Long Downloaded Poems
Long Downloaded Poems. Below are the most popular long Downloaded by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Downloaded poems by poem length and keyword.
I invented something quite peculiar
Last night
In my lucid dream
My neo commanded my allo-cortex
To prepare allusions to be downloaded
Upon returning to my physical presence
Caught in middle-sleep, guardians of satan
Were mocking the death and resurrection
Of Jesus Christ, shouting and laughingly
Pronouncing God The Father and Jesus
The Son as "the two lunatics"
Every direction I faced, the 'alien race'
Of towering blondes blocked my escape
Knowing I had lucidly dreamt a downloadable
File to be recovered once awake, I summarily
Accomplished this by attaching a small device
To the frontal-lobe side of my skull and
Activated the sensory-absorbing module
Instantly slipping back into my lucid dream
Allowing edits to be re-programmed
I was able to disrupt the satanic bonds
Holding me captive and cast out the
Demons that possessed me
Declaring the Lord Jesus Christ as my
Savior and Ruler of the Light that shall
Set man free!
Once again returning to my physical realm
I was even more determined to
Spread
His
Love
Upon
The World!
04.16.22
Had to pick up the pieces
To mend a broken heart
So I put myself out there
Made a brand new start
Downloaded the app
Filled out my bio
Then selected "submit"
Said "here we go..."
(Chorus)
It was me it was you
It was all of the above
The future was ours
From the start my love
Every time I look at you
It makes my heart sing
Makes me do funny things
Just like a ding-a-ling
When I saw your picture
And read your profile
I swiped to the right
Beguiled by your smile
Wasn't long till you replied
My heart skipped a beat
Couldn't wait for the time
When we'd first meet
Well the rest is history
It was love at first sight
We have been together
Since that very first night
Many years have passed
Our love still goin' strong
Because of you baby
I'm writin' this song
(Chorus)
It was me it was you
It was all of the above
The future was ours
From the start my love
Every time I look at you
It makes my heart sing
Makes me do funny things
Just like a ding-a-ling
(Repeat chorus and fade)
Poetry notes:
This is my first country song. Yee-haw!!
November 13, 2020
EoW(10) first !ove
Brian Strand's Blog
What formerly got celebrated as adventitious age of exploration...
1492 unleashed, jump/
kick started, and downloaded
a bittorrent götterdämmerung
spelling genocide of indigenous peoples
occupying Turtle Island,
now surviving tribes
just a shell of their former grandeur.
At present Columbus day
linkedin with high dudgeon
courtesy scattered remnants
of once proud nations
occupying contiguous United States
plus calling Alaska and Hawaii
their happy hunting grounds,
enshrine actual or mythologized
spectacular pièce de résistance
instances when counting coup.
I recollect needing to know
scores of years ago
when a student attending grade schools
within Lower Providence District
as an important bit of information
contributing to (white washed) history
of western civilization
(and never forgot)
recalling the names Nina, Pinta,
and Santa Maria associated
with heroic measures undertaken
by Cristóbal Colón,
(but also been referred to,
by himself and others, as Christoual,
Christovam, Christofferus de Colombo,
and even Xpoual de Colón)
five hundred and thirty years ago,
who purportedly "discovered"
the Americas, when in
fact native occupants of the land
already dwelled upon
the then island paradises.
He/him and subsequent swashbuckling
gung-ho high spirited men
set sail across expanse of ocean(s)
exhibiting eager intent to claim
untrammeled storied quintessentially
opulently magnificent kingdoms
intoxicating greedy Europeans.
Blatant exploitation inexorably nudged
courtesy trickery vis a vis hook and crook
to grab good & plenty treats
forcibly wrested by violence
sabotaging the delicate webbed wide world
constituting millenniums of heavenly bliss,
where marauders wantonly ransacked
indeed lacking absolute zero selflessness
forcing diverse autochthonous nations
to acquiesce and surrender
ancestral grounds to aggressive, coercive
and offensive Europeans hell bent
to populate occupied territory
commandeering, humiliating, manhandling,
poisoning, subdividing, triangulating
every square inch
encompassing fruitful grand home
of rightful heirs to stolen
near boundless tracts
eventually hashtagging uncharted
pristine green acres
spanning from sea to shining sea
becoming commercial real estate
falsely claiming a haven
housing home of the free
land of the brave.
