Long Dudes Poems
Long Dudes Poems. Below are the most popular long Dudes by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Dudes poems by poem length and keyword.
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Born on this rock with a diaper and mittens,
hard to the touch but so soft in its feel
Crawling along like a dragon with kittens,
purring out fire, if that could be real
Laid in the sun under cloud cover sharing,
offering thoughts in a dark shade of gray
Promising rain, during drought, oh so daring,
maybe at night but not during the day
Boy, how I laugh when the feathers are flying,
birds in the trees with a song out of tune
I shouldn't talk as I know they are trying,
lyrics of April when really, it's June
Quite the young dudes, hear the juke box, its blasting,
Bowie and Hoople and all of them guys
Burgers and milkshakes, the day everlasting,
teenage delinquents, come on, pass the fries
Racing our cars next to girls even faster,
after the prom there are beers, we can drink
Maybe some gin, if the taste we can master,
let's have a kiss, tell me, what do you think
Walked down the aisle, said I do, made a baby,
started a job, in a manager role
Asked for a raise, heard the boss offer, maybe,
can't make ends meet, it's beyond my control
Buying a house with a fence and a garden,
dinner at five and a two-car garage
Late with the bills, begging off for a pardon,
getting ahead, no, that's just a mirage
Elderly comes with a cane or a walker,
wrinkles amass where my skin was once smooth
Age lurks around like a lost, homeless stalker,
always, it seems. its got something to prove
Bent over, tired and cranky, just yelling,
"Get off the lawn!" oh, I hate those damn kids
They look so young, now the tear drops are swelling,
missing those days, now I've fallen the skids
Confined to bed, an old invalid writing,
pushing a pen with his last ounce of fear
"Here lies a man who is constantly fighting,
barely can talk and now hardly can hear"
That's when I see it, the medicine table,
next to the pills sits a leather-bound book
Reaching and stretching, I hope I am able,
nearing the end, I must give it a look
Then I recall, as I flip through the pages
line after line, seems like some kind of curse
Life always comes in a few different stages,
starts with a title and ends with a verse
~
Full Metal Clown, I don't know another life/
So I walk around on egg shells, with people thinking I'm crazy/
I live a metal life, with a clown mentality/
So I rock out when I roll, this is my reality/
I continue to rise, I climb the mountain to the top/
I unload my lyrics, just so you can upload/
I took YouTube by storm, my music put hair on your chest/
My picture on YouTube is blue but I'm really not blue/
My metal top notch, so I give you a shipload/
Turn me up loud till your speakers explode/
We are in the day and age of Symphonic Metal/
They are trying to kill the game, and I'm the crucifix,/
The prefix, the suffix, and all in between,/
With a nasty rare swag, but my style Mr. Clean/
I'm probably the only one with this many tattoos/
Who lives a clean, sober, legit life like the purest clown/
They celebrate my music like a festival/
I make dudes shiver, I make women quiver/
I'm unapologetic, I'm not a forgiver/
Be my friend but never hate on me cuz if you hate, you damn yourself/
My life is day to day, looking for that relief/
I'm a proud clown with a rhyme in my swag/
I see death around the corner, I tell him come and play/
If I owe him my life, then the Devil have to pay/
If I really have to pay, it will be in down payments/
Just a little at a time, I'm just trying to make it/
I'm a disobeyer, you a clown portrayer/
No, I'm not Buffy, but I'm a guitar slayer/
To all metal betrayers, I'll turn a popstar into a metal head/
I will hold the game down, in any event/
You other clowns are experimental, you need development/
Your rhyme is sentimental, it's just too gentle/
My flow is full throttle, it's a tough pill to swallow/
No pun intended, this not the Apollo/
Ha, pun is intended, this is not the Apollo/
All you metal heads are just too soft and hollow/
My full metal style got the game in a web/
You just caught up in the middle so put it on my tab/
Way Back When Lingo! (Slang from the 1970's)
The '70's were way back when,
Once we were young,
the 70's had just begun...
There were hits that were around,
when we were all closer to the ground...
I was a dorky classroom teacher,
Like being a gross lay preacher,
For all the little chicks and dudes,
Who had to sit on it in primary school,
"Get real!" I'd say to them,
They answered back, "Ahem,
Up your nose with a rubber hose!"
When I'd asked them to write some prose.
They were in my face all day,
Can you dig it? Then they'd say,
"Dorky, don't chuck a spaz,
We're really not that bad.
Keep on truckin', Art is groovy!"
Didn't have a VCR for movies.
"Maths is sick!" they'd shriek,
"We're not perfect little geeks!'
"Awe, sooky sooky la la,"
I'd say, "Extra homework, ha ha ha!
Right on, looooking gooood..."
