Long Gasoline Poems
Long Gasoline Poems. Below are the most popular long Gasoline by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Gasoline poems by poem length and keyword.
A new day perhaps, of immeasurable tin, sound of din
A hurricane noise, a thrall of riotous cuts, although thin
The blood-curdle choke of rage from before
Now purchased like plasma from the needle store
Go hump yourself, If you want my schtick, you vampire whore
You’ve had enough since the Garden, Lillith, you’ll not get more
Now the ratio between human, vampire, dragon and other dead
Has been cast with fair radiant echo against the nuclear thread
A shroud sewn with Alcubierre’s hand and Teller’s eye
Will re-write the laws of your time to die
Not forced by the forced prison of your local priest
Or enticed by Babylon to take part in it’s wicked feast
The work that was promised to Adam and re-framed unto Cain
To un-curse the valley, glen and land: to filter Acid from Rain
With thorns o- the rose coming loose from the Bush
And snakes running hither or thither in scintillate Rush
The Oracle of Satan found new charms to spread in perfect Cube
Could be the shape of Sound Maynard or Max’s Cubic Rube
The Time of Orwell Now and Jobs spelling Apple at his Side
And Sting writing programs for the Cops, whom along for the Ride
the Bladerunner checkin for humans among the technical horde
Huxley detected the separate spirit, lobotimized souls, Model T Fords
And Harrison checked again with electric sleep on the Brain
A tear for Summer, or a vision for Canticles, a wave almost Inane
With countless ages past since the Dust of Sumer lent
It’s hell-bound rasp of gutteral destruction spent
The awful wave of gas, a riotous nuclear blast
In the once Green land where sage grew fast
The dim spectre of time has given up the ghost
With markets bazar and material plenty, yet consider the cost
From Alabaster bone the Ocean’s a-shallow
The Mermaids remember the times that were fallow
Year upon year the bi-peds walked without aim or deed
That could count for fullness, even yet upon steed
Even in those ages of lore when upon horse they’d trot
Or with Gasoline chariot to the park like Mel Ot
None could account for the empty space of land
Or like Kieth Stone, bend down and till without turning into sand
The eidolons of time, immemorable: drooping, eternal clocks
An echo of murmurs, drogue and sorrow, indifferent as the rocks
Whom would not cry out, with refusal of price
None could garner their strength or bleed them twice
You stand up in the great hall waiting for a brawl; you stand up in the great hall waiting for a miracle to pull you out of the ditch.
Words of wisdom buried in your head lying in swamps in the house of the dead. My knees are shaking my heart is racing and I need something sweet to pull up my energy from the deep, the price of gasoline is getting high and the unruly weather is bidding the earth goodbye, the pilot test is coming to an end and some people will have to leave the den.
Rhetoric is flying high in the town and validity is running up and down, the wind is blowing in the south and courage is walking in the West with an overall and a vest, pulling the crowd into their enticing net and those remaining in the East are sweating from the sun beast. Energy is walking about causing the Brits to run and shout.
Rhetoric is the art of persuasive language your words will tell you where you have been, you can stand on the hill and see in Marsha Green kitchen, the pot is stirring, the beef is roasting and a sweet aroma is spilling about.
She is cooking curry too and her man has gotten a bump on his salary and everyone in Marsha Green’s family is feeling very happy.
A dinner for two has turned out to be a dinner for ten, the lion is racing around the den, they are inviting additional guest to show and so the menu list is getting bigger and the space is enlarged around the public eye. Grill fish, grill chicken, and smoked ham is there to make you feel strong.
Exotic food will calm your mood but the bulla cake will give you running belly and the curry will make you walk in a hurry. I can smell it from a distance and everyone is waiting on the invitation. The rhetoric is high and you have got to ignore it while you fly around in the sky.
What are you looking at? You have got to find someone to paint over your saucy frock, you must add additional prop and polish your finger with salt and pepper. Your foul mouth and your brazen throat will give you a little idea what I am talking about.
Rhetoric is the heart of the crown and persuasive language is wearing a long gown; no matter how soft you speak it is enough to disrupt their heart beat, your culture is bubbling up in the deep.
