Long Downsize Poems
Long Downsize Poems. Below are the most popular long Downsize by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Downsize poems by poem length and keyword.
STUFF IT!!
Want IT! Gotta have IT! Need IT!
Can’t be the only one without IT!
I’m entitled to IT!!
In ten years I’ve gone through 15 “phones”,
amassed a collection of 35 pairs of shoes and boots,
joined the recycling and environmental clubs,
put solar panels on my roof, and a fire pit in my yard.
I ride my bicycle to the golf course and Yacht Club.
WHAT!!! YOU SAY I DON’T NEED IT!!!
I should downsize, outsource, repurpose
the box I think I think outside of….
Stop being the source of high end pollution
at both ends – creation and destruction.
Where will we put the flotsam and jetsam of our lives??
How about in the proper recycling containers,
finding some place where they can be reused, repurposed.
The next time you Want IT!
Gotta have IT!
Need IT!
STUFF IT!!!
6/10/2015
For Stuff Contest
Moonstruck
Many moons and seasons ago my five children
inquired where I was heading to on my journey
I replied ‘to the moon’ and to how to get there
‘with a ladder’ to astonished faithful suspense
Turned downsize up and ascending again and
once more over and above I should get there
so I took them along flights of innocent fancy and
smiled when they suggested a ladder from heaven
Then darkness descended in lunar concealment
little did I know do I know now for certain how
the fairy tell princess came to savour the pathway
Time place and place-time ventured departed
into vortexes of void switched on in the clouds
Somehow and only the Universe holds answers
my soulmate and lover emerged into the rays
‘I would fetch you the moon on a spoon if I could’
and she ladled lunar surprise to my orb of the night
Soul minds physical spirits union beginnings sprung
into the fore pushing and pulling mounting the stage
Spoons fetched celebrations of life passion wilderness
oceans overflowed wetlands of love and a lighthouse’s
coloured glass windows went embracing the rungs
Since those moons struck together just the sky was the
limit still plenty of riptides spring floods torrents abound
and whirlpools droughts desertification flickering lights
breathing shadows unfolding distant horizons untold but
The pushing and pulling oases spinning spoons
mooning spoons spooned mooned up together
lick orbital salts crack creviced valleys of life while
the moon struck home onto love and compassion
Many moons and seasons ago my children knew
of my journey much better than I and raised in
their question the meaning of life at the crossroad
and it does not matter how they knew that ladders can fly
17th July 2016
Written many moons again by the Universe and still writing all over, above and beyond...
he engaged the endeavor
to be successful
they sited his past
successes
and marveled at
prospects each current condition
allowed
effectiveness and likability
began the outline
each move anticipates
an answer
each word was marked
by consequence
they listened to his every word
to downsize
the ego he had allowed to
follow him
his voice sounded across ages
and his body was wanted
in every corner of the world
they saw him as a means of
recreating the image of masculinity
from endeavor to endeavor
his showmanship has been measured
and his value equated
those who wish to be apart of him
in work, must see him as an
endeavor
quick and kind
right and real
wrong and understood
mean as a man should be
insight of creation
that his sperm is as wanted
as the air from his nature
effective his words
understood in every language
sought his talents
appreciated in every culture
wanted him as lover
adored in it's being
endeavor to endeavor
kind, mean, and clever
that all shall feel his presence
and speak of him
as champion
best in the world
the greatest of all time!
She keeps a loaded *****
in her shoulder bag.
She once found an unused finger
and has been thrusting it
at hapless men ever since.
She loves TMZ and Nancy Grace.
She sells space to celebrities
and their attorneys.
She harangues her cosmetologists
probing for their facial weaknesses.
She carries a Pekinese with diamonds.
She is a mother of cloud-children
that live on the outskirts
of her other interests.
She diets on crustaceans and couscous.
Her soft parts are pummeled
into snapping turtles.
While I was away,
her hard buttocks came to visit.
they left a card that said:
Your home has been remodeled
to suit a better class of person.
You need to downsize immediately,
contact my office
for further instructions.
I approached the authorities -
they just shrugged.
Our numbers still they grow and grow
But on finite planet
What can we do; which way to go
So on earth we all fit?
Our numbers we cannot reduce
For then we go backwards.
So we must further reproduce
To continue forwards.
There seems to be no equation
So we ask our A.I.
Can it offer a solution?
And tell us what to try.
Perhaps we tweak our DNA
And make humans micro.
Now this could be our only way.
Let’s think of future show.
Micro people would consume less
When just few inches tall.
This would reduce pollution mess.
Our impact would be small.
It is the rational way to go.
We must downsize to fit.
And our numbers can further grow
On our future planet.
14 Coursing!
Reflection one,
Gematria is revealing,
14 is “Dai”, enough, done?
