Long Duke Poems
Long Duke Poems. Below are the most popular long Duke by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Duke poems by poem length and keyword.
" Sci-Fi Bar Jokes & Riddles ... "
( 1 Tim. 1: 11)
(1.)
"Star Wars Bar ..."
A Jedi Knight and a Wookie, walk into a bar ...
The Jedi tells the bartender to keep the drinks coming.
Around dawn, when the Jedi is too drunk to think,
the bartender, then tells them both, its time to pay
their tab. Then the Jedi, turns to his buddy, the Wookie
and asks, "Do You Mind?"
------- ------- ------ -------
(2)
"Dune's Sand Bar ..."
On Arrakis, the desert planet known as Dune,
A Duke and a Baron, walks into a bar ...
Now, which one orders the biggest bottle of Mezcal?
------- ------ ------- -------
(3)
"The Matrix-Mixer Bar ..."
Neo and Morpheus, walk into a bar ...
On that night, every patron, gets their first drink free
Now, the selection is between two drink choices on
the list: They can choose either the 'Crimson Cocktail'
or the 'Blue Kamikaze' ... Which did Neo pick?
------- ------- ------- ------
(4)
"Stargate Symbol Bar ..."
Col. O'Neill and Teal'c, walk into the Stargate
and wine-up in a bar (he-he) ... in a world
very much like our own. While there, they
socialize with the locals, sample strange brews
and get very intoxicated. However, not to worry,
on this world, the bartender is used to visitors
who can't handle the native liquors ... So,
the bar has their own taxi, on standby
for such occasions. So he dials the cab.
But before the cabdriver comes, the taxi
has to be gased up. The question is:
"What gas station does he use?"
------- ------- ------- -------
(5)
"Barsoom/Mars' Whiskey Bar ..."
A Thern and a Thark, walk into a bar ...
They join John Carter, who was drinking Cutty Sark
and a Martini. Also there, is The Princess, who
sips on deja-blue water and a shot of Royal Crown.
The Thern, gives his order for a glass of Jameson & Gin
And the Thark, orders: Jim Bean and Jack Daniels
... and a Bourbon ... and a Beer
------- ------- ------- -------
(6)
"Star Trek's Hit The Deck"
As They Journey Into Darkness & Each Distant Star
Kirk & Spock Walks Into The Enterprize's Bar
And Tho' The Ship May Shake & Warp-Drive-Drop
Mr. Spock Keeps As Cool As A Glass of Ciroc
And Captain Kirk, Just Orders A Scotch On The Rocks
('Cause Scotty Takes Care of All The Enterprize's Stock)
------- ------- ------- -------
Poem/Jokes by: MoonBee
Form:
i tried to notice without noticing.
i tried to fit in by not standing out,
but i knew i was different.
their walls much bigger.
their yards much nicer.
in elementary it seemed everyone
was in the same class: lower class,
but this was junior high across town,
on white burb avenue
and i was poor.
they weren't.
of course i resisted.
i mixed and matched the clothes i had
as if i was a designer preparing
for the new season.
they let me into their world
for a little while.
i hung out in huge basements,
chilled in hot tubs with bikini clad young hotties,
taking part in all the gossip.
until my illusion wavered
and they slowly pulled back--
as my clothes got holes in them,
as my shoes wore down,
as i grew out of all i had gotten
that one time my mom took me school shopping.
goodbye, Stephanie Bach.
goodbye, Anne Murry.
goodbye, Lori Larson.
years later i would remember them
at the most inopportune moments--
drunk in a dive bar in Harlem
talking to an ugly girl i was thinking about doing,
in the dirty bathroom of a crack house before i
put the pipe to my lips,
in line at the welfare office.
i think i was bitter for a while,
thinking about how they all probably owned homes
not far from each other and how they would
throw little upscale cocktail parties
around the holidays and kiss each other
on both cheeks when they greeted
but at the same time trying to stay hip by listening
to commercial rap and sexy pop music in their suv's.
yeah, bitter
drunk, and very early in the morning,
i came across a tiny neighborhood jazz bar
where a trio group had their hands
on the heads of everyone and was shaking them
to the electric sounds of their primitive instruments.
a boxing gym had less bobbing and weaving
than that jazz bar on the corner of 106th and broadway.
cats were healing up in the place that night.
my head was going ten rounds while my eyes were closed
when those girls popped up only for a second,
but they didn't fit the scene,
so for the first time, i felt sorry for them
before i forgot about 'em.
later, outside, the sign that said 106th st.
had another one below it that read
duke ellington boulevard
i stared at it, making room for a new memory.
goodbye, Stephanie Bach.
goodbye, Anne Murry.
goodbye, Lori Larson.