Keep your balance, stick to your plan and you will enjoy all the fruit of the land. Rhetoric is all you have to rely on.
There are too many times when my eyes open and it’s still dark.
It’s useless to think that I’ll go back to sleep, and it’s no good at all to lay in bed and watch the passing parade of worries that comes marching down the Main Street of my mind. When I do that, the entertainment seems to take on its own life. The parade grows longer, more spectacular, with the noise of marching bands, my thoughts, growing louder. Clowns scurry ahead of the band leader, throwing red balls in the air. There are too many balls to count.
The best thing I can do for myself is to rise from my bed. But there are days when it seems too much to bear being home before the rest of the world rises. There’s just too much emptiness in my small house.
I leave, escaping to DD's, where I sit and sip my coffee over a newspaper. Sometimes there are others sitting waiting for the light to come, too–like the woman who gives an animated “Hello” to everyone she meets, staring too long into our eyes. She takes out her cell phone to call a friend about the rashes on her legs. Something is biting her during the night. Raj and the other DD workers snicker, and I am drawn to–but at the same time repelled by–her morbid troubles.
Sometimes, in the winter, it seems as if the time I spend in the dark before the light comes is endless. I don’t think it’s normal for darkness to last so long; it’s probably one of the punishments for eating the apple in Eden.
I much prefer the early light of June and July, when the morning allows the gentle unfolding of life around me. Somehow, when the sun is in the sky at 6:30 a.m., a passing gasoline truck rattling my windows does not sound so lonely. Nor do I mind the sun revealing the stains from spring rains on my windows … or the birds loudly announcing their presence in the trees. Their manic chirping awakens schoolchildren eagerly counting down the days til summer.
When the darkness is especially long, and I have already sought out the comfort of others who cannot sleep, I will sometimes return home and do what I am so reluctant to do — sit still. I take up my position in a special chair near a window that looks out onto the street. I close my eyes and listen to the heated rhythms that only my body can make. My breath … my ins and outs.
But I wonder; why is it so hard to be still? Especially in the dark before the light.
Headline News Hypocrisy
"If you see anybody from that cabinet in a restaurant, in a department store,
at a gasoline station, you get out and you create a crowd.
You push back on them. Tell them they’re not welcome anymore, anywhere!" Maxine Waters
Main Stream Media “She is such a dynamic leader.”
“I’d like to take Trump out behind the gym and kick his ****!” Joe Biden
Main Stream Media “You tell’em Joe.”
“We can’t be civil until we are back in charge again!” Hilary Clinton
Main Stream media “She should have been President.”
“When they go low, kick them!” Eric Holder
Main Stream Media “They deserve it.”
“Get up in the face of some congress people!” Corey Booker
Main Stream Media “You go Spartacus.”
“Make America great again!” Donald Trump.
Main Stream Media “Man, that guy is so hateful, always promoting violence”
Ok, I am sorry for this but it is infuriating me and the main stream media is the enemy of the people. Stop reading me if you like because of this
but it is every day and has been for the past two years. What really gets me is people act like they don’t see it or feel that it is okay.
Whether you like the guy or not, this is just too much. I have seen numerous poems on this site trashing the President of the United States.
Everyday there are more. I mean really? Yes, I agree he’s not the nicest guy in the world. He shoots his mouth off too much but he is doing something,
Which is more than I can say for any other President, Democrat or Republican. He works hard and that is what scares these other politicians.
They look at politics as a job where they don’t have to do anything except sit around all day arguing with each other. They are scared to death of work.
Tim Smith just posted a poem about Kindness…everyone should read it. Why can’t everyone just be kind to one another? Yeah, I know…stupid question.
The headline this morning on MSN read: "Pittsburgh mourns synagogue shooting victims as protestors await Trump." Did we really need the last part of that headline?
Can’t they let these people and the country mourn in peace? Why do they always have to stir up crap? Why didn’t they just write, Pittsburgh mourns synagogue shooting victims and we still hate Trump?
