Long Finger on it Poems
Long Finger on it Poems. Below are the most popular long Finger on it by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Finger on it poems by poem length and keyword.
1971 (Hey Dude)
Hey dude, come in, come in.
Been a long time since we last smoked the peace pipe together.
Hey! I think it was during Hendrix’s set in Bethel, dude!
Here, let me move these Rolling Stones out of the way.
and the Taco Bell wrappers… There. Dude, let’s sit.
First, I need to change the record. Let me look here….hmm,
Iron Butterfly? Naw, too psychedelic. Blind Faith?
Naw, they’re too much like Cream. And I’m tired of them.
Hey, how ‘bout Led Zeppelin 3?... Naw, too new;
Ah! Let’s hear some very mellow Traffic music. This is cool dude!
It’s their second album…very trippy music...
Listening to this stuff makes me feel alright!...
Dude, Here you go. That hole there is like a carburetor;
Put your finger on it and draw in. Then, let go. Boom!
Dude! Welcome to the petrified forest, man!
Dude! I been kicking back here thinking about infinity, man.
My mind is constantly being blown thinking about how big the universe is.
Dude, we are so small, so infinitesimal, so minute,
in comparison to the absolute vastness of the universe.
Dude, here we are, riding on this huge ball of dirt,
turning through space at a thousand miles per hour,
and we aren’t even feeling it as we speed along,
like it’s not even happening, man!
You know, dude, we are so small, so very very small,
we’re all just a very small part of this vast solar system
with these humongous planets circling this huge ball of fire,
which are all just a very small part of this humongous Milky Way galaxy,
which is just one of billions and billions of galaxies in the universe…
Man, it makes my mind bend!...
Here, this purple haze from Michoacán will seal the deal, dude…
I also been thinking about God, dude!
We are all so small; we are all like spiders, just spinning our webs…
in this humongous garden called life!
So I must ask Dude:
What is God? Who is God?
I will tell you what God is! I now know! Dude!
Are you ready to hear what God is? …
Ice cream, dude! Ice cream!
Do you want some vanilla ice cream, dude?
I have a gallon in my freezer!
Think of the millions of people in the world right now,
the people of India, South America, Australia and even in Dinuba, California,
who at this very moment, this precise second in time and eternity,
are sitting there, eating vanilla ice cream.
Hey dude! Be right back!
The frustration rises, like bile
To fill my chest
I feel a knot in my stomach
A pit of vipers writhing.
The eyes are watching my every move
As I feel I can’t do right
For doing wrong.
I can’t put my finger on it
Yet I know it’s not real.
I know in my logical mind
That I am worthy, I am just,
A work horse well-laden with responsibilities.
Still plays the stuck 78
In the back of my head
‘They will find you out’
‘They will see you as you are’.
Extremities ache with fear,
The constant need to move
Before the pain returns,
To sharpen my anxiety
To mock me.
I can’t put my finger on it
But the feeling remains
Imposter syndrome doesn’t even cover it
How each action fells
As negative as the depths
Of an Antarctic winter.
Nausea waves, my feet crippled
Their need to move
Yet wracked with debilitation.
Why do I feel this guilt
This vomit inducing
Tear rendering guilt
That one day they will see me
Just as I am.
Realise I’m not who they thought I was.
I have been hiding in plain sight.
A spectre at the feast.
For now I have to carry on,
Pushing through
Worker harder than ever
But feeling retrograde motion.
This is true anxiety,
The unfounded,
The unjustified
The undefinable
I just can’t put my finger on it.
When I drive down my road
and I look in my mirrors
they shake
interesting
my music must be too loud
so I turn it down
I can see the pebbles in the snow
kicked up by the last teenager to race down this lane
the little black dots make the road look like a Shell Silverstein sketch
how funny
it's been forever since I read his poems
I loved them
I wonder if I still have that book...
no matter
I'll get home soon
that car still rattling as I go
that's probably why I had my music so loud
it was silly though
still is
I love to feel the vibrations in my seat
I doubt my parents would like this song
I'm not even sure if I do myself
How silly yet again
I think of myself as so grounded
yet I cant even tell what I'm thinking
or what I like and enjoy
As conscious as I am
as deep as I look
within myself
I still cant put a finger on it
there's something I cant read
or is there
maybe I'm just trying to read the scribbles
the scratches I interpreted as another language
maybe I'm looking too deep
maybe I should look at the road.
