Long Garbage Poems
Long Garbage Poems. Below are the most popular long Garbage by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Garbage poems by poem length and keyword.
Big trucks rolling down the market street
blowing their horn in the crowded street
Big trucks going around, I have no clue where they are bound, they swirl and turn rocking the people`s nerve, big horn, big man with little wisdom compiled in their head.The truck is bigger than the street and it swallow up everything that
it meets, competition is so sweet and it can drag you out in the middle of the street. It can back
you up into the corner,and it can make you listen
to a careless whisper, big trucks will make you linger.The street is narrow, the street is short but the big truck has swallow it all, a show of talent, a show of strength will make is rocking the street until it is bent.The fellow is hanging on the side of the truck, the driver is pressing the gas more and the people are mocking and jeer asking and asking for more. I sat at the garbage can observing the recklesness of man.The truck, the man, and the courage of the pennyless man walking around kitchen street begging a dollar to buy something to eat while big tucks without goods roaming aimlessly through the little town galivanting up and down.What is the purpose of this daily fleet going around in the street, to say who is working and who is giving the order,
what a waste of talent, what a waste of strength
the game is one again and they are going to play
it until they are dead.They know that their contracts are up and they are and they are all out
of luck.See them comming from all corners and the time is getting shorter,and their base gets smaller.They are giving up their loyality to take a chance with the royality, they will take a chance at something new and they have considered it through and through.The sun has dissapeared underneath the clouds on a new mission for the earth.It is comming closer to you and you must review in through and through and through.Big truck crawling like ant, big trucks waiting at the ports, big trucks loaded with dirt, big trucks in the showcase, make your choice before it is too late. Big trucks is waiting for you big trucks will cause misery for me and you overturn the red and white dump truck in the middle of the wasteland and get the occult people out of the land.Big trucks are on the detour road, big trucks are running out of gas, big trucks have lost their contracts, big trucks are struggling on the makeshift road.
Dear little fly,
You didn't have to die,
But you've made a crucial mistake.
You said that you'll come over.
Then you flew over my sofa
And landed next to my chocolate cake.
Your two small wings
In the air it sings,
Though it's annoying in my ear.
And to no one's surprise,
Your untimely demise
Will become your very worst fear.
When I finally saw you,
I only yelled, "SHOO!"
You thought you had more lives than a cat.
But you landed on the wall
And had a great fall;
For my Giant Fly Swatter went SPLAT!
You just sealed your doom.
And now, with my broom,
You were swept up and laid to rest.
In the garbage you go,
Because you're too slow:
Good-bye, you miserable pest!
Escaping from the wintry plight
Fearless knight
Having golden locks
With a physique like a rock
Walked up and down the mountainous block
In the village filled with sweets
And treats
Back at the romantic villa
A few miles up the hill-a
Mrs. Knight was petting her coyote companion
While spending a moment getting tannin
“Hubby looking around
This quaint enchanted town
Something to bring back home
To me resting all alone
After performing that physical feat
Due to melting snow from summer heat”
Tending to his well groom locks
Plenty time on the clock
Still on a hero stage
Preparing to put name on the newspaper page
Going into the office named “The Traitor Post”
Easy conversation expecting to coast
Probably receive a kind professional toast
Sitting there was the Editor acting the role called a host
“Le Claire is my name
Sensationalism is my game
I will take your account
Whatever it is about
Make the paperboys scream and shout
Headlines blaring
Information worth sharing
All of which has meaning
Newsworthy and beaming
Never considered just dreaming
As the knight explained his story
Where the avalanche was sorry
Feeling like number one
Doing the interview was quite fun
Mrs. Knight on the other hand
Watched the frozen ice stand
Far away taking out the garbage cans
Wondering if the warming trend
Will make the watery based particle bend
And send
Down the slopes
Giving everyone no hope
Seeing her coyote inside
Ready to guide
Waiting for her groom
Returning under the moon
Walking at night
Faithful husband and knight
Stopped by the Indian Trinket store
Encountered a lovely seller on the floor
Needing excitement since she was bored
Knight still had power
Leaving a flower
Near her working computer tower
Next to a signed photo
Showing the knight shirtless and bolder
Before heading outside where it was colder
Look around; Gaia is crying,
for whales and elephants dying.
Honeybee numbers are way down:
Gaia is crying; look around.
Plastic pollutes our world's oceans:
creating poisonous potions.
Despite organic substitutes,
our world's oceans; plastic pollutes.
Climate change, our future forecast,
was wrought by greed, present and past.
Today, global warming sounds strange;
our future forecast, climate change.
We've overfilled all our landfills
and cut down trees for our sawmills.
City garbage dumps are backfilled
all our landfills: we've overfilled.
We feign surprise while glaciers melt
at speeds not previously felt.
Because we choose to believe lies
while glaciers melt: we feign surprise.
why do hoarders keep their garbage?
Their empty containers? Dirty diapers? Used dog pads?
If you hate cleaning like I do, turn on the TV show, Hoarders.
It is the best cure to my housework apathy.
There are small paths in the houses they feature
Hoarders don’t sleep in beds
Beds are covered with stuff
Hoarders live on piles of debris
Their bathrooms are full of used pieces of toilet paper
and in one episode, the skeleton of a cat who died there
Food containers are never washed or thrown away
Their sinks are full of dead mice floating in cups of water
The workers have to wear masks
The smell is no doubt unbearable
I still have to ask
Why do hoarders keep their garbage?
The Sandpipers Call
Sandpipers Call amongst the garbage
along the shore,
Tumbleweeds dance from dusk till dawn
Tumbleweeds roll as time goes by,
And time should stand still for love?
