Long Dope Poems
Long Dope Poems. Below are the most popular long Dope by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Dope poems by poem length and keyword.
Have you been an inch to madness
The commune of thoughts in a feast
with soliloquy wiggling in silence
And mysterious mutterings dangling in violence
So that when innocent words are spoken you would quickly give a malicious ear And when healthy gestures are made You would convert such kindness to an hellish display In your little head would wind of unwarranted laughter blow
Reflex would seem to you, an ardent flow
This shall be your story
If by your lips that notorious leaf burn
to evoke thick Flames Hence saturates, to steal consciousness
A little puff, a little drag, till you swallow the beast
He stood all alone, helpless and cold.
The vile words thrown at him, how bold.
They don't know his situation couldn't be controlled.
If they would only listen as his story is told.
They think he is a drunk, or that he is crazy.
"He probably has no home because he is lazy."
His life before this is all really hazy.
I bet they never knew he likes Swan River Daisies.
He's not a person in their clouded eyes.
They don't risk talking to him, it's probably all lies.
I see how people treat him and a part of me dies.
If only they could see he's an angel in disguise.
He once was a CEO, a husband, and a father to be.
His happiness was stolen when his wife's car hit a tree.
In a downward spiral, the future he no longer could see.
It wasn't two lives lost in the crash, it was three.
His pain so great, he just couldn't cope.
He thought God failed him, so he had no hope.
To ease the pain, he turned to dope.
He'd hang himself, if only he had some rope.
Try as I might, I can't get him to come home.
He says he is better off on the streets, all alone.
He thinks he ruins lives so the streets he'll roam.
He has all he needs, he says, a toothbrush and a comb.
Its sad to know, I'm his one true friend.
If only someone could make amends.
I listen with my heart and I don't condescend.
I will be there for him until the end.
I pray for my "Skater Man", every night.
The hand he was dealt, just wasn't right.
I pray he will one day see the light.
Sadly, its his battle and one I just can't fight.
Feel um' sum mo',
get um in and out of the door's-
'cuz good company rages on...
When I am with um' I am on!
Wheel um to go...
Wind it back and drop the note,
'cause the krumpin' will dump out the mote!
Get um to flow-
careen on the boat,
get um feet first into the waters that you know,
...'cuz Jesus was dope,
he'd leave you gold,
he'd eat the whole stone.
Get um to know,
ask um' why you think you chose?
Click on his show
with a grisly remote,
see um' by the vote-
because...
He's seasonal boast,
he's Jesus doin' coke,
he's reasons to float,
he's beatin' me out of my boat,
makin' babies out of my jokes,
and baking a cake in my stove in my home.
Written: June 23, 2025, for contest Sponsored by: Anthony Biaanco
*******************
Growling, arguing, cursing, and screams,
They nod to chase after a dollar, a dream.
Trapped in clichés, similar to urban swine,
Lost residents of the suburbs stand in line.
The city of brotherhood and sisterhood,
Racially diverse cultures and schools stood.
Philly cheese-steaks, hoagies, and homicides,
Cocaine vampires succumb side by side.
On filthy streets, zombies and dogs coexist,
In Fishtown, hunt for meat to eat or a twist.
They need medicine and shoes for their feet.
Litter chokes Kensington Ave replete street.
They say Oxy and fentanyl are to blame.
Perhaps it's genetics, wrapped in shame.
Predisposed to a life completely polluted—
From the moment of birth, deeply rooted.
Some were once rich, now penniless,
With only a rat and their mute distress.
A raw middle-class suburbia faces bruise,
Zombies cradle meth and crack misuse.
They nod, dip, freeze, and sway—
Defying gravity, they struggle to stay.
Despite its fame, the land has failed,
A monolithic trial, where hopes derailed?
Former star-spangled grandeur has faded.
Betsy Ross famed flag thread is jaded.
A horrible scene for a tourist to behold,
A ghostly flat-backed female zombie, cold.
Kensington Ave in the city's northeast—
Zombies, dogs, and lost souls feast.
Two-legged canines in an endless sludge.
Life is grim in this dope-fueled grudge.
You don't like what they say
Or the way that they play
A decision needs to be made
Don't let it ruin your day
There is one thing that I know
A mechanism in which to cope
Take the short end of the rope
Let it go
Because it's not just you but them
That seems to have the problem
With the handling of the angry stick
They keep beating you with
Before you lose all hope
Seeds need to be sown
And then to help them grow
Let it go
Take it from me
Time and again I have seen
The worst in these
Played out in history
They'll tie you up with guilty rope
Feed you all their worthless dope
But now that you know
Let it go
Hibiscus Sunrise... Not the diluted hues of Instagram filters/
But the raw, unfiltered blaze of truth/
They say there's one way, only one way, to tell it/ No 'alternative facts' shimmering like heat haze in a desert of deception/
Just the bone-deep, gut-wrenching, soul-exposing...truth/
And damn, the music! SOUL, elevated/ to another level, altogether/Funk till ya drop level/
Suddenly, I felt the universe’s strings… tightening/ Not to strangle, but to conduct/
Like a cosmic funk symphony/ I was just a tenor horn in its hands/
Bootstrap tight, ready to launch into the Sun Ra’s unknown/
Man, what burns in the hearts, the minds, the souls of those who conjure fire like this/
This sound? This truth? a forbidden fruit?
