Long Cronies Poems
Long Cronies Poems. Below are the most popular long Cronies by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Cronies poems by poem length and keyword.
IV.
It used to be expected that
you not care about race,
just treat all people like people,
things were better that way.
But that posed a problem for some,
most of them on the left,
without these victim narratives
people would not elect
them into positions of power,
and that they could not stand,
to lose power when addicted
destroys a venal man.
So they go to all their cronies,
media, academics,
have them gin up some sophistry,
cover for their bullsh-t,
start screaming your identity
is all tied to your skin,
call it ‘critical race theory,’
while I just call it sin.
Teach kids that this is what makes them,
get them to parrot the rage,
what we should expect from a party
that fought a war to keep slaves?
That’s how much they want their office,
built segregation anew,
see the evil and don’t forget
What was taken from you.
What a great title for how I feel!
Was never chained to be a potato peel.
After eighteen, I learned to follow my own stars.
I acted, was in movies and naughty Pangie met writers, actors
and even famed musicians in bars.
No, not two bit wanna-be writers or actors at all!
Those in real movies, published writers and all!
They were regular friends and visitors at my small house.
Don't think for a minute, I am a bookish mouse.
Decades of a wild life, nothing boring, not ever.
Boredom and I do not get along, 'tis not my pleasure.
Hey, I don't kneel to any poet here!
And neither should you, sing of only your soul's cheer!
Be you, no matter what.
If others do not like that, well, tut- tut.
I love writing at zany four a.m.
It seems the world and I get down perfectly, then!
It's the most exuberant time of my
day.
I want to run outside in the cold and shout, ole!
I think I was blessed, the minute I was born.
Some hate that and look at me with green, jealous scorn!
Two authors used me as characters in their books.
Boy, that's exciting, so stop giving me second looks.
I don't try to impress you with words or forms.
Couplets for me, are so norm!
I love real people not filled with baloney.
Poets like that are not my cronies.
I cannot type as most of geniuses do.
So all my poems are one finger-dos!
Yes, and my long-winded comments, too.
Sorry, but can't just say a word or two.
Where am I going, what's the rush?
I tell it like it is....so very much.
So that's only partly who I am.
I still am growing, hoping to be a better human!
I'd like to see more openness.
Tis my crystal dream in this poetical forest.
11-29-2020
4:30 am
Title of poem...credited to.Max Highstein..album "GRATITUNE".
That is how it is spelled ..not a typo.
The name Scot denoting a man, combined with terra.
Translated; Scotland.! a masculine descriptive will it be
Banned.? By the idiocracy; with a non-descriptive..?
Dystopian' most bland..The most disconnect could be
Planned? To remove the (hate word) we know as Scotland'
Police of unknown place unsaid..' Consider it reported!!
Let the originator dread.' un-justified lawfare should be now
Unleashed, upon this most unfortunate beast, so ready the
Capsule 'you in blue' go back two millenia! my advice
To you.' Make recordings and drink some mead, get back
Here present; above light speed, and bring offenders one
And all.' Give them chance to offer their call, then haul them
Off to that nazis son..Bald head and glasses.? Do you know
The one? Hangs out with soros who 'shopped his own' and
He's got his wrinkled rump on the money throne..'
Who buys his cronies, with the funding he got, from that
ss colonel..What a sorry lot?? So its do your worst now
These days not a joke..You all hate reality, things are up in
Smoke.' Hate crime the lawfare, buzzwords your proof just
Denigrate reality and confuse your youth, Its a real bad
Deal, btw? Is that all you've got? for hundreds of millons.! Too
Bad you've lost the plot.' Yet I wonder if the money goes
Back to davos? no matter what outcome' scoros still
Finances from out; of those cypresses groves.'
