Long Damnit Poems
Long Damnit Poems. Below are the most popular long Damnit by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Damnit poems by poem length and keyword.
I tried to the stop the climate change
I tried to stop the war
I tried to stop addiction
From my spot on the tavern floor
I used to fight the good fight
I don't do that anymore
'cause I'm powerless
And god dammit, I'm proud
I used to have opinions
That were of a certain ilk
My arguments, all polished
My reasoning, smooth as silk
You can drink your quart of Kool-Aid
And call it chocolate milk –
Me I'm powerless,
And God damnit, I'm proud
We like to think
Like to think we know the score
Screaming from our windows:
I won't take it anymore!
With the subtlety of billboards
And logic, bottom-drawer
When deep inside, we know
We're full of bull at the core
I saw placards, I heard slogans
Spouting in the market square
In the exurb of a suburb
Of affluent Montclair
The banality of platitudes
Rises from one's derriere
So be powerless
And God damnit, be proud
OMG! What do you mean that
There's no service at this time?
Well my provider better be ready,
To pay a pretty penny or a dime.
At least they were kind enough,
To send a quick text to let me know.
That they need a few more hours to
Try and restore my lost bloodflow.
Well what the hell do they expect me
To do, now that I'm left all alone?
I mean, no TV, no internet, no music ...
Does life go on as it's been known?
Now I'm trying to search my memory,
Of how we all survived before these days.
Whether battling dungeons and dragons,
Or being a shortstop making plays.
So as I'm forced to stop surfing my digital waves,
I'll turn back the clock and go 'old-school'.
Where opening a book and using a pen & paper,
May substitute for interaction and be new fuel.
This might lead to more face-to-face meets,
Even those I'd rather avoid.
As my options seem limited, but damnit,
I can't be more annoyed!
Yet here I sit confessing my anger,
Feeling inept to accomplish anything more.
While I try to find some creativity,
Awaiting the nets return, just as before.
You gave it 6 years
Just not meant to be
You shed zero tears
But what about me
A nerdy, know it all
Reminds me of dad
But damnit, I love him
He’s family, not fad
It took me some time
To warm to his ways
Accepting his rhyme
Unique style of play
He was so very weird
But weird became good
His intentions clear
He stood where he stood
He was never ashamed
And that, I respect
At times he seemed lame
Now that I, Reflect
But, here at the end
Imperfections are moot
We welcomed him in
His weird, became cute
I don’t want to do this
To lose my dear brother
I resent who comes next
I wish for no other
How can I be friends
With a home wrecking lad
I’m tired of new trends
I loved what we had
...The bear returned to his great feast,
and the trigger squeezed on back.
The gun barked, led striking deep,
the bear roared at the attack.
It raced off into the woods,
dashing for a creekside,
but the bullet had rent it’s heart,
it stumbled, fell, and died.
Conner walked up to the bear,
reloading quickly as he went,
ever ready to let loose again
if the bruin was not spent.
But the bear was truly down and dead,
it would pass no more this way.
Then Conner glanced in horror at
the grizzly’s final prey…
He saw a spot of blue amidst
a horrid, scarlet smear,
then a touch of orange and green,
he knew it was no deer.
Pacing close he saw the ruin
of what was a human face
torn by claws and awesome force,
he gagged and turned away.
Despite the damage he knew the man,
he’d seem him the day before,
twas the young hippie who’d led the fools,
who’d led the protestors.
Conner fought the urge to vomit,
to just take off and sprint,
fool or not, no man could deserve
what had been done to him.
He knew he had to find a place,
where he’d get cell reception.
the police needed to see all this
and take the proper actions.
He asked himself how this had come,
but knew the answer clear,
the problem bear had walked right in,
devoid of fright or fear.
He figured that it had found their camp,
maybe drawn by food smells.
it had come at night, found this young man
and dragged him into Hell.
Conner shook his head and sighed,
Then said to the empty air:
“Damnit kid, why couldn’t you let me
hunt this stinking bear…”
I'm a blue collar worker who works outdoors
and I'm also required to wear a hard hat all day.
My exposed skin and face tan at a very fast pace,
but beneath that hard hat, absolutely no way.
The last time I went bandanna free,
someone got distracted, lost their footing and tripped.
All I heard as I fled the scene was, "Did you see that human Q-tip?"
In addition to speaking in rhyme, I dress in black all the time
but that shouldn't reflect upon my personality.
I just claim not to be so great when I attempt to color coordinate
but the simple truth is black is safe and I'm just lazy.
I live the single lifestyle and by that I simply mean that I have chosen to live alone.
I enjoy True Solitude, so I don't share living quarters very well.
My home has to be My Home.
I keep mostly to myself but that shouldn't suggest that I can't be the life of the party.
Back in my day I wore many a lampshade.
Now I've calmed down. I don't party too hearty.
Well, enough about me. What about you?
What are your interests, your passions?
What do You like to do?
Who knows where this might go or how it might end.
At the very least, I Hope to find A Real and True Friend.
Oh yeah, one last thing I need to mention to you.
A little sex from you also would be very nice too.
I was doing very well. I was doing just fine
and then I had to blow it with the very last line.
Am I right ladies? Damnit!
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Please do not respond to the above ad ladies. It is now null and void. I pretty much live the
life of a hermit these days.
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I’m offended by ‘ski slope,’
they should be ‘ski inclines,’
they’re insulting Asian people,
have those fools lost their minds?
I’m offender by ‘Black’ Russians,
when made by pale people,
I’m offended by ‘cow’ boys,
for excluding the bulls!
I’m offended by those who will
mock diversity,
the world would be much better off
if more folks thought like me!