Out of all of us my best friend
Came to an inglorious, untimely ugly end
We were digging holes inside a cave
But what he didn’t know was that he was digging his own grave
When it was finally time to go to bed
He turned around and a Nazi shot him in the head
He fell into the hole he had just dug
And the Nazi covered him up with an old dirty rug
They poured gasoline on him and set him afire
That was to become my friends funeral pyre
We were made to stand there and watch him burn
And the Nazi said, "This is your lesson to learn”
That night we all went to bed
Full of sadness, fear and dread
What happened that night really gave us a fright
Nothing was ever going to be alright
At night I see the ghosts of the lost
During the day I see the price that it cost
The Nazis have no religion or conscience
They only believe in killing and science
Later that day, a Nazi came with something he made
It was a very awful ugly lamp shade
On one side of the shade was something I knew
It was one of my dead friend’s tattoos!
Of the unfortunate unlucky dead
The Nazis were shrinking heads!
And they were making all kinds of things
Out of the prisoners, their gold teeth and rings
One night so cold I was watching my frozen breath
The Nazis came and took me away to see Dr. Death
He said he was going to give me a shot and it would do no harm
He rolled up my sleeve and stuck a needle in my arm
That was after Christmas in 1944 late December
And from that moment on nothing I remember
An American soldier told me that when he found me
I was walking around the prison yard like a lifeless zombie
Now it’s early May 1945
And somehow I am still alive
It’s amazing that I am not insane
The last survivor of the last train
To understand the holocaust
You must understand all it cost
In this camp it cost the lives of over a million
Of innocent men, women and children
Now we speak of all the lives lost
In the past tense
It all really comes down to the cost
Of all the dead and the presence of absence
Against all of humanity there leaves a void
A hideous heinous crime
So many promising lives destroyed
In one short period of time
Lives that were vital and present
All became past tense
And we can still feel and resent
Their absence of presence
Stashed with programs recorded, which, condensed on universal files
Will tell them very little of what they don’t know and may never know
In this lifetime or the next heaven, in this orbit or the next
Treasure from this Earth loaded up on classical chips, some kind of text
Even the quantum loads with memory mimetic, made to mimic the brane
Will lead you no where’s at all, empty, with your mind well past insane
For what else or beyond could be so crazy as to part from this precious earth
Without ever having known it’s cost, price, work, measure or stint of worth
And clearly, those who leave, when they leave, will not have known one grain
Of sand or soil, mud or toil: all dusty plows pluming billow-clouds into rain
Run on gasoline or stocks of mules, donkey, horse, or ram, shepperd’s hand
Fields from lost fields, turning wheat from grass, rice from blue water land
The mystery of death and birth still a mystery; life a mere reminiscence
Without any real light here or plant photometry, only luminescence
Imagine leaving this planet without every having known it’s rhythm
Going to some other world set in it’s own path, with it’s Keplerian hum
Beating out some different drum, set in a blinding sphere of light and sound
Like blended whiskey with the Irish; or Navajo, without the calendar round
Sans irony, the starmen will consult their astrologer or star-chart for this logic
Countin’ the days before they land again when the stars are [csmo]allo-genic
Since this cosmos has revealed no light to them, the starmen going forth
Eager to jump off of Earth’s orbital path, bend and trajectory
Their spacesuits, ships, tanks, sabres, and thrusters made from the factory
Everything printed like plastic in hazy glow and in false dimension
In light and low gravity, with false smiles and fat charms hanging in suspension
How could the new age begin completely unaware, one might ask ?
With no real knowledge of how the past one ended, without a task
This high level of dimness, this naivete, and ignorance unknowing
Much like blind men on the river styx, or perhaps, along with Homer rowing
Going from one ruse to harbour next shenanigan—look into the Cyclop’s Eye!
No land in Egypt and with Dido elope, with the Siren’s despair, intoxicants in Libya
Say bye-bye to these:
"Hold, please." (Hold what?)
Typewriter Repairman Ads
"Dial this number..." (What's 'dial?')
Down-time... Offline
Compliments (Complaint Departments have swallowed them up).
"Mail me your resume."
Shame, and its cousin, Guilt
Pay Phones and Phone Booths (Sorry, Superman)
Cash (esp. pennies)
"How do you do?" (How do I what?!)
