Long Dig up Poems
Long Dig up Poems. Below are the most popular long Dig up by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Dig up poems by poem length and keyword.
History sounds – billions of muffled voices, vying to be heard.
The loudest ones rise to the top, while others are doomed to silence.
But even among those heard and remembered,
We will never truly know them.
We may gather their notes and letters,
Dig up their dusty bones,
Resurrect their hopes and fears,
Rebuild their childhood homes,
Learn of their loves and failures;
But this past we piece together,
Like a giant jigsaw puzzle,
Will never be complete,
For the person will always elude us.
We will never see the world as they did,
Or feel the ebb and flow of their culture;
Never carry the weight of their conscience,
Or know the depths of their convictions.
Though science brings us ever closer,
It can never truly take us there,
For the world once known to them can never speak;
It must lie muted, still and dead,
Haunting us with piecemeal truths,
That can never again be made whole.
My mood is down and utterly despondent
When friend Ron doesn't show up for euchre
Michelle has him running errands again
Really miss that big old palooker
He makes the evening a total blast
With his kibitzing and strange look at things
The evening ends with nary a sad face
Totally ruckus good times he brings
Kissed me once on the anniversary of my birth
But not on the mouth I must add
He's a real good friend and I like him a lot
Must admit though he's sure got great abs
Hey wait a minute. hang on there my friends
You may have the wrong impression
Both macho males at least that's what I thought
It's just to teach young guys a lesson
Us men should be able to be huggy and kissy
Without rumours making the rounds
The tabloids are hungry to dig up some dirt
In our case it's totally unfound
© Jack Ellison 2012
Call me mad if you must
But please first hear me out
I just got back from the Cryogenics lab
And guess who's head I picked from the crowd
If your thinking Jimmy Hoffa
No, he's somewhere deep asleep in concrete
I grabbed someone much more spectacular
I grabbed the frozen head of Walt Disney
You see years ago he had himself chilled
At least that which contains the brain
The useless part they put in a casket
And far be it for me to dig up a grave
I've now got Walt packed on ice in a cooler
It wouldn't do to have his head melt
What kind of operation do you think I'm running here
Some kind of Mickey Mouse?
First on my agenda find Mr. Disney a body
One that won't give out on him too soon
Cause once we thaw out Walt and he starts to talk
There's no telling what he'll want to do
So I let my fingers do the walking
Here's something interesting...Bodies By Jake
I just hope we find Jakes place in time
Before the ice melts and we are to late...
...talk about false advertisement!
Jake the snake didn't sell bodies at all
Walt and I are more than a little disturbed
There really should be some sort of law
Guess I should have thought this all over
Long before I thought of it now
So as a special treat I thought Mr. Disney and me
Could go see his "World", so we headed South
Standing in line to purchase tickets
The cooler shakes when Walt hears the prices by chance
No need to tell you that if he had lower extremities
He would crap them if he wore any pants
We decided to do something a little cheaper
And with a Disney movie just out today
It was kind of hard to follow along though
When all you could hear was his body spinning in the grave, miles away
Guess it's to early to try and bring back Walt Disney
Maybe one day I can try it again
But before we leave for the trip back home
We stop at the concession for diet soda and Jr. mints
Once we got back to the Cryogenics lab
They're looking for me so over the fence I let the head fly
No need to worry, one of the guard dogs grabbed it
And I'm sure drug it right back inside
I hear that the Disney Corporation, after reading this have gathered together their top notch lawyers and are wanting to set up a meeting...
I'm thinking they're going to offer me a movie deal! Wish me luck!
I'm thinking Leonardo DiCaprio could play Walt...
