Long Fed up Poems
Long Fed up Poems. Below are the most popular long Fed up by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Fed up poems by poem length and keyword.
You reminded me again, not to be late.
That I shouldn't let you hate.
What we have because it's delicate.
That you are fed up, trying to put me upright.
Talking about how much money I waste.
On things that ain't important.
Some that I buy off the internet.
Not to mention, going out on dates.
With group mates, accumulating debts.
Like earning money is a copy and paste.
That you are done with me not being straight.
So you are gonna leave and I will regret.
Because I don't seem to have learnt.
Ever since we met
So I made it simple enough not to complicate.
I talked to immaculate.
And asked her to review my monthly budget.
I blocked Margret.
I told Sarah to talk to Cate.
And tell her never to show up again at our gate.
I told you Peace is a friend, just like fortunate.
Shamim is my workmate same to Annet
And sometimes our bosses ask us to collaborate.
On some projects that's why I have to work late.
With Esther, Fauster and Bridget.
I am not always really out on a date of late.
And not to forget.
Shalom has got Jophet.
Who was my classmate.
So I wouldn't really want to interrupt.
What they have got.
Their relationship is perfect.
Remember the last time we met
In studio, I had to vacate.
Because I didn't want another upset.
Back at home with my soulmate.
Because of a compliment.
Or a comment that would make us fight.
Set us apart and have us separate.
I dearly love and cherish you my sweetheart.
Migrating to America
In the age of Aquarius
Envisioning the best from the
Land of opportunity where it’s been said
Streets are paved in gold
Everyone has a white picket fence and
A Chevrolet too
The corner hop served burgers and fries
Soda fountains and milkshakes at the Five and Dime
Teens danced the twist and the mash potato
On American Bandstand
And kids played under open fire hydrants in the city
Black is beautiful…
Short afros large afros and James Brown
Tell the people “Say it loud, I’m black
And I’m proud” Bill Withers on the radio
Singing ‘Lean on Me’ and
Shaft is a ‘Bad mo fo… watch your mouth’
Watts turned into ash driven by black rage combustion
Fed up with police brutality still fresh on everyone’s minds
Jesus Christ is a superstar on Broadway
Harry Krishna and the Moonies in orange
Garbs and shaven heads trying to transcend souls
With their tambourines
Flower children preaching peace and love
Pot is something you smoke
Hot pants are short shorts
Worn with boots made for walking
And Uncle Sam wants you
He’s giving a free round trip ticket to Vietnam
While young men dodge the draft
Welcome to a new dawning in the age of Aquarius
Migrating settling in a new land
Leaving behind adolescence and easy island living
For a future to fulfill dreams in a concrete jungle
On migrating to America.
And if you have nothing to say
Except what is strictly necessary
What are the points that you may
Be fed up with, so measurelessly
It could be the war you are taxed with
Or the regular fiddling with apps
Are you not a robot, they ask you
You probably are, under wraps
Or maybe it could be the weather
Repeatable orange alerts
A wind that’s too warm for the leather
But cold for the cotton t-shirts
And everything looks plainly evident
Spins like the merry-go-round
You know fairly well what’s been said
You don’t need to echo that sound
May speakers apply to the air
In tireless wondering why
A few withered leaves over there
Drop down the expected reply..
Don't Pick a Fight
Written by D. W. Breidenthal
I dwell in light
You dwell at night
You pick a fight
With me?
Are you serious?
You wanna start it with me
Tonight?
I bid you a greeting...
Do I have to start repeating?
Ugh...
I hate the decisions you make
It puts our loved one's lives at
stake
I'm getting fed up with your
b.s.
I'm falling quickly in my
lonesome pit
But that's not all of it...
I guess it's part of it
I believe your full of it
I won't listen to your penniless
lies or denies
I think you're full of b.s.
Don't seek me - I was never
considered "wise"
However, I seek Him like
a precious, golden prize
I dwell in light
You dwell at night
You pick a fight
I draw blood tonight
You'll feel my pain...bud...
And you'll be begging on your
knees for my apologizes this
wicked midnight *evil laugh*
*Guttural scream* You'll give in
to my sick delight...hAhA
Lonesome George is Gone
The Pinta Tortoise breed is no more
He was discovered in 1972, six hundred miles from Ecuador.
He was the only one left the others have died out
They tried to breed poor George but he was no sex lout
They tried and tempted him with females, all tortoises but not the same DNA
But lonesome George was uninterested, he didn’t want to play.
100 hundred years old, they thought old George was when he did die
I’m not sure - but I don’t think many men would even try
I think it may have been the strain of tempting him to sin
Parading females round his haven waiting for him to get stuck in.