Was it his head tilt that stumped me—
Was it his keen variations of hilarity,
Was it his words—wild, strange, free,
Like a bird straight out of captivity?
He had a frisky, playful tongue
That sounded like a friend
With no limitations save the time span
Of sixty seconds—
There—none wasted—
No—a wit sharp and full enough
Uttering colloquial meanings I could only dream
To attain through a matter
Of a downloaded app
And yet—he needed only sixty seconds
—on the spit and spot—
To relay inch by inch
A soul so beautiful and rich,
Creative and lovely,
With flawless bite and light
Smart phone readied,
His big toe hit the record button
As he played his tunes,
As he always had
And always will.
He called it the Toe Jam Jamboree,
And I applauded ever so inwardly
With a smile of awed sincerity
Sixty seconds and it ends,
Cut off too soon—
The limitations of fellow man
And fellow receiver
Playfully cruel
Ever playing through
Maybe the thick sail of tunes reached my ears
Beyond the time of the app’s snipping jeers
I told him—ever so inwardly,
His Toe Jam Jamboree was symphony—
Onward with sovereigns in silver harmonies
Reaching a peasant’s light and a warrior’s fight
Straight to a lone cock with feathers too bright
Beak strong-held high, and sharp
Ready to peck his way out of the coldest of hearts
And into ripples of rhythmic paradise
Where there breathes
The guy who attracted me,
With his tilted head,
His words of glee,
Flipping off every useless ad
And sifting words and airs like mad
Toe Jam Jamboree, he called it
And I call it symphony
With a steadied foot
And a readied middle finger
It’s his difference that will always
Linger
The Internet
by Robert (Bob) Moore (c) 2016
Always check the internet, for what you want to know
who was the actor in that film?, where do I want to go?
I’ve got a rash, what can it be, I know what I will do
I’ll check the ‘net, and then I’ll know, at least I’ll have a clue
How can I build a brick wall, or lay a concrete floor
I’ll just check on the internet, youtube tells you how and more
Don’t need to be a tradesman, and study half your life
the internet is there for all, can’t get in too much strife
The brakes I fixed aren’t working, the brick wall’s fallen down
the concrete has all cracked, and my wife said I’m a clown
the rash is now well spread, and I think it’s getting worse
the cure that I downloaded, guess she was not a nurse
Guess I’ll have to spend a quid, and tradesmen have to get
I know where I can find them, I’ll go on the internet.
Should'a Read The Fine Print
I am intrigued by all computer tasks,
and competent and skilled in every scheme
from word process and graphic arts design,
to spreadsheets, database and all between.
But, I became too confident last week
when I downloaded upgrades that were bad
for programs that I use...I acted quick...
and what a sad computer crash I had!
You see, the upgrade versions were not right;
computer froze with dreaded screen of blue!
Technician came and, for a hefty price,
it was repaired and set to go as new.
The moral is, I thought I knew it all
and cut some corners...shortened up the stint.
I learned a lesson I will not forget...
I really should'a read that dang fine print!
Sandra M. Haight
~10th Place~ Premiere Congest
Contest: I Really Should'a Read the Fine Print
Sponsor: John Lawless
Iambic Meter: 10 syllables and 5 feet per line
Judged: 04/28/2016
True story - This happened April 2, 2016, and I got my computer back a week later.
Thank goodness I had all my documents and important files backed up on an
external hard drive (done every day) whereby I hooked it up to an older computer and could proceed with my work - especially for Poetry Soup!!
Shallow people
in murky Waters
Dissolution
Sons and daughters
By no surprise
Beyond closed eyes
misguided kiss
Unrailing Bliss
We have capsized
Polarized land falls, sunshines
Shallow people in the Desert Storm
Shallow people alone
In the drought caught up
People standing in the shadow cactuses spit out
Regurgitating thorns embedded in my side
Spirit I rush there's no rains here
The floods have stopped
30 people in murky water
Downloaded drowned people no longer matter
For the solace sun has dried,
them all scorched fried now battered
8/22/24
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr 2024
Mere mortal body has to die, but what of mind?
Brain transplants are defeated by mortal neurons, that will all eventually age and fail.
Uploading minds to robot super computer brains, is immortality's holy grail.
