Long Debunk Poems

Long Debunk Poems. Below are the most popular long Debunk by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Debunk poems by poem length and keyword.


A lovely lush


"Drunk as a skunk"

Flimsy after whimsy

Flunk and debunk

Or mastered getting "plastered"

"Tipsy as a gypsy"

Sunk like a monk


Miss nights out "on the p*ss"

We shan't blush...can't hush 

Us as we gush about the rush

Bliss to kiss the alcoHOLE abyss

Have a crush on the plush 

Flush flights of a proper "lush"


Grinned while you sinned

Smile..getting in a right mess

Room spinned ... plans binned

Betting the style's "blotto" lotto

Pinned motto bless the "legless"


Jolly golly gosh "sloshed"

What beats "3 sheets to the wind"

Need a slash..have to crash

After being out on the lash

"Smashed"..bish bash boshed


'Off your trolley" wally or dolly

Bedazzled frazzle on the razzle

Laughter after a dafter shindig swig

On the "sozzle"..off his head ..off to bed

Reason for that big red schnozzle 


Let's be frank those who get "tanked" 

Get thanked...no..blanked & spanked

Don't deride those who decide 

To get plied with or "pie eyed" with pride

Have a tiff with those who chose skew whiff


No need upsetting or fretting

Over a drunkard with a tankard

Rum dumb herbert on the sherbert

Woozy boozy floozy doozy

Getting whistle whetting "wanker*d"


Abuser..winner or loser

The boon of the last saloon

All soon forgetting having hankered

For.. then regretting that final boozer


"Wasted"...sauce basted I stammered

Could've plucked for being "f**cked"

Decoded it besetting with maybe "loaded"

Why's he passed on the class "rat-arsed"

Not fussed..nonplussed he cussed

Sussed just with mates getting 'hammered"


So don’t muzzle the "guzzler"

Cripple the ripple of the "tippler"

Can’t match "down the hatch"

Or sip & sup..because "bottom’s up" 

No frowning cake-hole sold on downing

Beer.. .neck oil by heck will spoil our laughing gear 

Crowning the glory or gory story

Comedy gold told of being "arsehol*d"


Ickle fickle wee "pickled" trickle tickle

Temptation of a nifty sneaky shifty

Iffy & squiffy in a jiffy veneration

Don't be piddly about diddly while tiddly


They might from afar mutter

Wot a nutter...one too many jars

One too many bars ..not caring...I would utter 

Have a flutter...I’m lying in the gutter

Rego & I flying while staring at the stars
Form: Rhyme


Heretic of the Modern Age

away with capitalistic free market enterprise
where the concomitant features of greed, power and wealth
fuse to form a pact of unrestrained mass-consumerism
while simultaneously obliterating any shred of a humanistic ethic.

the hollow emptiness of a hedonistic philosophy
representative of the western civilization
rings with the sound of falseness
from the belfry of commodification.

debunk the myth of the supremacy of man
where the less sophisticated species
remain in a role of subservience
while religion upholds this point of view.

the travesty of contemporary existence
epitomized by the crass characteristics
endemic in the advertisements
prior to the advent of a holiday or sale.

opinions about significant political issues
and the general emotions toward the processes of life
trivialized into a farcical sport
by the producers of commercial goods.

renounce the superficiality of the make-believe world
and also the stamp of mass production
that transforms a creative human being into an obsolete soul!
Form:

Debunk History, If You Dare

A. History is bunk.
B. Who said? 
A. Henry Ford said. 
B. Who's that? 
A. He's dead. 
B. Who was that? 
A. He was the founder of a major automobile company. 
B. When did he found it? 
A. Er, er..... 
B. Go on. 
A. Actually, I can't quite remember the date. 
B. Why not? 
A. Well, my history isn't that bright. 
B. I thought you said "History..." 
A. "is bunk." I did, but.. er 
B. So history is bunk, right? 
A. Right. 
B. Henry Ford and his statement are part of history, right? 
A. Right. 
B. If history = bunk. 
B. And Henry Ford's statement = part of history. 
B. Then Henry Ford's statement = bunk. 
B. Corollary? History not = bunk. Q.E.D. .
B. Right? 
A. Like, two bunks cancel each other out? 
B. Right.
Form: Didactic