a lot of intrigue, plenty of danger and a little bit of romance
a fatal conspiracy, God's destiny with a touch of bribery and finance
the Bible's book of Esther reads like a modern novel that contains all these things
but the book of Esther never mentions the Lord God by His name
even thougth the Lord God's name is not written
the presence of the Lord is certainly not hidden
King Xerxes of Persia had a feast and was in a drunken stance
when he ordered Queen Vashti to come forth and perform a risque dance
Queen Vashti refused to abide by the King's drunken request
the King was so affronted that he kicked out of the royal nest
King Xerxes was a ruler with a weak constitution
easily swayed by others in his royal conclusions
influenced by his cronies he signed many decrees and unfair laws
to inebriated and unable to see that they were flawed
with Queen Vashti now exiled the King desired to attain a new queen
and that was when a comely Jewish maiden arrived on the scene
her heritage and nationality remained unknown to the monarchy
until the day King Xerxes signed a most horrendous decree
a plot was put into place, its purpose to destroy the Jews
so Queen Esther urged by her Uncle Mordecai knew what she had to do
and despite the fact that her actions would put her life on the line
she saw the hand of God at work and knew that this was now her time
for such a time as this her mission was to be an agent for the Lord
her destiny was to make right a wrong and put all in accord
destined for greatness by following God's holy instructions
destined for greatness to save a nation from total destruction
God is in charge and will use any woman or man
to fulfill His promises according to His master plan
God is sovereign and He's in total control
so give Him all the glory when He defines for you your role
Queen Vashti's removal allowed Queen Esther to be in a place
positioned by the hand of God to provide her people His saving grace
for nothing in life in coincidence, it's all God's destiny
according to His Holy Word that is the prophecy
destined for greatness for such a time as this
the Bible's book of Esther a story that should not be missed
the Irony meter gasket
is blown again and again
with every statement
of our chaos president
and his endless surrogates
promoting the latest Presidential
on spot guidance by our great leader
that must be true
because our dear leader
says it is so
The President accuses his democratic rival
of being senile and needs to be in home
and will be run by his radical left allies
and the right wing media
echoes the presidential absurd comments
refusing to acknowledge
that the president himself
is rapidly fading into dementia
and his radical right cronies
are looting the government
driving out expertise
even in the midst of pandemic
Oh yeah the irony meters
are blowing gaskets
every single day
Aint nothing in life so weak and parasitic
As the smug self-delusional heckling critic
Sick with repressed envy and a manner most vile
He slithers to his seat to vent his acrid bile
Bereft of any talent to do anything himself
Can't wait to put the boot into everybody else
Can't act, can't dance, can't sing, can't play
Wouldn't have the nuts to get up on stage anyway
Sad man, sad man, silly little sad man.
Really rates himself as a man who knows his stuff
Mouthing well-used insults (too dumb for off-the-cuff)
When you're up there playing he'll inevitably try
To portray mock disdain if you ever catch his eye
So pay no mind to this impotent imbecile
Who follows his calling with unrelenting zeal
No wit, no style, no clout, no class
The turgid remains of a charisma bypass
Sad man, sad man, pity for the sad man.
Like a keyboard warrior, an internet troll
Loves it when his barbs hit an unsuspecting goal
And if you ever flinch, he's got you mind and soul
Thinks this master of the moment the ninja in control
Next time I'm performing I pray that he will show
I'll come on all guns blazing, and hope he has a go
This piteous mug who'll dismiss me with a sneer
Chuckling with his cronies at how bad I've been up here
On social media you can bet he'll go to town
Spewing forth his venom as he tries to put me down
No joy, no smile, no love, no praise
A pitiful indictment of his hollow darklit days.
Sad man, sad man, silly little sad man.
'Twas close to the day when Buba Claus,
His red nose and Bowie knife shining,
Would be off to fill the manly's hearths,
With bacon for their frying.
The ground was bare of snow or ice,
The sky was clear of reindeer.
But Buba Claus was loading his sleigh,
Real high, with good stout Yule beer?
Buba Claus was out in force,
His NRA cronies in tow,
To fill naughty radicals stockings,
With tiny bits of coal.
Cigars dangled from their lips,
A spittoon he placed by their feet,
And, before the sleigh rose off the ground;
They tossed in another side of beef.
Each carnivore, they laughingly swore;
Would have their fill this year,
And Bambi blanched as He flew by,
While Teddy Bears ran in fear!
Over New Canaan His courses flew,
Past the homes of vegetarians;
And down their chimneys they did toss;
The views of Libertarians! (gasp)
And when the last haunch was placed,
Upon the spits of the mighty,
His spat his cud of gnarly gum,
Into the spittoon real tidy!
