Long Gravy Poems
Long Gravy Poems. Below are the most popular long Gravy by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Gravy poems by poem length and keyword.
In the void of my transitional mind,
the aimless scatter-shots of snapshot in kind
finding itheir way.through pokes in the brine.
Saran wrap bindings of biased memories, invent orys,
and tupper-ware leftovers tidings of dreams, kept palatable for the aroaming beasts.
I find the manipulations stirring like mercurial-gravy,
sardonical Last Suppers of my humanity at
the toppings station, insulting.
Where's the variety, where's the if there
is a will there's a way?
Where's the frikkin beef?
I heard that commercial say- (I agree,
where's our defense against the dark arts Teacher
or our non f'd with bandwith to have our say?
;My Atriuk-Consultants,
disappearing, through a buffet line
of suitors for my gun hand-as treason's malignant mercenary gland.
Stranger in a strange clan.
Now every thought is like a remembrance, a
severance to pay for it all.The tying to-me
in Gordian crossroads mocked silverly
by multi directional unabaiting winds
blowing adversarily.
Each pointing "this way you fail !"
"Every which way a noose !"
"This way you fall !"
Of on the loose this way dungeon echoes
a calling as dark corridor Shades
with no true form to call.
The past haunts, the future calls,
lost in the chaos urn, as time falls-
in diminished return,
for the base is nearly full to lay
as a squandored mound of time.
Like shooting stars across the sky,
my dreams flicker, then fade and die?
Searching for purpose, to see what sticks.
I fire all of my rounds at once
In this endless maze of day and night I pace
these walls, like those Demonic Shades,
who chant "hey Jude" and perform "Jude Law"
in Shakespearean play, "There's something about Mary...
whomever target to sway. Come wicked this way s.
But in the darkness, I find a kin-spark
guide in my self defense,
of cheerlead everence in reference to
hope belonging to everyone the same.
A torch in the deepening dark
to saber heroicly for my good name.
Iwill rise from the sullen ashes,
strong and brilliantly bright, aiimless no more,
faith in my sights.
Pull !
Let the scatter shot fall where it may,
I'll carve my path, come what may.
For in the chaos, I see the arts of strength,
the part I play,
I find beauty's confidence and vision
in the facets of my jaded heart,
that maybe I can help the World in some small but
contrite way.
Jesus taught the world
to become fishers of men
to collect Gods tithe
to overcome poverty
Yet men taught themselves
to steal Gods money
and spend it on themselves
take a look
at the houses brought
by the leaders of the church
where once they have your money
they build mansions of self greed
they read your bible
and preach we need money
for the poor
we need to help those in need
and yet your money lines their pockets
God never said build mansions
God said Treat your neighbour as yourself
is one of the most important rules of the bible
Where is the church when you need help
granted they offer food donations
but food donations come from other people
granted they provide the organisation
but yet the gravy of wealth is taken
by the leaders of the Church
do they invest Gods money
to build jobs and overcome poverty
do they create wealth with Gods money
to help people involved in car accidents
did they knock at your door
to offer you a job when you were unemployed
did they provide free education
to help you climb out of poverty
or did they provide expensive education
to once again line their own pockets
Why should Minister
have only the one job
granted on a Saturday or Sunday
the people need to hear the word of God
yet they could work
to satisfy their own needs
during the week
I am not God
But I would be worried
if I believed in the bible
Jesus was asked by the Hebrews
who should we pay God or Ceasor
He replied give unto Ceasor what is Ceasors
Give unto God what is Gods
The tithe belongs to God
You build your mansions with his money
You believe that in doing the job
of bringing people to God
you fulfil his request in the parable
of the talents
I hope, for your sake,
you are right
because if you a wrong
he said to the one that buried his money
I can be, a hard and cruel master
and all the servant did was bury the money
how much worse will it be
When you find God does exist
and he stands there asking you
what have you done with my money
did you use it to overcome poverty
did you use it to help the people in need
did you create my kingdom
invest my money
did you create free health systems
So poor people could get medication
so children can have eyesight problems fixed
so people didn't suffer
what did you do with my tithe?
