Long Club Poems
Long Club Poems. Below are the most popular long Club by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Club poems by poem length and keyword.
when one stands up against injustice
when one spits in the face of those that oppress &
shows not one ounce of fear in their eyes
often, if fortunate, standing amidst others who have come to
the same conclusion,
at first, it is like a joke being told at a comedy club
where there isn’t even a drink minimum---
for the need for customers is so drastic,
the club doesn’t want to ruffle any feathers by
asking at least that as a price for sitting all night
under a roof & listening to comedy.
as the plague of convention
spreads like the contagion that it so blatantly is,
more come to the conclusion of the initially brave
(and to many, thought to be the initially “insane”)---
people begin to see that things are being done wrong to them
as well,
and suddenly, because others have already put their lives on the line
in order to lock arms & fight
what they no longer think can be ignored,
this kindling gives way to a larger fire
which soon spreads on its own,
counteracting the wall of poisonous status-quo, complacence &
all out submission to the will of those that
feel that they are unstoppable,
offering not a crumb to the individuals challenging them &
still, the seriousness of the matter is not fully understood
by those which have become desensitized to any possibility of
actual change in their lifetime.
as the fire continues to grow & spread, becoming fiercer with
every gust of wind, ever new addition to the flames,
those that felt unstoppable begin to question their own ability
to crush the fire,
if they deem it out of hand,
that is, if their kingdom is on the fringe of being
invaded---
and it will come,
the bludgeoning of the spreading fire will be one of never before seen
ferocity,
for examples have to be made,
in order for those in power to prove that they still have power &
blood will be spilt, in fact,
blood is being spilt as this writer types
(little puddles now, written off as “unruly dissidents,” only foreshadowing a river of blood leading to a vast ocean).
it is the spilling of blood which ignites the last few,
those that thought it would all blow over &
that their lives could stay pretty much the same,
if they just stuck it out---
when friends, relatives and neighbors begin to bleed,
be it through destruction of property, incarceration, injury or death,
the once comfortable are forced to open their eyes &
decide which side they're on.
"Give Me Your Tired" posted 7 Jun 2021
i'd join the morning person's club except their meetings start before noon
early to bed, early to rise makes a man healthy, wealthy, and beat
they make clocks to tell me when to get up i need one to tell me why
a bicycle cannot stand up by itself because it is two-tired
my wife got tired of hearing my zodiak puns it taurus apart
teen's concept of an early bird: one who wakes up at the break of noon
[humor attribution - all humor found online, sources unknown]
"Just Asking (part III)" posted 14 Jun 2021
wow, is that an optical illusion or am I just seeing things?
why does the sun on the raisin bran cereal box wear sunglasses?
why are wise men and wise guys considered opposites of each other?
when styrofoam companies ship their product what do they pack it in?
if swimming is so great for the figure then how do you explain whales?
how does the person who drives the snowplow get to work in the morning?
[humor attribution - all humor found online, sources unknown]
"It's All In A Name" posted 21 Jun 2021
i visited a new dating website in Prague they call it ~ Czech Mate ~
there's a new contraceptive on the market it's called ~ i kid you not ~
my vote for the best beauty parlor name of all time ~ curl up and dye ~
good name for an ultra-conservative fashion boutique ~ clothes minded ~
maybe you shouldn't name your brand new restaurant ~ eater's digest ~
perhaps this plumbing company is worth a gamble ~flush or full house~
[humor attribution: #2 and #5 Edmo Snord, #3 and #6 are actual company names I've seen, others found online of unknown origin]
"Random Brain Guano (part III)" posted 28 Jun 2021
children are hereditary if your folks had none, neither will you
the best remedy for your bad memory is milk of amnesia
buy your valentine a bikini it's the least you can do for her
i tried making a belt out of watches it was a big waist of time
my toddler kept chewing on electrical cords so I grounded him
sometimes Bigfoot is confused with Sasquatch Yeti doesn't seem to mind
It's a wonder young children still turn out all right
With the stuff that gets crammed in their heads every night.
