Long Game Poems

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


Judas Christ

Im not sure what i did to you
what i've been blaickmailed for
under the rug we swept the page we tore out
dance around what it told us to do
its your gold to figure out
this time, your pain, of the sin for being the creator
did it to myself
pointing out the abuse of my father
whipped and chained
crucified
no enemies
confusion of salvation
weapon for a messneger
for those who choose to hear it
the tower of babel fell
what if we were all wrong together
back to the basics of how i did this to myself

My father gone crazy
scared of mirrors
his own reflection
another gopher hole to remind him
of what you are
remove the blind fold
and see all my scars
never should have trusted you strangers
fictitious lies
graves of danger
holes to dig
in plots to fall into
wrap myself around the obvious to turn this loose

forgive and forget
i forget all the time
the leash on my neck
i dont forgive
choke at the tears i dont understand
fallen from my throne in the clouds
i didnt deserve
into your nightmare
to live a lie
called your perfect life
and who arwe you mad at
judas or christ for saving you from crucifiction
for the crime of the century
where the finger of your god gone awry
realising his mistake of his image altered
has come with an obvious omen to translate
and photoshop you into restrictions, consequences,
ways you werent supposed to bend

judas christ
the only face left to blame
the truth of the game your playing,
three moves ahead opf the game
me in check mate versus a world not playing fair
creating your god, to be the sin, to live your nightmare
way out of hand...

stuck in this corner
without a hand
opiates for mary jane
and nobody complains
fear farmers and desperation
eyes of the shamed
necisary contradictions
to pull you out of the deepend
swimming towards the sharks we keep at bay

what do you think he did to you?
those who walk around carrying a grudge?
lied? died? never ran away leaving you with the bag in a previous life?
or saved a future generation from a future of nightmares
only he could save us from
unravelling now
never to be forgotten

hail to your mercy
which i dont see exist
hail to your truth of who did it
hail to your emptiness
i am forgiven,
welcomed to the family
treasured as the brother
i am judas 
judas christ

so knock it off with this kane and abel blitz
Form:


Dream Collection 3 and a Real Life Experience Friends

Dreaming shows you many hidden things in your mind; it opens you to alternative thinking…
What are friends? Are friends someone you can trust? What is trust? What is trusting? I've always asked myself this, but never really answered it... Friends are always something I have struggled with.

How does someone become your friend? Is it an unspoken thing? A mutual agreement? A strive to be popular? Or is it a feeling that everyone has?

Throughout my elementary years I had 6 friends. Brandon, Mattia, Isaac, Matthew, and 2 girls, Emily and Sydney. When I hit 5th grade, Isaac, who was my best friend, moved away.

I had one big problem, people who I saw as friends, weren't really friends. There were a lot of things said behind my back and people would use me as a fall guy.
Onto my dream...
My dreams as a kid, before I trained myself to lucidly dream, were, as far as I knew, real. And to be honest, for the most part I don't know what was a dream and what wasn't... 

I remember the new "cool" game to play was ZAP... If you don't know what zap is it is pretty much you put a name on a  hand and a time and they can't look at it until that time or they must ask them out. This also happened to be the time the term "gay" had hit my school, so I had a guys name written on my hand. So once I found out what it was I went and washed it all off. so as we went back in class everyone who fell to peer pressure which was pretty much everyone but me got in trouble.

Now I told the teacher I had it at one time but I washed it off at lunch because Iw anted to be honest.... She just said that was the right thing to do.... But everyone started laughing at my calling me gay and such because it was a guys name... So when asked who satarted it someone said ask the gay kid.... Well of course I got blamed with it so I was sent to the principal with not one, but two reasons to be in trouble... I woke... got ready for school, and as I was getting to school guess what I saw? A new friend, and its name was Zap.....

What is a true friend? Is it someone who will stand for you? Someone who is always there? Do you have a true friend? Do you trust that person? Now answer that again, do you really? Ask yourself a third time, how do you really know they are your friend?

P.S. Thank you all for all the support, I have really appreciated all the positive feedback on my work... Jarrod D.~

The Barmaid and the Pedlar

There's an old English song called  All Jolly Fellows That Follow The PLow.  The tune works fine as is for the chorus and with the verses if the tune for the 3rd and 4th lines is repeated for th 5th and 6th. Well, it works for me but my singing has never been much hindered by tunes.



