Long Experiment Poems
Long Experiment Poems. Below are the most popular long Experiment by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Experiment poems by poem length and keyword.
* Weird Science *
With pens he walks
Pocket Protectors to protect his chest
Taped up glasses on his face
Pull his pants down, call him a GEEK a NERD
Science -relativity theory and it's light speed from space
Experiment this- discover that, is how scientist rant
Brainy cats have so many open portals in their minds
You talk down to us as if we carry the brains of a bird
Do you really think we are all blind,
for not caring over the objectives principles of the Heisenberg?
You passed each and ever single science fairs in class
Feeding your ego collecting dots
After school you earned the right when a bully kicked your a$$!
A DORK calling your self the Math Magician King
Burning and crashing our minds explaining the physics of dying fast
Using your Quantum Leap that our universe comes with a destiny string
No desire to be wired who needs your further scientific understanding
Life comes with a pattern in which we once lived electricity free
Ironically your scientific process of defining itself continues to expand
Supported by the measurements and masses only you NERDS understand
The power points of our so called energy,
is pointless to me like our so called gravity.
The tale you spin is not of love but a twisted one of insanity
God is the only scientific knowledge I want to perceive!
All you so called scientist, riding the lightning like Benjamin F.
Take the bolt and tie it like a noose around your neck
Following your own perception while you feed off the sheep
Here you come to emerge to discipline us with your mind of a genius
You come and you bash us with NERD brain waves to explain!
That this world revolves around the elements and laws of scientific claims
Research this- research that- who gives a cr@p we still die at the end
While life continues, to grow and manipulate our fate, about the universe
Unsolved facts about Einstein, who left his velocity of change for us to comprehend.
Instead of trying to rule the world, explain the facts why things keep getting worse?
Over exaggerating the excitement of an Ancient Mayan 2012 discovery curse.
Bottom line you scientific quacks,
the real Celestial body is found on the bottom of my crack.
By; P.D. ( LOL, I love Science )
A few weeks ago I stopped
smoking pot as an experiment.
Easier than I thought-
I’ve had practice. Depth
of feeling starts coming back
like micro-bullets to the cranium
so invisible to the naked eye that
every corner shields a perpetrator.
Part of me likes it, this blitz of feeling
because it turns out I’m masochistic
like that and feeling a pinch dead
gets boring after awhile. Creeps
up on you like an unwanted flat-
mate on a sock by sock flit
to your only spare room and you didn’t
even notice for the cupcakes.
But granted, everybody’s different.
Did you know that the worst
time to have a heart attack
is during a game of charades?
Demetri Martin said that.
A few weeks ago I wouldn’t
have laughed.
Yesterday I did.
Meet me—by the abandoned houses—>there
not here<—, for it’s a danger! to be seen
in such ill company as I__I mean:
if strangers knew how strange was our affair,
they’d **** us!—meet me when night has grown fair,
bring gifts (flowers) (for nothing’s more obscene
in such situation as we are keen).
Though I’m well loath to leave you unaware,
you’ll must need hear silence ‘stead my full name;
—(it’s customary practice;)—tell me not
yours either; I want to know as little
as possible,—so to go without blame,
and still to lick the flame:to spill the plot:
to linger - - - on your delightful spittle.
They said you came from chimpanzees—
That deep in some African jungle
You leapt across species,
A silent hunter cloaked in blood.
But we have lived with chimpanzees
For tens of thousands of years.
We shared forests,
We shared meat,
We shared mythologies.
Why now?
They claim you're a natural disease—
But if that were true,
Why does nature not offer a cure?
Polio fell. Smallpox vanished.
Yet you—since 1981—
Have danced above the heads
Of even our greatest minds.
You are not nature’s design.
You are manmade silence.
You are a disease of profit,
A political invention,
A capitalist experiment gone global.
You were born in the shadows
Of white laboratories
Fueled by Cold War paranoia,
By the greed of corporations
And the prejudice of empires.
You made kings of pharmaceutical companies
And slaves of the sick.
You are not a virus.
You are a business model.
Billions have been spent.
Trillions earned.
You made markets out of mortality.
You made luxury yachts
From the suffering of mothers.
The cure?
Buried beneath patents,
Guarded by legal walls
And the blood of the voiceless.
If the world can send robots to Mars,
Edit genes,
Simulate universes—
Why can’t it cure a virus
With a mapped genome
And decades of study?
The answer is clear:
Because your existence
Feeds the engines of greed.
Because a cured patient
Is less profitable
Than a permanently treated one.
And you dare—
You dare to point your trembling finger at Africa,
The continent where life began,
And say: “There. That is where I was born.”
Lies.
The first known case?
The USA, 1969.
A teenager.
No jungle.
No monkey.
Just silence.
You demonized a continent
To distract from your laboratories.
You blamed the poor
To protect the rich.
But truth, like water, always finds a crack.