Billionaires hunker down in their Queenstown bunker lairs

Let’s pester Uncle Fester

After dafter Luxon 

Pushed the button

Welcomed every glutton

To the isles of mutton


Theme of the meme

Team New Zealand 

It does seem

No longer a

Stronger eclectic sceptic


Spanked by the rank 

Septic tank stream

Peptic Pyramid scheme


Grand slam.. glam sham scam

Desperate Dan or Tangerine tan plan

God damn..American dream


Our rancour on social media

Danker seedier leaders crimes 

Hanker for every greedier 

Rhymes with banker


Sleazier golden geezer visas 

Accept any offers to

Fill their many coffers


Brokery.. jiggery pokery 

Immunity without impunity 

To the unity of community

Profanity of their vanity


Insanity of their depravity

Clarity...disparity not charity

Tramples ample wokery


Our amazing landscape

Instead becomes their escape

Coined..after all they’ve purloined

Jolly jape…no red tape


Not being rash

But it is a rash

Debunk the gunk & funk

Forsaking the avarice 

Taking the pis*

Bliss abyss monk


Crass..brash..flash git

S***k a chunk of cash

From their balderdash stash

Making..a complete hash of it


Fake elite on the take

As they see fit

Billionaire boys ploys annoys

Replete yet still cheat 

Have your cake and eat it


Our government just envoys

For a small fee..sweet

Deploys the swanky..w**ky

Yankee all about me

Time to flee plea


They lit the fire

Liar & denier

Dug the quagmire


Piety for impropriety

Moolah Messiah ruler

High flyer pariah

Crueler society


Who when the s**t 

Does hit the fan

No fibs..his nibs gets

First dibs on cribs


Outlier masterplan zen..know 

Then where to go


Can always hunker down

In a spick & span den

Their Queenstown bunker


Amen
Form: Rhyme

They think Bazball's over it is Now


Kowtow & kapow..the Bazball supernova

They think it’s all over…well wow it is now


Cool cat merriment to cricket’s detriment

Down tools school for fools experiment

Mules without rules serious impediment


Flunk their funk mission to debunk tradition

Teach each Baz monk flair pizzazz edition

Preach razmattazz and all that jazz sedition

Slam dunk sunk kerplunk fans in remission

 
Shan’t exult this odd bod Bazball adult cult

Can’t halt Starc’s hefty lefty catapult assault

Another hilarious result and nefarious insult
   

Inquests as Aussie test conquests take their toll 

Pat patrol in control Ben’s men droll rigmarole

Stole our soul so gonna give them some vitriol       


Banished to a grassy knole the Bazball totem pole

Farce whole brassy class vanished up their ar*ehole

No need to mull it is time for a cull heads must roll

Cos in Oz they Can’t bat Can’t field and Can’t bowl
Form: Rhyme


After the Revolution

What shall we keep after the revolution?
Lies will go on, yes lies always survive;
state sanctioned lies,
personal lies, collective lies, secret lies, open lies,
lies of omission, lies of admission,
lies about yesterday and tomorrow,
lies for our own good,
lies about how we have overcame.

Oxycontin and sedative factories
must be kept on a war footing of course.
We will condemn, replace, dismiss
ban and debunk all the unfit that do not fit.
Declare that forgetfulness is natural,
safe and should never be treated
unless there are signs of recovery.

Breadlines will be considered
a patriotic and legitimate form of exercise.
Who needs toilet paper anyway?
Malcontents will to be turned
into a much needed glue,
in order to hold together our glorious future.

Pot

In time we find light that was not so much a remembrance of character void, 

or a psalm of the heterogeneous unlimited focus-

or stance of staving off the news,

in the leeway there is no set mountain, 

or even the scuttled movement otherwise that allows the courteous to emote wisely,

topping out of something takes no drawbridge,

sleeping softly is no more calm than a stereo-graph printing interstellar onto a platform,

finally without the fives at nines going awry for our teller to debunk the checks we saw came late,

I hope for the favorite thing to be what doesn't unmake us-
but stays traveling down an endless moon at noon,

delicacy not,

rectitude forward-
yet always in knots, 

as we know we speak the language of our derailment of pot.

