Long Debits Poems
Long Debits Poems. Below are the most popular long Debits by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Debits poems by poem length and keyword.
Battery (for Hyundai Sonata) Needed Today
Frugality worn by fiat generated
by alternate fickle finger of fate,
the plus side being said vehicle
parked here in public Salem's lot,
where I live with said diabolical mate
at highland manor apartments
penury run me underground in potter's
grave adversity doth unfortunately accelerate
curse to finance repairs of titled automobile,
more'n six months ago plus of late,
where saving impossible mission more
difficult than resurrecting the dead
even an atheist (like me) could activate,
thus this poet blithely doth adumbrate
posthumous renown much more likely than
mine corporel flesh (a complex conglomerate
edifice), essentially if present automotive
woe continues, one beastie boy aggregate,
oven ironic steely dan sing nature
unstoppable trooper, respectable,
and likeable rubber re: soul apostate
ascending, bridging, and
crossing unscheduled airdate
not set, whirling wide arms akimbo
webbed spirit world whose
self worth did depreciate,
this future disembodied
essence death will alleviate
he can deliberately leverage,
imagine, and envisage, I do articulate
mean, kickstartering (ill) luck knowing
postage overdue, I anticipate
outstanding debts unpaid
monies ash should urn
at grave robber's rate
within an eternity and
credit debits to eliminate
delay getting transported
into another dimension
NO colorful bedecked Apartheid
of time space, nonetheless
perhaps choosing reincarnate
entity formerly matter
of Matthew Scott Harris
doth unconsciously assimilate
painlessly whatsapp pining
for xfinity (away off into
verizon) accommodate
ting with easy equipoise no
difficulty to assimilate
linkedin with alternate
universe, where "FAKE" prelate
will presidentially usher
trumpet, shutterfly, annunciate
one successful Earthly gadfly,
donning imprimatur to communicate
with bone a fide skull fullness!
Depth of the Darkness
Where I am
Unknown even to me
The dizziness
Dis-orientations linger here or
Maybe there
I am not quite sure
Other than I have drowned
Emptiness overcomes even
The sadness
Eyelids, do I have them?
Emptiness you see is a blindness
Seeping into the nether lands of my heart
No longer caring
Or daring
Hidden in the darkness
At all the staring
BANG
Thunder
Struck by a fantasy
Off I go, on the expressways of tears
Lights bright, then darkness
Darkness then bright lights
I am sitting now
In someone's Den, maybe mine?
Caressing, holding
Yet...............
There I am so silent
Alive?
SMILING
I am smiling right into a smile
A smile stares back
Filled with a warmth
Never before felt
In this lifetime or the ones before
Seconds become minutes
Become hours
No words are spoken
There exists but a tenderness
Of thoughts
Passing from me to the smiling one
From her to me
Fear of breaking the spell
Is this the full accounting of it all?
Have the gods balanced the books?
Of all things I expose to her
The debits and credits
Why I have no idea
But she is smiling, always smiling
I see colors
Plump wonderful huggable colors
I never saw before
My oh such wonderful thoughts
Slowly, both so fearful
Memories entwined with pains shared
Outstretched arms reaching
Radiant, solar is her smile
Angelic in an earthly way
A smile of all things
Filled with a bouquet of love
In eyes that have voices
Skies so clear
Filling with clouds
Floating
There I am
Back into the night
Of eternal darkness
As I toss the key to all in the wind
Having been robbed of all emotions
In a haze of nothingness
There is still a little pain
And a seed of hope
As the soul rots a little more
Into the sands
Lacking passion
Is humanities only crime
One year ago Dictator Putin’s
Massed military might
Invaded the Ukraine
Not really expecting any fight.
One year later, with increasing
Frustration and despair,
Putin’s battered conscript army
Is still trapped and fighting there.
Like all modern military bullies
They failed to understand
The power of the patriot when
Asked to defend his land.
So many recent example
Of the futility of wars
When Military ambitions face
A defender with a cause.
Vietnam, Iraq, Afghanistan,
All refused to accept defeat
Although battered and torn
Each forced invader to retreat.
With arrogance and ignorance
They don’t learn or even care
Of the proverb telling of the power
Of sword turning into ploughshare.
