Long Gore Poems
Long Gore Poems. Below are the most popular long Gore by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Gore poems by poem length and keyword.
Tippecanoe and Winnie the Poo
I like Ike on a motorbike
It's the Economy, Cupid
Read My Lips, No Teacher's Strike
Let's Make America Unequal Again
All the way with Medicaid
A New Deal, A Fart and a Squeal
It's Morning Again, the GOP Way
Nixon and Lodge, the issues they dodged
Goldwater and Miller, a ticket-killer
McCain and Palin, set folks to wailing
Bush and Cheney, a pair of zanies
Nixon and Agnew, a pair straight from the zoo
Mondale and Ferraro, couldn't have beaten Zorro
Dole and Kemp, wouldn't legalize hemp
Clinton and Gore, we couldn't stand anymore...
In 2020, what slogan will be number one
Something like Bernie's: Vote For Me -- No Mo Fun
Vice
You think that you have gotten me
You think that you have won
You think you have me in your vice
You think that I am done
Your arrogance betrays you
so turn that handle more
with each passing turn
you expect the pending gore
You think you can’t be brought down
You think you can’t be touched
You think your titled shields you
You think that I’ll be crushed
All metal has a weakness
It only takes one part
Its when you turn and hear the noise
That’s when it falls apart
You think that I’ll start begging
You think that I’ll yell stop
You think that I have nothing left
You think you’re on the top
At last your turns exposed you
The vice has lost its grip
The metal split to pieces
The screw you used has stripped
You think that I’ll just move on
you think you rigged this game
you think this won’t be different
you think were all the same
As you sit and wonder how
the wheels fell off your cart
I’ve watched take all your turns
It’s my turn now to start.
I can see the sky exploding, falling overhead
Filling us with horror and dread
Killing innocent people in the name of religion, race and creed
Or a political agenda for the benefit of a few in the ruling regime
They speak out loudly on TV and in crowds on the street
Advocating free will genocide and won’t accept defeat
The government assumed the role of the villain
Not just murdering soldiers and innocent men but even children
A chosen batch of criminals in public office
We let them go on making war and making money off us
To support their blood-thirstiness we gave up on our cause
Maybe all our protesting was in total vain
Maybe all along we were just a bunch of wimps.
I can see the dead, I can feel the people’s fear
The endless sorrow and their tears.
The destruction of mankind
Property and nature as a whole
That has got the world reeling in its loss
I can feel the people’s righteous anger held at a great cost
Smoggy clouds of smoke and dust where it used to be blue.
Now, how much is a soldier’s tears worth
Ten yards for a dead heart
A thousand dollars payday for a lost leg
While the movies make it seem noble
Keeping the gut, gore and horrors down to the minimum
But for the men and women, we lose over and over again
Till the horrors without, shade the horrors within
And for those who come back, never come back again the same
How much do you think it’s worth?
When will we realise the damage it causes?
When will we obliterate hate, strife and discord?
When will we live in harmony and peace in this world?
In the name of the brotherhood of mankind as one.
an inner conflict dust brew
within this scribe, who offers ye to chew
(like sweet treats metaphorically) thee do
tee incumbent, when Doomsday clock
counts down minutes few
according Al Gore rhythm
unstoppably ticking,
when life gets turned to global goo
tenderized viz Doctor Zeus
if not Horton Hears Hoo
then most definitely The Lorax
(couching urgent morals underscored
by satellite photographs
showing melting icecaps or igloos,
which planetary sos, sans in extremis
requires joint effort of Gentile and Jew,
plus every other sectarian credo,
dogma, ethos...knew
clear family, and whatnot
to become linkedin with Linda Loo
yes, we moost not forget
Old McDonald with his moo
moo there bovine creatures
agedly hobbling along, or new
lee born, cuz juiced one day
per three hundred and sixty five
(six with leap year -
to appease ghost oh Rachel Carson
imagine dragons festooned leotard
with brand name Oroblu)
or poor ole Whinny The Pooh
eternally stuck in Rabbit's
hole sum Hutch as a queue
doth loosely form dreaming up and rue
mien hating solution
(burning the midnight oil) true
lee trying to remedy plight
of said bear character,
perhaps unstated message being woo
king in tandem solutions to resolve
wretched condition of world wide web
possible by bridging differences
between me and you, and you, and you...
I read about this true story - it happened in Elizabethan England - and was so
upset that I needed to write this poem to get it off my chest. It's been published 3
times.
FIGHTING CHANCE
The mobs that packed the place
Were slavering for blood;
They sniffed it in the air
And, drooling, watched it flood.
The bears and bulls were dead;
A horse was dragged to fight,
It whinnied, reared and bucked,
Its nostrils flared in fright.
The pack was at the horse,
Their hungry jaws like traps;
That brutal, bloody scene
Was met with cheers and claps.
The gore of horse and dogs
Had turned the dust red-brown;
Those snarling dogs no match
For hooves that thundered down.
The dogs lay scattered round;
The roaring crowd was awed;
But then demanded more:
A second pack was called.
The horse, insane with fear,
Exhausted, fought to live;
The dogs were fresh, but he
Should have no more to give.
His will to live was strong;
The dogs were on his back;
Defeating mastiff jaws,
He tossed and killed that pack.
The rabble drunk on blood,
Addicted to it then,
Still called for more; the horse
Was hacked to death by men.
Jack Horne
The taste of blood is on his tongue
A scent carried by the wind
Haunches move to a rhythmic song
A song only he can hear
Beneath the moons dim glow
His eyes have found the prey
His mind is drawn to slender throat
And flesh torn away
He is the horse and rider
A silent Death approaches
Space between the two grow tighter
But only one will notice
The reapers shadow cloaked in fur
A scythe sent to harvest
A single lone but deadly cur
Twisting through the forest
Upon his pounce, the kill is swift
His jaws are locked in place
A final jerk and bones are split
A painting of gore and grace
Now to return, since he's through
With another life he's smothered
A Death to all that he pursues
A savior to his brothers.