It was after that big game one long gone September,
the score line was one I’d like not to remember,
in a small Richmond pub not too far from the ground,
we all settled down with our sorrows to drown.
We were well on the way, as were most of the crowd,
when in came a young pedlar a shouting out loud.

Sausages, sold by the yard or the pound!
Get a fresh sausage, the best to be found!
It’ll make your wife happy of that there’s no doubt,
with her very own snag she won’t need to dine out.

Cried the barmaid, “How many do I get to a yard?”
“Madam, four if they’re soft or three if they’re hard”
She felt for the soft ones, she wanted a lot,
but the more that she squeezed em the harder they got.
She found not a sausage was e’en a bit soft
so she told the young pedlar to go get far offed 

Sausages, sold by the yard or the pound!
Get a fresh sausage, the best to be found!
It’ll make your wife happy of that there’s no doubt,
with her very own snag she won’t need to dine out.

Said the pedlar, “Why madam no need to be rude.
And in fact what you told me was verging on crude
But you don’t look so bad for a foul mouthed old sow
so step on outside, if you like, with me now.
If you play your cards right I might squeeze your left breast.
If I find I like that I might squeeze all the rest.”

Sausages, sold by the yard or the pound!
Get a fresh sausage, the best to be found!
It’ll make your wife happy of that there’s no doubt,
with her very own snag she won’t need to dine out.

Said the barmaid to pedlar, “You are a right jerk,
I’m a barmaid and never do mission’ry work.
But if you're near to the shops and you buy me some eggs,
I might squeeze that there pimple you’ve got ‘tween your legs.”
Then she said something that made the whole crowd guffaw,
“And will you stop off at home and please check the back door?”

“
Sausages, sold by the yard or the pound!
Get a fresh sausage, the best to be found!
It’ll make your wife happy of that there’s no doubt,
with her very own snag she won’t need to dine out.



For Cyndi MacMillan's pub song contest
© Red Omara  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Ballad

Puzzle Stomped

"Puzzle Stomped"



Pieces scattered
placed on a table 
with boundaries 

between 
the incarcerated margins 
there are strict conditions

Time drips 
its wet connection
each piece a stair fitted 

imperfectly
perfect 
towards upwards 

new mirror reflection
a cracked heart piercing
the tear with savage dedication

behind her veil 
the known Morpheus assails
her compromised senses 

holding her captured
behind the external view
eyes blindfolded 

the blue sashes now let loose
opening green windows to 
free the redressed vicissitudes 

to undress the crisp breeze of her 
monk chanting wake
a new phantom arrives caressing secrets

gambled on a fresh Delius
composing his unfinished symphony
he’s looking for her singular notes

Somewhere, 
he stands behind her
sharp as a needle, 

cutting tall poppy
each step she takes 
towards her freedom gate

In his hands he cups
the hidden 
missing piece

The sewing of pages
she continues to bind
in her sleep

along a strong spine
turning and folding stories
uncommon ne'er sublime

their spelt magic 
grows majestically spoilt 
seeded from a sweet perfume 

conducting intoxicating notes
stories flying black-winged  
off all the slippery knaves 

and wax-sealed pages  
like ebony feathers
mummerating starlings 

turn into suffocating 
dream stealing
king crows smiling maces

She the Smythsewer
laying tenuous imprints 
for a new road home

He the myth Beyond
shakes the game board
peace in pieces, a long forgotten song

the chance card thrown
the blanket of romance 
thundering over a stormy mind grows

patch worked with glassed-in 
jarred ghost bees, the old 
puzzle of a story stomped on

He places his feet
firmly between hers
closing in on time 

Beyond takes her hand 
And sensually whispers 
along all her fairest fears 

sweeping all pieces off her 
tattered story board
fallen irretrievable 

forgotten 
left lacking 
on the harsh floor

Cum dederit 
dilectis suis somnum,
Ecce haereditas 

to the tune of fate
there is so much more
the words are sewn and sung

the child in time fled
long gone, as if all was pure fantasy
destiny arrives supernaturally too soon

Time for a new story
He says darkly 
and swiftly closes

Past’s door.


(LadyLabyrinth / 2020)

Truth? Lies? Or Your Gift?

