Long Goddamned Poems
Long Goddamned Poems. Below are the most popular long Goddamned by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Goddamned poems by poem length and keyword.
Burger and fries
At a roadside stand
Constant buzzing of the flies
Under an angry yellow sun
The mustard dripped down from the hamburger
Onto her brand new dress
She stared down at it
When she looked up,
There was a tear in her eye
The single glistening salt tear
Of her frustration, her anger
Harold, she said
He didn't hear her, continued to eat
Harold, she said again louder,
Choking back a plaintive sob,
I didn't think it would be like this
He looked up, uncomprehending
Like what, he mumbled
Like this, she cried, our honeymoon,
At a goddamned hamburger stand
He blinked and swallowed
I want a divorce, she screamed
This is a nightmare
His mind plodded through grease
He found an answer
But we haven't had sex yet, he said
Oh, she said quietly
She thought about that for a second
And then started eating her burger again
Your country needs you!
Roll up roll up! we’re going to war,
It’s a noble cause, to be fighting for,
If your a boy, we’ll make you a man,
No rules apply, do anything you can.
Bomb our enemies, back into dust,
Blow up infidel’s, look at their guts,
Burn them alive, we’ll supply the flame,
Don’t ever worry, nobody’s to blame.
Rape the women, bayonet kids,
No ones accountable, is what it is,
Torture’s fine, we turn a blind eye,
Line em against a wall, say bye bye.
Get close to the enemy, hear their shouts,
Move up nearer still, see them inside out,
Prod with a stick, see if they’re alive,
Can’t get enough, when will more will arrive.
Can we obliterate graveyards, claim as our kills,
No problem at all, name it “operation goodwill”
Yes we’ll make a man, of you yet,
Teach them a lesson, never to forget.
What’s that whisper, I hear you say,
Geneva convention! Hush, only child’s play,
Don’t ever forget, God is on our side,
We fight for liberty, nothing here to hide.
Look at the medals, pinned upon your chest,
A real man now, and you belong to the best,
Before you know it, be back with the kin,
Tell them about the enemy, all their vile sin.
Don’t worry about an odd, sleepless night,
Carried out your duty, Goddamned just right,
What about reports, of protests back home,
They’re only cowards, who like a good moan.
But I reek to hell, after scrubbing clean,
That’s just the smell, of a killing machine,
Feel like I’m rotting, and drowning in filth
Snap out of it, or be eaten alive by guilt.
How does this stop, I’m overwhelmed with grief,
Screaming at night, and shake like a leaf,
Look in the mirror, Oh god what have I done,
Keep it together man, it’s ok because we won.
What if we lost, I’d be guilty of war crimes,
That’s the glory of winning, dumb swine,
You trained me to go, and commit bloodshed,
Now like a wounded animal, better off dead.
This wasn’t my fault, just did what you said,
Here’s my last order, put a bullet in your head,
I know it’s tragic, but happens sometimes,
This is a war poem, not a nursery rhyme.
By
David Kavanagh
I can’t imagine
how painful it is to
be God.
Trying your hardest
to make a beautiful painting,
only to have the characters
you created complain and
mock the world around
them.
Why does God let bad things
happen to good people?
Pretty sure you’d walk
away from the canvas too
if it spat back and criticized
you.
But perhaps,
in his silence,
he waits,
hoping we’ll learn to
appreciate the
masterpiece.
And after he
suspects we’ve endured
enough punishment, he’ll return
to add an additional layer
of paint.
We call these added colors
miracles, and they renew our
dwindling faith.
It doesn’t do any good to mind your own business,
if you’re black, you’re going to get knocked down.
Makes no difference if a hundred people beg them,
they’re going to keep you pinned to the ground.
A child is ripped away, stolen from his mother’s arms,
and gets forgotten in a cage somewhere.
Lost and alone the young child begins to cry and beg,
but there’s nobody who will even care.
Chorus:
Surely. This is not happening in my America,
all this news just has to be fake.
This does not happen here in my America,
there must be some kind of mistake.
It’s the land of the free in my America,
you can be anything that you want to be.
It’s full of milk and honey in my America,
where everyone has a right to be free.
The white, the black, the red, and brown,
each say they know what equality means.
But each will hold a knife at the throat of the other,
and we can’t agree on a Goddamned thing.
Every person works hard for the money we make,
but it’s not enough to even get by.
The rich folks tell the government puppets what to think,
and we will keep on believing their lies.