Things like visions of sugar plum fairies and sprites,
Or a thousand tales of Arabian delights,
A frog who turns prince with a kiss from a lass,
A girl who goes dancing in slippers of glass,
A cow that gets high and jumps over the moon,
A crockery dish that elopes with a spoon,
A boy who can fly but refuses to grow,
A difficult girl who plants maids in a row,
A magician who wants to trade old lamps for new,
A woman so poor she must live in a shoe,
A waif who sells matches out in the cold,
A king who can touch things and turn them to gold,
A dog, an old woman, a cupboard that's bare,
A girl locked in a tower, a ladder of hair,
A magical wheel that spins gold out of straw,
A guy helps a lion with a thorn in its paw,
A girl wearing red visits grandma who's resting,
Finds a wolf in her nightdress and Granny digesting,
Three kids and a wardrobe, three men share a tub,
A brave tailor kills seven mean flies with a club,
An archer makes merry with men in the woods
While relieving the rich of their money and goods,
Kind huntsman, fair princess, a vain evil queen,
Seven dwarves, and a prince who gets caught in between,
Hateful fairy, a baby, a hundred-year snit
'cause her name's accidentally left off a guest list,
A piper who lures out of town rodent varmints,
An emperor with new but invisible garments,
A farmer's wife butchers three handicapped mice,
A house drops on top of a witch who's not nice,
While another with gingerbread children seduces
Then gets baked by some twins in her own savory juices,
A giant and a beanstalk, a cat who wears boots,
A wolf who's outfoxed by three pigs in cahoots,
A bad little boy who sticks fingers in pies,
And another of wood whose nose grows when he lies.
There are others, of course, far too many to mention,
But I hope these will serve to excite some attention.
With stories like these knocking 'round in their heads,
It's no wonder if kids toss and turn in their beds.
Yet throughout countless ages these stories survive,
Kids listen, and dream them, and still wake up alive,
No worse for having been charmed or affrighted,
Imaginations are stoked, little minds are ignited,
And continue to hold them in dear veneration
As they pass them along to the next generation.
Deep within Earthen bowels
immensely distant from sheltering sky
amidst a thick fog enveloped landscape
with here and there a projected
craggy, derelict chasm
precipitously crooked
rocky claws pointing toward
an infinitely wide yawning abyss
dwelt kindred spirits
comprising soul asylum
where grateful dead (albeit marked,
via weathered tomb stones)
hermetically sealed
once vibrant corporeal mortals
betook their eternal slumber.
One among their number
included a misanthrope
who sported long straggly hair
bushy eyebrows shield
ding cold eyes of steel
straggly bearded clammy chin
in tandem with a hairy body
which when alive (long time ago)
upheld upon unshod feet, a severely
hunchbacked cretin
Within dense pitch-black terrain
(Mother Nature enlisting
a menagerie of life forms
accustomed to hellish environment)
awash with unrecognizable
alien sights and sounds
mollycoddling bewitching warlocks,
mailer daemons, trolling trojan horses
imps of the pervert chieftains, fiery
long and fostered Golems
who called underworld
their private demesne
also alluded to Marcy's playground
holding hostage Alice in Chains
Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles,
The Beastie Boys, Culture Club
The Human League, and
Village People a Crowded House
Emitting wisps of ethereal matter
appearing a small medium at large
chat snap ping, flickr ring
indeed joyus minions
exalting piety good and plenti.
Prone ounce sing proud purgatory
promoting protean phantasmagoria
hideous hulu hoop dancing holograms
highly distorted grotesque
silent 10,000 maniacs screaming
sinister semblance to banshees
slithering across escarpment.
Echoing one end of universe to the other
putting to shame initial big bang
ranking as a mere whimper
that original primordial blast
which cosmological exploits
generated heavenly sphere instantaneously
comparison viz Krakatoa times Googleplex
essentially reduced to insignificance
albeit on the analogous tinker toy
premised conjectures of brilliant minds
could gander feeble educated guesses
asper extraordinary natural phenomena
mortal mankind could never approximate
as belligerent threats punctuated,
via nuclear warfare
merely rates as a flickr
amidst uber kindle snap chat ting
tinder blinks, extinguishes,
snuffs out one lowly
Beatle browed bipedal simian.