There is something mighty special about the sun
I can't really put my finger on it
I am not even sure that if I tried to explain it
You would understand it
There is a sense of joy when the sun is out
I see happy faces big broad smiles
Colours like rainbows extended from miles
Tulips and daises dancing in the wind
Children prancing up and down.
There is something special about the sun
Its like an energetic beam
A source of human energy
You can say its like a type of drug that boosts our body
I cant really describe it
Its like giving hope to the ill
There is something very special about the sun
It has away of making every meaningful moment feel just right.
Once upon a time,
there was very broken girl.
Her lense was fogged and grey-
and this is how she saw the world.
Once upon the same time-
twas a very broken man.
And when he thought he'd have a grip-
(it all) slipped through his hands.
Now amidst all of her darkness -
(far in the) distance was a light.
She started to take steps-
although she didn't have much fight.
The man had seen it too-
though they were nowhere near each other.
He too set out to find it-
but he prepared for stormy weather.
It's a good thing that he did-
but really, it did not help much.
For the storms he had to cross through-
They were violent as such.
The girl approached an ocean-
but the light still drew her eye.
So she started to swim-
for she was unable to fly.
They both faced ghoulish monsters-
spirits sent out just to stop them.
But they chose to keep fighting
Both curious to see the outcome.
As the two grew closer-
to the light which called to them.
Their hearts began to warm-
despite the pain that laid within.
They battled and they suffered-
to finally make their ways.
But now standing in front of it-
they both a saw a new face.
The faces of each other-L
...unfamiliar; but also known.
Twas hard to place a finger on it
(but) These faces felt like home.
It took not long to realize-
that they were lovers meant to be.
In many lives before this one-
(now) their futures they could see.
Despite life's tricks and trials-
always asking themselves why.
They finally learned their 'reason' -
(was to) love each other all their lives.
Time is the only gift that keeps giving
as it ticks relentlessly away.
It is an indifferent benefactor
brutally fair with its pennies.
Each dawn sees more hours in our account.
But it never checks the balance,
there is never any carry-over,
no borrowing, debt or overdraft.
Time is endless; it ticks on regardless.
Its account respects not its waste,
nor wise use, nor measured or frivolous use.
Procrastination is ignored.
It waits for nothing
why should it?
It catches up with us
as we catch the clock face
counting the past,
which is the one tense,
that time forgot long ago.
Time is merely a witness,
watching on CCTV.
We speak of spending time
as though we possess it,
but it never belonged to us anyway,
it was never given, only taken,
as it ticks away.
Saving time is a delusion
it ticks away.
Tomorrow is an illusion,
a tick for another day.
time well spent
is a drip drop splat
in the ocean's séance,
that ticks away, ticks away.
Time has no use at all.
It is totally indifferent.
It leaves no traces of its passage,
which we observe in tree rings, wrinkles,
scars, sediments, stories,
relics and memories.
Time knows nothing of such things.
We imagine we are moving through time,
yet we are the hourglass
through which the sands of time can move.
The past never exists.
The future does not yet exist.
The present vanishes before
we can touch a finger on it.
The past is a recollection
future is anticipation
present is participation
time has no reflection.
Yesterday, today, and tomorrow
all exist concurrently.
Time began with the Big Bang
the downbeat for existence.
It is the sound entropy makes
as it unfolds order into disorder.
It is an ever expanding passage
relentless in its ticking.
Its rhythm is indifferent
to whether we dance
or simply count the notes.
HUNGER UNFED*
"He satisfies the longing soul. He fills the hungry soul with good." Psalms 107:9 (NEHB)
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
**I am a hungry soul starving for more—
I am an insatiable appetite craving something.
I am an emptiness, a void
with a permanent hunger for
something intangible deep inside.
*I am a hungry soul who eats, and eats, and mindlessly eats again,
eating until I am overweight.
My middle name is Gluttony, a malignancy
that brings me heartache and pain.
*I am a hungry soul who stuffs down an entire cake,
feeling fed momentarily, a temporary fix.
But my hunger returns.
Always returns.
And so does
Guilt
Shame
Disgust.
*I am a hungry soul on a frantic journey
to an empty garden
where food is my idol;
the kitchen is my temple,
and my full stomach is spiritual fulfillment.
*I am a hungry soul with a hollow deep within,
hunger’s grip, taking its toll.
More than food, I have a yearning keen,
searching for and finding fulfillment in spaces unseen.