K’ung Fu Tzu or Confucius his English name,
for centuries, brought China much dignity and fame.
Born in the state of Lu, now Province of Shantung,
a scholar of Asia, Chinese his native born tongue.
As a child, he held a make-believe temple ritual,
as an adult, love and learning became habitual.
Confucius was made a magistrate by Duke Zhao of Lu,
under his administration, the small city flourished and grew.
Bordering countries worried, Lu would get too strong,
Confucius resigned, so that the countries would get along.
Royal courts shunned Confucius, plotted to kill him,
He was arrested and jailed, his future looked very grim.
He sent word to a kindhearted king, in nearby homeland,
to rescue Confucius, a solution the king had planned.
Confucius shared ideas and teachings with royal notabilities,
who learned eventually of his distinguished abilities.
Only after his death did Confucianism commence,
everything he taught completely made sense.
Confucius bequeathed no writings or historical list,
but it is known that the “Record of Rites” exist.
“Record of Rites” contains anecdotes about his teachings,
a complete collection of his students’ preachings.
There are three dimensions of human condition,
that totally make up the Chinese tradition.
Self, community, and tradition are Confucian spirituality,
and endless teachings of human morality.
Father and son were held in high admiration,
since man was the family’s root foundation.
Ruler and minister maintained social order,
developed guidelines of human social border.
Husbands controlled the family and his wife,
she had no opinion in her family or her life.
Elders were held in higher regard than the child,
since great wisdom held their social order more mild.
The last of the social order was the true friend,
from which the human could fully depend.
These five bonds were developed for flourishing souls,
and the boundaries that were set for Confucian goals.
Confucius says; never give a sword to a man that can’t dance,
and real knowledge is to know the extent of one’s ignorance.
Copyright © 2010 By Caryl S. Muzzey
Fifth Place Winner ~ "Broad Horizons” Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Deborah Guzzi
June 30, 2010
My suject is "The Five Bonds of Confucianism"
Alright have to admit that whole drole Bazball or Baz Bat cool cat vibe…rabbit out of hat tribe.. is taking its toll..sunk in a hole..losing it’s goal and soul..not being a vitriol troll..maybe need to mull over a cull of this rigmarole..
Can’t pretend..is the end of this spangly jangly new fangled trend…nothing off the shelf…just express yourself…won’t spank you..will almost thank you.. if you tank…bonkers fools rules you can’t bend…must always go stonkers.. all cool no old school…when you shan't defend and depend on a blend of soft conkers and tracks to conquer..
Let’s explain there are many ways to play and entertain…the lotto of the Baz grotto..no dull lulls …no more bore score draws…one motto…just high octane insane where seemingly the sole means to control is a flat track that blunts and shunts how every attack does bowl..
I know..have already banged on..had a go at the pitches…feather beds so flat you can bat gung ho heave ho from the get go.. no wear and tear..glitches or hitches.. despair to stop the flair.. no real movement in the air or off the square..the Bazball pest…Bazbat conquest..effectively saying no we won’t be surfing the crest of a true test contest of willow and leather..hey ho nonny no…to the real deal Test fest..tally ho..
No pretension..apprehension of the lacking dimensions and few mentions of the best Test tensions..
Also must rebuke how they have turned the duke ball from a serious nuke which would spook.. enthrall..now reliant on a cherry that gets so soft you need a fluke ..well Dukes will be compliant as England’s their biggest client…we saw our copper haired laird no longer..stronger defiant..again came a cropper..and this was hardly a proper whopper green topper..
It seems kitsch Bazball rule needily greedily avoids any glitches or hitches in batter’s riches which in turn.. does spurn and bewitches merchants of seams and stitches..
Well it can be dicey to make your tracks at home too spicy..get in a lather…at the palaver as runs become rather pricey..when you could goad..milk that ilk as you explode on a silk road..