Little Miss Poet, Sat at her computer, typing the morning away.
Along came a spider, climbed down her screen, and frightened Miss Poet away.
Little Miss Poet, fell on her duff, as she tripped, backwards over the dog.
When she got up, the spider was smart, and ran into the keyboard.
Low and behold, the fly swatter wouldn’t work, for the spider was safely below.
The spider peaked out, eyeing her as if in a huff, as Miss Poet jumped up and down.
With murderous intent, she flipped over the keyboard, and bounced it up and down.
Just at this point, the spider jumped out and scurried, with his life in his hands.
But the damage was done, the keyboard was unplugged, and terror reigned again.
Little Miss Poet, would have to crawl under the desk, to where the wires began.
There was no doubt, she’d switch to wireless now, but here that was a mute point.
She knew the spider was there, but hidden somewhere, in the stuff on top of her desk.
Little Miss Poet, crawled under the desk, checking and fixing, every wire and plug.
When she came out, there was no spider about, so both relief and worry set in.
As Little Miss Poet, looked down and around, the spider appeared on her arm.
With a scream and a jump, she flicked him off, and tripped over her chair this time.
Unfortunately for this one, the problem wasn’t done, so she attacked jumping forth.
The spider jumped free, but her toe was in need, as her foot connected with the desk.
A few words were uttered, as she jumped around, with foot held high in the air.
Broken toe or not, she vowed to get that snot, so she shouted for her hubby’s help.
He was down stairs, with the trolls you know, and couldn’t seem to come up.
So she swatted with flair, as the spider jumped back, yes, into the keyboard.
At that moment, a Troll walked by with a club , and decided to help her out.
Everything smashed, the problem solved, she sat down at her sons’ computer spot.
Tears in her eyes, at her computers demise, Poor Little Miss Poet, began to write.
This computer was next, to the one from before, and the spider was there, again!
Yep, you guessed, in the keyboard he sat, staring and more pissed than ever before.
The moral my friend, is that you can’t always win, even on a peaceful, beautiful morn.
Little Miss Poet, finally limped away, retreat was the better answer, by far.
PS. This happened, without the Troll, of course.
Bath City football club is an embarrassment to Bath
Most people ain't heard of them the ones who have laugh
Their aim and ambition is to be what they are
And that's like dreaming you're a broken down car
The fixture list came and it says you take part
So you push that car around the track from the start
Their desire is to exist with no plan to go far
They don't have the fire they don't have the heart
We don't show support when it all looks a farce
Don't we deserve something better than this
In good old Bath City where only rugby exists
Football can rot because rugby's the wish
absolute bollocks it's bollocks it is
Lacking intelligence in this rugby territory
it's like they see football the ultimate enemy
Scared of its presence and what it might do
A city with one club yet big enough for two
Our Uni makes athletes Olympian Gold
Bath Rugby competes while the football's on hold
There is a demand, no there's not we get told
"Football's not our game it's just not our mould"
I know Sir James Dyson is a man made in Bath
we're all proud of that, those Hoovers are bad
I say that as slang, his old bosses are mad
They rejected his hoover, how dumb and how daft
Now with your mass fortune beyond simple maths
You can now do what nobody else ever has
Invest in Bath City and put them on the map
You'll be a hero and they won't be crap
Potential so blatant will finally grow
and with it our pride, a pride never known
fill up the stadium with a reason to go
and fans will keep coming if there is a show
The community will bond as it responds to events
when you create dreams the present prevents
those magical days when the cup brings giants
a promotion or two through your generous expense
there's so much potential, they so under achieve
it wouldn't take much for that club to succeed
giving thousands of locals dreams hope and belief
It's you Sir James Dyson can gift what we need
It'll take off like your Hoovers but the football won't suck
with your big fat fortune it won't cost you a buck
it's a bigger football club than we know but its stuck
and it's about our community, it's a gift of good luck
invest in Bath City and the best is to come,
you'll go down in history as the one champion
who did the one thing that nobody had done,
go on mate please it's a job that sounds fun
What but ‘warmth’ speaks of ‘love’ to a child, to the aged,
Warmth all poems convey (that get launched from tome’s heart?)