In the end it’s down to statistics
The invader finally accepts he’s lost
When faced with the ever mounting
Life, material, and economic cost.
They leave behind chaos while,
Like hungry vultures they hover,
Waiting for the ready profits there
As they offer assistance to recover.
The purveyor of munitions
Not really taking any side,
Quietly counts his profits from
The sales he’s made worldwide.
And gleefully rubs his hands
Waiting for the rise in sales
That aftermath of a conflict
Inevitably entails.
The bully has to replace arms
He’s used on the battleground
And so the oil of commerce
Makes the World go round.
For the whole World knows
There’s no way to compete
With satisfaction gained
From a healthy profit sheet.
Putin still sits in Moscow
So immaculately dressed
Repressing a country that’s
Been constantly repressed.
POTUS sits in Washington
Land supposedly of the free
Where anyone can starve
In the name of democracy.
Two different systems and
Two very different voices.
You just pays your money and
You just makes your choices.
Saw the advertisement of a sleazy Volkswagen
Surfed the net as the seed was sown
For anything based on german technology
I knew nothing about car mechanisms
Except the comfort of conveniences
Yet updated my limited knowledge
With its mileage, performance, safety
Saw the diesel and petrol options
Of the Vento sedan facelift images
And I struck the hammer for
An ivory Vento petrol run sedan
Thought it to be the most perfect gift
For my no demanding husband whose
Passion for good cars was no secret
But had never indulged in such luxury
It looked as chaste and modest
Yet powerful in making its presence felt as he
The plush ivory seat covers made me drool
The hatchback was a a luxury for holidaying
Car loans were enticing with festive offers
I had saved enough for the initial down payment
Before it reached home at the traffic lights
An illiterate rickshaw puller scoffing all rules
Squeezed his way between two cars
To leave a scar on the front door
The heart on a trapeze on highways with
Many more dents and bangs on tragic Indian roads
Fuming and fretting at every imbecile
Given a driving license without any lesson
The plush seats became uncomfortable
And the ass became sore
The generosity of an overwhelmed heart
Seemed not a very lucrative proposition
As every pay packet announced debits
With fewer coins on retail therapy
Alas! The years of stringent measures
Will die within a week with the end of the last debit
The Old Vento is finally ours, but wonder
Is it really ivory that I had bought six years ago?
Is it the same sedan whose facelift images that had lured me?
Or does it need a facelift?
Balveen Cheema
January 1, 2015
Contest: Cars- Only for Women
Sponsor: Poet Destroyer A
THE FORGOTTEN JUDGES
I had forgotten them because it was long ago
But nothing is forgotten
It is all written in the book
The great ledger showing credits and debits
Used to think of Judgement as being
A guy in a white beard totting up
The debits and credits and then awarding
Some sort of final gift based on the balance
Now it has suddenly become clear that
There will be perhaps a small handful of
People from the past, now long gone,
Facing me as I approach the teller’s grille
They stop me as I try to join the line,
And draw me aside to their small group
I can’t remember them - but they remember me
An old woman all wet from the rain,
Two guys looking down-and-out without jobs or hope
A schoolkid with broken glasses from some class of losers
And an African child, way too thin to be healthy.
They all smiled and talked about incidents
Where I had touched their lives somehow.
With my weekly cheque, the African had survived and become an engineer.
Glasses-kid graduated school, grew up and found a wife in Chicago.
One old guy had died soon after I met him,
But with a warm meal inside his belly and hope.
Other guy liked the job I got him in some recycling place.
Old woman had spent my cash on lessons for her grandson -
Every bag of her pickled cabbage I bought on that windy wet street
Sent him to school and he earned enough to look after her
In her older years, much to her relief.
I said I was glad to see them again, looking so well.
Even though I didn’t remember them –
But that I really had to get in line for the grille
They said listen up - you can
Skip the line, go straight in the white door over there,
And say we sent you - you’ll be ok.
I am born in this world, but I know not why;
Yet is a plan of mystery, a project in the mind of God.
He is holy and I ought to be holy,
I am His property, and He's my Eternal Designer,
He hath made me in His Image, and I ought to reflect His,
He hath made the world for me, and I ought to live for Him,
He's the ONE dwelt awhile on earth in flesh,
And I ought to know this mystery in which my credits lie.