Then he flew off with a Ho, Ho, Ho,
And, not the ones for plowing (wink)
Cause Buba Claus had his own ideas
Of all Santa's sissy endowings!
Johnny got his gun that May day
sent by Nixon's cronies to betray unarmed souls
to Kent State with rifles, bayonets,
and thirteen students were gunned down on the grass knoll.
With cries against Dick's bloody war
young civilians burned and swore, "bring the warriors home."
They had enough of gore and lies
of Unconstitutional Wars and napalm bone.
We've guns at home, guns abroad
"What are we fighting for?" they cried out, and were killed
Few even remember a name
of four young people, Allison, Jeff, Sandra and Will.
A Republic formed by revolt
remembers well how to gain, get your gun my son
for Big Brothers got his again
and a bullets a very hard thing to outrun.
*The Kent State Massacre - May 4, 1978
Never never forget your own government took rifle toting
bayonette pointed troops onto college campuses and killed
four unarmed students, youths and wounded more, paralyzing
one. If they could do this.....
I am not an American
But I have got the hump
Not with all Americans
Mainly with D J Trump.
He has muddled my thinking.
And turned my reasoning upside down,
And wiped the smile from my face,
Replacing it with a frown.
He has an enormous ego,
One that all can see
Cult supporters follow everywhere he goes,
And there is no more incredible leader than he.
He talks a load of nonsense,
That his followers believe.
His way of Presiding
It is impossible to conceive,
A privileged life is all he has known,
Perhaps this is why
He acts like a King without a throne.
He sings and dances,
And makes silly gestures when on stage
He hypnotises and "intrances"
Some others are enraged
Through his manipulation and power over some
That's why most American Republicans,
Look sad and highly strung.
Who can blame them when it's plain to see
All D J Trump is concerned with is Me Me Me.
All he is concerned with is money and power,
He doesn't stop conniving while sitting in his Ivory Tower.
Counting all the cash
That he takes from his cronies
An enormous stash.
D J Trump, your reign is about to end,
People are gossiping about you and
Say you have gone around the bend
Around the bend, that road is mighty long
Mental Institution or prison cell
Where do you belong?
Note
Since when has intrance become an archaic word,
I thought (in trance) explained itself perfectly.
Mercury Delgado ruled as a drug lord,
a title that he had earned violently,
started as a dealer, worked his way up
by killing his foes mercilessly,
there was no end to his power and greed.
But a hero cop had him in his sights,
so Delgado called his henchman on night.
He said he wanted to send a message,
one that was exceedingly vile,
put a hit out on the cop’s family,
said one henchman,”You mean kill a child?!”
Delgado stared at him, angry and wild,
then pulled a gun, shot him through a neck,
the others left quick as he bled to death.
Detective Jones was on duty that night,
but got a call when the horror was found,
his three-year old daughter, his pregnant wife…
were in pools of blood, strewn across the ground,
it was obvious what had gone down.
The city police were now set to kill,
were hunting for Delgado with a crazed will.
Now Delgado knew this would bring some heart,
so he went underground and laid low,
his associated were all questioned hard,
but no facts did they confess to know,
the police anger had nowhere to go,
even will a killing public and bold
Tte law soon found that the trail had gone cold.
The drug lord believed he was in the clear,
began planning to return to his life,
but then they found one of his best dealers
impaled on a giant Bowie knife,
and there was no sign of struggle or strife.
He knew it the work of Detective Jones;
put a price on his head, made it well known.
He expected his cronies to come back
and report that the detective was dead,
instead he found his best hitman cut down,
his stomach not so much flesh as lead,
at least that’s what his cronies had said,
Delgado himself wouldn’t risk going out,
Jones was on a rampage, there was no doubt.
And as tense days went by, more bad news came,
his dealers and foot soldiers were slain.
How could just one cop do so much damage?
The thought of the carnage hurt his brain,
And all efforts to resist were in vain,
he’d send out ten men to ambush this fool,
maybe one would come back, smelling of stool...
CONCLUDES IN PART II