Long Flam Poems
Long Flam Poems. Below are the most popular long Flam by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Flam poems by poem length and keyword.
Dumbfoundedness still prevails three weeks later...
when held spellbound courtesy grifter
Flim-flam man left lasting emotional whiplash
his derelict perfected artifice
to hijack every last cent
smarted me with indelible smash;
living daylight delivered I kidney you not
envious affliction affecting
last named member and founder of the Byrds
with crosby, stills, young and nash
entire corporeal being turned to hash
condemned state yours truly relegated,
cuz cremation unaffordable, though pulverized
and transformed into powdery ash;
Impossible mission to conceptualize
transmutation into cremains, the brain
lodged within me noggin
ill equipped to envision mine gray matter
even after asking mister Google to explain
that cremation takes place
in a specially designed furnace,
referred to as a cremation chamber or retort,
and exposed to extreme temperatures –
up to 1,800 degrees Fahrenheit–
leaving behind only ashes.
Following the procedure,
a cooling period required
before the remains can be handled.
Yours truly can best attest,
when succumbing as victim to virtual heist
I most likely flip flopped
into one percent atavistic Neanderthal state;
a surprising revelation
23andme genotyping results
yielded said presence of proto human
after analyzing DNA
courtesy saliva sample from eldest sister.
No other logical satisfactory explanation doth chime
lapsed consciousness, hence reasonable rhyme
whereat one twenty first century mortal man
virtually travelled in time
cast into nasty, shortish brute
obliging deft inducement
outsourcing valuable dough.
Though aforementioned far-fetched notion
smacks of high skepticism,
yet no more ridiculous than
hominids over bajillion years springing forth
from flotsam and jetsam in the ocean
I may as well broach another theory of creation
(just came to my mind),
that divine omnipotent wizard
sprinkled magic potion
across primordial sea
after watching an advertisement promotion
claiming said product
contained the seeds of life and white lily.
Convinced that snake oil salesman
wrought deleterious influence
triggering a debacle that rocked
the financial market,
(albeit constituting one singular naked ape),
an attorney general based in Philadelphia
believes I presented a convincing case,
which hopefully witnesses
recouping all or most of my funds.
The Real Housewives
Sorry
Reality T.V Housewives
What's that all about
Happy Wife
Happy life
Jesus Christ
Thank God for Nannies
And Cleaner's
And Make up Artist's
Imagine any of these
Without the 3 R's to fall back upon
Rich's
Rrendering
Rhinoplastey
And a cheating Husband
All of the diamonds and all the plastic surgeons
Can't polish a turd
Even if it's covered in gold
Mutton dressed as lamb
Doesn't make a housewife
Real housewives are loved not built
Are Mother's
Not Reality Consumerist martyrs
Dressed in overpriced garters
With fake teeth
Fake smile's
Fake Boobs
And even faker marriages
With bleached and trimmed undercarriages
Slam
Sham
Film flam
Acting like there **** don't stink
Because they are so full of botox
They can't even blink
Can only be watched with the aid of a stiff drink
The mind boggles
How low can we go
Watch the show
I spit poems onto a page with increasing velocity
bam, wham, dram, cram, jamb, bam, flam!
Feeling like the flim-flam man that I am,
I do not wait for responses
Not caring about any opinions but my own
The seasoned poets invariably understand
throwing down their own missives at incredible speed
Breaking the limit and the barrier, engrossed and enthralled.
We are word players, imaginations on fire,
muses all aglow.
The words fall into jumbled piles, worrying us not.
Flowery missives wink their petals at us,
But we are in the zone, not paying attention.
The poems slide, twirl, whirl, and pirouette.
One of them stops to pinch my cheek and call me “Charlie”.