The rising of the seventh moon in an ornamental lampshade is equivalent to a nice round smiley dinner plate that had been recently washed,
Recently washed is neither a rotating wimpy wishing walker and neither is it a raspberry wafer wobbling,
It takes a lot of effort to squeeze a giant igloo through the eye of a needle,
And this is not pleasant for the spectating polar bears whose fish was being fried inside the dwelling holes,
But only a mini strawberry could flex the muscles effectively to cause a jam in a mile of traffic,
That is not good news for the jars who are already late and to be late is said to be as irrational as using a fork to make a morning brew,
A stew is far more intelligent than a gravy as many components equal more experience and more experience means that even a metric metre of labelled combinations could entice a bear from a sleeping hole,
But only when wearing a jacket made from paper,
It is nice and neat and true to form,
But format was often found to be a flame of frog leg on a carpet of mystical swirling frogspawn,
It is wise to offer up a little cup of cat milk to the buds then sit back as the colours loop in and swirl in a sky of answers,
But this can simply not be achieved nor archived when the moon is in the bin and the sailors are racing in the sun ship,
A trade is traditional and traditional trade can be nothing more then a hyper-fluted mini skirt of a skating rabbit on a promenade wearing 60 pairs of headphones,
Metronomes moaning making moronic motionless mixes,
And a nice little pair of glasses on the mantle-piece was swaying in the wind but not swearing for swearing was reserved for those who act out tanker talks,
Themes then?
Yes.
Where there were many now there are few.
But in fuse boxes the conversations are often quite absurd and who would put a floating camel in a tank then send it into a plane to cross the clouds,
Criss cross is a cleaning duty for a mission opinionated cloth wearing layers of clothing,
So what will one bring to the fair?
A mare
A single bud
A sanctified saint cushion with sparkles and satin.
And a heron in a pan of water with 60 fish to eat.
Consummation is the creational consumption cream of cropped chartered chunks. Said the 90 feet of cat by a door.
Z Leptailurus serval Z at 54 lemon sponge cakes laughing at 21 empty flan cases.
Form:
I said I'd bring the Brussel Sprouts.
My friend said that was fine.
But still I saw him questioning
as though I'd crossed the line.
He mentioned we had many things.
A meal for a king.
But then he said "Oh what the heck"
and on I went with zing.
I mentioned bringing cranberries.
To which he said "For beef"?
Then stated that I didn't care
and kept it just that brief.
Till finally bringing cherries up.
The Marashino kind.
Do tell; I'd brought his anger up.
He thought I'd lost my mind.
I said they're for the ice cream.
When he said "We have cake".
Then told him we could put them on
for something new to make.
He greeted me with smiling eyes.
His kitchen in a mess.
He'd cooked the meal the whole day long.
This man was meant to bless.
The table sat in waiting now.
A knife, a fork a spoon.
My friend next to the burners on
where he'd been next since noon.
We talked about the day we had.
complained of things unfair.
While turnips, carrots and potats
sat cooking on with flair.
The roast was last to finish up.
It cooked a second time.
It looked like we'd be waiting on
for pink to leave the Prime.
When finally all was ready now.
Each dish upon the table.
You couldn't have had a better spread
or find a friend more able.
The turnips shining in their juice.
The carrots basted glisten.
Potatoes mashed in pile of silk
for gravy left to Christen.
We filled our plates with everything.
Three inches piled high.
And kept them separate in their space.
Not more if we could try.
When finally it had come to change.
The cranberries coming next.
My friend conceded they taste great
with beef in it's context.
The Brussel Sprouts were perfect
as we both approved thier taste.
And ate as many with the meal
to keep them from their waste.
With everything we ate that night
included was our prayer.
For though we stuffed ourselves that night
we're thankfull to be there.
We walked it off an hour or more.
Our health in need of chance.
Returning for another round
of ice cream, cake and trance.
To which I mentioned sweetened cherries
to add a little flavor.
When placed upon the ice cream scoop
would leave us both to savor.
The meal ended with a scrape
that both our plates gave squeak.
but despite our prayer and being full
not one us could speak.
See them walking down the street in fine tailor made suits, Jackets and ties to match and expensive shoes to match their suites; their haircuts is sharp and their perfume can still be smelt after dark .They are holding executive bags in their hands and a motion is spinning around in their head to kill your ideas before they materialize.
See the bureaucrats in the bar drinking wine and crunching figures, they just had a hefty lunch and plan to oppose the bill before the votes begin, they don’t agree to anything and they drain your energy before the day begins, there is no solution to solve their problems and the road that they are traveling on is a very difficult one.