I pray love gets displayed, found in stranger filled room
That you aren’t fishing for when it leaps (getting caught
In sun’s light), reflects heat in some heart-stopping way?
Must sex sing where there’s ‘love,’ what’s ‘insistence’ of hand
Or a foot reaching out though it knows you’re asleep?
A line’s rhyme in the distance implies rhyme upstaged
Or suggests deep connections? But readers have part
To play (ditches get jumped) if faint hearts dare presume
To think they grok my meaning, though that’s all that’s sought!
If a verse seems beyond your grasp, might you delay,
Think to savor the moment, take ‘lay of the land?’
Can a twist’s joy surprise if all content is cheap?
Grok the birth of this poem in a story mom shared
Of my dad’s father’s plight in a hospital bed,
The last days of his life (with his hands strapped to boards
To prevent the removal of tubes meant to serve.)
Hear his plea as he said his pet name for my mom,
“Sis, I’m feeling so cold, could you warm me a while?”
I still feel mom’s false guilt that she dared not assist.
It was not mom felt close, or that customs impaired,
The fault warmth that was missing in her heart instead,
My folks there more from duty! (Will held no rewards!
Dad’s gift only one dollar!) as Granddad’s last curve
To ‘First Son,’ knee not bent in a tragic sitcom,
For my dad did not hate his dad, served in ‘his style,’
Though true love that’s a servant will never insist!
I have friends who in aging aren’t courting new friends
It’s too much of a burden, say friends disappoint
And I have to confess there’s a stress when friends die
Or when they move away, and you can’t share your voice.
Watch more trails disappear when you see TIAs,
Love retreats in dementia where nothing connects
And to Love with clean diaper is good as it gets.
While it’s true our first thought of love isn’t Depends,
If an accident happened, would you not appoint
To be Pres. of your fan club, the one who’d not shy
From whatever was needful, if you had a choice?
Substitute at ‘home plate’ if your friend’s in a daze,
For all life must be lived in, we aren’t architects,
A warm harmony’s felt when folks share their vignettes!
Brian Johnston
28th of November in 2019
Little Lilly wanted to go, to the playground, to have some fun the other day.
And all the other Trolls wanted to tag along, for it looked like fun, they said.
So we went at dusk, for our first try, so no wee ones, would be anywhere near.
For you know, Trolls can play pretty hard, and I didn’t know, just what to fear.
I quickly found a bench as home base, for those who needed to have a time out.
Anyone who couldn’t play gently, or broke anything, found they’d get the rout.
First the sandbox became a deep, dark hole, from which to pop up, to scare, thereat.
Of course, dodge ball became club ball, so you can guess what happened with that.
King of the Hill was a really big thing, since they are all, the most territorial, by half.
Surprisingly, the slide was all-OK, but trouble came from underneath, as they laughed.
They wanted to exact a toll, of course, in the middle, as you passed above, quite brief.
The merry-go-round made them dizzy, knocking everyone down, in a domino motif.
The Seesaws became a great big catapult… to the other far side of the playground.
The monkey bars! Well, they aren’t monkeys, that’s for darned certain, I expound!
They tripped, fell, and smacked themselves senseless with no ones’ help, I ensure.
It could’ve been climbed much better, if not covered in so much drool, I’m sure.
Swings became broken as they pushed the others, all the way to the moon, oops!
And basketball became a slam-dunk, as unfortunately they didn’t fit in the hoops.
Hop Scotch took coordination, and you have to be able to wait your turn, too…
So, as in tag, they started bumping and fighting, until becoming a crazy piled up dado.
Races started more fights as all wanted to win, and threw everyone out of their way!
Hearing a laugh, I turned around to see Grandpa Troll, was ready to stop the moray.
He stood near the bench, as I stood looking up, amazedly, at what they had done.
Now, there were other benches everywhere, but they were piled high, on a single one.
I’ll never truly understand the brain of a Troll, for them a playground’s just not fun.