I’m offended by gun owners
who protect their own lives,
it’s unfair that they show such strength,
when I can’t protect mine!
I’m offended some gay people
realize they’re really straight,
why did we even give them choice
if they were going that way?
I’m offended by fast food joints
that serve children French fries,
and when they change to apple slices
I’m offended my kids cry!
I’m offended by the government,
oh wait—now we’re in charge?
Then I hate the fools who protest us,
who do they think they are?!
I’m offended by those women
who take their husband’s name,
but happy when husbands take hers,
that just makes my whole day.
I’m offended when I hear people
say judge by ‘what’s inside,’
don’t these fools know it’s bigotry
to ignore someone’s hide?
I’m mad at those not offended,
don’t they know it’s currency?
And that there isn’t a person
more offended than me?
I take offense at the right things,
and that must make me rich,
poor folks always hate their betters,
that’s why they moan and b--ch!
Do not tell me how the world works
when I want things mended,
you're why we have no utopia,
damnit, I’m offended!
To break a man's life down
into digits, to numbers,
might seem strange to you;
distant, or heartless, or just odd.
But that was just our way;
we'd both been dubbed 'robot'
at one time or another.
So that's what I'll do.
Forty years; two thousand, ninety five weeks.
Fourteen thousand, six hundred and sixty seven days.
Three hundred, fifty two thousand hours.
Twenty one million, one hundred twenty thousand minutes.
We were each fortunate to have a share,
for each one was spent in service.
Some to his country, some to his ethics;
some to a laugh, and all to those he loved.
His knowledge, his time, his effort -
none were ever withheld or hoarded.
It was yours, the moment he could give it;
all you had to do was ask.
If greed means always wanting more,
never saying 'plenty', never being satisfied -
then today, we're all as greedy as they come.
Because twenty one million is just not enough, damnit.
But no matter how great its stature,
even mountains don't last forever -
especially the ones that are in the shape of men.
So goodbye, Mouse.
Dad, Smasher Twelve Twenty Eight,
Karl von Konigsberg;
Charlie.
I wish we could hit that button...
for just one more turn.
It was a ways back in the late nineties,
I was ski racing in New York, upstate,
atop a long and winding Super G,
the fastest discipline in which I partake.
I’d made state championships three times,
but had never gotten much higher,
it didn’t help having an older brother
who to Olympic dreams aspired.
My coaches all said the problem was
that I was not aggressive enough.
Perfect technique and masterful control
just did not bring me much luck.
So on that day I said,”Screw it!
Just bomb the whole course down.”
The start ref said “racer ready,” I went
in a tuck, staying low to the ground.
Pressing forwards ‘till my shins bruised,
I was rocketing along in fine style,
pulling down the kinds of split times
that I had not seen in a while.
I must’ve broken sixty that run,
the gates came unusually quick,
nut it was all or nothing, I told myself
and through the icy ruts I ripped.
Then, before it could even register,
blue fabric flashed by the wrong eye.
it had come so fast I couldn’t move,
the gate quickly passing by.
The run of my life, already half done,
Now rendered totally meaningless.
I skied down the side, stuck in a daze,
my mind refusing to register it.
Later in the lodge, making things worse,
I learned from some buds on the team,
that the same older brother who lived to win
had walked away with the race easily.
Impossible moments, they still haunt me,
twenty years on and I’m still cursing fate
for bringing me to the cusp of glory…
and then I miss the blasted gate!
Ahhhhhhh!
God damnit! I need a beer. Somebody get me a beer.
Sit down - by Dominique Smith
Sit down! Sit yo ass down! You need to chill. What happened!? Whatever it is it's your fault. Because I see you as a problem with no solution. No one is looking at you. Sure try and say( hi) They'll think you have an attitude. You say nothing and you have a bad mood.
Sit down somewhere maybe you'll blend in, No not there, that has people. No not there either they don't know you. Smile! No not like that, you look like a murderer! Omg just sit down! Why are you shaking?! You're too old for this ! Damnit pull it together and sit down. You look lost and stupid! This is why you got what you got as a kid. You cant go home now! You just got here! You're too sweaty! For sake smile!!! HEY! shut the up!
You're doing great. Just pick a spot and sit down. You look amazing and you're the one In control. Remember that you are great. I love you so much, you make you're own sunshine! Now take your seat and sit down.
You buy into this PC-stuff,
it seems you always have,
but now I think that you have
gone just a little mad.
You demand I call you ‘Jane,’
when you were born a ‘Rick,’
I hate to say it, but I will:
Dude, you’re not a chick.
You can dress up like a girl,
that’s entirely your right,
and I don’t care a whit about
who you take home at night.
But if you think I’ll go along,
as if I buy into all of it,
guess again, I will not lie
and say that you’re a chick.
You my hate me for this stand,
but it’s one I hate to take.
To think you can beat reality
is always a mistake.
Biology is a harsh mistress,
for feeling sit cares not a lick,
your chromosomes are set in stone,
you can never be a chick.
And there’s a greater reason
why I say these things to you:
A forty percent suicide rate,
a terrible, crushing truth.
There’s no point enabling
a mind that may be sick,
to die from this is quite insane,
please see, you’re not a chick.
Don’t storm off and shout names,
don’t stay on this rough path.
Some things just cannot be changed,
cannot be brought to task.
I don’t want to see your picture,
in obituaries, proud and slick,
I’d rather you just get some help,
dude, you’re not a chick.
…a local was found dead today of apparent suicide. Jane Williams, born Rick, was reported missing by relatives yesterday. Police arrived at his home and discovered a body this morning…
God damnit.