What do you believe?
What do you know?
did you have any clue i read tarot cards professioanlly for the oldest restarunt built
in my city
and predict surprised birthday parties that have passed
and cfan tell you all sorts of secrets of exaggerated emotion and paranoia
that only the moon knows

So like the life lesson of the hanged man
are you here to realise you are gullible or to see through me and know ive been 
telling the truth
is this a test for you flase prophet
or your spiritual awakening with another card before you saying all of my poetic 
poems that sound personal are nothing more than fabrications
and many of you judge me
and that further goes to prove my writing ability?

Is it true do i know anything of being bonded to the material
and the devil who reminds me the keys to my chains are within my grasp
And the tower of unforseen catastrophe always has a happy ending or a rainbow
but only a true prophet in the year 2012 in las vegas understands the 
conspirtualacy of my craft

Is the hierophant all about the conformity of society 
and the grouping together of the nonconformidt youth
so when the saints and sinners pull to gether to revolutionise and pull this star 
from the sky will our dreams or nightmares come true?

Tell me prophet Am i a fool because the magician never taught me his tricks
but i understand the perfect shufles and have a deck of freudian slips of my own?
the blue moon sunrise and the three levels of the game of reality
we take babysteps of fear to beat or fail to proceed or return to the start
Where exactly is the emperor's crown of authority when society understands the 
slide of psychology
and the one of a million being catered to 
and the billion sof like minded individuals that spiral out from this psychological 
understanding

Am i in the driver seat of the chariot and do i have enough temperance
to balance the forces of good and bad to see the pros and cons
of the blessings and ultimatums of desires and consequence
were you gullible all this time to fall for my lies?
or were you smart enough to see them as works of art?
or are you a true prophet and need to start the revolution from the earth and the 
pollution of our skies

here i am 
a false martyr
tell me prophet whats in store for me
and what am i to do?


Empty Nest

Chubby little dimpled hand’s reach up to stroke my face
Happy cowboy booted boy, with hair all out of place
Broken nose, stepped on shoes, doggies left behind,
These are the things as I grow old, is running through my mind.
It only took a dollar to win a skip bow game
And if you lost the first one, we would play again
The homemade pizza and the pop would add to all the fun.
If you won $2.00 you’d be the lucky one.
How precious do those days now seem with all the children gone
Their children grown and have their own. Where do I now belong?
Tiny children calling grandma, I look around to see,
But they are calling my child, no longer calling me.
Life’s gone so fast, what do I do with the days that’s left ahead?
How many book’s can I read or how long stay in the bed.
The years have taken toll on me, and bones within me ache
Forgetfulness encamps my mind of the pills that I should take.
They call these the golden years, they say they’ll come a time,
When I will say I’ll take my rest and life will be a rhyme,
Of words I put together, to say how I do feel,
Forgotten, Laid aside for now, Hey what is the deal?
I once was young but now I’m old and I can only see,
The path that’s laid before me and I shall walk with thee.
Oh gates now open wide for me, do you see me coming in?
The brightness of your being Lord has made me to live again.
The ones I’ve loved are waiting, their hands stretched out to me.
Mother’s, father’s, cherished ones I see oh now I see.
Rejoicing, laughing, loving ones, oh wait I hear my name
Grandma, Grandma comes the cry,I turn to see the same
Loving girls hand in hand as they rush forth for me
sunlight shining in their hair, death had set them free.
I catch them up close to me and I finally get to say
I am so glad to be with you, you'll brighten up my day.
Let me tell you of your mother's that have missed you very much
Who would have given everything to feel your baby touch
How fast life goes and very soon they will come here too
To share with you the beauty and their joy of loving you.
But now I will remember…dimpled hands upon my face,
Cowboy booted little boy with hair all out of place.
I look back and I can see how lucky I have been
To have those precious moments, that I relive again.
So booted boy and dimpled hand’s, so fair, so fair of face.
I put you back within my heart, till I have run the race.
Form: Rhyme

The Durable Mick Malloy a True Story

In Jan, nineteen thirty-three, there was man called Mick Malloy
At the time he was an alcoholic and a poor homeless boy.
A young Irish fire-fighter out of work
He left his home in Donegal - to find some in New York.

He fell in with five real bad men
Who wanted to cause murder back then.
Poor Mick they had him in their sights
An insurance fraud, they brought to light.

They signed three life policies on Mick
Now they had to kill him quick.
Unlimited credit in a speakeasy, they gave him
To drink himself to death-they went out on a limb.

