Long Dump Poems
Long Dump Poems. Below are the most popular long Dump by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Dump poems by poem length and keyword.
Cruel fate nixed our sites set for buying a hoagie
Yours truly and the wife
tended to some errands,
which included going
to the Limerick,
Pennsylvania Citizens Bank
for me to rectify
an erroneous address
indicating I Matthew Harris
purportedly and presently domiciled at:
96 West Miner Street
(and whereinthehellis)
Coaldale, Pennsylvania
18218-1017
which address listed after viewing
online banking screen
indicating Good morning,
afternoon or evening,
then scrolling down
to sought after preference selecting
either checking or savings account
then clicking on View
Statements in Document Center
subsequently choosing
timeframe, account and type),
while the spouse
patiently waited in a hot car,
(slightly more comfortable
than a cat on a hot tin roof)
then going to ALDI'S, GIANT
(the latter place
to dump off paper for recycling
and making a beeline to purchase items
in the clearance section),
felt sorely disappointed,
when a series of unfortunate events
(even Lemony Snicket
would have been dumbfounded)
occurred when earlier today
and last least on the agenda
found me headed
at the Royersford, Pennsylvania Wawa
for what I envisioned being
a mouthwatering (yellow) "submarine"
or just "sub" the general term
for both the bread roll and sandwiches
made with it in both the USA
and other English speaking nations
and lastly Wawa
right there in Royersford
felt jinxed cause we
(hungry enough to eat a horse),
could not purchase
(what both of us imagined to be)
our delectable aforementioned sandwiches
which DID NOT
find me being thee unsung hero
(regarding a damsel in distress)
actually courtesy using the EBT
(electronic benefits transfer)
SNAP food card declined part of the sale,
nor could I access (withdraw) funds
using a recently issued debit card
farcical indicating expiration date,
when the spouse gave me a dour
facial recognition expression
(and she feigned pouting like a child),
cause her husband
could not head back to the house
at Pooh Corner
with aforementioned treasured commestible
already finding us salivating
like Pavlov's dog,
which dude (who looks like a lady,
with sweet emotion,
especially after washing
and drying my hair) came back
to the car empty handed.
A beautiful thing, in these small farming towns,
Is the place where we dump all our trash,
The remote little area, void of people,
Where we can rummage around for a stash,
You see, the place is divided to a few different parts,
The rubbish, the steel and the wood,
There’s areas for trees, and for building debris,
Dumped, because it’s no good,
But to this little eye, there’s treasure in there,
My treasure is the shiny brass pot,
Or the old wooden chair, with a story to tell,
Tin drums, and other whatnot.
I love the short visit once a month, or so,
Where I can leave my rubbish behind,
And search around looking for thrown out wealth,
For the abundance of old stuff to find.
Sad to see so many books
for want of being read
dying on the library shelf
some look as tho' they're already dead
and to think I could devour them all is fiction
I would be fooling myself instead
I've consumed all the classics Shakespeare complete
but science and mathematics have me completely beat
with all the thought authors put in hate to see it go to waste
can't put a good book down once I've had a taste
the silence of the written word
drink in the view something on which to chew
speaks volumes there's so much to tell
literacy is as the Trojan Horse inside my heart the citadel
don't want to see them fall by the wayside
thrown in the weeds on the seedy side of town
not wanted around
dropped in the dump out of sight out of mind
take a look there's so many books check them out
and oh so little time
A fabulous Italian mini-lunar-naut
Traded his mini- spaceship for a cot,
No more moon trips,
No beeps or blips
Relaxation and rest duly sought
Dreams aplenty for that lunar-naut.
He dreamed of lots and lots of space,
He dreamed of traveling all over the place.
He dreamed of women with eyes of pink.
He dreamed of cats with hair of mink.
He dreamed of oceans, turquoise blue.
That little mini-lunar-naut, was asleep so true.
He dreamed away a month and a day,
Until he was swept in a broom, far away.
Poor little mini-lunar-naut, far from Rome,
Is using a rusty can in the dump as his new home.
You refuse, refusing the salvant call,
laying there in fetal position,
enthralled by my hex of vinegar and scrawl of liquids release that just seem to pour out of me organically.
Hissing in Wormwood's frequency dwelling, Hollywood "your signature home" learning-annex-auxilliary.
My park and recreation facility.
Reserved, this space taken.
A dump, next to unopened salve
and not knowing your own, side-bar-by-law$.
An unlived, contrived existence, of litigation before dawn.
So shine on, shine on,
Dear: ) (Newton Star blink out before the gravity of
persistence, taken aside, the watchtower of your keen eyed media straddle, beacons a distress
call, to your final hour.
The time your nightwatch is voyeur
procured.
Humpty Dumpty asses with sulphur in their saltwatering laffy Taffy maws, fixed, agape, ajar."Give me some sugar baby."
Jezebellians, you shunned, the truth, when it was audio visually- bore.
Gored yourself on the posts of a grinding of mandibles and dripping blood upon the crucible stone and forbidden bindings.
No white night when a guiding light
doth shine on dead eyes.
No silver linings filling those cavities.
Only self, depravity.
Will be mouthed from the still-shine forever moored.
Uttered where windmills churn electro
Codes of algo-executionary tables
to turn.
Churning the butter of temptation
with pouting maid determination.
