Long Feces Poems
Long Feces Poems. Below are the most popular long Feces by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Feces poems by poem length and keyword.
book of face
I see your quick on that trigger. your words are offers on man's flawed self righteous altar
Of the vanity, and sullied grace of ou
The feeble attempt to sacrifice my ego
arpe too, in vain. I let my ego die inside me
long before you mustered up words to say.
Before you had even half of that smooth brain.
Ah but here you are, on the book of face.
I suggest you reload your magazine,
and make well sure,
those thin skinned fat fingers,
do not tremble and shake.
Because you think those are hollow tips,
But actually,
You're shooting blanks.
Thinking snarky sarcasm and
signaling virtues in falsity
puts a chink in god's breastplate?
And the devil's laughter,
echoes in the background
at you, the babbling coward.
readying your aim,
behind the safety of a glowing screen.
readying more bullets for fhate.
knowing you will stumble in your ignorance, he sets a clever trap, to snare you.
and I your brother, was just the bait.
I do not claim perfection,
I know my sins and mistakes.
what gave you the sight of god himself, to see my soul and pass judgement,
in his sovereign place?
I know my transgressions,
I am just flesh and blood.
I know my place.
But you put yourself
upon that contrived
pompous pedestall of pretention.
You do NOT know your place.
The pile of feces that corodes your tongue,
You claim that smells like lavender,
and the cracking thin skin on your lips
is actually,
really as soft as lace.
I know I am no better than those around me.
And my excrement? it smells like waste.
Like the your breath reeks of,
As you type away,
Each day.
on that book of face.
It's disgraceful that migrant families
are being indefinitely housed
at southern detention facilities
that reek of urine and feces.
These people are human beings!
It's unconscionable that ICE officers tear them
apart with no plans to ever reunite them,
put them in cages to sleep in their own filth.
History will not look back fondly on
the Trump administration for this atrocity
We'll never forget that little girl crying
after being ripped out of her mother's arm
at the border. Let's call a spade a spade.
This is cruelly unAmerican. It's child abuse,
if not kidnapping. Regardless of our race...
or what name we call our God
or which side we lean on politically
or what side of the railroad track we hail from
Wrong is wrong; we should all be outraged...
by this inhuman cruelty!
One Hundred And Thirty Six Words Poetry Contest
Sponsored by John lawless
Date written and submitted: 08/22/2019
V.
It used to be understood that
people were pretty safe,
that our streets and our neighborhoods
weren’t a dangerous place,
that you could let your kids go out
and they’d come back alive,
that we had good law enforcement,
security to thrive.
But now they coddle criminals,
help them get out early,
our cities have become failed states
of crime, drugs, and feces.
Worse yet is they’re importing them,
illegals in cruel gangs,
handing out money to the thugs
who probably should hang.
It seems a week doesn’t go by
we don’t see migrant crime,
people murdered and women raped,
it happens all the time.
Whole apartments taken over,
the tenants extorted,
by people your leaders let in
so they could get ahead,
all of it just to rig the vote
so they alone can win,
no problem with condemning you
to a future quite grim.
Your life has no meaning to them,
they’ll gladly leave you screwed,
see the evil and don’t forget
what was taken from you.
Crunch
by Michael R. Burch
A cockroach could live nine months on the dried mucous you scrounge from your nose
then fling like seedplants to the slowly greening floor ...
You claim to be the advanced life form, but, mon frere,
sometimes as you snatch encrusted kinks of hair from your Leviathan ass
and muse softly on zits, icebergs snap off the Antarctic.
You’re an evolutionary quandary, in need of a sacral ganglion
to control your enlarged, contradictory hindquarters:
surely the brain should migrate closer to its primary source of information,
in order to ensure the survival of the species.
Cockroaches thrive on eyeboogers and feces;
their exoskeletons expand and gleam like burnished armor in the presence of uranium.
But your cranium
is not nearly so adaptable.