"Chick," "Piece," "Stacked," "Hot Number"
The Debt Ceiling
Brown Suits
Brown Fedoras
White Bread
White Big-City Mayors (in the USA)
Math Facts
Grammar & Grammar Schools
Heroes
Good Samaritans
Public Drinking Fountains (except for dogs and cats)
All but Mega-Gigantic Hospitals
Modesty
Cash Bail
Drug Busts
'Land Lines'
Gasoline-fueled automobiles
Private Health Insurance
Private Doctors
Free Museums
Disturbing the Peace
Roth IRA's (at least, Roth IRA's whose distributions are tax-free)
Peacetime Economies
Gun Laws (The Wild West roars back)
Non-Mixed Use Zoning Laws
Fair Elections (Did we ever really have them?)
Ideals, Idealists, Idealism
The 'Renaissance Man'
Daily Newspapers, Print AND Digital
The 'Weather Channel'
META
Music Majors, Art Majors, Anthropology & Sociology Majors
Cooperation
Cashiers
Receptionists
Cleaning Services
'Straight People'
Teachers
'The Four Freedoms'
Courts (You'll get a ticket and either pay or go to jail...)
Courtroom Lawyers
'Law and Order' Politicians
Non-TV Ministers
Dentures
Non-union University Personnel
Non-gated upper middle class and upper class housing
Neighborhood Watch Groups
Public Schools
Childhood
Non-government Day Care
Nursery School and Kindergarten
Free Public Libraries (You'll pay for those Drag Shows, lol!)
Free-TV
Non-Tip Services
'The Great American Novel'
The Home of the Brave -- Oops! (I mean, of the 'Guardians!')
'Lesbos' and 'Homos' (Can you believe we used those terms?!)
Marital Sex (What for?)
Foreplay (Now it's just "Fore! Here I cum!")
~ Roger Dodger, Over & Out!
I am homeward bound
Lusty thoughts, for the love I miss
It’s a surprise, I am coming ‘round
I’m expected two days beyond this
Being away, day after day, left a hole
Being away, hollowed my soul
I rush towards your embrace
Already I envision smile, upon your face
Desire I now attack
My heart, with I, on highway race
Your gleam of eye twinkles, inside this nights black
Years of unity, love’s solid, sound
Closer, skittish, nervousness
The home stretch, I’ve now found
I accelerate, craving caress
Home in sight, on I roll
With thoughts of my angel, asleep sole
With her in bed, only emptiness occupies my space
I will fill that void and hold her grace
Never again will our love lack
My minds quarrel and love erase
I arrive home, it’s silent, black
I climb the stairs, feet create no sound
As you sleep, your lips, I will kiss
A greater beauty walks not, on these grounds
Creak open the master door, sudden distress
A stranger lies, my loves heart, stole
Pain takes my mind, to the gallows pole
Stunned by the disgrace
Instant horror, rage, I cannot replace
A mans breath crawls my baby’s back
My love and my girl I debase
My world fades to black
My breath vanishes, my pain makes no sound
I beg for a why? This has come of my happiness
Pain in my chest, built a mound
I will avenge this
My eyes, my mind, my heart, are now coal
Two lives for taking become my goal
Three counting me, these lives come waste
No control, rage in haste
This grief will not retract
This sinister situation, I will level at face
All good, has gone black
My emotions, stresses, compound
Creation of plan, slick aggressiveness
I muffle my screams, my conscience drowned
Satan shows face, he wouldn’t miss this
I, no longer in control
Heed order from the devil
Quickly, I spin about face
My entry steps, I then retrace
A fetch of gasoline before I turn back
Fire shall consume their sleeping space
Delighting evils’ mind of black
She sleeps at peace, under satin sheets, negligée of lace
But peace is ’bout to be replaced
A match stick comes alive, with a crack
Gasoline tossed, upon your lips, in sleep you taste
Match tossed, flames dance and light the black
Gripped by the throat with tension
Mad aggression pumping thru my veins
Changing my complexion
Pressing thru the world of small selections
Fencing off the other feelings of oppression
And while I'm resting
I don't wanna wake
But once my eyes open no time to hesitate