And now—
The world is watching.
The veil is lifting.
Young scientists are rising
Not for profit,
But for justice.
For healing.
For the truth.
Your days are numbered,
HIV.
Not because you are strong—
But because your creators
Can no longer contain the storm they sparked.
And when the truth stands,
No lie—
No corporation—
No empire—
Can withstand its weight.
We see you.
We name you.
We end you.
In Lochness, an undulating giant lives;
legendary Nessie; giant oarfish or
prehistoric remnant?
No one knows for certain,
but he bothers no one; leave him be.
In mountainous terrain, walks the Yeti.
Part man; part beast; perhaps the missing link?
Science said of its remains,
“It is a relative of ancient polar bears”; perhaps.
In Jersey woods, people say a, “Devil” hides;
a new species or an experiment in genetics, gone awry?
There are many Doctor Moreau’s and Frankenstein’s,
in this world and they do,
abandon their mistakes.
Regardless, life is life and
it must be respected,
for harmony to reign.
What if cryptids aren’t myth?
People say, “You can’t cross a rabbit with a cat”,
but it has been done.
Perhaps humankind has made,
the mistakes of ancient ancestors;
maybe centaurs and fauns were once…real?
On such an old planet…whom can be certain?
Ancient texts and glyphs, speak of many things,
mythical and legendary and history does…repeat.
Someone had to tamper with genetics,
to discover that pig arteries,
can work in the human body;
that cow plasma, could too.
The human explores its world;
exploiting even ravaging other species,
without concern for the end result.
Perhaps, humans should leave, well enough alone.
“Nessie”, “Yeti”, “Jersey Devil”; cryptids,
like all life, should be free to live.
The human species,
is the most deadly and destructive,
of all predators.
Clearly, not the smartest, at times;
Not even with regard to, its other siblings.
Humans seem to obliterate everything, they touch;
never caring for the harm that they do…until it’s too late.
Even then, some never lend anymore thought, to their deeds.
When I was very young
All I really wanted
To be was an Indian.
My mother always read to me -
Stories of fairies and elves,
Of princesses and ogres, witches,
And brownies who did good deeds.
Poems, “Wynken, Blynken and Nod”,
“The Gingham Dog and the Calico Cat”,
And “The Sugar Plum Tree”.
Books, Alice in Wonderland,
The Little Colonel stories, and
The Five Little Peppers.
(I wonder if my grandchildren
Have ever heard of any of the
Old-fashioned stories and poems
Which were all magic to me.)
But, most of all, I loved
Longfellow’s poem Hiawatha.
“By the shores of Gitche Gumee,
By the shining deep sea water,
Stood the wigwam of Nokomis…”
I hear my mother almost singing
Those magical words from
“The Childhood of Hiawatha”.
I could see Hiawatha growing up
And learning Indian ways in
The woodlands of his youth.
I wanted to live in the woods,
To learn to talk with animals
And know their secrets.
I wanted to wear moccasins
And build a birch bark canoe!
One Christmas my brother got
A cowboy suit and hat and holsters,
But I, wonder of wonders,
Got a “real” Indian dress
With designs of tiny beads,
A fringe on the skirt,
And a headband with feathers!
I told my friends I was part Indian,
That my great grandmother
Was a real live Indian!
When it got back to my mother
She just said, “What stories you tell!”
Although I outgrew the dress,
The dream stayed with me
Throughout my childhood -
Sort of wishful thinking.
I always wanted to
Be close to nature.
Much of my childhood
I spent by myself, somewhat
Of a loner, climbing trees,
Making hideouts in the woods,
Walking in streams
To “cover my tracks”.
That “Indian child” I was
Still lives on in the
Recesses of my memory.
Maybe that’s why now, “grown up”,
I love walking in the woods
Or foraging by the ocean,
Why Stalking the Wild Asparagus
Is one of my favorite books,
Why I love picking wild blueberries
And grapes and making jam, or
Digging for clams and mussels.
Why I HAD to experiment with cooking
Slipper shells and making
Seaweed pudding and “Sumac-ade”.
Of course, I realize,
As well as anyone, that
The life of an Indian was not
As idyllic as I had once believed,
But, even now, after
All these years have passed,
It appears that
My “inner Indian”
Is alive and well and
Living on Martha’s Vineyard!
“Is this God’s experiment/ in which we have no say/ in which we’re given paradise/ But only for a day”
Lyrics from “Written in the Stars” sung by Elton John and LeAnne Rimes
Three days it was of flirting -
my anticipation growing -
as each time that I saw him,
I felt my spirit glowing
and my entire being
with longing overflowing.
Chorus:
Written in the stars
It was written in the stars
that I’d meet him
and he’d meet me,
but wicked destiny
saw to it that only short and sweet
our paradise would be.
Before he even asked me out,
three long wasted nights went by.
