
sober, solitary, sangfroid
skidamarink singing, Shamokin
speaking scrivener, scuzzy,
spunky, starved, submissively
suicidal, sunburned,
salaried shuffling senescent
snoutish soundcloud shutterflying
snapchatting schnorrer.
So, we lie here again, under the same old moon. You are a constant my friend.
So, we examine my fears, my tears and my thoughts. The reasons I fail, the silence, the pain, the living it costs.
So, I know what you think. You rattle my cage each time I try sleep.
So, your power over me? I’ve studied you too though your conceit would never suspect such treachery from the mild mannered me?
So, what do you think now? The air is colder up here, but the wind seems cleaner somehow.
So, you never thought I’d getaway? What’s wrong, come closer, oh are you just too used to getting your way?
So, that was quick. That’s some fall I took. But, let me tell you that was no cheap trick!
So, now it’s my turn. To prey on your fears, to be the fire in which you’ll burn.