His plan of redemption is the grand project,
And my life for Him ought to be my credits.
But where do I stand with my'credits'?
I have no virtues on my part as engulfed in desires,
I dream on earthly 'values' gripped in fear,
I lay projects on my own; but crumpled in debits.
I reap failures with my self-styled ideosyncracies,
For I deny the Truth of the Eternal Engineer.
How can I earn credits if I incline myself to myself,
And forget the statutes of the Maker of the Life Project?
My pains will turn joy if I add my projects to my credits,
My failures will turn success if I do my projects without debits.
What if my projects are done in selfish motive?
So, here lies the way to escape debits without Self, but with HIM.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Feels familiar
Lines of silver
Streaking
from on high.
great, the divide
a lover's sigh.
Linen wrappings
lace used for Christmas
trappings
tender touches
chilly ripples, barely
noticeable across
skin covered in icing.
Oral transactions
debits and credits
O' the anticipated additions
Thoughts glued
on how life
teeters on
volcanic rims,
black rain rising
Lips accessorized
for midnight diving
Conversation
skinny dips,
clothed in
what if's
you blouse
gently shifts
so that the friction
found in fabric
heightens senses
restricting inhibition
We drift towards
erotic implications
the way astronauts
float amongst satellites.
Thoughts of acme missions
Spiraling.
Zig-zagging how
arcs of lightning
illuminate the inner walls of a tempest.
I've found the eye of her storm
a place of paradox that
flirts on the outskirts
of paradise and thin lines
where virginity beckons
to be taken into
areas of no return
At our feet
lies a welcome mat
spelling heaven's introduction
Sounds of seduction
silently taunting.
desire drawn across
your frame the way a feather
solicits laughter.
Your body, 8 × 11 stationary
lie still, and be written...
I am born in this world, but I know not why;
Yet is a plan of mystery, a project in the mind of God.
He is holy and I ought to be holy,
I am His property, and He's my Eternal Designer,
He hath made me in His Image, and I ought to reflect His,
He hath made the world for me, and I ought to live for Him,
He's the ONE dwelt awhile on earth in flesh,
And I ought to know this mystery in which my credits lie.
His plan of redemption is the grand project,
And my life for Him ought to be my credits.
But where do I stand with my'credits'?
I have no virtues on my part as engulfed in desires,
I dream on earthly 'values' gripped in fear,
I lay projects on my own; but crumpled in debits.
I reap failures with my self-styled ideosyncracies,
For I deny the Truth of the Eternal Engineer.
How can I earn credits if I incline myself to myself,
And forget the statutes of the Maker of the Life Project?
My pains will turn joy if I add my projects to my credits,
My failures will turn success if I do my projects without debits.
What if my projects are done in selfish motive?
So, here lies the way to escape debits without Self, but with HIM.
Me
I’ve been on both sides of the ledger
Debits and credits have both been made.
I’ve seen my light shine brightly
And I’ve also seen it fade.
I’ve lived life to the fullest
Like there were no regrets
But then found myself asking,
‘Is this as good as it gets?’
I’ve had people who looked up to me
While others they’ve looked down
I’ve made many smile and laugh
And still others I’ve made frown.
I’ve learned to live life quietly
Yet sometimes I want to scream
I’ve accepted what’s reality
But still I want to dream
There are secrets I’ve kept hidden
So what you get is what you see
I guess it all comes down to this
All I’ve ever been is me.
I am all confused about income tax credits
Now you ask about something called debits?
This is really driving me insane with a pain.
Do I get interest at all for capital gains?
What can I tell you about common stocks?
Now liabilities and stockholder’s lock box,
Is this really a case of stretching my brain?
All this taxes take our money with no gain.
Balance sheet increase, this just sounds crazy
Income statement and loss, this is so hazy!
It feels like my eyes are just filled with grain.
Thank you the day is done and it was no fun
Look at this accounting spreadsheet again?
Help me lord, now I know I’m going insane!
Comments: This is a free verse narrative poem. I had intended to make it a
sonnet on taxation. It was written during an income tax accounting class. Input
was received from several students. Some thought it was really funny, and
others thought it was very serious. It was read by the professor the week before
finals and was very motivational.