Long Chumps Poems
Long Chumps Poems. Below are the most popular long Chumps by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Chumps poems by poem length and keyword.
We’re gonna grow you,
slop you and slow you...
Just as the moles do-
in and out of holes,
in and out of food.
What did I just brew?
Where are my hands on the shelf?
Clearing out the pastries like the little people’s elf’s-
jumping and cheering like we’ve got nobody else-
to sell,
to weld,
or baby... to be held.
I race the reaper to the melt,
let mush and mash and safety nets blast!
Get common,
get into a mass!
Why are you so fast!?
Why am I not on a mast?
Sailing this ship is why I take the past to my ass!?
**** you history!
**** you lazy lizardry!
I am misleading,
I am blistering!
What a fake **** you take to the depot truck!
Dump dump,
dump dump!
I hate that chump!
I hate fake trucks!
**** you man on top!!!!!
**** you Eminem bump!
Dizzy dazzy in a laugh,
dizzy Dazzy in a blast from ya past,
come and getta' pass,
free face flex,
and you know you’ll tap that ass.
Beattin’ in a bump,
we all take some chumps,
pull um down,
pull um down,
we gotta frown to the man who puts us down...
Whata fake stroke a’ luck to the beater of the buck!
Spit it out!
Give us hugs!
Give us hugs!
Give us hugs!
Give us hugs!
We’ve gotta love too young to bus-
transfer,
fudge,
or even lust,
we’ve gotta trust in each other when we must,
hit hard against the repeater even if we’re dust!
I'm just a lowly cheddar cheese ball, come roll away with me
past gastronomical delights, to taste and smell and see
varieties of cheeses that stretch on across the miles
that vie for the attention of hungry cheese-o-philes!
Some are common kinds of chumps like Jack and Mozzarella
used in down home sandwich shops, or finely sliced on pizza tops.
Then there's the Italian clan for the sophisticated pallet
like Romana and Gargonzola that rank high on the cheese ballot.
European cheeses are delectable, such as Havarti and Guyere
ranging from mild to smoky rich, they have that nutty flare.
On top of the cheesy food chain are most certainly the French
who've made an art of nuance that puffs out their cheesy chests
with Blue de Basse and Camembert, they are among the best.
But the BIG cheese, queen of cheeses, is the creamy, heavenly Brie
mixed with raspberries and chocolate, it's as delightful as can be
eaten with or d'oeuvres or paired with the finest wine
no other cheese is more superb, delicious or sublime.
And yet, some folks still prefer a lowly, cheddar cheese ball
and for them, I truly am the greatest cheese of all!
Written on 11/12/2018
So I wrote this rhyme just for me
to ignite self belief
and get me out of this sea
I'm a swim the waves 'til I reach the sand
wet desert dirt 'til plants fill the land
'til the storm clears up
and the grass gleams up
I'm a march toward a life I succeed
Now this is a mission unlikely to end in success
but can't you see
while I mission succeed and fail are possibilities
so if I give it my all it might just plough me through
doing nothing don't make winners
I've started I'll continue
and meddle through the levels
towards the finish
I've got a flame that's too majestic for anyone to extinguish
feeding confidence that delivers
the live in doubt lay about a drought
I will recover
stronger from the struggle
adapt and compromise
rev the throttle 'til I fly high up where the sky stops
rise to where the prizes reside without the head drops
feel the passion that won't give up
cus I'm driven to not give a fook
when chumps say my lyrics suck
the power of mind to not destruct
to words that are unkind
I'm my own king
hungry to feast
on my own throne
you can corner the beast
but won't breathe when this beast strikes
and now this beast bites
to brave to see a grave
to brave to be afraid
A telepathic throat
gargles stories and
spits fables’ fish into a watery abyss.
The surface shimmer draws us in
to fall, dream, dive, swim
as the storyteller spins us.
We balk at the tales of winged-hearts.
Love doesn't exist.
We swear by this as God disappears,
erases slowly while we wake up in season.
Love drops to the ground
with winter all around.
Snow covers and closes our eyes.
Pronounces what has died.
In the lens the pupil frames
a frozen image of my flame.
Could it possibly survive?
Rise up and be alive?
The same old story persists
where we make the same old wish.
Devils, misfits, do-gooders, cherubs and chumps,
wonder if God is make-believe, a dream or a magician's trick.
We cross our fingers and chant the scriptures
until The Almighty is real or a lie we can live with.
To be, to be, is miracle enough for me.
My cat chews on this paper—naps on every draft of this poem.
I worship her.
Once, long distant calls would cost
You, your friends and family so many voices
had to wait, anticipate the budget and the worth
of words said out loud to ride rapid electric lines.
Still sentiments of love freely fly on telepathic planes
while prose and poetry remain yours truly.
When present face to face do you speak truly?
Conversations branch out, chip, splinter into stories, that's the cost.
Fish stretch past arms' length and record breaking climbs pass clouds and planes.
Tell me again how it all began, how many voices
sang out from heaven: Forgiveness for sale! Limited supply, form lines.
Greedy practice, selling soul's salvation, who figures out what it's worth?
Fear can make us pay the selfish who decide our worth.
Are our souls and spirits make-believe, a magician's trick or God's, truly?
Conversations of belief from heart or scripted lines
brainwashed or sincerely swayed, choice has a cost---
Cross your fingers, chant the scriptures, sing with all your voices
until it's real or a lie you can live with, insured for your departure in heaven's plane.