“Crunch” is a poem about evolution and survival of the fittest which questions where human beings really are the planet earth’s most advanced life forms. Keywords/Tags: evolution, global warming, climate change, pollution, insect, insects, cockroach, cockroaches, advance life form, survival of the fittest, adaptability, animal, animals, environment, world, America
Bits and pieces of your heart and soul
bits and pieces, fillet and sautéed
for the sad amusement of cruel men with mindless erections
Who snicker and grin
as they lay you down on a bed of nails
Naked and anesthetized
for the purpose of insensate insemination
s and feces, from hearts without soul
s and feces, from cruel little boys, masquerading as men,
with pointless erections, who grimace and sin,
As they fornicate and fail
Naked and cautertized from the meaning of erotic sensations
And that is: sweet tender love and kindness
approximating Divineness
Which the sad woman is so longing for
and the little boy is running from
There’s not much to love in the land of
72 ounce steaks
Air-conditioned grace droning over
AR-15 soaked Saturdays
Remembering is not the problem these days
Rather it is forgetting that
Children can have new names
If they pick them up with their own hands
The bootstraps have all but worn off
these snakeskin boots
And I am tired of something I can’t put my mind to yet
But I never thought I would love
Bird feces soliloquies
Thanksgiving apart from family
Humidity on top of humidity
Or evenings that never turn to nights
So I’ll just hold my own name
Firmly in soiled hands until I can
Plant it back in the ground
Where it belongs, beside a cool swift stream
Shaded by a bigleaf maple
The night takers come when the sun goes down
When there's no one around to hear the quiet loud
They are the shadowed clouds feared by the proud
Seeping in through ears with maddening clapping sound
Insane clowns with razor sharp teeth poking around
The mind pounds until it's fully unwound
Once it's lost it can never be found
The brain twitches and seizes until it freezes
Epileptic diseases permeating the creases
Too late to call out or to cry to Jesus
Life never owned each one of us leases
Man thinks he can do whatever he pleases
Monkey like minds relating to rhesus
Trying to pick up all the evolutionary pieces
**** disguised as treasure but it's still feces
Witness lowly ones described as meek
Traveling along a narrow path to seek
Listening to prophets from the past speak
People laughing and calling them Jesus Freaks
Thinking they're feeble minded and weak
Are the wise and powerful really so unique
Who will be left to listen to their critique
For the night takers came and took them in their sleep
We live in a world of wise people who feel Science
is our salvation. Yet each attempt man makes to improve
upon creation seems to destroy another part of it.
Eventually we are the takers and the taken.
ah to be as lazy as a caterpillar
gleaming her eyes peeking through
my silk threads watching
the double breasted pigeon
peck peck pecking earnestly breaking
her beak upon the irish stone
covered in crawling ivy how she envies
my laziness my weaving new threads
of poetry and song why during my laziness
during my stillness eagerly she awaits daily prying
her feet covered in feces closer to my cocoon
while dropping her fetish upon pedestrians
she envies the hawk soaring high above
her nest of germs contaminating
thee bottom feeders used to lure more mesh
ah to be lazy like the caterpillar she announced
how does she eat what does she drink
while stuffing her chest with fallen feathers
where the crows perch angrily
her beak slams into the irish stone again and again
how grand a place being wrapped in silk
protected from rain wind sleet
the double breasted pigeons beak
nestled between a quaint haven of plush
distant from the cities rush
until springtime arrives again i'll emerge
waving a colorful banner dazzling in hints of beauty
landing upon the soft aroma a scented nectar
daintily released from the top of tall pines
ah to be lazy as the butterfly covered
in soft brown garments of silk threads
bright patterns quilts of sunlight
while double breasted pigeons feast
near irish stone where more is least
1/15/23
Always toking strong
A continual breeze blowing on
Meanwhile a lot kept going wrong
Over petty things they were so fond
Forming such a close bond
Among all these neutrons and protons
A lot done in a week
Answers found where rivers meet
It is bittersweet
Continual pandemonium
They remained saltier than sodium
Placing unfit things on a podium
In a world full of petroleum
Floors lined with linoleum
Also flowers that can be made into opium
It had nothing to do with teapots
In person not just by screen shots
Experienced firsthand and seen lots
Climbed to the tree tops
Then I started to speed off
No matter if endlessly she mocks
Saw right through it and noticed all the weak spots
Why is it that people do or don't believe in GOD?
Been occurring for Eons
Just proceed on
Keep calm
In the background endless distant whispers
As people portray an accurate or different picture
I constantly am smoking THC and sipping liquor
No love found just some veggies and a chicken dinner
Similar or traditions differ
A lot in the world harmless or a vicious killer
I was often able to win with vigor
Sometimes had a short fuse but a long distance swimmer
They've got bad intentions and much to pay
It can be done in a few ways
Near and far from any statue of Guadalupe
No concern over why do they
Regardless of what all these fools say
It's going down round the clock , sometimes seconds too late
Close or way off from any blue jay
Onto a new day
Among all these species
With foul intentions worse than left out feces
Causing harm by cheap means
I thought peace seemed
Like the better answer but they just spread it like cream cheese
Above and below these trees with green leaves
Became friends with queen bees
Went down to depths of beyond a thousand and sixteen leagues
Continually we bleed
Does anyone notice the end to people and a message that he or she leaves?
a place of peaceful rest
from cursing…reversed
in Paramount Plus
gun slinging verbiage —
trashing the Most Holy’s name
in Star Trek IV, Nimoy
was given his lines —
exposé of colorful language
not heard of in their age
now Picard is old
and the old returns
to the silver-lie-zed screen
screaming in our faces
like overdue feces
a species showing its true colors
unfortunately…throw in sex scenes too
nothing unimagined, nothing civilized,
only the dematerialization
of minds. And the startup
of this series…i’m yawning
nothing like the lively action
of the past. evolution seems
to be a blast from the past.
am i picking on Picard?
why call him JL,
when Jean-Luc
sounded so much cooler
ooh…ooh let me answer this!
it’s a prelude to disaster
of epic proportions
will mankind be saved this time
in the nick of time
the Captain’s apt to fail
his dog is “number one”
his predecessor in spot two
they are in doo doo
bring back a place of peaceful rest -
it’s paramount to reverse
the cursing, the death
of good old-fashioned fun
3/8/2022