Christopher Pitts/2019
You're navigating life's jagged labyrinth.
Filled with clutter-a million things to contemplate.
There's no turning back; the nest of youth is sacked.
At the end of a journey lie life and its twin brother, death.
For the first time you feel the hoofbeats and the snorts.
With every blind turn there is fear, in all its white-hot forms.
There's a minotaur who wishes to gore your destiny.
To cheerfully glean the cherry picker from the cherry tree.
In the blue distance you gaze upon that golden mist.
But turn away, for it's just the smolder from the burning ID.
In the shadows lie smirking angels and smiling thieves.
The glow of truth makes you light, but deception chains the feet.
You're growing weary now, all paths trodden, save for one.
Upon it sits the minotaur with horns stained with your blood.
Walk boldly on -walk boldly on-for it's nothing to dread or fear.
It's just the phantom of your doubt holding up a funhouse mirror.
Finally, there it gently lies; is it what you've always dreamed of?
Is your virgin spirit the perfect fit for its destiny?
OK another adventure in the mad poet’s life,
This occurred just before I met Jane, my imaginary wife.
Jane’s brother, Glen had set me up with a blind date
He said the girl was a stunner, I could not wait
So dressed in me stripe trouser with me chequer tank top vest
I oiled me baldhead and let the old spice do the rest
Off I went down town to meet Deglet Noor (that was her name)
Glen said, “If you see her lips you’ll want to kiss them more and more.”
Then I saw her, and dam what a blind date
She was lumpy like custard with an all eye seeing Rottweiler that made me fearfully
hesitate.
She looked like a bulldog chewing on a bee
And the Rotter was eyeing me leg as if it wanted to hump me
I thought to myself, give the girl a meal
Then we call it a day and that was the deal
She chose this uptown place where rich people dined
A French restaurant with snails and frogs legs, you know the funny kind
I had a steak, she had prawns and a lobster too
And she persuaded me by force to drink champagne form her trainer shoe
When she ate poor lobster it was a terrible gore
I wish she could have taken a tip from Sir Robert Hinshaw
When we finished the waiter brought the bill and waited for me to pay
£1500 bloody pounds, my bowels almost gave way
I said to him “We not finished yet. Could we have Ice cream and coffee?”
And I said “Oh and don’t forget the mint toffee”
Me credit card was on strike and would not handle that amount
It was time for me to exit time to get out
So when the waiter had gone I told her I was going to the loo
Said to her I needed to off load a number two
In a terrible panic I managed to squeeze through the window, hitting the deck
I punched the air shouting “Yes!” followed by an “Oh F-ck” and “What the Heck”
I had fallen into the kitchen and not outside you see
The head chef said “We built it this way to stop people like you stealing from me”
Five weeks on and 100000 dishes later,
If I stayed any longer I’m sure I would have been promoted to head waiter
Nevertheless, If you do come across Glen give me a shout
Tell him the mad poet is looking to blow his brains out
**For my sweet Delysia Hendricks who asked me to write this poem**
**Deglet Noor is a date that you eat if you didn't know**
“Anzac Day, it happened this way”.
I remember her now, every Anzac Day,
a sacred day I cannot. celebrate.
She was his wife, only seventeen.
He was just 19, their lives had just begun,
She jumped into his grave,
She kept screaming out his name,
She hugged his coffin and wouldn’t let go,
They pulled her out, screaming in pain.
She screamed, I’ll love you…forever.
As we pulled the trigger and fired, time and again.
She jumped into his grave, screaming out his name,
She hugged his coffin and wouldn’t let go,
They pulled her off his coffin, screaming in pain.
She screamed, I’ll love you…forever, I’ll never let go.
As we pulled the trigger, and fired time again.
He died in agony, blood, guts, gore.
He died for politicians’ egos, and lies, he
died in agony, in pain, screaming,
begging Jesus, and calling her name.
I've lost my religion, a religion called war.
The Army gave him a number,
and took away his name.
The padre spoke the eulogy.
I baptized him, I married him. Now, I must bury him.
I cannot imagine her pain.
But we all loved Jesus?
as we loaded our rifles, and it started to rain.
and fired into the air, time and time again.
she screamed in terror and cried out in pain.
I'm such an ******* I can’t remember his name.
After the service, the mourners had gone.
But still,
She laid on his grave digging away, screaming,
I’ll love you…forever, I’ll never let go.
• This is non-fiction it happened that way.
2 Timothy 4:3-4:4
For the time will come when men will not tolerate sound doctrine, but with itching ears they will gather around themselves teachers to suit their own desires. So, they will turn their ears away from truth and turn aside to myths.
The practitioners of “The Big Lie”
Election results, one must never decry
Let us examine some history
By which we’ll note the hypocrisy
Al Gore in 2000, Hillary in 2016
Stacy Abrams in Georgia did scream
How does one discern what is truth
The good book says examine the fruit produced
Thirty-two million for Mueller to investigate
Months of media claiming Trumps a reprobate
What did this produce folks
It was all a Democrat and media hoax
Impeachment over a phone call to Ukraine
No high crimes or misdemeanors was plain
Hunter’s laptop called Russian disinformation
January 6th labeled an insurrection
No guns, no bombs, not even pitchforks
Capitol Police acting as escorts
If you are unable to see rotten fruit
Providing more evidence is simply moot
Just know that Paul foretold it all
We need a revival, or America will fall