See the bureaucrats in the room getting ready for a meeting that will begin at noon, they have the agenda laid out in front of them and a master plan that will land them in heaven.
The bureaucrats are waiting at the gate so strike a deal with them before it is too late. Their visions are limited and they are not creative. Once they formulate a plan they will stick to it until it lands them in a precipice ; they are quarreling among themselves how to spread the resources among the community, they are selfish, stingy and mean and they eat the gravy off before the negotiator walk through the gate and give the pure rice and flour to eat without vegetable or meat.
I stood outside the revolving door watching them coming and going, they move around with a sense of urgency but nothing was really happening, a fake smile appears on their face and I watch them passing papers from place-to-place muttering something out loud .
Suddenly a man stood up from the back and start to shout, he was angry about a proposal that was overlooked by the one at the top, they kept carrying him around in circles and the sudden outburst shocked everyone in room.
It came like a missile straight through the window and disrupts the proceedings,, they argue among themselves and the distractions continue all the way up to twelve, the meeting was over before it began, they could not control their raucous emotions ; two men rolling in the dirt over a simple words, the Bureaucrats are sleeping in my bed and you have got to remove them before the gangster bruised their heads.
The Bureaucrats are moving around the town in shorts sleeves and long gown.
A plate smashes against the kitchen wall
In the middle of another Sunday lunch war
For a moment I feel as if I'm not really there
As I stop and stare at this world I live in
But do not comprehend
Across from me
John
Been drinking again
Since he woke
Fueling his senseless hatred
Driving his rage
He's shouting at my mother
Telling her she's an ugly useless witch
His mouth moves slowly
As I watch every cruel word come alive
Perfectly formed
To exhort in so few words
The maximum hurt
His hair combed over
Attempting to hide his baldness
Dry and graying
Betraying his denial of age
His fat belly hanging through his cardigan
As I rush to eat before the arguments start
The stains on his fingers tell of at least 30 a day
Together with the evidence collected
On the kitchens ceilings, cupboards and walls
Behind me the door to the garden
Behind him escape to the hall
I know how long it takes to reach them both
I know how long it takes for him to get up
Expert in the pitch in his voice
Where he starts using his fist
Professor in when to fight and when to play dead
As I look on I hardly taste the food
I rush before the time
When more plates begin to fly
Today it is my sister
I did not know but today she would leave
Finally had enough she threw her plate
And stood screaming at him
Of all the horrible things he is
She threw her plate
Peas and gravy
Run from his hairy chest to fat belly
You'd almost want to laugh
If you knew the joke would last
But he did not see the comedy
For a moment the whole kitchen seemed to be in the air
My plate and food had become another tool
This raging Sunday afternoon
Through the house anger raged
Battles scarring every room
Today I was but a witness
As his focus turned to my sister
And what she had dared to do
With words only falling silent
When replaced with the thud
As he punched my sister in the stomach
And a child years a way
Joined his list of casualties
As he returned to his bottle
To lose what he had just done
We took my sister away
But in those senseless times
My mother and I returned
And when my own time came to leave
When his fist met my face
His dog bit at my legs
I guess I always knew
I would never forget
Flying saucers and plates
And my sisters wonderful aim
Branches of beans wave most predominantly in stormy weather but heavily prevalent are the many climbing chimps whose antics please the spotted cloud and cause a clap in the sky. But half a cup of mildew in a snow covered dome is neither a doorstep nor is it a milked out heifer in a four poster bed. Recline no reaches. Reach no radiuses'. And surely then a bean pole could adequately carry over forty-six washing baskets full to the brim, nineteen plates of roast dinner, ten puddings and a very large crystal chandelier. How rather marvellous. And how talented too. Recreation receiving rather real room radii. And the ratio of a dandelion could be said to be equal to a sponge in orbit. Wow. Mere waste of a tongue to be taking a meal off an iron suitcase. With or without gravy it is quite irrelevant to savour such a lead. But beading on a skirting board can often be very amusing and comical as it tells the best jokes to rugs and doesn't like the carpet as it gets very dirty very quickly. All rise then. Make sure you glide around the floors in the house. Levitate if you can to avoid foot sweat on fabric and wood but mot on marble. Here the sweat is procreating playing poker. Large high belted