Long Clorox Poems
Long Clorox Poems. Below are the most popular long Clorox by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Clorox poems by poem length and keyword.
Stomped down reprogrammed
I like eggs don't like ham
Spam have to be turkey sized
Milk down buttered based biscuits rose high down size
Chopped phones all lies
Recorded conversations tripped up tap sized
Revised
Stem down legacy
Clorox germs toxicology
Results clear found bacteria made ironically cloned see
Genetically caster sized down grated pole
Seize the day with hard clay
Drones with no way
Watching people filtrate
Castrate cows without hooves
Jail cells cruel bills
Operated and over sized
Built down with blind eyes
Test thy legs and brain size
Tissue blown up pimp died
Hair follicles stripped clean
Down the drain nipped bean
Boxed with no socks
Troll pay been popped
Clash titans guilt stopped
Too tall chop shops
Who looses without pay
Clock in pro tops
Raise checks been cropped
Wage been dropped
Paused sales real not
Vote count been boxed
Hidden messages cleaned hot
Hits climbed all charts
One hit no mark down streets broke hearts
No love hall cops
Flash light wanna be’s
Mixed drinks without leaves
Watered down dramatically
Stage ran into pros
Bullet shot there it goes
No name been marked around schools and ball parks
Bent in stood up
No mark shirt cuffed
Shocked drilled theses signs
Result action abused mind
Hypnotic case finds
Who it be who made time
Follow flows without cuffs
Who abused us
Repeat, Repeat measures making cakes without cups
Diane Perna
BURNT TEARS
I remember a tormented childhood with
Dad’s words laced with poison and Mom
tossed acid on my tears by saying no words
to stop it and even joined it.
I remember that even though I was a small
and frail child that didn’t stop them
these parents left me to thrash about life
with their painful insults.
I remember because my spirit was crushed
I wore an unmistakable frown
the wounds of my heart were inimitable too
as was the damage to my character.
I remember Mom laughing when I swallowed Clorox
and should’ve warned it wasn’t apple cider
what I was left with was swallowing burnt tears
and always wondered if anyone could tell.
I remember my sorrowfulness like
hot molten metal running over me but
I kept it locked up and bound because
I only found judgment that silenced me.
I remember pressing on through to another year,
month, week, day and minute with the blare in my
head of the brutal belittlement so evermore
I carry the memory of those burnt tears.
THE MOST DANGEROUS ROADS
i've got the head of a rattle snake
on the front end of my hood
i've got a chilled clorox drink
in my steel-knuckled hand
and we're rolling down I-10
across the stretch between Phoenix
to the Cali border and 85 deaths
a single year makes me quiver
shifting the stick to overdrive
Smiling as I rumble over America's
most dangerous road
kissing the guardrails
flirting with the slops
to side ditches so steep
but not as fun as I-15
from LA to Las Vegas I say
it's all the way or no
it's all the way or no
it's all the way or no
it's me spreading my ashes
across the country I love
it's me treading the coals
with a swizzle stick in my nose
yeah here we go
:: 03.05.2016 ::
Began so promising
As thoughts of a new year approached
Some called it a year of new beginnings and clarity
That 20/20 vision of sorts
Unknown and foreign
You found your origins in a faraway land
Yet soon enough, you would break the barriers of
Race, class, religion, and international borders
YEAH! You’re indiscriminate
Lock down, shut down and shortages
A daily struggle we endured
The knowledge of your existence, coupled with fear
Put the world on notice that we were in control of NOTHING
You wrestled even the healthiest to their breaking point
Them now depending on machines to inhale and exhale
You took the weakest and oldest, showing no mercy
Masks, gloves, tissue, sanitizer; even Lysol and Clorox
Became luxury items
Almost two years later
Vaccinations, side effects and still, MASKS
Are a daily reminder that
Covid made it’s way to every point of the world
And still; we are in control of NOTHING
December 30, 2021
Contest: Coronavirus (COVID-19) Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Robert James Liquori
Written By: D. Collins
When your head is banging like a deep, bass drum.
Mince a garlic clove and butter on a hot dog bun.
Any strain that wants to call itself athlete foot.
Will bow down to the power found in Clorox bleach.
Two aspirin before sleeping after a night on the town.
Guarantees we are peaking when it's time to get down.
That's just the NOLA kind of way of doing things.
Put your talent on display for all the world to see.
I'm not a baseball fan, but I seen what I saw.
Which was the closest thing I've seen to ILL-Na-Na.
Is it possible for the Phillies to lose a game?
And, with NOLA pitching, to that, I will refrain.
I haven't washed my dishes or changed my cat litter,
Roaches cloud my conciousness,
Will I get roaches?
Cause once they infest you,
They're like a cancer,
Faces that don't smile,
Friends with deconstructive criticism,
Deconstructing one's sense of self,
As they infest every corner of space,
Friends come by and they see the roaches,
Laughing in derisive cacophony,
And Raid just ain't gonna cut it,
Roaches cloud my consciousness,
Fox News and Famous Philanderings,
Croud out my rug and kitchen floor,
They manipulate my mindset and keep my healthcare bills deeply hidden behind
brown sugar armies of brown blooded paranoia,
I haven't washed my soul or changed my wineskins,
Roaches cloud my consciousness,
Weapons of mass destruction, hidden beneath my desire to hide the homeless
under my bed,
Instead of washing them clean with Empathic Clorox,
ROACHES, ROACHES, ROACHES!!!
