Long Das Poems
Long Das Poems. Below are the most popular long Das by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Das poems by poem length and keyword.
"FAKE" assertions unstoppably
bandied with beef,
(sans doughty deeds done dirt cheap)
courtesy of commander in chief
trumpeted as a way to backout,
embarrassment analogous to the thief
of Baghdad, when culpable faux pas
woe philly pops thought balloon of mine
reckons with transparent "good grief"
within mind of yours truly,
who finds himself dumbstruck
aghast, and shaking noggin with disbelief
how people can be so gullible
who would just as lief
eat a pin cushion to deliver strep throat relief.
First amendment teeter totters on brink
of dissolution mainly by the rat fink,
whose defamation against journalists
risking life and limb, yet not shrink
king enlightening liberal minded, who think
similar to myself, imposter
hood drums utter rubbish
while feeling teed off puttering
along Mar a Lago,
or another owned golf link
resorting to silence protesters
whisked off to the klink.
Distortions, (nee outright
blatant lies) saturate
social media platforms,
which followers didst rate
as their numero uno slate
supposedly reliable sources
harkening back to papa retaliate
Tory Bush prez administration,
regarding patrilineal shogunate
where Iraq summarily
targeted for crashing Kuwait
violating, jeopardizing, and
compromising vital oil, literate
folks suspected, that critical
lubricant mandatory to resonate
greasing western civilization
particularly self anointed great
super power USA, hence
alarmists didst exaggerate,
whose military intelligence
industrial leaders got irate
contracting complex projecting
global economy would vacillate
and, perhaps take Kamikaze nosedive
hence procrastination could not wait
demanding based on sketchy accusation
Saddam Hussein, and his ilk ultimate
harbored weapons of mass destruction
despite lack of distilled proof,
would severely truncate
nary a trace sniffed out,
nonetheless damn the torpedoes blitzed
in an effort to triangulate
miscreant running amuck
eventually met demise
with Bush Junior delivering
permanently placating tete a tete,
no matter dispensing top notch
fighting soldiers, whose strong
lifeless bloodied bodies remain prostate.
Piedade das pessoas Felizes
Ninguém tem pena das pessoas felizes. As pessoas adoram ter angústias, inseguranças, dúvidas existenciais dilacerantes, porque é isso que funciona na nossa sociedade.
As pessoas com problemas são sempre mais interessantes.
E, no entanto, as pessoas felizes também sofrem muito. Sofrem, sobretudo, de «culpa». Se elas estão felizes, rodeadas de pessoas tristes, é lógico que pensem que há ali qualquer coisa que não bate certo.
As infelizes acusam sempre os felizes de terem a culpa. Insinuam sempre que é «em cima» de alguém. Não se pode rir sem que pensem que se está a rir de alguém ou de qualquer coisa.
Ser feliz no meio de muita gente infeliz é como ser muito rico no meio de um bairro-de-lata. Só sabe bem a quem for perverso.
Infelizmente, a felicidade não é contagiosa. A alegria, sim, e a boa disposição, talvez, mas a felicidade, jamais. Porque a felicidade não pode ser partilhada, não pode ser explicada, não tem propriamente razão.
Nós, - as pessoas felizes - não despertamos interesse nenhum porque somos felizes. Muitos felizardos veem-se obrigados a fingir a dor que deveras não sentem, só para poderem «fazer parte».
Portanto, vamos dar um pouco de piedade para as pessoas felizes.
Donald Trump Das Fuehrer's Braggadocio
Wrapped up in the Christmas holiday spirit,
I surmise doth allow
nationally collective obliviousness
to steer ship of state
(these United States)
to suffer retaliatory browbeat
ting activates, detonates, generates
je nais sais quois maliciousness
upon North American consciousness
from wickedly vehement uproarious tirades
the "FAKE" president doth crow,
whereby every word uttered
by the misfit mealy mouthed madman
in the Oval Office directly
impacts Lady Liberty, sans dow
wager even when the brash,
defensive, haughty...commander
in chief doth raised by alternately
by one or both colored eyebrow,
which nonverbal hostile
body language triggers
concomitant domino fallout
to devastating effect,
whereby analogous nee
palpable invisible reverberations
trigger thee threat
of global mortal Kombat flow
war moves the dial on
the Doomsday Clock to foreshadow
the stark realization of glow
bull thermonuclear conflict to hoe
var ominously over planet Earth,
which scenario haint Noah Joe
king matter, cuz
more'n juiced *****sapiens know
wingly, would be decimated,
where from Noel fierce
riding hobby horse, could
weather thee irrevocable low
down, once bombs away loosed,
and poised to strike
every fibrous marrow
with an irreversible tendon cee,
yet some hardy
species might narrow
lee escape radioactive fallout,
and blithely usurp meaning overthrow
this most menacing creature,
whose opposable thumb didst pro
pell the nasty, short tempered,
and mean minded
to upset status quo
and shred of a fatalistic,
graphic, and horrific roadshow
no Wizard of Oz (zee us born)
negating, obliterating, and pulverizing
the uninhabitable landscape
with burnt offerings
much more frightful than scarecrow,
which worst case scenario,
could explode today or tomorrow
leaving no trace of unlovely bones
merely mass cremated powder,
hence forsaked salvation
from... say Beto
O'Rourke, whose actively
democratic gumption joisted paradigm
grim fate recklessly
(hypothetically) did veto.