*Note: I originally posted this poem at Poetry Soup in June 2025 (,poetrysoup.com/poem/hunger_unfed_1740384) then deleted it. This is my original poem
**Note: The phrase, “I am a hungry soul starving for more… [A hungry soul is someone with] an insatiable appetite for something. It’s an emptiness, void and permanent hunger for something. A feeling that something is missing but you can’t quite put your finger on it,’ was part of an essay and lecture on weight loss I attended some years ago. Racel Foy was the author and lecturer. (rachelfoy.com/11-signs-you-have-a-hungry-soul/)
~ The Tzaddik ~
A 'Tzaddik,' normally translated as a 'Righteous Man,'
is so much more than that. I think of a 'Tzaddik' as a
selfless holy man, who exists only for others. If you've
ever met one, you'll recognize him in the poem below...
You can’t put your finger on it
or think of its synonym
Yet the instant he spots you
there’s something special about him
It’s in his smile that greets you
his attentiveness when you speak
He exists only for you, for your deepest needs
though you may be unassertive and weak
He introduces others to you with a shine on his face
that he transfers to you with effortless grace
You will never forget him, nor he you
for you’ve just met a tzaddik, whose love has touched you
Can't you see
It's her not me
I’m being framed
That girl was my friend
But now she’s HER friend
And I can't talk to them?
What the hell
Where is SHE getting these games?
Why am I the only one being told off
When she clearly is doing shady business
I got a 9/10 on my maths
I showed mom
SHE said that SHE got a 10/10 last year
I CAN EAT
Everything
ANYTHING
Mayo on a spoon?
I’m in 6th grade, and 65 lbs
Isn't that funny
They say I should eat
Therapy and drugs
Angry outburst
IT'S NOT MY FAULT
But I need to pretend I agree
I'm thinking that ADHD isn't all that is wrong
I can't put my finger on it
But explosive anger is unusual at my age
Clumpy hair
Tendrils of oil
We need to learn proper hygiene
Gym class
I am weaker than my peers
But I still try my best
I am always picked last
How come the deaf girl suddenly gets treated special
I have problems too
But nobody pretends to like me
Anti Bullying is just for show
I've never seen the girls act differently
Toward my hidden disability
Could it be my fault
People can't come near
When all I do is shout
And talk off their ear
I've decided. Age 13. Grade 8.
Next year will be different
I need to let go
I'll keep all my stories
But no more anger
No more pain
No more what if’s
Form:
Bozo the clown is ready to begin,
in Cuba, Fidel Castro starts his reign.
Buddy Holly meets a horrible end,
Charles de Gaulle is back on top again.
Motown now brings us a whole lotta soul,
Disney’s Sleeping Beauty warms up our heart.
TV’s Bonanza, Rawhide, Twilight Zone,
and The Untouchables all get their start.
That F104C flies higher still,
the show ‘Rocky and his Friends’ is unveiled.
Marx Brother’s are no longer on TV,
the first ‘Barbie’ dolls are ready for sale.
Vince Lombardi takes over the Packers,
the Cardinals trade just one player for nine.
Tom Landry starts to coach for the Cowboys,
in about 30 years he will resign.
Boston Celtics score one seventy three,
Candlestick Park is now Bayview’s new name.
One-forty-eight straight then Yogi errors,
Boston Red Sox last race barrier team.
Food stamps help to fill our hungry bellies,
a new design for the pennies tail end.
The Dalai Lama has to leave China,
Al Ginsberg’s “Lyseric Acid” is penned.
Hawaii becomes state number fifty,
Japanese Americans freed once more.
Russia shows us the far side of the moon,
America wants to even the score.
No one knows why they played two All Star games,
least they sent someone to the Hall of Fame.
The AFL is the new football league,
Eddie Lubanski bowls two perfect games.
Oklahoma’s prohibition is done,
Soviets to invade Afghanistan.
Able and Baker leave orbit and back,
and NASA announces their moon trip plan.
SR.N1 is the first flying ship,
Lady Chatterley’s Lover is now banned.
Planet 9 from Outer Space aptly named,
as the world’s ‘worst film’ and then it gets canned.
The discovery of Zinj means humans,
had lived at least two million years ago.
Ike bounces his message off of the moon,
we hear that Kookie can lend us his comb.
Hendrix buys his first electric guitar,
he only plays one gig and then gets fired.
Bob Dylan graduates from his high school,
and he is beginning to be inspired.
There’s a growing sense that things are changing,
people can’t quite put their finger on it.
In Wakenda I’m clinging to my mom,
and my diapers keep filling with ‘not spit’.