Where are they?
Cause in the light they scatter to dark places,
And the Islands are shrinking.
Walking through the streets of my home town
Reaching for the Memories of days long passed
Seeing nothing of what I once knew
Accepting the fact
That I can never go back
To the time when doors remained unlocked
And no one ever knocked
When a whole section of town converged on one home
A death in the family brought neighbors to your door
There was a sense of community and
Dignity was not a status symbol
Wednesday's the miner rested
In the afternoon possibly at a local bar
While clothes lines decorated back yards
Clorox making it new again
Found a quarter equals five on the pinball unless
She was there
Making three and two cokes a better selection
Baseball glove dangling from the handlebars and
there was no charge for dreams
The park beckoned the wild bunch with a pack of Luckies
Never thinking twelve was too young
And not knowing
The tragedy of progress
Those days when friendships bonded a town
Anger only lasted until the fight was finished
There was a game tomorrow night
Winner and loser going to see it together
And the only real enemy was
TIME.
without moving anything but my eyes I see
a mouse pad, computer, power cord, phone
fork, knife, spoon, half eaten chunk of meatloaf
stapler, scissors, Clorox wipes
Jason Reynolds and Ibram X Kendi’s books Stamped
without leaving my seat at my desk
I see two bottles of hand sanitizer, my work badge,
a red cloth face mask I am tired of wearing
an address book with a multitude of squiggles
which no one else could read
they might possibly think I was mentally ill if they got closer
by turning only my head to the right I see two notebooks
three pens, one of them happily has red ink
an oversized yellow bottle of water I continually knock over
a roll of blue tape, and a walkie talkie that needs plugged in
I am looking to the left now. Three posters
One says “Effort and Perseverance are the Keys to Success”
There is a blue chair with an ugly hexagonal print in yellow
A bookcase with kinesthetic sand which I love as much as the children
Welcome to an Elementary School Counselor’s Office
The Marmite Poem Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Natasha L Scragg
Written 8-17-2021
In scratchy swales emitting Clorox gas,
Matador houseflies cross paralyzed eyes;
A kaleidoscope scene where jagged glass
Cracks beneath footsteps of love’s promised lies;
Forgotten by choice through hell-flickered sight,
Confusion screams at a dead mobile phone,
Gripping slick sanity ever so tight,
Un-stabled by speaking to Nothing’s tone.
Tormentors nearby prepare their escape,
Entrusting blindness to suffocate truth;
Black swans are they, drinkin’ ‘shine to undrape
Wounds nearly healed from a vi’lated youth –
A normal day in an abnormal cave,
Where hatred rules whipping peace claimed its slave.
Not-So-Heroic Couplets
by Donald Trump
care of Michael R. Burch
To outfox the pox:
kill yourself first, with Clorox!
And since death is the goal,
mainline Lysol!
No vaccine?
Just chug Mr. Clean!
Is a cure out of reach?
Fumigate your lungs, with bleach!
To immunize your thorax,
destroy it with Borax!
To immunize your bride,
drown her in Opti-cide!
To end all future gridlocks,
gargle with Vaprox!
Now, quick, down the Drain-o
with old Insane-o NoBrain-o!
Trump’s real goals are obvious
and yet millions of Americans remain oblivious.
—Michael R. Burch
Less Heroic Couplets: Just Desserts
by Michael R. Burch
“The West Antarctic ice sheet
might not need a huge nudge
to budge.”
And if it does budge,
denialist fudge
may force us to trudge
neck-deep in sludge!
NOTE: The first stanza is a quote by paleoclimatologist Jeremy Shakun in Science magazine.
Less Heroic Couplets: Miss Bliss
by Michael R. Burch
Domestic “bliss”?
Best to swing and miss!
Less Heroic Couplets: Then and Now
by Michael R. Burch
BEFORE: Thanks to Brexit, our lives will be plush! ...
AFTER: Crap, we’re going broke! What the hell is the rush?
Less Heroic Couplets: Dear Pleader
by Michael R. Burch
Is our Dear Pleader, as he claims, heroic?
I prefer my presidents a bit more stoic.
Less Heroic Couplets: Less than Impressed
by Michael R. Burch
for T. M., regarding certain dispensers of lukewarm air
Their volume’s impressive, it’s true ...
but somehow it all seems “much ado.”
Less Heroic Couplets: Poetry I
by Michael R. Burch
Poetry is the heart’s caged rhythm,
the soul’s frantic tappings at the panes of mortality.
Less Heroic Couplets: Poetry II
by Michael R. Burch
Poetry is the trapped soul’s frantic tappings
at the panes of mortality.
Less Heroic Couplets: Seesaw
by Michael R. Burch
A poem is the mind teetering between fact and fiction,
momentarily elevated.
Less Heroic Couplets: Passions
by Michael R. Burch
Passions are the heart’s qualms,
the soul’s squalls, the brain’s storms.
Keywords/Tags: Donald Trump, coronavirus, president, poet, poems, poetry, heroic couplets, couplet, humor, humorous, Clorox, Lysol, disinfectants, light verse, parody, satire, America, USA, giggle, political, natural disasters