"Dream on, dorky, there's the bell!"
"Good night, John boys!" I'd yell.
"That's sick!" "Catch you tomorrow."
Hometime was no sorrow.
"Catch you on the flip side,"
As they ran outside,
"Don't go bananas at us!!!!"
Now we're old, why did I fuss?
Once we were all so young,
When the '70's had just begun.
Word Lyric For Music #3
“Finding Repast at the Front Door”
Melissa and her sister are on the floor,
Dancing in circles without shoes, as before,
Dancing like tomorra’ might not shine,
Sipping white whales and bottles of red wine,
They were seeking a brace of yes men, heretofore,
Now they’re finding repast at the front door.
Older dudes with cigarettes dangling,
Said no with wives in tow;
Melissa and her sister stopped angling,
And found the limbo stick set down low,
They begged Tired Ed not to lower it anymore,
Now they’re finding repast at the front door.
Late night promises made with a glass of rum,
Melissa’s sister dancing to a delirious drum;
She’s beckoning the boys to get down low,
And with wives in tow, as before,
The old dudes and Tired Ed got down on the floor,
But Melissa and her sister, heretofore,
Were finding repast at the front door.
"American Grafitti" took me back again to High School in the 1960's
"Back to the Future's" nifty hot rod took me back in time and almost left me!
"City Slickers" took me way out west, to rustle cows and ride a horse
"Da Vinci's" code, did not bode well, the Vatican did not endorse!
"E. T. " turned out to be my friend, we peddled bikes far past the moon
"Forrest Gump" shared my lunch, and shared his chocolate just past noon
"Groundhog Day" is darn confusing, is it Monday or is it Tuesday?
"Hannibal" is one cruel dude,..........he sharpens teeth so he can chew me!!
"I Now Pronounce You Chuck and Larry" invited me to toast their wedding
"Jaws" invited me to take a swim! Those who did, were soon regretting!
"King Kong", was one poor ape who climbed too high for past mistakes,
"Lincoln" had too much at stake, but ended war between the states
"Mummy 1" and "Mummy 2" made me cry for Mommy,...PLEASE!
"No Country for Old Men"...but young dudes look, and want to leave!
"O' Brother Where Are Thou?" escaped their chains to play like Ringo
"Psycho's" bathtubs scare me silly, my next motel will be Flamingo's
"Quarantine" because I'm sick? If I stay in bed, they call me lazy
"Rosemary's Baby"...yikes that kid? Babysit....?? Are you crazy?
"Superman" claimed that he could help me, but flew away with no advice
"Titanic" hit a piece of ice, (that Superman was not so nice!)
"Unforgiven" (now is Superman)...Clint Eastwood is the slicker guy
"Valkyrie"'s plot has thickened...Let's all poke Hitler in the eye!
"When Harry Met Sally" I was jealous....her cafe' scene has made me blush
Xanadu had me roller skating.......racing faster, while I'm dating
"Young Sherlock Holmes" was just a kid, I kid you not, he met his Watson
"Zoolander" 's slacks were Cuban made.. I borrowed some and they were awesome!
(and I'm exhausted!)
______________________________________________
For Cyndi's exhausting ABC contest!! Whew!
You know I really love my computer
Coz all my Soup friends live in it!
Since the advent of the computer generation
Can't list them all, time doesn't permit
Youse guys are all so close to my heart
Every one has your own special place
From countries near and across the globe
What a fabulous way to start my day
Feel all mushy with a tear in my eye
A sentimental old geezer for sure
Never before have I felt so much love
Even you gentlemen have your allure
To clarify, you male dudes, it's strictly platonic
So in case you get any ideas
Squish 'em right now, I only love ladies
As well as pussy cats and cheetahs
Where in the world did “cheetahs” come from
They'd likely rip me apart, as smile
So don't try snuggling up to one any time soon
They're not swayed by your male guile
© Jack Ellison 2015
Hence no surprise... yes
recherché rhetorical flourish(es) impress,
yet mine deliberate vocabulist predilection,
I haint gonna stress
aforementioned quirk
also includes zero apr
(annual percentage rate),
may be subject with excess
sieve jejune ennui pullulating Kudzu like
indecipherable haphazard gobbledygook mess
abhorrent brashness claptrap discouraging
further harrowing progress
into thicket of verbiage, perhaps...
unwittingly encountering Loch Ness
cheesy Munster gussied up as...