Repeat Chorus:
We keep on burning, looting, and pillaging our friends,
while they are busy building street blockades.
People turn their backs toward our American flag,
and take a knee when our anthem is played.
Removing our statues, our memorials, and graves,
if we erase our past, we’re doomed to do it again.
How will we ever figure out where we are headed,
if we don’t even know where we have been.
Repeat Chorus:
Do you remember that American dream,
that we had way back a long time ago?
When fathers still told their children,
work hard to get to where you want to go.
We can’t even come together long enough,
to perform this one single task.
Believing in ourselves and our future,
how can that be too much to ask?
Repeat Chorus:
So go ahead men, women, and children,
keep on looking for that free pass.
If we are not willing to do the hard work,
then our nation will end up in the trash.
(Repeat Chorus and Fade)
When I see a black person go
and vote for a Republican,
I do not think I’ve seen a more
self-hating and disgusting man.
Do they not know of the struggle?
How can they even show their face?
They deserved to be called ‘Uncle Tom,’
they are a traitor to their race!
…wait, what? What did he say?
And when I see a Hispanic
chose to cast their vote for the right,
I can’t believe they’re fool enough
to every think that they are white.
To betray their people like that
is an unforgivable disgrace,
all those Latin Republicans
are just damn traitors to their race!
Is this guy for real?
I also see those women who
do not call themselves feminist,
who stand in the way of progress,
dumb stay-at-home moms who resist.
Not voting for their liberation,
their minds turned against themselves and wrecked,
if they still cast for Republicans,
they’re a traitor to their own sex!
Holy crap, he really believes this stuff…
When I look at the Indians—
Hold on, hold on. Just a sec. Uhm, so I notice the only people you give choice to are the white males.
What?
Well you said that blacks, latinos, and women all have to vote Democrat, or they’re ‘traitors.’ But not white men. Why is it white men get to make up their own minds, but nobody else?
I don’t understand.
Why do white men get to make up their own minds, but everybody else is a ‘traitor’ if they don’t vote Democrat? It’s kind of racist, if you really think about it. Shouldn’t everybody have that right?
You’re a fascist.
Excuse me?
You’re a goddamned fascist!
You do know that name-calling isn’t an argument, right?
I’m gonna get you fired from your job!
I’m self-employed.
FASCIST!!!
Okay…there’s no helping people like you. Tell you what, you stay here and keep screaming ‘fascist—’
Fascist!
—while I go home and make love to my brown-skinned wife…Did I tell you she’s a Trump supporter?
BWAAAAH!!! Race traitor!
(Sound of chuckling) Oh lordy…it’s just too easy. They’re like friggin’ wind-up toys.
Fascist!
Form:
they don’t walk like the rest of us—
there’s a rhythm, yes, but it’s off-beat,
like jazz played in a padded cell.
it starts early—when the dog barked too loud
and nobody hugged them after.
the world lit its fuse,
and turned the other way.
they grow quiet in the corners of rooms,
watching how the meat falls off the bone,
how people talk and never mean it.
they learn that silence
can be louder than a scream,
that control is a scalpel—
and god never showed up,
to stop one.
trophies?
souvenirs from where the soul cracked.
a button, a tooth, a braid of hair—
proof that something existed
and bowed before them.
the rest of us save postcards.
they save reminders
that they were finally seen.
that someone, for one goddamned second,
was real.
A year it's been, a year and more...
not that anyone else is keeping score.
My poems have never slept for so long,
but life has also never felt more wrong.
'Defiance' is my utmost, my favorite word...
the closest to "me" that I have ever heard.
But necessity has stolen its triumph and pride,
survival having become my only guide.
Grief has forced upon me six rounds...
loaded the revolver by filling the mounds.
The muzzle presses into my temple every day,
and only mulishness holds it at bay.
Instead of defying assholes, malice, hate, greed...
my will is entirely bent towards this need.
I cannot write otherwise, cannot force the muse,
while I'm simply looping, "I refuse, I refuse, I REFUSE".
"Undefeated", my favorite songs belt out...
I wish I could claim it truly, could similarly shout.
But the truth is that I have been shattered,
soundly beaten, smashed, stained, battered.
But strength lies not in never taking the heat...
only in getting back to your goddamned feet.
And if there's two things I unquestionably know,
it's heat - and telling the world " no".
Charlie briefly belonged to a group that would say...
"the only easy day was yesterday".