Tzoros are healing,
Rav C. Shumulevitz wrote “Con”,
Or “With” feeling “Busha”
For your missed mission,
Tzoros have done annealing,
Are no longer needed? Redundant?
14 also is “Zahav” or Gold,
Precious as a watershed?
Wisdom from Tzoros’ toll?
Speaking, thus the rock bled?
Small steps, downsize the goal,
Reframe anguished cries instead,
Wishful thinking? Fatigue taking hold?
Mussar to the head,
And to the heart “B’HisPaalus” bold,
7th inning stretch? Bullpen retread,
Journey & Destination are one fold!
Prowling predator in a starless night.
No one knew when it began.
Have we forgotten all the lies about Vietnam,
the predatory newspeak from Pentagon deception?
Prowling predator in a starless night.
Do we recall a lying president dispensing
cocaine jingoism, driving the war in Iraq,
codifying the surveillance state
complete with GITMO torture?
Prowling predator in a starless night.
While all the eternal secret wars are waged,
no one sees how our language is infiltrated,
no one knows the infection of our tongue.
Overseas drones just cause “collateral damage.”
Everyone is suspect, a “person of interest.”
Prowling predator in a starless night.
No one gets laid off when corporations merely “downsize.”
Cutting vital services won’t matter with “government austerity.”
The “minimum wage” is a living wage while you starve on it.
Mass incarceration isn’t a problem in “correction facilities.”
Immigrant children are not caged in concentration camps.
Cages are not so cruel in “detention centers.”
Prowling predator in a starless night.
Devolving American imperialism reached its crescendo
with its devolving dystopian democracy
giving birth to the criminal president,
the nihilistic tyrant
rubbing salt in our wounds.
Published: Dissident Voice September 19th, 2021
Living a long life can be at times trying,
when people you've known are moving on, dying..
Eventually we all come to the end of that road.
It's best to get prepared, not just be that squashed toad..
Larry passed from lung cancer from his years in the navy..
Karen died of cancer too, of which she fought most bravely..
My dad went peacefully while he was asleep.
Micheal left while on the toilet. Good grief!
Be by accident, disease, or so-called natural causes, how
does one prepare for the "d" day that befalls us?
1. Be a good scout and prepare for the unseen and
pay close attention to your personal hygiene.
First responders who will arrive on the scene, much
prefer a fresh corpse and one that's mostly clean...
2. Before fate propels you to heavens gates or up
to the skies, get those finances in order and try
to downsize.
3.If your blessed with a good ticker, consider
donating a body part. Some one out there whose suffering
might possibly need you're heart.
Death is the ultimate climax of life so be prepared to eliminate strife.
Horace was a hoarder he kept everything
Rusty machinery, old books, paper and string
It wasn't just his waste he could not throw away
Horace collected other junk every single day
Completely unable to put anything in a bin
To Horace this was wasteful he thought this a sin
Soon his house was bulging with garbage galore
Every room, hall and stairs stacked from ceiling to floor
One would think by this time Horace would realise
He had an addiction and should try to downsize
The rubbish started rotting took on a putrid smell
Horace seemed not to notice and thought all was well
Perhaps one day soon not too far away
Doctors will find a cure that will help to allay
This awful disease so hard to understand
It's not a way of life most of of us would have planned
Did Horace choose to exist with this way of life
He seems quite content it doesn't cause him strife
Why should it bother us, we are not all the same
It's called the luck of the draw life is like a game
We all see things differently on this we must agree
What we call an affliction others call eccentricity
( story 03/14/11)
I saw a man coming down the road
Head held high, eyes were strong.
He stopped and asked of me
If he could have a bite to eat.
His clothes were all torn and tattered
I asked him what was the matter.
He looked at me and his eyes turned down
His face changed from a smile to a frown.
Hard times I have come across
I was let go by my boss
He said the times was making him downsize
And he had to let go of people to survive.
Everyone was doing the same
People losing their jobs was quite a shame.
Being a farmer who had hard times too
I knew exactly what he was going thru.
So I invited him inside to sit for a spell
For traveling these roads could really be hell.
He was given some soup to take
the chill out of his bones
And was told by the farmer that he wasn’t alone.
He was then given some dinner to eat
To this man it was quite a treat.
The farmer told him he could bathe and
stay the night - and if he wanted to leave
He could leave at first light.
He laid out some pajamas for him to wear
Even gave him some clean underwear.
The bed in the spare room was “ oh so nice”
And he slept peacefully throughout the night.
When he awoke there was breakfast on the table
Coffee, ham and eggs, and cream cheese on a bagel.
After having breakfast he felt like a new man
He looked for the farmer to shake his hand.
He thanked the farmer and asked him his name
He pointed to a wooden nameplate which said:
J. CHRISTHISSON- but some call me J.C.