Our selector trifecta…the three wise men..Baz..Bob and Ben.. know if there is no speedster thuggery… no Geoffrey jaffas…bunsen spin skulduggery..they will be the gaffers with some Bazball muggery..
What can a bewildered brotha’ say,
it happens every unnatural day
Sunshine is labeled as shade,
crystal clear is called opaque fade
Did I make a left turn
into the wrong dimension?
Now I’m seeing curvaceous things
that Nana never mentioned
Me rearview mirror eyes are
side-swipe swivel swerve widening
Was there a hot-iron cool downgrade,
firebrand placed
on my Ocho Rios dreadlock upbraids?
Puff kings are turning into drag queens ...
strange flesh doings,
I-and-I now be-be first-hand witnessing
Boys are turning into girls,
and those goatee girlz are turning into scrotum women
Lord knows,
I feel like I’m living in
Sodom and Gomorrah again
Girls are turning into boys,
and those bosom boyz are turning into vulva men
Now, I’m not for sight sure,
just what glassy gaze starry eyes blurry,
rest beyond the dress curtain
Surprises a-plenty are in store,
when it’s uncertain
what’s behind the gender door
Don’t wanna make the wrong turn,
and roll into the surreal fifth dimension
Twilight Zone neon strip is on burn,
whatcha’ see
might require psychiatric intervention
Girls are turning into boys,
and those boyz are turning into Venus men
Lord knows,
I feel like I’m Sin City living in
ancient Egypt Greece again
Boys are turning into girls,
and those girlz are turning into Mars women
Puff kings are turning into drag queens ...
strange flesh doings
It’s an open-closet psychotropic skin scene
Another brother daisy duke
exhale exigent cross-dress pollination
Pubic bramble bush adolescent tumble,
take a different genitalia turn from
a same sister butch duchess
Boys are turning into girls,
and those girlz
are turning into testosterone women
Lord knows,
I feel like I’m Zion living in
Babylon Rome again
Girls are turning into boys,
and those boyz
are turning into estrogen ova men
Momma drag queens
are the former Daddy puff kings
Nothing on the surface is
quite biological what it seems
Id feelings of a sorrowful kind,
have me heart sprout creeping ivy
of eunuch tear yearning
for a Garden of Eden spiritual awakening
And impotent thoughts of mine
are starting to grow
down below, in-between
Many years have slipped beneath the tide of time, yet still I remember.
I was just a youth, standing high above the world from Ocean Towers in Downtown Kingston, gazing out toward the pier, when my eyes caught sight of her. A woman, moving with eerie calm, made her way down Duke Street. There was something in the way she walked , not hurried, not lost, but as if drawn by an unseen force, a quiet resolve no one else could hear.
She reached the water’s edge and, without pause, stepped in.
And then she went under.
My heart seized.
Without thinking, I threw myself down the flights of stairs, taking them three, four at a time, frantic, breathless, desperate to save her from herself. But I was too late. My effort, though full of fire, was futile. She had already surrendered to the sea.
I was only seventeen, maybe eighteen.
Too young to understand.
But old enough to be haunted.
I stood on that shoreline, wind in my face, searching for something, anything that could make sense of what I had just seen.
Why would she do that?
Was it fear that led her into the water?
A mind unraveling beneath too much weight?
Or maybe, just maybe, it was her final cry,
a silent scream to a world that had long since stopped listening.
To this day, I don’t know what tomorrow holds.
No one does.
But this, I’ve come to understand:
I owe it to myself to rise. From every fall.
To blaze a path forward, even if it cuts through shadow and sorrow.
To carve something worthy from the ruins.
No matter how far I have been flung...
through fire, through flood, through hurricane and mud,
now this is hell.
And yes, I’ve known its fire and brimstone
I’ve learned this:
Not a brother man can save you.
Blood thicker than water ,,but at times, it doesn’t count.
Dracula drinking blood, fingers sore, do you know the scorè?
Elusive, illusion , dragon slim or stout.
Shut the mouths, there's a way out.
Even if I have to claw...
kicking in every door,
crawl, bleeding and bruised
I will find out.
Because somewhere beyond the flame,
there is life.
And I intend to walk toward it.