If a soldier's plane crashes, angelic eagles soar, swoop like planes,
nose dive to every soldier because lives are worth
remembering. Telephones shoot words-- bam, bam, bam, fire voices
on ears that bleed worst fears, shattering those who love them truly.
Nothing will ever be sweet or innocent again, this is an impossible cost.
War kills conversations, steals final farewell lines.
Songs please draw forgiving lines,
to rise over hatred in unarmed planes
for a bird's eye perspective to consider the cost
of love lost in doubt, its worth.
Love lights up any sort of soul, truly.
It's power hurls bolts through nerves that revive the mystic voices...
Devils, misfits, do-gooders, cherubs and chumps-- let's hear all your voices!
Call out to love, it won't resist, will cross any line
to save who is good or bad-- it desires everyone, truly
Here comes the light, hear comes our flight, listen for the plane
Remember it's insane to worry about your worth,
to be, to be, is miracle enough, we can't comprehend the cost.
Solo fly or get in line formation with you plane
Lift off, blast past hatred to reach Love's treasure of unimaginable worth.
Truly precious, so protect it, Love in all your actions no matter what the cost
Why is Congress infected with socialism
which only creates division and schism
Seems to me it’s 'cos Congress just rolls over, plays possum
to forked-tongue liars like Obama, Biden and Trump
The electorate is finally fed up with representatives who won’t fight
against emperors without clothes like the aforementioned chumps
So now they’re voting for charlatans who shout, yell and scream
~ hard-core commies who'll kill forever the American Dream
All I have to do is paint a portrait of somebody being dead and he or she dies in real life.
I've painted portraits of my former boss, my in-laws and I also painted a portrait of my wife.
I've been given a magical power but I don't know where it came from.
My killing spree is not going to end, there will be more deaths to come.
I'm going to paint portraits of Hillary Clinton and Donald Trump.
Then I'll paint portraits of the creators of the new Doctor Who TV show, I'll get rid of all of those chumps.
I'm also going to paint a portrait of a bully who I went to school with.
He'd better enjoy what time he has left because he won't have long to live.
I will never see the inside of a courtroom, I will never be tried.
If you don't want your portrait to be painted, don't get on my bad side.
Beatnik Snaps
Onomatopoeia-topia
(poet sits on a stool in the café and begins)
I could onomatopoeia all day daddio
With cool sounds in the iambic pandemics sphere out there.
“Far out man…far out… Onomatopoeia all the way” (The crowd shouts and snaps fingers in approval.)
On the down winds jive below slow jazz notes I go
Goatee Joe eats the avocado on the down and low
Basements bottomless souls measured tuna outlet cries out
The bongo boys drag on the joint while munching on the tacos loco
Cigarette smoke lays down a cloud…talks to the humming bird
Laying down some heavy tones to the bones with the smooth sax
Cats calling in the alley way cruising on the cat nip trip
Waiting on a little miss kitty called Pussy Meow
She’s a no show Joe. Man, that’s no way to go.
In the wild thick woods of words working on his behalf
The half past 1952 Johnny, goes marching home
Alone down Bluesville Avenue in a zoot suit out back Jack
Slick black jacket looking for some chicks on the beatnik clicks
Snap!
Notes raining down on the sax as some jive time chumps
Get busted by some jive time cop
Flat foot flopping down the street with some flat foot beef to pound
Drowned on pounding grounds outside
Down in the drip drop flop of day….Grazing on the rain.
“Shows over Jack and Jill.”
“It’s been a thrill.” (More finger snaps from the beatnik crowd)
Debaucheries Departure
Sooner or later we gotta blow this café gig…..Dig?
Slurred speech measured beats by bongo boys bid a retreat
In matters like this …..tipping matters….and meter matters…My meters dry man.
We tapped out our tab long ago so….One last drink!
What’s your poison my onomatopoeia friend?…He retorts; “You’re right.”
“ I don’t want to pay it either”…. but we gotta get out of this joint.
What kind of iambic pandemics beatnik friend do you think I am?
In deed briated with liquid libations I guess….. (Snaps)
Don't give a jot or
A sod this lot
On your tod..just nod
Seedier greedier leaders
Stun..Shun the Needier
Not just down trodden
Sodden...run roughshod
Beseech each of those clowns..down
In the dumps chumps who chose
Plumps for stealthy
Leeches who teaches
Fools at our schools
Only the wealthy can stay healthy
No education for the nation
Uses...abuses..eschews..media issues..then sues
Argy bargy - sarky malarkey ensues
Bemuses readers…forsake news as fake
It's a Maga Saga ruse for f**ks sake
No immigration...deplore integration
To restore order…close the border
Hardcore race riot diet of denigration
Likes 60's generation segregation
Damnation not salvation..just devastation
The day they proclaimed addiction to be a disease
is the day drug abuse spread like a weed.
The powers that be profit from prolonged disease
not so much from personal responsibility.
They legalized dope to keep people pacified and numb
,, then lay tax on the working man-play us for chumps.
They've turned this country from a cool place to be
into a red-hot mess, needle and syringe lining the streets.
First Lady Reagan was right when she said, " Just say no.
Now they have grass and gas stations in blue-tongued Colorado.
Some want to categorize obesity as a disease.
The cure for this one is simply quite easy
: shut your pie hole and start moving your feet.
There's way too much profit in treating "disease"
That's why cures occur so very rarely.
Once a person is cured, the money pig thins
it dies in the stye with the profit-margin men.