For conscious mindful robot bodies can become the new mankind.
Abandoning frail mortal flesh to dust in grave, or ash in smoke, consigned.
You can replace your robot host with the latest model each year, for an image refresh and tech upscale.
Your mind downloaded from brain to computer can be uploaded, again and again, full-scale.
The mind-file then can then live forever, immortal mind to replaceable robot body, uploaded and maligned.
But what would it be like to live inside a metal box forever?
With metal arms and legs covered in fake skin, denied the thrill of flesh,
Without the sensual joys of touch and feel, of imbibing food and drink, and all other such pleasure.
Would a life immortal in a tin can be worthwhile, even with regular robot refresh?
Despite all the simulations, gadgets, fake this and that, would this really be the answer?
Or is mind so tied to mortal body that a senseless mind, immortal in computer chip, could never really mesh?
Nestled in verdant woods on a hilly terrain,
The sequestered chapel stood, tranquil was the place
With a calm drowning the hubbub around
With blooming plants adorning the encircling space
Gently moved to that well protected chapel
Tip toeing through the arch entrance
Entered and knelt down before the holy altar
The serenity there overpowering all my sufferance
Inside was nothing of grandeur to arrest the eyes,
Save a simple crucifix hung on the wall,
And a statue of Mary and Joseph at the side
With empty wooden benches lying in the hall
As I stood in humility with folded hands,
Nothing did I see, but a gentle whisper heard,
Suffusing me with feelings, delicate and beatific
And within me a strange sensation stirred
A riot of colors and gorgeous spires emerged,
And legions of angels gently falling in line
I saw winged seraphs with bugles in hands,
Singing hymns on end in lovely notes divine
How long did I bury my (self) in that blissful state?
Or was it a moment when time refused to budge?
Before me, I saw a slice of paradise unveiled,
A scene even a heretic would begrudge.
In the stillness, the song of birds from surrounding woods,
Sifted down through the murmur of wafting wind
Pleasant was the sensation that replenished the soul
Deep it was fanning all anxieties away from the mind
Sucked to the fill, the peace that exuded.
Lay afloat in the joy that welled.
It was a feel far too deep for words.
More appeasing than all the riches of this world,
Like a child cuddled in sweet embrace,
I felt sheltered from all storms and gale.
Trapping that celestial feel, and wrapped in grace,
Came out from that quiet place, calm and hale
Into a busy boisterous world, with a wise spiritual insight
To be a never dying wellspring with resurgent waters of love
For many to drink to their fill and appease their thirst
And become a symbol of peace like an olive bearing dove
Placed First
12- December, 2021
Beatitude Rhyming Poem- Poetry Contest
Sponsor- Beata Augustin
Resubmitted for A Spiritual Wisdom Downloaded
Poetry Contest.
Sponsor - Unseeking Seeker
Twenty fifth of December, three thousand and four
and already I'm down in the dumps
we're round at the neighbour's via tubes that save labour
propelled by some hydraulic pumps.
We've exchanged all our presents and got them unwrapped
once again I've got self-cleaning socks
the wife's Kevlar panties, though they are quite scanty
are going straight back in the box.
I'm constantly goaded to eat nuts they've downloaded
they'll try any tactic to feed ya
but the problem, I quibble is that some have been nibbled
as they're passed around on social media.
We're looking for doorways or just any more ways
to find a quick route to get out
and escape if we're able, being chased round the table
by genetically modified sprouts.
They've offered a glass of Martian Pinot noir
and they tell me it's alcohol free
so there goes my boozing and afternoon snoozing
and waking up just after tea.
Grandma kids are teasing, cryogenic freezing
means she won't wake up until noon
to find grapes in her hair and a plum, God knows where
and they've blocked up her nose with some spoons.
Don't know why they have bothered with plates that can hover
it seems so bone idle to me
they could have just handed the pudding that's landed
on the light fitting just above me.
The custard's abundant but the jug is redundant
administered now by syringe
and so is the Brandy which, though is quite handy
prevents us from having a binge.
When later we get back from fresh air and jet packs
remembering when we could walk
I'll look back fondly then to those Christmases when
we just used a knife and a fork.
November 16th 2015
For Contest 'A futuristic Christmas', sponsor Mystic Rose