“But of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil you shall not eat…" Heavy words, echoing in the digital void/
Because to know the truth, to taste it, to truly digest it/
… is to risk a kind of death. a death of comfortable lies/
Down here, in the deep, the jellyfish and octopus, patient sentinels of rhythm and tide, have been waiting/
Waiting for this latest jazz set/ So damn dope, yeah/
So raw, so… necessary/
Like oxygen in a vacuum/ I dug, man, I dug it deeply/ past the surface, past the pretense, straight into the pulsing, breathing heart of it all/
Don't fight the funk, uh-uh/ can't fight the funk, no no!!!/
Because on the good foot funk, I’m talkin’ bout the Larry Be Coo Funk...is the truth/ it will find you/ It will shake you/ It will wake you/
And in that moment, suspended between sunrise and the infinite, you’ll know/
You’ll finally know/ there is only one way/
And it's ringing in your ears right now/
Cooey have you heard the word on the streets 8 hours of absurd beats
Doff hat to old school cool cat rule in the hot seat sat every tune just phat
Over the moon we swoon legends croon only a buffoon lampoon’s the boon
Phew we hiss lost you and didn’t have a scooby doo how to cope without you
Heaven or Evan's sent hell bent to be the main event a magical musical present
Give Chris a kiss knew we’d miss the dope bliss did feed our need for more you
Like the thriller in Manila not a scintilla of filler just another bassline flotilla
No fraud or clanger all banger the concorde of chords roared in our hangar
Mr Morgan on the soundtrack tiller our melody miller our weekend’s pillar
Won’t get too gooey eyes wet a little dewy guys prime time to tell your friends
Can’t go wrong sound the gong funkier than cartoon loon Hong Kong Fuey
Every gambit & skit en song ding dong laced with wit from his Sunday pulpit
Brassy every pundit knows the culprit could only be Huey you’ll like it..stay classy
She said she didn't care anymore, it's just not worth it
The drugs too much of a lure that she just couldn't quit
There didn't seem to be any hope no dreams to live for
So hooked on that dope that nothing in life was for sure
Each day she would travel in order to make her connection
Oh how drugs will unravel and so oblivious in it's selection
And finally there she was as the dealer was now in her sight
She could almost feel the buzz and this false sense of might
It was in returning to her car with that child and all his grace
He said that's not who you are it's just life you're afraid to face
In quickly looking away she turned to look at him once again
Well what she would say, is the child wasn't there then
The ride back was turbulent as this played through her head
What had this all meant what this sweet little child had said
Now back home all alone she looked at those drugs in her hand
And like a light had shone she began feeling a love so grand
Flushing them down the toilet as her parents walked in the door
And as their eyes met she said I'm done with them, no more
They helped in her difficult way and eventually she became clean
Even with the simplest words we say oh how much they can mean
1982, Boston, a Bar with regulars like Norm and Cliff.
In breezes a chatty stuck up blonde, her attitude quite stiff.
Sam comes out from the back room and tries to help her cope.
She’s apparently been jilted by some guy, a serious dope.
Carla comes in and puts tension and banter into the air.
She’s the mouthy waitress whose words slice without care.
Gershon sits in the corner, writing his poems in a frantic way.
He has had a crazy epiphany, ending in a writing mood day.
Five hundred awards he says, quietly, under his breath.
He is writing for a contest held by a poet named Seth.
Five hundred awards, he thinks, glad to be in this booth.
Of course to brag and boast would seem truly uncouth.
And since he is gallant, and a hero to this poem right now.
Let’s just say he enjoyed Cheers, a bar with a bit of “wow”.
He took notes about Cliff, Norm, and Diane, Carla of course too.
Appearances of Rebecca, Woody and Frasier are long overdue.
What do I want for Christmas? That’s easy.
I want my dog and cat to be well fed.
I want my relatives to get along well with each other
I want co-workers to whistle merry tunes in their head.
It would be fantastic if the world could agree on a cease-fire.
All moms and dads could always expect and admire
Their children’s choices and appreciate their best friend.
Love, loyalty, and truth could win out in the end.
For Christmas I wish the world could have faith and hope.
Terrific if we could eliminate the effects of dope.
Fine Christmas if Good Samaritans we could all try and be
The entire year, yes, you and yes, absolutely of course me.
What do I want for Christmas? World peace, and lots of love
Unconditional admiration for others, faith from above.
A visit from our loved ones, who have gone on ahead to home.
Some lively ideas for an interesting, lively, fun-loving poem.
Written 12-05-2019
Poetry Contest: What You Want for Christmas
Sponsor: Gregory Paul