"Yo, it’s a swingin’ machine, Man, popin' through the city like a late-night pulse/Soul groove in the gears, a brass-tuned Tower of Power horn section that never clocks out/
Word from Bird slides through the air, quick as a sparrow in the valley of smoky jazz clubs/
Coltrane follows with a long, silver breath, reed-wide open as the horizon sets up the day/
The street becomes a jazz club man, don't ya know/ Soul Shack, sugar shack watch your back jack/
a doorway of rock soul 45s stacked high, where the past nods to the future to be sure/
Break it down, count down, the rhythm rebuilds itself in bricks to the soul jazz tempo/
Nu Jazz banners wave, NEW YORK Monday traffic slows to listen, and the gypsy cab, Latin tinge kool sound to refresh the hot summer day/ each car on their horns like a big band sound section/
Lou Rawls drifts in on a velvet breeze, baritone city slick, smooth in the morning/ His "Lady Love" waits for his embrace/
Philly Joe Jones keeps the clock honest as he jams in hi-fi/ sticks snapping a cadence snare to bass drum that won’t quit/
Settin’ the soul jazz pace, jazz hipsters walk the line between memory and invention, jazz players go toe to toe with the possibility of coming up with the new jazz thing/
Work it out, Mel Torme's "Comin' Home Baby" is out there, some were, every note a workout to dig up a new way to say the same thing/
over and over every chord change every beat every solo every Tenor conclave man, all night long/
Red Garland Quintet threads the Something Else needle on collective Improvisation with swingin' abstract jazz with pocketfuls of tempo logic/
Rellin’ with the Fellin’ in, Man, It's Sonny Rollins he folds space like a drum-major bending time, the horn colossus in his prime/
I sometimes hear people complain
of all the things we eat,
getting really hung up about
the consumption of meat,
Most are caught up in their feelings,
thus not worth talking too,
a few will try to reason out
some kind of point-of-view.
They’ll say they don’t want to be part
of bringing death or pain,
as if they will get virtue points
for choosing to abstain,
but when I think more about it
the whole things falls apart,
when it comes to how we survive
I don’t know where to start,
perhaps with a quite simple claim
to which the truth attests:
That every single man alive
was born to live off death.
Is not a farmer a killer
of every crop he plants?
You pull a carrot from the ground,
the carrot plant is damned.
Every time you cut down that wheat
you risk killing the grass,
and each potato you dig up
bring death to the plant fast.
And every piece of fruit you pluck
is a tree abortion,
you want to eat without killing?
I say it can’t be done.
Plowing a field will slaughter all
the mice, and moles, and bugs,
also chews up their earthly homes,
all the lairs they’ve dug.
Even clearing a field itself
brings death on a grand scale,
the trees and critters now displaced,
most could not even wail;
All replaced for a single plant,
it’s corn supremacy!
Which cannot live without man’s help,
unlike the now-dead tree.
Unless you’re eating salt alone
I’d say it’s a fair bet,
that just like every man that eats,
you’re living off of death...
CONCLUDES IN PART II.
My appointment didn't show up today
So I decided to hang out and play
I circled around Ellanor's Park
wandering about in the dark
and thinking about the road ahead
The rain has just fell leaving mud
and water on the swampy ground
The pokemon go gang was playing around
disturbing nature with their silly sound
They walk up and down the wet grass
communicating with their partners
One by one two by two they showed up and join the crew
As soon as I arrived more of them anchored down
creating nuisance and spreading bad energy around
Luckily the Gods were lingering by to listen to my silent cry
They came down form the sky and spew them out of sight
so that nature could sing and dance about
On by one they jump into their cars
and drove out of Ellanor's park
I closed my car and walked over to an old bulldozer
stationed on the park's ground
the equipment was so old
I wonder if I was still in America
The owner was not around
so I climbed up and sat in the chair
and examined the levers and gears
I was captivated by a certain power
It felt good sitting in an elevated tower
It has been parked there for many days
Rust and dirt was musing on its face
No work was going on and the pile of sand
stood waiting on the ground for the fix it man
The same roads that were repaired
has been dug up and repaired year after year
The paved parts are lean and bumpy
And when I drive my truck rocked side to side
Where are the professional engineers
Cheap labor has sucked every penny out of the mill grinder
And America's roads are in danger
I watched them prowling up and down the street
Trying to figure out my heart beat
But I sat in the big old bulldozer scrutinizing them all over
I felt a sudden rush of power
I felt like a queen in her parlor
And I felt like a queen riding in a carriage
Waving to the magnificent crowd shouting out loud
If the owner was around I would ask for permission
To drive it up and down and through the town
Wolfish influence peddlers
Big belly contractors and poor skills workers
has feasted on the wallet of the county for years
But now I am in the bulldozer and I am getting
ready to run some one over
America needs a constitutional face-lift
Here I am in this big old bulldozer
feeling energetic and strong
I am ready to dig up and tear down the remaining barriers.