Because I know this truth....
I am nothing until I make myself something.
You do not possess the power to do it for me.
Only, and solely, me.
A profession that's not the norm.
It borders on the absurd.
In the mountains and down the hollers,
powerful engines could be heard.
I decided to try something new.
Put my driving skills to the test.
Driving from Harlan County to Asheville,
It didn't end well, you might have guessed.
The city fathers got together,
figuring how to make it all work.
Everyone involved in this illegal trade,
from the mayor to the town clerk.
The hillbillies brew the dew.
Most of it safe, some burns red.
Uncle Jessie tried it once.
His eyes rolled back and he dropped dead.
Billie Ray had a hot rod '50 Ford.
Was a race car, lost more than it won.
We popped the trunk, man it was huge.
Perfect for the nightly Asheville run.
In the trunk was a steel tank.
Loaded hooch made the car ride low.
Truck springs took care of the problem.
Now the truck no longer hauls cargo.
Beneath the rear bumper were nozzles.
A switch inside made the oil flow.
When a revenuer was chasing you,
in the rearview, was quite the show.
I always wanted to drive.
Thought this life would be exciting.
Told to keep away from this game.
It's dangerous hauling white lightning.
Blazing out of Harlan County.
At first, it went fairly smooth.
Problems I planned for didn't happen.
I got settled into a groove.
Bo Duke, he would've been proud,
when I jumped the gap at Cumberland.
Crossed the stream at Maynardville.
The engine died, it's not going as planned.
I finally got it restarted.
Pretended I was driving the Grand Prix.
Ahead, I saw the tail lights of the g-man.
Oh, snap! they're supposed to be chasing me!
I pulled off the exit for Knoxville.
Checked the map, found Kingston Pike.
I heard this in a song before.
Outside of Bearden, they were planning to strike.
Kept going in spite of the tune.
There they were, waiting to spring.
Blocking the road, no way to get by,
I lost control, spun into this big electrical thing.
The car quickly caught fire.
The door was jammed, options were few.
It was like an atom bomb going off,
when the flames caught the Mountain Dew.
The next night, my funeral was held.
Played a song about some bird in a tree.
The car lights, they stretched for miles.
This life I guess was not for me.
Hickory Dickory Dock, the mouse,
Ran up the clock,
But the crooked little man
In his crooked little house,
Who caught this crooked mouse
After Humpty Dumpty's fall,
Could not prevent the coming
Down of baby, cradle and all!
Now old Mother Hubbard,
Checked her bare cupboard
And found Jack and Jill,
Who lived just up the hill,
She wrapped poor Jack’s head
In vinegar and brown paper!
Guy Fawkes scandalous caper,
Was renown, he met the Duke of York,
Who to Fawkes, seemed quite a dork,
For the Duke took all his men up,
Then down, and up and again down,
He did not want to break his crown!
At that moment a Ladybird,
Whose house was on fire and
Her children gone, flew to the house,
That Jack built, and sat on the maidens
Lap all forlorn,
In the early morn,
But the maiden had gone to bed with John
Who still had his trousers on!
Both had a ball, and sang
A song of Sixpence,
But in their defence
They were hiding from Guy Fawkes
And his gunpowder plot,
In bed, thought of it naught!
Suddenly through their bed
Ran three blind mice for their life
And a farmers wife,
Who was cutting their tails with a knife!
Imagine three little kittens,
Who had lost their mittens
But could have no pie,
When they saw the blind mice,
Pie was history, as once,
Twice and thrice,
They caught the blind mice!
Meanwhile Polly had put the kettle on
So that all the mourners for Cock Robin,
Could all have a cup of tea,
It was the fly with his little eye,
Who first saw him die.
However, through all of this,
Little Jack Horner
Who sat in his corner
Heard Tom, Tom the Pipers son,
And though related none
Visited the Queen of hearts,
Who gave them some tarts!
Night time was nigh
And way up in the sky,
Was a twinkling star,
That Jack Sprat spotted from afar,
And so did old King Cole,
But at the same time heard the bell toll,
For poor cock robin,
So he started sobbing,
But soon cheered up when
He saw a fine lady upon a white horse,
Riding to Banbury Cross!
Wee Willie Winkie, asked for a ride
Through the town,
Still in his nightgown!
