Long Freaks Poems

Long Freaks Poems. Below are the most popular long Freaks by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Freaks poems by poem length and keyword.


The End of Today

New day ,new poem.lightly titled,The End of today:

the creeping stains topple the statue need not speak to see her sorrow to be unknown like a signless painting a markless cast impression of an unknown artist
ancient days hope and worship sunken from floods of freedom's wisest lessons of reason

life is a wheel advance forward at even pace to go beyond a fight to pick up the past
a search for answers through question, do you want to live ?
Is that a threat are you a passionate vegan?

The shark says it best, when he freaks you with his bite and says I will eat you
i got no chill for good will ,unless you're %#% up on pills
so i say eat or be eaten,cook from your heart ,know that life tastes good if you have the passion

People can fill your heart and empty it the next day,like a long drive after a payday
I yearn for trust,i beg to help.only there can be a cost and that cant befallen on the ears of must
give us this day our daily bread thanks for giving me a passion and then letting me throw it away
art is real,who are the people we all hear
what constitutes a zombie unreal
don't fall for your business to walk with these zombies unreal
i know if god then devil and if this Earth shall be end,man and all other words will to
not even the end will be known, all thousands of years,just to see tomorrow and what it reveals
so be like water, think like sand and breathe like your first breathe,conquer yourself,but leave me alone.


A Stranger and a Friend

A shadow, nay, sullen thunderhead 
inducing a deluge of emotions 
moved across thousands of darkened souls

Freaks, stoners
shy, smart
geeks and loners
outcasts with dreams and compassion in their heart

Strangers like me

To us, you were a friend
we live vicariously through words we couldn't write
thoughts that help us defend
against wolves attacking for spite
we battle predators until the end
paper mache hearts now confettied and contrite

When in need of a voice to understand
you are the poet on which we lean
like a crutch of a crippled, broken man
assisting our stride and making us gleam

Mean pride, through our veins, does pulse
your gift - a gold ingot - exclusively ours
now smelted - our throats convulse
as if poisoned by many whiskey sours

Cancer soiled your beautiful brain
muddied thoughts and took your life
washing future elegance down the drain
freaks are shredded with strife 
like targets at a firing range

Suddenly gone leaving the lives bereft
upon which you left your mark
warrior, graciously, exit...stage left
a celestial journey calls to you embark

Created the soundtrack for our misfit lives
making memories connected to your art
our hope that your music survives
thousands of years touching many a heart

A collective "Thank you Neil"
us castaways won't soon forget
how your lyrics and talent made us feel
ghost ride to your garden in the sunset
Form: Rhyme

New York City - Midtown

 No Mickey, Minnie, or Goofy- no Jimmy The Cricket
                The spirit of Sodom is Gomorrah...what I see is plain "Wicked"

                     Neon lit buildings and business bright nights...
              A terse description of 8th Ave - I see somethings not right

                      Jailbait pimps fishing for girlish age bodies
              Port of Authority freaks craving school boy young hotties

                   A bunco, a scam - the cards of "Monte" are three...
                    White kids from Jersey seeking fake/fresh Ids

                Cabbies waiting for fares/get their plates/it's too late
                    Little courtesy or English and overpriced rates

               Electronic stores, you have restaurants; a myriad of stands
                                        that vend snacks

                You can have a wad roll of money, yet still looked at if Black

                  The Homeless Are Human, it's the truth not conjecture
                  It seems to keep them sans housing gives Midtown its texture

                Fleabag hotels are great bargains/I've heard there's four legged pests
                 You've paid your money - there's danger, but you still can't have guests

                Mounted units, Blue grunts to keep the rich ones protected
                The last Toe Tag said "No One", why wasn't that crime detected?

                   A Vagrant says that he's hungry to everyone that he greets
                   You can't see the flame touch the Pyrex/it's the crack that he eats

                 On the trains I see animals, sometimes you'd think a new species
                 Most of those stations need cleaning....in my sight Human Feces

                Poetiq visions/my heart troubled/ I had no choice but expound
                It goes down daily in the Crab Apple/New York City....Midtown
Form: Couplet

Premium Member Youthful Vogue

Used to be we'd pay to see freaks on the carnival way.
Now, for free at the mall we can see some most every day!
Kids (and adults) with tattoos, purple hair, nose and eyebrow rings,
Navel rings, tongue studs and other self-mutilating things!

Now, of course, we didn't do such things six decades ago!
Our parents would have disowned us - besides we had no dough!
Sure, guys wore zoot suits with baggy pants and chain.
I just can't comprehend today's modes, they seem so arcane!

Gals wore battered saddle shoes and one of Dad's old shirts,
With tails flapping in the breeze over their poodle skirts!
They wore bras (or so I'm told), hair coiffured with bangs,
They didn't bare their navels and hang out with rowdy gangs!

It's hard to discern who is who when viewing them from the aft.
Two long-haired kids, holding hands, and acting rather daft!
Is it the "he" on the right or is "he" the one on the left?
It's none of my concern, tho' it does leave my curiosity bereft!

I suppose it's all the rage to let the kids do their thing,
While they're young and carefree, let them have their fling.
I'll roll my eyes and shake my head, looking on aghast,
Wondering what's next after these current fads have passed!

Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(© All Rights Reserved)
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member Mill Wheel

MILL WHEEL

           The mill wheel wouldn’t turn till the Spring
           ‘CLOSED’ notice hanging at closed door on a string.
          Snowfall on pavement, snowfall on road turning hard ice.
          Customers remembered miller as he was friendly and nice.
         
              Winter was frosty with chilled windy breeze.
              Off and on snow drizzling, sometimes to cease.
          Sudden disappearance of the miller made all stunned.
         Neither any information received, nor the miller returned.
                