Demons have fallen, Angels have cried
the Earth is spinning, death is alive
Blood drips always and makes flowers bend
They lose their petals, to the ground they descend
Hope is cherished by the poor and down trodden
Bones we dig up from ancestors we've forgotten
Life seems a passing world to remember
Until it's gone to leave a memory's ember
The mind creates illusions that never remain
We all play the joker on the stage of disdain
We yearn for beauty in spaces we fill
Yet pile our garbage among the daffodils
The water we drink a chemical dump
We stuff our mouths so every body's plump
We seek amusement and its driving force
To be entertained, bet some money of course
Life moves rather quickly, lest we forget
We're nothing more than rooms filled with marionettes
2/11/17
contest Theatre of the Absurd
I’ve been washed back and forth with the tide
Been rolled and eroding with time
Now, I’m polished, smooth and refined
I’m a pebble nice and dyed
I sometimes can’t be found
I'm firm, but small and round
And if you comb the beach
I’m sure your find a peach
Maybe dig up the ground
You'll find me nice and sound
I’ve been shifting throughout the land
I’ve got the most beautiful tan
Just hold me I feel grand
My body curvy like the fans
You can skim me across the waters
Or hold me tight in your hand
Would you rather throw me, as far as you can
I’ve been down at the bottom to long
With the sand dragging along
But I knew, one day I'd be free
Washed ashore by the deep blue sea
Yes’ I am a pebble, like a pretty petal
Look at my mysterious colours
I'm like marble all mixed together
I perfectly formed just for you
And I'm yours, a beautiful stone pebble
© Copyright
K.C.Leake
14th November 2014
All Rights Reserved
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The sky splits open at dusk,
spilling its ink across the horizon~
Why not walk barefoot into the spillage?
The door is agape,
the dog dreams of a wider yard~
Why not let the wind rearrange the furniture?
The train station at midnight
is a mouth full of swallowed departures~
Why not whisper your name to the tracks?
The moon is just a rock
with better lighting~
Why not throw it at the dark?
The coffee grows cold
while you debate the weight of its bitterness~
Why not drink it anyway?
The sky is a crumpled receipt;
the trees are shaking loose their coins~
Why not pocket the afternoon?
The door is ajar, the train is leaving,
your name is half-formed on someone’s lips~
Why not answer?
The world is a question
posed in a language you’ll never decipher~
Why not answer in tongues of your own?
Why does the sky refuse to explain its blue?
Why does the ant carry twice its weight without complaint?
Why does the river bend but never asks permission?
Why does a child draw a door on the wall and waits?
Why does a dog dig up bones it didn’t bury?
Why not touch the stove just to feel the burn?
Why not let the unanswered questions linger?
The world is a question you refuse to ask,
a dare you pretend not to hear.
Why not? Why not? Why not?
Prisoner Of Language
Will time live eternal
or just its retelling
A prisoner of language
whose paradox mined
Dimension in contrast
ill-fated contrition
To look but not touch
—and hope they align
(Rosemont College: December, 2023)
Through A Vacuum
Biologically tethered
time is the demon
Your flesh and your blood
by nature defined
Each tic of the clock
your heart beats in cadence
Dogmatic in method
caught up in the brine
What if your consciousness
took a leap forward
Abandoning reference
erasing the lines
Polarity exits
its jail through a vacuum
Releasing reversing
—becoming sublime
(Rosemont College: December, 2023)
Starting Over
Dig up the foundation
requestion each premise
Wade through the bathwater
the baby must go
A leap when it’s quantum
still subject and object
Fly out of the portal
—rejecting what’s known
(Rosemont College: December, 2023)