Although he drank all day long
His life it just seemed to prolong
They switched to antifreeze instead
Expecting Mick to wake up dead.

With turpentine they then did tempt
But no success, so they switched to horse liniment.
Finally a drink of rat poison, they gave the poor lad
But Mick never ever seemed to get bad.

They tried oysters, then methanol. 
Bad sardines, poison and carpet tacks
But poor old  Mick swallowed the lot,
And still poor Mick kept coming back.

The five would be murderers were baffled
Poor Mick just would not die
The murder trust then knew,
 something else they would have to try.

One night poor Mick unconscious, they stripped him and carried him out
In minus fourteen degrees,naked, not wearing a single clout.
Threw five gallons of water on him, to make sure that he would freeze
Poor Mick returned the next without even a cough or sneeze.
 

Mick returned the next day to order himself a drink
The men were getting desperate they really had to think.
Next they hit him with a taxi and broke lots of poor Mick’s bones
But he had three weeks in hospital, then they sent him home.

The gang had thought that Mick was dead 
But when they tried to claim, poor Mick returned once more
 And kept on his drinking game.
In desperation in February, in fact on the twenty second
They waited for Mick to collapse, then gassed him in a second
A pipe they pushed into his throat and now poor Mick was gone.
The gang did not win even then, no not a single one.

They squabbled and were caught and to Sing Sing them they did send
Four to be fried on the electric chair what a sizzling end
The fifth was sent to prison, which didn’t seem quite fair.
He somehow managed to escape, Sing Sings electric chair
Poor Mick Malloy has been long gone, but will not be forgotten
Just remember to watch your friends though; you never know who’s rotten.
Form: Rhyme

A Life Time of Addiction

I'm sitting here right now, just thinking back through time,
about all the things I've been addicted to, through out my entire life.
now this has got me thinking, why was this so,
why I thought so many of my addictions were a good way for me to cope.

Addicted to lollies and video game as a child, they made me happy.

Addicted to violence at 9, because love was about control.

Addicted to writing at 10, a place for me to hide.

Addicted to smoking at 11, don't know really why,

also addicted to masturbation, to take my frustrations away

and addicted to movies, cause there was silence for a while.

Addicted to Alcohol at 12, it made me feel good inside.

Addicted to cannabis at 13, it freed me from my mind.

Addicted to hashes oil at 15, progressing I guess.

Addicted to gang life at 16, this was what I wanted to be.

Addicted to the party life at 17, it got me away from home.

Addicted to prescription medications at 18, a whole new world to see.

Addicted to gambling at 21, a real emotional ride.

Addicted to various T.v show, a way to fantasize.

also addicted to arguing and fighting, because I was always right.

For the next 5 years I went back and forth through all my addictions you see,
never really knowing where I fit in, because none of these were me.
so long was I trapped by addictions, in my mind it was the way to survive,
I truly thought my addictions were the only things keeping me alive.

Addicted to Yahoo messenger at 26, only thing on computers I knew how to do.

Addicted to bebo at 28, cos all my friends had one.

Addicted to helping people at 30, so much pain I could ease.

Addicted to tribal wars at 31, because I lacked satisfaction in my life.

then came a new addiction, to publish what I write.

Addicted to education at 34, so much I needed to understand.

and of course there was  face book, well everyone is on face book.

Addicted to reprogramming myself at 36, this is where i'm at now.

i'm also addicted to my children, for they give me strength when i'm down.

I look back on my life and all I see is a lot of misery,
so coming to terms with my addictions, is my a new fight for me,
once I understand and embrace them all,
I can teach my children there's a better life in store.

I know I will never be free from addictions,
because I have an addictive mind,
the only difference now from then,
are healthier ones I find.

M.Mahauariki © 2012
Form:

My Thoughts

life has it's ups and downs
it's highs and lows
with it comes a lot of crap
but what's most crappy?

Action speaks louder than words
now thats crap.
when you are in a mess 
and four men are set to give you stress
only words can placate their vex.

To err is human, to forgive is divine.
iI know men that make it an habit to err
all their faults, in one day they bring to bare.
When they say sorry
you should be worrried
cos when your back is turned
your heart they shall surely burn.

Old wine tastes better
i have never heard a sillier chatter.
Give me bitters, ale or lager
whiskey, cognac, all even the better
inebriation the sole aim
whatever the taste am game.