Mitigated, my starlings it is for,
the ungrateful scored.
Cookie cutter milkmaids of
factorized words.
Music for Nations.
A union of the snake said Plato.
Fall from the night.
As an Nova of unbeknownst, essence,
implode yourself of something more,
lost in the mire of the ignorance of indifference, onloaded to fill an emptiness void of frivolous showroom and commercials shined core.
Enjoy the aftermath in my garden.
Take another bite of my lore.
Rise, a new creation, in new age culturism,
the retro- reel of Humanism, of illusionary-fusion of pride and behind the scenes thrones.
Slavery algorithms,
my Holograms of flesh and Bones.
Burning out on the Threshing floor.
(This is a fictional poem)
Demi Moore decided to dump Ashton Kutcher and now she wants Brad Pitt.
But so does Lindsay Lohan and they were having a fit.
They went at it and they were clawing, punching, and even biting.
These two busty ladies really were fighting.
I came along and told them that they shouldn't fight over Pitt.
I told them that he's not worth it.
They both looked at me like I was some kind of a nut.
They stopped fighting each other and then they kicked my butt.
They put me in the hospital and I'm depressed.
If I ever see any other women fighting, I'm going to mind my own business.
Form:
Graves of Pain-stakin’ Hatin’
I promise to never break promises…
But, time will heal a guy like me
Wounds of doubt and clouds of ecstasy – reducing to the sea of misery – seeps into me…holes of holding-my-ground-in-fear never meant anything to you…tears of cheers and mirrored peers
Subliminally affects me…
My world is torn…
You look at me not in scorn
But in calmness, in sincerity
I can’t describe the pain I feel deep deep deep deep
I weep what I reap – tortured wars and….and….
Roads of risk have opened its pathways to me…
Can’t you see me? Can’t you sea? Sea of sanity swim in me…
Hairy horses whirl ‘round ‘n ‘round me…
Dragons of demonic pleasure…
Tempted to do wrong when I want to do what’s right
Get me my negativity out of sight
Because positivity lives in me…
Gravity won’t win this time
It’s time to shine on…my above-fantastic love, my enlivened enjoyment, my musical magic, my mesmerizing eyes of seas and forests, my brainwashed mind of dread come and go
Mad at many terrible influences that I have seen…
Where have you been? Where have you been?
Addictions hurt…addictions feed on greed
Depression burns…
In need of God’s healing…a vibrant reminder, a faithful seed
Ocean of on-going-optimism churns…
Faithless for minutes…unfolding in me childish fits
Conceal what is unreal
Steal what you can’t feel
My heart – as hard as steel
Feelin’ like a dead mule-seal…
Carnivores of clashing craziness
Made me dump into this…misery mess?
Yes, yes, yes…
I tried my best to pass God’s HARD test
Difficulty to speak up…giving up…
giving in to successless failure…
Facts of reviving hopelessness…
The harder I try, the harder I fail…
Buy a pail of my pain…drink it, isn’t it stale?
Unfail the reality of losing you…
Ice tears, a tale untold…I’m freezing cold…as hale…
Verbally abused too many times…
The clocks of time still chimes
Don’t yell at me this shame without a friendly name
The onset of construction
Left a gaping excavation.
They built a chain link fence
Around the hole.
Once the footers and foundation
Were sufficiently established
A dump truck load of gravel
Did its thing.
I have faith the task
Will be accomplished.
I have hope the work
Can be efficiently done.
But until I shovel
All that broken stone
Into the trench surrounding the slab,
This jobsite won’t be up to building code.
Of the virtues,
Faith, hope, and charity,
The only one that requires
Personal action
And accomplishes anything
In this world is charity.
Faith and hope are mere freeloaders
That only look after themselves.
I thought at your fiftieth we would make up,
I saved every drop to buy you a new Ford.
Your Royce is still sweet, but it needs a backup—
Not a Lincoln, a Mustang I could afford.
But you threw the keys back at me in fury,
You let your friends mock me with horrid laughter.
On our disputes, you turned them to our jury—
They reveled, munching on our private matter.
You called me names you'd never used before them,
You left me unanchored in a wave of shame—
An abyss where you left my pleasance's scum,
Then heaped on me a full load of scorn and blame.
Is dating a prettier lady a sin?
Drown me in more shame—it quenches not the flame.
The more you dump me in your emotive bin,
The more she lifts me back into her love-frame.
-
Contest: Pick-A-Title, Vol 52
Contest Judged: June 14th, 2025 4:11:00 PM
Sponsor: Edward Ibeh
Placement: Third
Your wife isn't carrying your baby, she's carrying mine.
She wanted me to marry her but I had to decline.
She didn't want tongues to wag about her being an unwed mother.
She was afraid of people's reactions, that's why she married you after becoming your lover.
She pushed her mother down the stairs because she's very mean.
She posted naked pictures of me on Facebook, she's also obscene.
I'd had enough of her cruel behavior and I decided to dump her then and there.
When I learned she told you that you're the father, I had to tell you because it's unfair.
I can't let her do this to you, I can't and won't keep quiet.
You may not believe me and you may even want to fight.
When the baby is born, I'll tell you what you must do and it will be for the best.
You can prove that she's pulling the wool over your eyes with a DNA test.
I will gladly give her money for child support because it's my baby.
And when I tell you that you must have your marriage annulled, I don't mean maybe.