            Whisper ran through the town from door to door,
                as police came on inquiry: How to ignore?
               They came on verification of passport renewal.
               Splendid surprise awaiting on miller’s arrival.
            
                 Miller is going abroad on honeymoon trip with new bride.
                  Passport-issue is solved, and everybody gets relieved.
                   Season changes to Spring naturally, no freaks.
                   Ice melts, revealing secrets, wheel creaks.
   07/19/18

  ' One, nine, sixteen v3.0' Contest by Viv Wigley
Form: Rhyme


Kill a Love

Kill a love


There are times when I feel like just leaving you alone,
But there are times I don’t want to be here all on my own; 
But I know if we keep on, keep going on,
I can be right there with you when things go right 
And when things go wrong.


I hang out with the losers and the freaks;
I love those people, they are just like me.
Why are you so cruel?  
Why did you treat me like a fool?
Why do I care about anybody in this world?


I’m going to see you as a star and pick you apart;
I love you with all my heart, but to destroy is to create art.
To kill a love is to tear apart a connection.
One plus one equals love; this is what they call a misconception.


One plus one equals the possibility of two equaling love,
But it is not a definite answer to the question.
What happens when you put two people who love each other together?
I’m sorry the answer is not they stay together forever.


Kill me please; my life is a tragic comedy,
Written by the Devil and acted out by Jim Henson.
Love was my all, now it is just another word,
I have become the killer of love, I have become another version.


Version 2.0, the new me I became;
I have changed from lover of love to the death of hearts.
I live in a hole of endless pain,
I must kill love; I must banish it to the stars.


(C)2016 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.
© Aa Harvey  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Bio

Premium Member Promised Land

I have to be patient, and not too concerned
About the things I can’t manage
If some of the stones I left lying unturned
For this I cannot be disparaged
The island is so overcrowded and small
New comers arrive by the boats
They want to steal space, so the natives can fall
Into the sea full of ghosts
But what was Mayflower by modern esteem?
No politics here, just a fact:
A boat full of immigrants, led by a team
Of Jesus freaks with legal act
To establish an ownership far, far away
They claimed it “the promised land”
How can you deny others doing the same?
For jobs you won't do they're godsend.
Form: Rhyme

The Best beer

Which beers my dears bring you to tears

Beardy weirdy freaks hipster peaks & nadirs

Slatted bar with glam flutes or bizarre jam jar

Cheers to toots & hoots hirsute tatted peers 


Sham craze for cloudy ales or clear yesteryear pales

Old school IPA mule or cool daze ways holds sway 

Some fools viral spools spiral amaze as they drool 

Not a phase always had haze it's the cardinal rule


Or a silly quip & blip has a nip of a chilli dip in it 

Knows zip flip let rip Indian trip phrase you twit 

Gawking and balking because they're talking s**t


All about malty pout haughty clout of a naughty stout

Cooed am a lamb to the slaughter for rip snorter porter

Wooed by stock of stellar Bock or cellar brewed Keller 

Wheat poo pooed too funkily sweet for this crude fella


Rude taking the mick trick to pick a drop in perfect nick

Chaps won't cower to the lure of cocktails at happy hour

Ruddy cheeked fuddy duddy who is perhaps too dour


Appears fake dreams it seems of a career as a critic

Slating grating ratings mapped trapped on untappd  

Skeptic fears musty skunk & fusty funk that is lambic


Brett regret bristles don't fret won't let whet my whistle

Sneers debunk the rusty gunk flower glower of sour

Jeers but bet the ripple of Tripel is still the top tipple 

For any cynic or pundit in their Merchant Ivory tower


Hail tale of quirky murky or another stale lager saga

Heaven forbid get rid of sweet & sickly treat for a kid 

Snooty about the booty of rank dank stank too fruity

For fecks sake must forsake that milkshake mistake


If tasked or someone asked what's my perfect beer?

Not the new frontier..bask in cask ...holy grail of ale

Suggest zest from noble not global hops treasure chest 


Attest not treason manifest reason better than the rest 

Beer to pleasure every season that stalled then schooled

What is after all the true quest & have you got a clue test

Which is why I contest you go with the one called "Best"
Form: Ballad

War Cry

Callin all sheep,
Time to wake the hell up;
Time is running out,
And so is your luck.

Are you gonna sit back,
And be led to the slaughter;
Will you leave this messed up world,
To your sons and daughters.

Will you fall in line,
And take some unproven jab;
Filled with mind controlled serum,
In every evil stab.

Its time to open your eyes,
And lift the darkened veil ;
Its a war against our souls,
And we cannot fail.

This world and humanity,
Has been fast asleep;
While  the rabid spreading  evil,
Runs wide and deep.

If we don't fight now,
Soon all will be lost;
And your children will suffer,
And reap all  the cost.

Raise your voices and banners,
And march a billion strong ;
Until the power hungry freaks,
Melt in our freedom song.

Rise up everybody,
Become sheep no more;
The time to sleep is over,
Time to prepare for a war.
Form: Rhyme

The Nature of Ma Nature

blank verse

The winter of two ought fourteen
saw numbers plunge as ice storms rage,
and for the record, deep snowfalls.
Ma Nature showed her nasty side.

Capricious temperatures’ ebb tide
made life erratic:  broken bones,
pow’r outages and highways shut.
Ma Nature found a callous streak.

Bizarre display of weather freaks -
appointments cut, no school for days.
The household suffered much on edge
for teasing found in Nature’s veins.

Now spring holds promise in her reins,
Ma Nature works redeeming grace
transforming what we knew would come .
Renewal is her middle name.

The same holds true throughout the year
each season bows to Nature’s call. 



written March 10, 2014

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