The Best beer

Which beers my dears bring you to tears

Beardy weirdy freaks hipster peaks & nadirs

Slatted bar with glam flutes or bizarre jam jar

Cheers to toots & hoots hirsute tatted peers 


Sham craze for cloudy ales or clear yesteryear pales

Old school IPA mule or cool daze ways holds sway 

Some fools viral spools spiral amaze as they drool 

Not a phase always had haze it's the cardinal rule


Or a silly quip & blip has a nip of a chilli dip in it 

Knows zip flip let rip Indian trip phrase you twit 

Gawking and balking because they're talking s**t


All about malty pout haughty clout of a naughty stout

Cooed am a lamb to the slaughter for rip snorter porter

Wooed by stock of stellar Bock or cellar brewed Keller 

Wheat poo pooed too funkily sweet for this crude fella


Rude taking the mick trick to pick a drop in perfect nick

Chaps won't cower to the lure of cocktails at happy hour

Ruddy cheeked fuddy duddy who is perhaps too dour


Appears fake dreams it seems of a career as a critic

Slating grating ratings mapped trapped on untappd  

Skeptic fears musty skunk & fusty funk that is lambic


Brett regret bristles don't fret won't let whet my whistle

Sneers debunk the rusty gunk flower glower of sour

Jeers but bet the ripple of Tripel is still the top tipple 

For any cynic or pundit in their Merchant Ivory tower


Hail tale of quirky murky or another stale lager saga

Heaven forbid get rid of sweet & sickly treat for a kid 

Snooty about the booty of rank dank stank too fruity

For fecks sake must forsake that milkshake mistake


If tasked or someone asked what's my perfect beer?

Not the new frontier..bask in cask ...holy grail of ale

Suggest zest from noble not global hops treasure chest 


Attest not treason manifest reason better than the rest 

Beer to pleasure every season that stalled then schooled

What is after all the true quest & have you got a clue test

Which is why I contest you go with the one called "Best"
Form: Ballad

Premium Member Vulnerable Sans You

Your absence would have left me vulnerable.
When will people stop hurting me?
If you - and the sluggish evenings - devour my heart.
To debunk the doomsday prophecies over me.
Why do you ignore my anguish?
And why do you accuse me?
If you decided to hand-pick me.
I stayed with you and nursed your wounds.
It was my sword that didn't let me down!
Sleeping in a refuge of yearning is obstinate.
And the dream refuses to come true.
And longing whistles in memory caves. 
He had untied his belt before the sunset.
Morning broke without the night's permission.
And dawn is a predator scouting the quest.
And those who emerge from the dark are his prey! 


Written: August 21, 2021
© Sotto Poet  Create an image from this poem.

Premium Member Soliloquy of Absence

Wither-all to compensate for bending neurons break
I can sometimes see from close or far
the ashes of an endless burning stake
Cosmos shape reflected in my jar.

Arise once more the Phoenix of crucible spent
arrest the tide of sentimental farce
amid the clamoring eardrum, joy’s repent
relativity speaking, either side the bars.

My accent unfamiliar, entertains the moth.
My face defends no banner or display.
Continuing epiphany or sloth,
The choice remains alas to pay or pray.

The ribbon, the scarf, the tunnel, the true
we choose the parable meant to assist
if for one moment un-tighten the screw
unmake not a single list.

DO NOT DOT THE I
DO NOT CROSS THE T

walk on the grass and kick the dog
the cat will provide sympathy.

Raw unfiltered unabashed and relieved
no fire hydrant for dog ever grieved.
You sit there or here or stand or yawn
the worms still cover your nighttime lawn.

For you are, you are not, you lay in-between;
times’ ordinary moments - sometimes unseen
shadows will replicate, suns divide
answers to questions are but tears angels cried

Wormholes and musings and dreams and debunk
make light of our lives and un-clutter our junk
make way for the day and the cleanest of clean
provide us the means for everything seen.

I laugh at the topless trees in the wind
I laugh at the drain of the sewers grin
We laugh at the jokes that we’ve heard twice before
we laugh from our throats till our bellies are sore

and when the laughing stops we die
the ash of our bones laid bare
thin lives stripped of edificial poem
extinguished over here			                        and reborn over there
Form: Rhyme

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