Long Deviation Poems
Long Deviation Poems. Below are the most popular long Deviation by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Deviation poems by poem length and keyword.
Usage of zprox
On coordinate graph
With axis angles
Zprox line
Zero proximity to poverty creation
Planning and adjusting equations in assets of involvement
Generational property line mathematics
As one economy degenerates
One deviation and rise over run is created
This social work is master data modeled in hmis
Poverty is never a real life
Only a word of criminal intent
A hate crime of elect able routine value.
Depreciation of rights by raising wrong
The accounts, DMV, budget etc associated with these votes and non votes by educating and involving forms a popular population which chooses no laws?
Homeless crisis byproduct of neglect of law by neglect of legislation created real estate fraud.
Homekey fraud is generational.
Removing postage is new news to the statement of state from localized control capital of states name.
Zip code cannot act
Zip code is a number
Why zip code was altered during fraud.
Contort objective reception of speech in forms of documentation.
documentation.
#realdonaldtrump #cagovernor #asmirwin #repbrownley #mikeytaylor #berniesanders #aoc #nytimes #latimes #tonybiasotti
Manipulation of legislation in legislature
Assembly bill creation origin of hmis also origins in Irwin's assembly
I live in a range of geography with zip codes
Homeless is fraudulent naming of finance
finance
#washingtonpost #theatlantic #cagovernor #asmirwin #mikeytaylor #repbrownley #bbcnews #dailymirror #declanwalsh #nytimes
#washingtonpost #theatlantic #cagovernor #asmirwin #mikeytaylor #repbrownley #bbcnews #dailymirror #declanwalsh #nytimes
The Sticklers are rule-followers; they do seventeen weekly have-tos.
There is no room for flexibility, or deviation from their parents’ teachings.
Have to go to church, read the Bible, pray daily, on their knees.
Have to go to grandma’s every Sunday, bring a pot roast, wash the dishes.
Have to read the Bible with grandma, aloud, as she corrects you.
There are so many have-to’s, there is no time to play, laugh, or sing.
Many of the Sticklers have gone crazy, are in mental institutions.
There are minimal have-to’s in their distant cousin, the Hippydippy’s lives.
They enjoy their weekends; doing what they want when they want.
Freedom to dance, sing, cartoon, paint, knit, crochet, color, fish or golf.
They know about the Bible, but they are not scheduled to it.
Grandma knows they love her, they see her when it is convenient.
She’s usually on a cruise anyway.
None of the Hippydippys have ever gone crazy.
In the whirlwind of time, who said that seconds are decreed?
That your steps must align with others’ concrete success indeed,
That arrival is an unyielding mandate, and deviation a defect?
You see them climbing the spires of their creation without regret.
In iron and glass they carve their legacy, while you remain silent,
A shadow frozen in the ruins of dreams that never grew vibrant,
With hands weary from the burden of unfinished things,
You whisper to life's algorithm: "Recalculate, don't leave me behind!"
But time is no engineer, nor a gentle, loving architect,
It's just the scaffold beneath your feet, moving only when you dare to fly.
Did the monolith mourn it didn’t rise with the first light?
Or did the river curse its flow for not sculpting the world in a single moment?
You’re not behind; you’re just a separate code unfolding,
A unique sequence evolving and flying at its own rhythm,
In a story never meant to synchronize,
But to follow its own course, unchained by time and space.
Tonight, let the wings descend,
Glimpses of the sun dive into the clear horizon.
The moon petrified, from her golden throne, is a spell,
Step, queen, into the night that is just about to ignite.
My thought is a full moon in your turbulent ocean,
Compassion of stars scattered in the darkness of untouched longing,
Gliding on cloud paths where no man has trodden,
Casting my shadow over the unwavering walls of memory.
In the depths of the heart, a gentle flutter of a butterfly has been stirred,
Haunted by the tender breath of a love that cannot be captured,
Caressing through the veins harp chords, of love and delusion,
In a duo between the soul and the echo of the dream, drifting in deviation.
In the unknown, we carry a pas de deux, hopes and regrets,
From eyes, lightning springs to life, and from lips, water calming thirst,
And beneath the bow that beholds the sky, where rainbows of longing sleep misunderstood,
There, our love intertwines in an endless yarn, never softened.
From this world, an altar listens, where the gentle winter melts
Into the spring that borrows colors, where love dons a garb of flower,
And in its lily of fire, even fear finds a purpose that intoxicates,
As the soul searches and weeps, and laughs and loves, never without pain.
I've given the plight of kids crossing our border thoughtful consideration.
I would like to propose a panacea that might ease this critical situation.
I recommend that pilots flying kids to the USA make a flight deviation,
And drop kids off at airports in DC while the Obamas' are on vacation!
I know they'd be delighted to share the White House food and recreation.
After all, the grounds are fenced so kids could be kept under observation.
Unload kids at the Capitol for distribution to each Congressional delegation.
I bet they'd take speedy action to secure the border as well as deportation!