I say, the only easy day was...
when?
look honey
time is money,
you should've learned that from
that nutty father of yours.
if their is a will their:Their's a way.
"as aggressive as he is,
is as aggressive as we're gonna be."
"I can afford you honey, all I gotta do
is get change for a dollar."
" your Old man, thought
himself greater than God,
until someone told him he'd
been spelling his name
backward for years"
" your wife likes to take your words and put them out on the street,
maybe she's reminded of those days
when she use to charge you for loving her"
" it's never wise to think you are Godlike,
maybe Goddamned, we can understand that""
don't you worry your pretty little head off,
I got your money somewhere nice and special
those enemies of your aint got nothing to worry about"
" They'll never find the recipe where I put it"
" we'll save the family home by working together and achieving goals set by our beloved Grandfather"
I Put some words on paper and I published me a book
I sure was pretty grateful when the masses took a look
But now the people want to know my private ins and outs
I’m told that that’s the price you pay and yet I have my doubts
You’ve seen me on your TV screen, you’ve seen me on the stage
Apparently those in the know will say I’m all the rage
But sometimes I just wish that everybody knew their place
They do not own the all of me, they do not own my face!!!
Don’t shoot me from the shrubbery
Don’t shoot me from afar
Don’t shoot me in my garden
On the beach or in my car
I only have one life to lead
There’s nothing here to see
Just because you know my name
Please don’t go shooting me
How come people in my face don't seem to feel too out of place
Just cos there’s a thousand lenses inches from my face
My name is public knowledge but I shield ME from their stares
For living in the public’s eye does not mean that I’m theirs!!!
It seems I hold a note okay… my guitar strikes a chord
People pay to see me and I love how they applaud
But I’m not public property and people need to know
That I don’t want an entourage in every place I go~!!!
Yes, I splosh some paint upon a canvas with some skill
People seem to love my art… I pray they always will
But all of me does not hang with my works upon the wall
My art is on display but not myself to one and all
Don’t shoot me from the shrubbery
Don’t shoot me from afar
Don’t shoot me in my garden
On the beach or in my car
I only have one life to lead
There’s nothing here to see
Just because you know my name
Please don’t go shooting me
My right foot has a tendency to walk among the winning
My left foot ain't averse to scoring goals that keep em grinning
But why does everybody in a scarf that’s red and white
Seem to think that I am theirs to spy on IN THE NIGHT~!!!
All your smiles and flowers and your cheering O so loud
All the love you show us warms our hearts and makes us proud
But just because I wed a man predestined to be King
Don’t mean we have to share with you our every “GODDAMNED THING!”
Don’t shoot me from the shrubbery
Don’t shoot me from afar
Don’t shoot me in my garden
On the beach or in my car
I only have one life to lead
There’s nothing here to see
Just because you know my name
Please don’t keep shooting me
And then paper went silent
leaving same sensation
again that bloody feeling of
big mountain exploding in heat inside my armour plate
just couldn't write the words
with no love among them
their people beheaded one of mine
now trough mine borders theirs screamed for salvation
mine theirs
ours
where did we displaced ours
when
how
always the same in that vicious circle
love and hate chase each other endlessly
clocks are falling off the walls
no limited time period for hate is permitted
as evil is another face of good
just turn that goddamned another cheek
an eye for an eye isn't our god's choice
if it was
He would wiped us out from the planet
we killed his son
now we are killing someones children again
beheading
lifting the wall
strengthened by words
anchored through indifference
they are theirs
send them back
what is broken
can be mended
will never be the same
send them back
shouldn't write those words
with no love among them
they are terrorists
terror could be ours
but europe remains for europeans
send them back
our future is their raping our women
lifting our towns in the air
bombing our schools
churches
hospitals
theirs and ours
under the same sky
stood
And all of that is their now
did I wrote the words
with no love among them?
beheaded religion
and traditionally incorporated patriotism
have written false flag play
clean heart has no misinterpretations
to write a life
only needed is courage
let that paper speak again
trough our borders theirs screaming for salvation
our is beheaded
already tomorrow will be forgotten
as it is less painful
and paper is mute
informations can't endure despair
have you seen them over there
standing in the rain
soaked to the bones
children
women
men
old man
sick
cripled
exausted
heaven is trying to protect their imperfection
mixing his tears with their cry
cleaning them enough so they can merit that crossing
fragile thoughts
mine
climbing over baptised palms
colliding them in prayer for
landless
nameless
lifeless
godless
why have you made us like this?
God went silent
ours