Many men would love it, that I do believe
But poor George couldn’t get it up their frustrations to relieve
They say he died stretched out perhaps, he had a go
But maybe she got fed up waiting, and decided she would go.
Not wanting to hurt his feelings and telling him not to worry
Perhaps she was getting bored and told him he should hurry.
Poor George they will not leave alone they will necropsy him today
I wonder if anyone thought, poor George may have been gay.
© 26/06/2012~GG~
Hi Billy this is the ine I was telling you about.
Commercially,the road wasn't helping,
It wasn't giving basic facts about evil which rise against its walkers,
Birds were making statements to draw our attention towards those melling,
Distraction kept being thrown upon minds of hawkers,
Their selling products were ceased and stolen,
Mouths were opened to chastised against those task force,
It never got them tormented over their indescency at a grinchy remorse,
Traffic jam now kept the scene badly heated at all cost,
Those who won't let go of their avenue for fetching satisfaction made no repose,
Others also kept themselves fully under glope,
Who should be blame?
Who should fulfil the desires of fans to the game?
Policies kept increasing from axis to axis,
Whilst, actually no soul has power over taxes,
Power brought out from the ocean,discriminations and heavy punches,
Out of fed up,war concludes the lives of citizens in there,
There after,the president is pleading and fasting to reflex,
But,it's too late for this insanity man and his fellow leaders,
Indeed,power trends till it breed societal killers.
So let chrish ourselves with equality and live to the fullest.
I’m Calico, the fourth, and though you haven’t asked,
I’m here to tell you what you’re thinking; so relax.
The Duel, you know that poem by Eugene Field,
it was all a big hoax, ‘cause the facts were kept sealed.
The Old Dutch clock and the Chinese plate? well they lied.
And that gingham dog? he turned tail to save his hide.
My great grandcat, the calico, told me the facts.
(There were no burglars; they were men from the gov’ment
invading the house for some secret exper’ment.)
They had a cat-of-nine-tails which they tried to use
to prove cats have nine lives! Grandcat simply refused.
There IS more than one way to skin cats, they were sure.
Then cat got Gran’s tongue and she smiled like a Cheshire.
When those scaredy-cat feds got fed up with her gag -
cat and mouse game was done; cat got outa the bag.
And like the cat that got the cream, she was excused.
(The g-mens’ report claimed they did an "cat"opsy
declaring the cause of death - curiosity.)
March 1, 2014
parody of The Duel by Eugene Field
contest: Parody Of A Famous Poem Poetry Contest
sponsor: L. Milton Hankins
Remade or a process is started to the time
When the request is fulfilled or the process is complete.
Are you tired of where you’ve been, turn around
Are you fed up from being deceived wise up?
The path you’re walking on is Beloved, ever so wrong;
Stop! Pause! And Walk in the Light Babe,
Child of the Lamb
Sone of God
Daughter up Elohim
Turn yourself around, be present be found
Live for Jesus, Live for Jesus, Live for Christ
And He’ll make every single thing ALRIGHT
Beloved turn yourself around, turn around, turn around, turn around and be found
8/19/2023
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2023©
From the “ ^turn around season” anthology
In a covered wagon he travelled west
For every ailment he had a cure
His miracle oil he claimed was the best
People he conned were the sick and the poor.
In remote towns he would set up his scam
Helped by two' friends' in the crowd for his trick
Who' volunteered' but were part of the sham
Arthur the cripple and poor sighted Mick.
But they were fed up of his trickery
And exposed him to the crowd in the town
The conman shouted" Mick what can you see"?
Mick said "nothing, I heard Arthur fall down"
Snake oilman was speechless and he went pale
The townsfolk seized him and threw him in jail.
Written on 30th December 2018
Without a word we get aboard
New lease of life I have to hold
You didn’t tell, but it’s okay
I knew the schedule for today
We’ve got a lot of alco stuff
And dainty food, more than enough
A few musicians, one plays flute
Three others doing strings and lute
Monk is the captain, he’s so nice
He leads the ship by throwing dice
The boatswain’s drunk, rest of the crew
Aren't sure what they ought to do
Nuns play canasta, drinking wine
A beggar prays for sun to shine
Some folks are gazing at the skies
As if they’re taken by surprise
Perhaps they got fed up with sea
Waves sway around you and me
You turn to me your face, so pale:
“We won’t be swallowed by the whale,
I hope, what do you think of this?”
- “I think to get another kiss"
This plot unfolds by its own rules
We're hanging out on ship of fools
There is no course this ship must do
There is no purpose, but a view
Of endless waves up to the line
Horizon darkens, then inclines
Then our ship soars up and glides
Down to the bottomless white skies
And there we go, towards the land
Which doesn’t look like golden sand..