I yearned and yearned for each return
when his sweet brown eyes I’d spy
at the shop wherein I worked.
Brief were our chats…. And then goodbye.
Was he simply gathering nerve?
On day three he set a date;
for the fourth day we’d go out.
I surely didn’t hesitate.
Eagerly that next whole day,
I had to wait and wait and wait.
Chorus (repeat)
First on our date, we went to eat.
Like Cinderella I was feeling.
We drove around a while
while my heart was reeling.
There was not one kiss from me
he needed to be stealing!
Time quickly passed as we made out
in his car on my own street.
His gaze and his caresses
and kisses honey-sweet
were so divine they blew my mind.
But time was oh so fleet.
Chorus (repeat)
Next day he dropped me at my school
and told me thereupon
to Quebec, where he was from,
he was going. . . going . . . gone.
He called a bit and sent some cards,
but our romance did not go on.
Chorus:
Written in the stars
It was written in the stars
that I’d meet him
and he’d meet me,
but wicked destiny
saw to it that only short and sweet
our paradise would be.
They're called, "the Central Science"
and the Physics connecting with other
Natural Sciences. Becoming the Number
of Atoms on the Left and the Right in the
Equation for a Chemical Transformation
to be EQUAL.
They're the Quantity, the Structure, the Space
and the Change seeking out Patterns and
FORMULATING new Conjectures. Becoming Equations
of Expressed Relationships between given
Quantities, the Known and the Unknown.
They become an instant Luminous Sphere of Plasma
held together by GRAVITY.
Descending ever sooo brightly through
Dark Cloud Constellations.
Becoming their own Thermonuclear Fusion
and Interacting Gravity, giving the Earth its source
of ENERGY.
Let NO Scientist, Mathematician or Astronomer
determine their FATE.
A.J.C
The disgruntled mess of a boy slumped over his diary
——————experiment 4—————————
If you are reading this I might be dead
So as far as I can see
I seem to aging at a normal
It seems to degrade at dusk or dawn
Time seems to catch up on itself
Don’t use time lord as a description too who’y
I can stop time
It’s weird I seem to have free motion in it
Stopper I guess we could put that in the maybe pile
On experiment 2 we did have Weird Position day
So get serious
My movements seem to cause ripples
The emirate from initial stop but then cease why
I reenter usual time
We could call it unusual time
I seemed to have stopped dreaming
but feeling refreshed
Vitals seem good
Height and weight unchanged
Reflexes within normal ranges
The scar on my legs seems to continue to disappear
Might be some kind of countdown
Need to ration with experiment usage….
He slid his hand across his book strewn desk
His fingers grasping a cold can
-I can stop time he laughed at the empty room
The drip on its side no longer drops….
speak it as it was to be
something for a world of
people to love and admire.
delicious and special.
she wanted something that was flavored naturally.
we determined that a sweet fruity flavor would
be best. because she was cooking chicken
and felt it was best to have as much chicken as vegetables
she decided to make it easier on herself by using
something large to marinate the birds in.
she was cooking twenty game hens, and wanted a mixture of flavor
to marinate the birds in.
she came up with this.
in a large roasting pan she added,
5 pounds of grapes (vines and leaves)
2 trouts (scaled and cleaned)
4 garlic bulbs (halved and unpeeled)
5 medium onions(quartered with peels)
10 lemons(squeeze the juice and and halved)
5 sprigs of rosemary
4 sprigs of thyme
2 gingerootz (chopped)
5 small chilis (halved)
1 cup of cilantro
roast for about one hour( to extract the pungent aromas)
you only want the juices that are extracted from the mixture
drain by using a colander, and a fine screen.
allow to cool.
in a blender add
2 cups of olive oil
1/4 cup of salt
2 green peppers
1 large red onion
2 small chilis (seeds removed)
2 cup of red wine
3 cups of lime juice
1 cup of light brown sugar
4 tablespoons of ground ginger
1/2 cup of white vinegar
7 cloves of garlic
mix smooth and add to the cool mixture
2 two five gallon buckets with lids
add the game hens and pour mixture to cover all the birds.
marinate overnight.
broil birds in the oven until done.
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1 and one half cups of lemon juice
1 cup of coconut milk
1 cup of grapefruit juice
4 tablespoons of cayenne pepper
1/2 cup of honey
8 tablespoons of crushed garlic
1 cup of minced shallots
1 cup of coconut flakes
1/4 cup of light brown sugar
6 tablespoons of rum
4 tablespoons of grounded cumin
1 and 1/4 cup of olive oil
1/4 cup of mint leaves
3 pounds of deveined shrimp
marinade.
in a large roasting pan, add 1 cup of butter
and a half cup of olive oil
sautee about
6 cups of chopped eggplants,
6 cups of diced (cooked potatoes)
1 cup of green onions
add shrimp (cook shrimp underdone!)
add marandae and thicken with cornstarch