To much bullshyt to escape
It's not like I was born with a cape
And even when matters are crazy but I refuse
Not to be great
I refuse not to turn the hands of fate
And make the universe concave my way
Been a struggle since birth
Trying to live with these lies
Told even since I put the me in time
And now I got a family that's mine
And I must throw away all pride
And keep the dream that I breathe life to alive
Hungry for what's never told was mine
And told all the things that are above my level
That's fine
Sit and watch as I not climb but claw to the top
Kick scream and holla at the stars
That like to play against the odds
Of the campaign of my cause
Causing me to fall
Causing me to look forward and back to remember where I came from
Causing me to wayward this and carry on
For that's all I know
That's all that anyone been telling me
How I'm wrong
How I'm slow
How I'm the one that love doing it the hard way yo
How I'm the one that will fall flat on my face
Lose my place
Lose the initiative in which I started this whole thing
Have me missing my template
But they don't see I'm God sent
Regardless
Of all the bullshyt curse words and bombardment
I will be in undeniable
Came far from where it was that I begin
Even with snow storms and hail pours I'm destined to win
Even if I'm straight drowning in gin
And gasoline was part of the triathlon that I had to swim
The king is crazy
So for my babies I will swim
I will seek opportunity
Watch it put away it's jewelry
Sit back maniacally
Schematic the whole the place
Plottingly
Run up n the place also smiling
With no gun on the waist demolishing
Any and everything
That's my plan
To overstand
And not undermine what my mind will conceive
For it's what I can grasp in my hand
The whole damn planet
Water sky clouds and granite
And if too much for me to hold
Just u watch me manage......peace
An American perspective on domestic and world events, in no particular order
SCOTUS rules that Trump’s immune
China flies the spy balloon
Starship booster landing glee
J. Assange is walking free
Bergdorf, Neiman join Saks
Our Secret Service sucks
Russia swaps her jailed spies
Alexei Navalny dies
Mitch McConnell’s stepping down
“Boris” causes Europe drown
Biden cancels loan debt
Hunter’s pardoned by his dad
Hezbollah - beheaded snake
East Coast’s shaken by the quake
Eagle Pass – still open path
Gaza tastes Israeli wrath
North of 40 goes Dow Jones
Loses fight one Alex Jones
French Olympics is a dud
Milton, Helen’s awful flood
Bitcoin’s rising through the roof
“Donald Trump is bullet-proof”
MSNBC for sale
Diddy Combs in Brooklyn’s jail
Donald wins and Harris not
Brian T. assassins’ plot
Bankman-Fried, the largest fraud
“AI” reach is getting broad
Pavel Durov nabbed in France
But illegals push, advance
Mid-East war still rages on
“Year of Snake” is almost born
TikTok may not be around
Syria has fallen down
Anti-Semites flowing crud
Israel keeps oozing blood
Taylor Swift, the billionaire
Art, banana, millionaire
Gone Red Lobster, Tupperware
Weapons for Ukraine affair
Prada sews the spacewalk suit
DOJ quits Trump’s pursuit
Spirit Air takes nose dive
Elon Mask in overdrive
Iran rockets come like rain
Hostages remain in pain
No DC resolve, it’s air
Beirut pagers need repair
Russia crumbles from within
Lower price on gasoline
“Brat”, the word of current year
Now, to ones we once revere
Gone for good, but left imprint
Culture, sport, each own footprint
Lou Carnesecca, Dr. Ruth
Wheel of Fortune Chuck, sad truth
Quincy Jones – culture brass
James Jones - Darth Vader bass
Newhart Bob, satire most
One Phil Donahue, the host
Famous Amos, Maggie Smith,
Richard Simmons, workout wiz
Global flier Dick Rutan
Gossett Lou, of actors’ clan
Matthew Perry, Terry Garr
O.J. Simpson football star
Willie Mays of baseball fame
Y. Sinwar, mankind’s shame
Year’s drawing to a close
Parties, cheer and best clothes
Time for thought and time for fun
Merry Xmas, everyone!
December 15, 2024