The rye mustard field, glowing with a morning diva, faded in colors within afternoon
The river runs just beside ;
“O reverie! What shall the song be in the chanting verse, unsung in me and thee!”
The branches of the oak tree , trace upon chest of yours, whence
The tree shade adores you in blue
Patsy sounds in farther and farther a try, follow through
These for having an echo in those stalking sounds, whence together , sounds cry
Was there ever a river meandering nearby?
“O reverie! What shall the song be in the chanting verse, unsung in me and thee!”
You , my soulmate, a fall to befall in shape, mine to undermine
The farther I run away to shy - you trace me back there with your toddler efforts to intertwine
I hear your foamy shore, sounds of me with my child, daylong, a silly whim to be around awhile
Enchantance overflowing with eloquence (seemingly so)
Eloquence and ongoing eloquence never a bit tiresome
This very river
A flock of fishes rainbow colors on the river chest
The herd of flamingo , white lilies the remotest oasis around the deepest river basin
Men did not intervene, as these, are never to be seen.
WARNING..THIS IS A HUMOR PIECE ONLY,
Under the tree, poet mouse sat.
All those punctured with the vaxx
said “scat”!
Brown eyes filled with tears on
Christmas night.
Shaking and cold, she was filled
with ice and fright.
Seeing rotund men in Avatars calling
for the end of her life.
Death being du jour for any brave
enough to stand as God’s child free
on Christmas night.
Die Fuehrer has from his grave arisen.
His mustache and Zig Heil, sending
many to poetry prison.
Avoided, bullied, even poet’s best friends
took leave.
No longer warm or loving, the vaxx was
their singular, loving need!
12/26/2921
To all. A blessed and Happy New Year,!
Be free in mind, expression and life.
Thats how God mde you.
To be uniquely you.
No dupicates! Panagiota.Romios...
Mein Das-Stilled Vintage Spirits Score-Hitched...
From Bottled Up Rage
Daily app pair rent
revelation, observation, and
intimation invariably concludes,
this aging baby
boomer (albeit youthful)
inescapably lock up
(until death me part)
inside complex edifice
re: guarding self made trap
rocketing into orbitz
of mine twilight years thrusts,
upon this pop (sic) crack
kill forcibly to snap
attention back into
the present, yet unable
to shake off feeling dismayed,
viz hit ting head
with bleak recap
cha regular basis finds me
reassessing, reliving,
and reviewing
psychologically pock
marked scarred
psyche indelibly mapped
e'er since this narrator hapt
tubby a little boy at
tender preschool age
his esprit de corp
joie de vivre analogous
to a rat locked
in an undersize invisible cage
devoid of emotional, physical,
and spiritual equipage
with 20/20 hindsight, I attest,
he seemed bereft
of empathy gauge
as attested by donning
slovenly swiftly tailored,
unkempt harried styled
appearance, a foiled image
that any stranger, family
member, or classmate
could discern, sans
intuitive knowledge
Hawaii didst poorly manage
thyself and island
did self smoldering
wool worth deadly sabotage!
No body killed me, in our lives of Odyssey
No body killed me, in our lives of Odyssey - they are no longer to be seen
There are crows in abundance around this balcony- yet, the tired one I knew when Life began
No more- many years before there was a flock of those among plethora of mangoes and plums
Crows to be seen, daylong, throughout, those memory lanes of childhood, serene
Those days are gone by, this world will not remember those days, anymore
Early dawn still to be in blossoming morn, and the bird chirping from the tree branch
Still this day, I am caught up in amazing zeal, rumination
The thought of this occupies me , only this. Where could the old soul be? What could happen?