But when he saw the cow jump
Over the moon,
And the dish,
Run away with the spoon,
He rubbed his eyes and said what a fiddle,
Hey diddle diddle!
Call me the Duke of Silence,
I resonate with the six elders at the Gala.
I would rather commend a madman for saving a cat,
Than applaud politicians in SUVs,
Wearing first-class Royce,
While we suffer in harsh economic downfall.
Renaissance is my diploma,
I’ve come to see through all peers,
Shady thoughts and unclear actions.
Living is now a matter of,
“What do you bring to the table?”
Youthful pride in contrast to,
“Why should I answer that?”
Suffering childhood memories,
Seems to be the best phase of my life.
Would I wake up to be given stacks of duty to perform,
And still shine a smile in doing it?
Yet in my heyday, I languish.
I’m in a state of life,
Where I witness everything,
And I’m a vessel of secrets,
But I would never speak.
Should I die in it,
So be it, and lead me to misfortune,
For I was conceived in a stained world.
I want to be there with you,
But I ask, do you want to be there with me?
Put all that away and see my happiness.
I wonder if there is any love for me,
Seeking it but afraid to confront it.
The lips that uttered such three words,
And planted seeds of hope in me,
Have left me shattered because of,
The previous question.
Down to earth, I weep, “I’m innocent.”
I’m an African child raised to hate my people,
But like to carry a gun.
Imprinted ink on paper seems to carry more value,
Than a life carried for nine months with pains.
The war has just begun. Vanguard!
I’m not here to tell a love story.
I want to be reborn,
Reborn in a world of truth and honesty,
And sometimes wish I was never there.
There are dark souls seeking freedom,
From the pandemic we have placed on ourselves called the human race.
All these days on Earth have,
Made me pile up a lot of experience,
That I’m sure can be a safe place to ponder. Safe Haven.
Drich would be there for everyone,
But everyone would be there for everyone,
If you know what it means.
A new world awaits me. I know.
It's beautiful to live,
But it's dreadful to live outside and die inside.
Within, you know there is a graveyard,
For you have sacrificed a lot for your peers.
Now all I see is black and white.
Be brave, said I, said I…Hey Duke, you are bramazing – brilliant and amazing combined…I hope you view this poem – I have a lot on my plate and I really like you…’l’ stands for ‘like’…’I’ stands for ‘ice cream’…K stands for ‘kake (cake)’…and ‘E’ is for ‘eggs’ – that, altogether – in sentence form, is “I have a lot on my plate and I really like you like ice cream, cake and eggs…that sounds childish and sounds wrong…sorry – I’ve tried to work my verse magicalness – that was also an acrostic in itself – it’s an acrostic within an acrostic – what a mind blowing reality of it all!
Radiant sun shines on me when you comment on my writings
And…I’d like to say ‘thank you’ for being a computer pal!
Marvelous thoughts come to mind when I think of you and I’s relationship – yet, I don’t know you in person…however, that doesn’t really matter for the meantime
A wisp of wistful breeze zips right through me…it’s as if the atmosphere is getting colder than cold itself…frozen in place forever…never floating in space…free me…set me free…free me…set me free…my mind repeats words…phrases…I’m part dyslexic and autistic as my mind tells me at this very moment as I’m writing this out without a slightest doubt…I pout…I doubt…I pout…I am a drought, thirsty for Him alone…He’s my backbone…I am on my own, but not alone…Duke, sorry – I get off topic sometimes, but you are absolutely nice and you’re personality is like sugar and spice with a touch of advice…does that sound abserk? I hope naught… I was hopeless – not! I used to hving a lying disorder when I was younger because I thot I could be sneeeeeky… I spell things wrong on purpose just in case any of you are grammar Nazis…I shouldn’t use that term, but oh well – who knows where the wind blows…I could write as long as I live with all of my perpetual might…God’s sight – a light at the end of the tunnel..what’s your Light, Duke?
Zigzagging thoughts strike me…and I’m stuck – stuck – stuck in this pit for hours it seems…mend my broken, shattered dreams……………. Scattered reality of it all really pushed me out of shape and size…I make up sayings and quotes – I’m weird, aren’t I, Duke? Well – that’s the new me