I sent my idea to Washington but as yet have received no firm confirmation.
I can only assume they'll set Congressional hearings for serious evaluation.
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(c) 2014 All Rights Reserved
Written with considerable tongue in jowls!
Tall tale
Inhale
Exhale
Fire-sale
Entrails
Stop watch clock
Detail
Retail
Question
Charity
Joke
Shop
Cunning Plot
Accusations
Conertation
Deviation
Meditation
Presentation
Flip Flop
Resonate
Elevate
Procrastinate
Incarcerate
Deviate
Box off
Morphine
Dopamine
Vaccine
Injection
Firework
Dynamite
Pill
Postage Stamp
Taxes
Cheque
Cash
Paper
Bitcoin
Bill
Gold
Diamond
Jewel
How much have you got
Can you afford to loose
Can you make the roundabout
spinning stop
Drain the power from the main frame
Just how many times can the handmaid
escape
Before eventually getting caught
Crushing fresh red footprint track into
yellow snow upon a blue grass
landscape portrait
What's exactly lurking underneath the
bonnet hood
And have we sufficient rocket fuel left in
the tank
In order to survive re-entry in 1 piece
Apollo
9 - Dash . Dot - 11
OVER
He took her there most days
They rowed out to his small yacht
They sat and drank take away lattes
She just cried a lot….
She was so full of sadness
Tormented by relentless fear
So very troubled
Her mind clouded and unclear
She liked it on the river
It gave momentary relief
Life seemed a little clearer
Though be it only brief
She saw them in the distance
Hoped they would come her way
Unbelievably without deviation
They were there without delay
Swimming underneath the small yacht
In water so clear and blue
So close they were touchable
He cuddled her and said,
“This is just for you”
The dolphins swam away….again without deviation
A direct path into the open water
She knew in her heart those majestic creatures
Had sought her…
The emotions they evoked in her
Mere words cannot describe
With heart and mind now smiling
She sipped her latte
And just cried….
Smiles touch the eyes
I arise to the hope of salvation
In our hellos and goodbyes
attended by honest communication
I lean in to hear you speak
Tell me what is on your mind
I will not trick or tweak
The treasure that I find
Yet I will voice where we part
Not to change your direction
I hope you will listen to my heart
With friendly love and affection
For you and I would gladly snatch
Each other to our spiritual side
If you or I play ball, one would catch
Save the other in the roaring tide
Love wants the best in the other
We spend daylight in comparison
We can still be a sister and brother
Though you in faith be a Saracen*
In the deviation of Jesus history,
Our two religions do not integrate,
And the “trinity of God” mystery.
Yet let us choose to love, not hate
(“Shadow Puppet”, 2023, original encaustic)
What Is It About the Jews?
We live in a time of irrational fear and phobias
From fear and loathing towards one’s own body
And parents (about as basic to hating life as it gets),
To the rapid rise of anti-semitism
After the Oct. 7th massacre.
Now, as it was in Europe in the last century,
Jew hate is all the rage
From college campuses to the halls of Congress
And still it’s the same old same ole.
The problem is the Jews are the hyper rational ones,
The ones with a whole standard deviation higher IQ.
And this may not seem like much to those who cant understand
But it becomes oppressive to have them always overachieving!
And this oppression in academics
Business, entertainment and science
Makes the self-oppressed feel the victim
And so they, as they have always done,
Project their fear (in the form of hate)
Onto the Other.
Do the Jews sometimes play their own victimhood up
And so manipulate the less intelligent all the more?
Of course.
But that is the way of the world
Those who can, do
And those who cant, teach
And those who cant teach, just complain.
Even if the Jews didn’t exist
We’d have to make them up
To have something to complain about.
Maybe that is exactly what we do.
(9/8/25)
the spectacle of beauty claims supremacy
inticing soceity in spells which last endlessly
portraying tendencies to embody our community
no defense of immunity- all fall victims to its feet
from the commons to the elite- its facits are discrete
its seeks its enemies by engulfing their thoughts
with no force, entering your conscious as a trojan horse
using your mind as the source to your emotions
evoking instant devotion through meager words spoken
submerged in an ocean of opposing brain waves
to enslave mortals in ways of an enigma maze
which you portray as being tangled in the web you wove
in which you seemingly chose to configure and rove
and with each embracement or concealing of lips
ascends you to a new level of bliss
and temporarily answers the question why you exist
its mere presence extracts your from dark depression
soft words of passion leave eternal impressions
and each session gone wrong acts as a lesson
there are societies that marvel at how my power mends man
and how stupid fools put bands upon somones hand
and expect that grants them an everlasting relation
but bonds are cracked by inticing looks of infatuation
acts of deviation onset to experience its partner sex's sensations
people have vowed and longed for it since the begining of time
even in divine, in passion god created mankind
and sent 2 beings perfectly crafted from above
whos emotions soared upon the cleratic wings of the dove
cause behind every action stands the face of love.............
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