It is more than enough to keep me happy.
what are they there for?
what's it got to do with anything?
i am confident on this one
throw away your vertigo stick
they measure my son's height
to get into the opera
they don't measure me
but i tell them they should
as i am at the pinnacle of opera sensitivity
my friend is between baritone and alto
i'm between the car and the theatre
as i search for the venue on my phone
we are one metre away
between the peanuts and the legal drinking age
the performance begins
and i recognise the aria
i turn to my son and whisper,
"this is from that car advert."
there is no interval
and i feel tough
i shudder when i think that the earth takes a whole day to rotate
but we flim flam out of the opera house
there are still tickets for Don Giovanni
it apparently ends in hell
so swallowed up in the life to come, no longer inhabitants of this world
the following week we see Spongebob the Musical
Walk with me through a world of beauty
A gift from God
Walk with me where the Vikings once roamed
Through the magnificence of her mountains
Into the fjords near Bodo
Feel the briskness in the air of Andoya
Trondheim has a beauty all its own
Checkpoint Charlie is still the place to be
On a Saturday night in Stavanger
You can even pass through Hell
Going to the fly station in Vaernes
Lofoten Islands echo the sheer beauty of the land
Feel the welcome warmth of the people of Oslo
At one with nature, ride the Flam Railway
A country of lakes, mountains and Stave churches
A beauty surpassed only by that of her people
Memories carry me back to this land of enchantment
Troll can only make me smile because
I've had a glimpse of heaven.
A strong cooperative offense
is our most competitive defense.
Avoiding RightRed fascism
totalitarianism
terrorism, dark secular raptures and/or terrified jihad,
fundamental Nature is sinful, negative yin repressed,
while Spirit is health invested love, positive yang,
long-term ego/eco-centric,
bilateral co-temporal,
evenly humored humanistic divinalism.
By choosing divining higher
and humanely deeper
GreenLeft/RedRight co-regenerativity
strengthening LeftBrain's historic secular case
for more cooperative climate cleansing
by divesting of RedRight's competing disassociating divestment
away from
Divine/Humane WinWin MultiCulturing Holy Spirit
cooperative matriarchal/patriarchal outflowing natural
ZeroZone soulful
bilateral 4-Dynamic Primal Seasons
PolyNomial-GreenLeft ecology
for PolyPathic multicultural RedMountain Yang
speaks YinSquared Divine NonViolent ValleyLeft
PolyPhonic
Red light of dawning memories
co-invite Earth's Green reforesting vocation
in 4D bilateral Left/Right positive energy
democratic-trusting frame
dynamically parallel bicamerality
with resilient fractal string-structures of humane DNA
and divine RNA theological Origin
and 4-ecological ZeroZone Seasons
with 4-theological nurturing Reasons
for romantic infatuation
with Eastern outside red dawns
of post-millennial inside climate warning
and
Western indigenous Earth and tree
and Sun and moon
and Extended sanctuary family
nature/spirit worshipers,
singers,
dancers,
historians,
improv and designing artists,
designing and implementing ecologists,
creation and degeneration processors,
deep learning ecotherapeutic theologians
story-tellers of legends
sweeping cooperative neighborhoods
greeting travelers,
sojourners,
fellow walking
and flying
and swimming
and crawling eco-pilgrims
Liberally green
and conservational red night lovers
cooperatively mentored delight
avoiding tomorrow's nationalistic
ego-theistic
utterly narcissistic
BoogyMan
planting anti-historical flim/flam stories
hoping to fool all people
through all competing ZeroSum mythical time.
I just received my umpteenth robocall today!
I rather enjoy fencing with those dudes and the nonsense they relay!
I let them babble on, most of which I don't understand,
Since the caller wrestles with the English language from a foreign land.
One insisted I needed an extended maintenance warranty on my car.
She explained the advantages of the plan and said it would carry me far.
When asked the mileage on the car I told her, "675OOO miles or so",
She said, "Oh", and slamming down the phone I told her where to go!
Another feller called offering zero interest on my credit card.
I listened offering a few "unhuhs" now and then, ever on my guard!
I told him I thought his scheme was just a sugar-coated flimsy-flam!
He lost 'interest' in me when I told him I had no 'interest' in his scam!
A roofing guy called to state due to a recent hail storm in town,
Surely, I must have suffered damage to my house and he would be down,
For a free estimate to replace the roof, gutters and any other calamity.
I told him no thanks, no damage, and he hung up with a dearth of amity!
A chap from Timbuktu called to say that my computer was on the fritz.
Now, I've had experience with his type and I savor matching wits!