But:
Only Tumbleweeds roll roll back and fro making love to the wind.
Flying lost, in a blue sky,
never knowing why,
Doves fly when curtains Call
Crying doves. Scatter, as curtains fall,
Peregrine falcon,, hits and death calls,,
And a spray of bloody feathers,,
In a garden of angels,, watch them fall,,
As a cold east wind blows from the west
Marking the spot where Sandpipers Call.
And Tumbleweeds yawn at break of dawn
And race each other down empty streets,
only stopping to keep each other warm,
Lost again where broken hearts meet
Dust storms. Whistle a warning,
Broken windmills answer with creaking rusting calls that last forever.
For time is the enemy of broken hearts,
Leaving you breathless as,
Strangers walk hand in hand among the garbage along the shore,
where, Sandpipers Call.
Tumbleweeds play hide and seek,
.....until dawn, in the cemetery on the hill where old cowboys lie,
waiting for Jesus lost in the garbage along the shore.
And Sandpipers mourn for dying doves.
As Tumbleweeds the traveling kind
Remind us that love is blind as they March through broken windows
and open doors, a spray of bloody feathers fall.
Tumbleweeds play hide and seek until dawn
Dust devil's whistle a warning, broken windmills answer with
squeaking rusting calls and they'll sing that way for broken hearts.
Lost forever.
At last the Tumbleweeds, call to the dying Sandpipers, dying in
the rotting garbage and seaweeds strewn along the shore..
Home..
As the curtain
falls to pool,
a silent reverie
falls to ground
Amputated in
thralls hold,
the bereft
wandered
in Netherlands,
subsisting
on remembered be-fores,
spotlights and sweat-ed
applause
‘Break a leg’
is what they say
but diminished spirits
from crushing critics
ever smashing
to review,
all hope,
dashed
and newspapers
flutter on fences,
cruel proclamations
and opinions
now today’s
garbage,
remembering
ones discontent
Ringing from cords
while lungs grasp for air,
and in the rapture
of feeling
is the glamour,
of one string
feathering to vibrate,
all dimensions
of time
In claps of applause
are leads of rapture,
now connected,
the universes
symphony
starts transmitting
Black curtains
in time,
opened to infinity
and applause
reverberated,
in One
Where is this? Are we on Mars?
America – just count the stores,
capitalist carnivores.
That so-familiar movie score,
the swish of passing cars.
The city built on Brotherly Love
(Wells Fargo, Fitch and Abercrombie)
at the mercy of Pam Bondi
- was that a person, or a zombie? –
What was Madison thinking of?
Car’s no use: no place to park it.
Arrested at a funeral home.
No gravel pits, no air, no loam
- eat your heart out, Kristi Noem
(Checks Cashed Here, Medina Market)
Can this be noon? It feels like night.
What are these groupings? Hangouts? Dives?
They’re ganglions? They’re human hives?
Squandered talent, wasted lives.
Subway line blocks out the light.
Sidewalk garbage. Mostly men.
That hokey old verbal agility,
“insure domestic tranquillity”
correctional facility
for the heirs of William Penn.
Human beings are detritus
(Lifetime Nails, Olympic Sports):
To clean it up, we use the courts
Perhaps we ought to build more forts
- and thus our id comes back to bite us.
I clock in the time that I arrived but all my explanation was in vain, you did not listen to a word that I say and you kept giving me the blame, if I say A, you say B and if I say He, you say She, You kept putting me below the status quo until you got me off the show.
I still have the passion to live and a heart to forgive but life will never be the same, for you have left me cold, naked, empty and bare but I have got the courage within me to cross over the turbulent sea.
I have been working on this story for more than a year and I everytime I take it to you it end up in the garbage bin, it’s as if I have committed a terrible sin, we cannot see eye to eye and sometimes your insults make break down me cry, If you had stop to listen to what I had to say, the election would have gone another way, but you ignore the simple things that would make you win, the ingredients are mixed up poetry is in the soup and it makes a good diet for me and you. There is magic in the soup.
It is the down to earth things that you cannot see and the objects on the set that cause Israel to hold its breath. The Kremlin fed on them too and those in the back pull Ukraine off the track, they could not analyze them properly and it made the Kremlin happy.
The objects on the set send away the mercenaries in a sprinting in body bags, they were criminals without a destiny or a flag. They have committed atrocious so nature did not treat then kind; they had a short run and was quickly put down by the barrel of the gun .
Everyone worked from the same script while others make lots of profit from it. I did some serious work but you kept throwing me in the dirt and you are still not alert.
I have done some serious work but did not get a dime or recognition for it one administration has come and gone leaving me bare and empty on the law.
It the dawn of a new day and I am optimistic that good things will come my way, you have to settle those legal matters and you have to pull the troops out of the fire.
Think of your own sons and daughter, would you want them to perish in the fire, the nasal sprays are on the way and we have to meet without further delay, too many irons are in the fire and you have to get the universe back in order. We are close but there is distance between us.
your output
to the universe
comes back to you
like a "Return to Sender" mail.
if you treat people
with utmost respect and dignity,
they'll reciprocate;
treasure in, treasure out.
the same can be said
of maltreatment,
it's always repaid in kind;
garbage in, garbage out.
it's a fair trade,
every time.
in this cruel, savage world,
sprinkle in a handful of tenderness.
one is infinitely better off
trading meanness
with kindness.
it's much easier being...
a good human being.
it's far from expensive;
buy into it, it costs
less than a penny!