And they don’t play gently, and are bigger, than our wee folk, as I had already known.
They spent the night, putting things to right, even better than before they’d been broke.
And I finally took them home, to find OTHER things, designed especially, for OUR folk.
Just say no and stop the liberal progressive socialist agenda dividing our country, or any other country! Simply based on the CRT (Critical Race Theory)!
It will further divide the divided states of America based upon race. Resulting in our categorizing and restricting any positive and healthful relationships based upon our skin colors. Turning us into enemies!
It will really pit the brown and the black people against the yellow and the white people! Leading up to and resulting in more racial based wars on the streets of our major and later on minor cities across the forty eight states of America just for starters!
It is the elected school board members that are fostering the CRT! Plus they are sponsoring X-rated books as part of the school curriculum's. Already parents in Virginia and the rest of the country are fighting against the CRT! Threatening to recall the school board members; who have sold out their souls to the devil himself!
The parents and their children throughout the United States are using their social media platforms in order to protect their K-12 aged school aged children!
They are relying upon Christian television stations such as the 700 hundred club to get their vital messages across to the rest of America! Whatever is happening in Virginia will not stop in the state of Virginia! Americans do not want a Socialist nation! They want their freedoms!
Unfortunately the Millennium generation of people born between 1980- 2000 are falling for the lies those liberal and progressive politicians are actively promoting. Also generation Z college age students have socialist instructors spoon feeding their socialistic ideology propaganda!
Where is the communist propaganda political machine located? It's central headquarters is based in the Red Chinese Communists party! Which seeks to place the entire world under the oppressive tyranny of the Bamboo Curtain! Global international enforced slavery labor camps making the Nazis look like choir boys because of their intensified cruelty and torture!
Let us face it America and the Western democracies! Red China wants to bankrupt you, black male you and kill you. And place all of you under its Bamboo Curtain! They are the common global enemies of the world!
Sincerely,
Roxanne Lea Dubarry
Roxy Lea 1954/209
Roxy 1954/ October Country
June 24, 2021
Here is my story, raw and uncut.....
I was a DJ at a small gentleman's club - I loved music, and so I had an "ear" for mixing
tracks, plus with my passion of creative writing I wrote lyrics to songs. But working in a club
you're around alcohol, and drugs. I quickly got hooked on cocaine, the rich mans drug.
Liquor and cocaine was my thing. On the night of my crime, A "homeboy" of mine came
over to my apartment with some coke, I had the liquor. So we begin getting high, drinking
liquor while playing the Playstation2. We got a call from a mutual friend, a girl we had both
dated. She asked us to come over. We said we were on our way.
Now by this time, I remember, I was soooo messed up man. But I got in my car, him in
the passenger seat - on the way to Jenny's house, we are passing the bottle of Jack back and
forth. It's around 2ish in the morning. I was off that night from work.
So we pulled in the driveway, we went around back, like we always do at her house.
(Everyone goes to the backdoor). The door was unlocked, lights were off, all was quiet - we
figured she was asleep. My homeboy goes straight to the kitchen to fix him a sandwich -
don't ask me, I have no clue how he could eat. I go into the living room, she's laying on a
futon, I jump down next to her, playfully saying, "Girl get your ass up." But to my surprise
an older woman jumps up saying , "What are you doing in my house?" _ Now understand I'm
high out my mind, I was invited to Jenny's house. Who is this woman screaming, "Get out of
my house!" I say, "Where is Jenny?" And she says "No Jenny lives here!" - Then like a light
switch comes on! I realize, "Shoot I'm in the wrong house." - Now I know what you're
thinking (How would I not know?) I can only say with the amount of alcohol and coke, and
the fact, the houses looked the same (It being a subdivision) I believe that's what they call it.
So I take off running "Man we in the wrong house" I tell my homeboy. As we are leaving
I'm asking him questions like (How we not realize this isn't Jennys office?) He's got this big
stupid look on his face - A lot of what happened that night has come back to me over the
years. And the look on his face when I asked him that question confirmed - we sure was
trashed!
Continued in Part 2