Your vote is your voice, let it count.
I can't even be cynical on this
their's always count more.

The patient dog eats the fattest bone.
My ***** just had a litter
and with every litter their is a sickler
he was the grunt of the squealers
he never got to mama's breast on time
and with time he died
a bone, he never had to dine.

Dress the way you want to be addressed.
It was visiting day at the prisons
on came a nun brighter than the sun
pious in body and soul, her gait straighter than a pole
she left their third leg rigid
am not kidding.

Every disappointment is a blessing in disguise.
Now this is no lie
am still trying to figure out who was behind the mask
when i got robbed on pay day.

A stich in time saves nine
I love this line.
when you try to take what is mine
believe me it wont be fine
even when you run to the court and get a fine
I will cut you up to bits.
and the stiches wont be nine.

The pen is mightier than the sword
reader, the above is one hell of a crap word.
when am with my big gun
you better drop your pen, cower and run.

Every day is for the theif, one day is for the owner
this is a no brainer.
The governor embezzled our money and left
he got all the praises... you should know the rest.

Make hay while the sun shine's
this should shed some light.
it was Norway inthe middle of the night
when the morrow came, there was still no light.
Make hay while the sun shines
is one hell of a crap.
cos when it should be lihht,
the sun is never in sight.

Let sleeping dog lie
i tell you no lie.
When all your Mutt does is to sleep and eat
when burglars come in to take and keep
you let the ungrateful beast suffer a bit.

Eminem Protege 2

Eminem Protege 2

Don't care what you think
 I need Ten Shrinks an Ten Pens Full Of Ink
 To Let my Inner Wisdom Tink
 Colder Than Ten Penguins In A Rink
 My Spirit Fitness & Physique at it's Peak 
Adrenaline Obese 
Extinguished to Concrete
 Out the Pyramids Extinct 
Into this Physical Dimension as A Sphinx 
Face of a Beast of a Lynx
 Idiot Beliefs placing limited reach 
on my limitless fatigue 
My Old Image Obsolete
 I stole Potion from Ten Witches An Ten Wishes
 from Ten Genies an Ancient Magicians
 an Buried the lamps in the Ditches
 while I summoned Ten Fighting Spirits
 of Venegance as My Apprentices
 I Opened my Sealed Syllabus
 to Reveal my Ventriloquists 
Just left Hells Kitchen with Skin Itching 
with Skin Blisters open Skin Pigments
 Stealing Lucifers Instruments
 to Use them Against Him 
To appear as Glitches
 against the System
 I cook Hot Meals with Mittens 
an make him taste the Illness 
I'm Inventing
 But only an Sample for Interest
 for His Taste Senses
 cause Hells angels can Sensor the Sizzling
 I'm Fly like Ten Twin Pigeons
 with Eagles Precision
 I'm a Scientist but I ain't writing Science Fiction 
with Knowledge that would leave Einstein Winded
 I been Fighting for Living 
100 percent Percentage
 an no less than a Percent difference
 Still Power in my Engine
 to keep the Ignition Driven
 You can't Compare to these Rare Characteristics
 the Judgements from your Conscious 
is InTolerant to my Unresponsive
 Mental Doctrines 
Im use to Antagonist 
Real Hebrew who's a Zionist
 False Prophets who Diabolic an Jewish
 Judaism Created with Iron Fist
 in A Luciferian Science
 of Enlightenment 
Jewish Hybrids Of Pirates
 Stolen Israels Environment
 I ain't Racist
 Just apart of a Nation
 Created
Created Generations to Generations 
Heritage Invaded
 an Culture Undertaken
 Perpetrated
 by The Synagogue of Satanist 
my fire been Penetrated
 the fire in the eye of the Tiger formulated
 stripes on the tiger Blazing
 I'm Judahs Inspiration
 an Judas Envy Craving
 But I'm not Babylons Patriot
 Bablyonion Doom Waiting
 Doomsday
 when the Moon Change
 The Wolf Rage 
Waging Spiritual Shade
 against Ravenous Wolves in Sheeps Wools
 is Game
 Sharpened Tools 
my Sword is Shaped 
Cut open the Wolves
 an Bathe in the Pool 
of Blood til It's Drained 
I'm a Prophet in the Apocalypse

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