transgender logophile, alias Hermann Hesse,
which obvious immediate
long winded atavistic feature will
allow, enable, and provide
dead giveaway clue to guess,
whether yours truly be
mouse or man (chess
champion) meandering along
stream of consciousness,
whereby succumbing to wordiness helpless
(fear not coronavirus,
nor other mortal affliction)
even if exuding fifty shades of gray pus,
the only bonafide surefire
holistic, iambic, therapeutic... recourse
I reluctantly, lamely, and feebly confess
to ameliorate slogging thru
metaphorical marsh cress,
(a veritable poetic nightmare)
volunteer self as unsuspecting to acquiesce
(lest no lifetime allowance
courtesy United States mint printing press),
whereat Impractical Jokers profess
gut wrenching, humiliating, insulting...
pranks, albeit dudes harmless
(think) only psychological state at risk else
suffer interminable, objectionable, unutterable...
mother (ƒµ©****) eternal duress
unbeknownst to thee multisyllabic
stranger vowel things in consonant
essentially Mattspeak trumpeting
as sesquipedalianism (the lesser of twee vols)
temporarily rendering, manifesting
sudden impulse to emulate... me,
and damaging basic cognitive process.
the Bus – Travels Through America’s Underbelly
I am a bus rider
That makes me unusual
For a white male
From an upper middle class family
Our people are not bus riders
Though some are subway riders
Bus riders are other people
The poor, minorities, immigrants
People who don’t drive
Because they are blind
Or have a DUI
And in my case
I don’t drive
Because I have bad vision
And bad coordination
Just never got the hang
Of the whole driving thing
Fortunately for me
My wife does the driving
But I still take the bus
From time to time
I rode the AC buses in Berkeley
As a child
Line 67, line 51, line 43 F bus
Rode them long before BART came along
And afterwards as well
As an adult seldom rode the bus
But when I did so
I was always impressed
By the sheer diversity
Of the bus riding property
Hundreds of languages
All sorts of sexual orientation
Some were white
Most were not
Most of my fellow passengers
Were nice enough
Some were friendly
And some were lost
In their own thoughts
And a few
Were scary looking dudes
With the look
Of someone who had done time
And were capable of more violence
I also rode the bus
In Seattle as a graduate student
A lot of fellow UW students
And the usual immigrants
Minorities etc
And some white people
Commuting
And in DC
Over the years
I rode a lot of buses
Mostly to and from the metro
But I got to know
And love the DC buses as well
I also took the greyhound bus
Across the country
Several times over the years
All over the U.S.
From Bay Area to Stockton
From Bay Area to Clear Lake
From Bay area to NYC
NYC to DC
All over the USA
Taking the Greyhound
Was always an an adventure
Met a lot of interesting people
As people on long distant bus rides
Tend to open up and talk
To pass the time away
Overseas I took the bus
All over
In India, in Barbados
In Spain and in Korea
The Korean buses
For many years
Were difficult for foreign visitors
As the signs were all in Korean
Most have signs
Now in English, Chinese and Korean
And are much more foreigner friendly
Riding the bus
In America
Allows one access
To the underbelly of American society
The poor, the marginalized
The immigrant communities
That many middle-class white people
Just never see
And for that reason
I am glad
That I am a bus rider
Ah! The Golden Years of Hollywood
And those old black and white movies
Some were cinematic disasters
But some you could call quite groovy
Even now, my heart skips a beat
When one appears on the late night screen
I choke up a bit seeing John Wayne
As he swaggers in and out of the scene
Today with its technology and trickery
We don't know if people are real
Or made up computer animation dudes
To me, it seems way too surreal
Take me back to the Spaghetti Westerns
The gangster films of Cagney and Bogart
The newsreel of the day plus a cartoon
Loved them all, that was cinematic art
The stunning sensuality of Ingrid Bergman
The glamour of a young Liz Taylor
The bombshell beauty of Marilyn Monroe
Bardot, Betty Grable and more
The newsreels, the cartoons, the travelogues
The giant blockbusters of the time
Sure was a lot for twenty-five cents
Plus popcorn and a drink for a dime
Ah! The Golden Years of Hollywood
Great musicals like “Singing In The Rain”
“An American In Paris” with Gene Kelly
Sure wish I could go back there again
Hang a left, clunker rocking
on sprung shocks.
Inside,
narrows taper to booths.
The place is slow-time empty.
The staff talk is griddle speech,
a blow by blow banter,
middle finger smarts mixed with
vowels of regrets.
From the lips of waitresses
the clipped history
of shaky affairs
and dead-loss dudes.
False gods named,
Tod, Ricky, and Wayne
a bruised chatter -
ankle-swelling narrations
that break apart unfulfilled.
Food arrives with a woman,
dimples nap in work-weary cheeks.
Her necklace is ink,
yet it hangs over glancing eyes
as a low-cut caress.
She knows I’ve been listening,
yet continues unabashed
a colloquy with my senses.
reciting by rote a silent
'tip-me-big' love spell.