The river , inundated field, meadow , grass, those are all gone as time took those with. There.
That day, that night, those droplets on hair, after the shower, soggy wet hands
About those trees and fruits and snails and all about those young palms
Those soaked sands, flower adored rural path, steamingly hot bowl of rice
Where all of those gone?- Innumerable numbers crows are noisy soaring high in the sky
Early morning, harvesting morning of today , with a heavy heart and heartache, unknown.
I am my own person
A non-conformist to the core
If all of us were replicas
Life then would be a bore.
I never confine myself to rules
I do pretty much as I please
I listen to my inner voice
Rules make me ill at ease.
I am the shy type
I am fine, it's me
I love lonely contemplation
I delight in my company, you see.
Rules on how to eat right, speak right, dress right
A disaster to me spells
Follow all these I might
If only I were someone else.
Reading is my passion
Books my greatest treasure
Books are my addiction
Oh what endless pleasure.
I never insist others conform to such and such
I have tolerance for others differences
Let others be themselves pretty much
Happy with their own preferences.
Married to a man divinely blessed
Kind, humble, down-to-earth
Home is filled with happiness
Contentment, joy and mirth.
Live and let live, my motto in life
Happiness and contentment my goal
Greatly fear war and strife
I am myself, the unique human soul.
(alternately known as the Doubting Thomas Crown
Taj Mahal Cupid Affair)
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Fortunate (for me) thee bona fide "FAKE" Cupid
(aka Decoy Donald Duck
and side kickstarter Jay Rad,
colluded donning one alias,
which (former and latter)
amounted tube bing disguised incognito
as the cingular "Ivan Ha Bea Robber Baron),"
while same above placed
their System Of A Down on high alert
whereby, they unwittingly, fortunately,
and accidentally discerned disquieting "noise"
i.e. static electronic crackling
purportedly from nemesis, asper sans above
whereby broadcasters colluded
confusingly, congruously, and convincingly
as thee infamous digital (duplicity)
faux "Big Mac" Trump.
The chalkboard scratching, hair sprayed bouffant,
and knuckle crackling
appeared tubby the handiwork cleverly disguised
(as tinpot dictator antics of Moscow's version,
sans Putin on the ritz),
which decrypted garble (a fluke) as iterated above
strongly emanating via polygamous,
prestigious, and pseudonymous
pull no punches ploy
innocently convincing feigned
duo code named "Ashley Madison and Bert"
disclosing (when uncovered),
a heartless conspiracy in concert
with Sesame Street studded lesser known Muppets
pretending tubby oil tycoon Bedouins
intent to fleece "sensitive"
top secret military defense contracts,
which Russian motley crue ace double agents
intended this act of espionage thence sabotage
feted as a Black Sabbath Lupercalia feint
not for the faint hearted clubby fete
where Cupid given free rule of the roost
allowing, enabling and proffering
Cyrillic chattering Cherubim
hook cooked United States "figurative goose"
lock, stock and barrel, which stratagem
captured president unawares
and did significantly boost
Eastern Bloc reconnaissance (on par
with the Philadelphia Eagles
winning 2018 Super Bowl LII
which surprise clenching championship
wrought frenzied hoopla, gala, and bacchanalia
where barenaked ladies
cavorted nsync with beastie boys,
whence City of Brotherly love hoopla found
nearly every man, woman and child soused
(analogous to each person garnering
an early Sainted Patrick's pot of gold.
predicated on verb hose noun sense
with brain matter makes me astute
and this union with the trappings
of virtual reality tub boot
would be akin to heaven
within the domain of this atheist - ole coot
whose purr add ventures scripting verse
sit aisle feeble rhyme with no reason
moost definitely hi yam not terse
aye speculate yar facial reaction
(understandably) would be
toe step from this purse
son i.e. Daff Punk Matthew Scott Harris
when ma time to ride luxuriously
in a plushly jeweled hearse
carrying thigh cremated ash
disagrees with me credo, ethos,
faith no more much less brash
since be yen entombed
in a coffin resistant to crash
vis a vis atoms either
forcibly split (divorced)
or tum marry in a shotgun flash
(fission or fusion respectively)
exhausts precious natural race horses
cruelly whipped
stinging fresh fielded gash
where putrescent hide of Equus resembles hash
sheesh, how in the of Judas Priest
did hie veer off into the least
common denominator,
which absolute value increased
the totally tubular confusion
into a worthless jumbled gobbledygook feast.