For only 400 bucks he'd repair my 'puter and have it humming in a trice!
My 'puter is purring fine and told him to find someone else to entice!
I consider my day a loss if I don't receive the dreaded robocall;
I suppose, though, if it were not for them I wouldn't receive any calls at all!
I think of death and wonder,
I think of death and wonder,
What would it be like
To depart this life?
Perhaps to drown?
Ah yes, to drown
To choke, to gasp,
To feel the flam in my throat
The Water in my lungs.
To feel my life ebbing, ebbing,
As I thrash about,
Pulled deeper by my efforts,,
Helpless, Hopeless?
I think of death and wonder.
As I see myself,
On the pavement
In some darkened parking lot.
There are footsteps,
Someone yells,
"Oh My God"
"There's a woman here."
My limbs are tangled,
I'm a broken doll.
As my life's blood flows,
Through the cracks in my forehead.
I think of death and wonder,
Stairs? Of course the stairs,
I fall quickly.
Moaning as I go, moaning....
Death, to drown to fall,
To waste for weeks upon a bed of pain.
Death comes for everyone
And He will come for me.
I think of death and wonder,
As one who lifts a sweet cup,
Red as blood to her lips,
And drains the Nectar.
I go not as some weary soul,
Beaten and used by some cruel Master.
But as one who with a light heart,
Takes up a good book, by a favorite author.
I think of death and wonder,
As one who cheerfully embarks
To a unfamiliar place,
To see a most beloved friend.
Even now I hear the ringing
Of those distant bells.
And stir as one just now awaking,
To meet a Happy day
What, Where, Who
If I where asked the what, where, who
That drives me to write poetry
I’d say that if I only knew
I’d leave right now this misery
But I’m afraid I’m not the sort
To answer in straight fashion
I have to offer my retort
With words of heartfelt passion
For just the other day I found
Encounter gave me food for thought
Soon the words they were outbound
Jumbled as they rushed and fought
Though ne’er the less inspired me
To battle on my way
Look toward the end and see
Which words I could display
Confess do I quite openly
That I am ignorant
Of poetry’s technology
Coz grasp it I just can’t
I wouldn’t know a what’s it called
From a what’s its name
In my mind won’t stay installed
Confusion is its game
But I somehow, find I can
Muddle through at best
Organise a crafty plan
And set my brain the test
For out there I see loneliness
Suffering and pain
A world in turmoil and distress
That cannot stake its claim
I look for every trait in man
Into the soul I stare
At his betrayal and flim-flam
Also the ladies fair
Dear love will always be there
And so will Demon war
And my thoughts on these I’ll share
Of that you can be sure
Laughter I would hope to bring
Sadness sometimes to the fore
Of natures forces I will sing
The list goes on galore
Yes I will write throughout the night
With hope to de-confuse
I’ll try to offer some insight
By giving up my muse
So now you know the what and where
But what about the who
Inspiring people are out there
Who knows - it could - be you
And what about that misery
I spoke of up above
Well, I gave that up for music
Of the poetrysoupers love x
Lance was a drifter, a gypsy, a loner, a lone wolf. Proud of it.
Not a highway man, not a flim-flam man, but a man who had traveled and knew things.
He had never settled down.
Or so he thought.
Until he met Lucy.
He recognized her instantly.
A blue-eyed, dark-haired gal with a personality that preceded her into nightclubs.
She had the best laugh in six counties.
A girl with a song in her heart.
A woman who had no idea how startlingly pretty she was.
She captured him instantly.
When Lance turned and looked into her eyes,
He knew he had come home.
He would never be a happy drifter again.
He had met his world.
She did not realize.
Had no idea,
but he was determined and he pursued her recklessly.
It became annoying and disturbing.
She was fearful of him.
He became angry.
Another mean woman, teasing him, leading him on.
He never realized he was the problem.
He was given his eighth restraining order, and mad as hell about it.
Just another tease.
What is wrong with all of these women? He wondered.
Never recognizing his smothering, incessant, exasperating, ways frightened them.
Never seeing himself the way others saw him.
Lance, drifter, a gypsy, a loner, a lone wolf, meeting his true love in every bar nightly.