heavyweights. Piccolo putty in a jellied eel frame talks with great seasoning to a bull via a wireless hookless contraption that cannot be seen by aerial prowlers. Nor cannot it be photographed. But photographers put painted pain plums onto paper. Always see within the tight fitting frying pan for the handle is not to be adjusted at this time. Make way for the herds of pancakes are clamouring together to catch a glimpse of the latest spawned factory product. When hair is not a hare. That is too natural and wild plus it is very clever too. Cleverness is unwelcome in steel framed prison planets and areas of true freedom and safety are yet to be exact and as yet have not been to a zoo. Multifunctional zoo on wheels racing against a circus, a football game, a badminton match and an opera. Produce no pollen from a hypocritical hippo whose hidden house halves then heaves. But ni leaves. For they are only for the waiting skirts and shirts with heels and glasses chinking in a bystanders glance at a freeform rabbit dance. Haha mealworm arriving. Hahah plate of combustible prawns. Xxxxx morphology Z z z z z
Form:
Where have the old days gone - I used to as a child, run out of the door, bye Mum ,then I was gone, no cell phone, no chaperone, bit of change in my cute little purse and I was off running free, playing games, calling on friends, climbing trees. Back home for tea. Where have these days gone. Now there is a dreary park outside, no phone box, no kids out playing, no one climbing trees. I used to use the phone box and reverse the charge to home in emergencies, now if you find one its 60p or credit card or text messages only or your mobile has no signal or you have no credit! Or no battery. Where have the old days gone ? On the bus cost me 2p to town, get some makeup, see a movie, buy some jeans and still have change from 20pound, I'm not that old either. People used to stop and say hello, how are you, how's your Mum. Now no one stops to talk. No one knows my Mum. Jeans cost at least 20 pound and the bus is a fiver there and back. The cinema is closed here and the one in the next town is freezing inside. It also cost around 7pound each. You can't smoke anywhere now either, the cigarettes are dissapearing off posters, people are rewriting history. Where have the old days gone. We used to have a Tv you got up and changed yourself haha, now the remote is lost or it has no battery or you have no signal or the bill isn't paid. Oh and now you have to pay for all your channels, we didn't have sky or computers when I was little. Letters from friends used to come through the door. Now if you haven't got a mobile you cant keep in touch with anyone. Fish and chip shops don't have chips ready anymore and they don't do proper gravy, or peas. Everything costs a fortune now, Fish and chips is like a treat not a meal you can just afford. Now you have to wait for half an hour for it. Where have the old days gone. Kids used to have to behave haha now they are screaming so loud I can't hear their Mother speaking. In the old days we had a community, we knew who our neighbours were. Are we really progressing? It seems to me that we have gone backwards in time to a time where computers have become the giant. Tv is an accepted form of entertainment for the family or to shut the kids up. Going on holiday is a luxury . Banks are closing. Shops are closing. Cctv is normal. Where have the old days gone?
this own lee bro' thar of yars
dashed analogously graced
on par how a marathon runner raced
to Macbook Pro laptop computer post haste
soon as he goat back
to his domicile nestled and encased
in the bucolic, democratic,
and fantastic spit non defaced
woodland partially hydrogenated oils baste
surrounding Highland Manor Apartment our ace
in the hole, whence he i.e. mice elf
(Matty Mouse) with threads of gratitude laced
within a feeble attempt
to burble, cobble, fiddle, easy as gravy,
an insrutable letter placed
in the output queue
soon as all
the typo O graphical errors erased
and, though struggle to convey love
for such an endearing older sister,
which digitally squawking,
aye did not cut and paste
boot doth admit to allowing,
a saucy bit of small potatoes sayest
in ma trademark (truemark)
stuffing of fluffernutter (that taste)
G---R---R---E---E---A---A---T
(courtesy of flaky Tony the corny tiger),
which gimmerish aims to waste
juiced spare moments,
and tubby direct, earnest and frank
lemme communicate without resorting
to caginess,
but free roaming thoughts to thank
ye and Rich for welcoming a small group
of family and friends
to your Woodbury, New Jersey abode,
page number two:
somewhat near Redbank
to relish the salad days of times gone by,
when as kids,
we tricked each other with a harmless prank
such as hiding a fuzzy wuzzy Willie,
or scaring the other
with the molded Creepy People that doth rank
as laughably innocent, these topsy turvy times,
when faith no more
eroded cameraderie
among fellow Americans to tank
especially as the world wide web
iz going to fill in the BLANK
thus moments to share
a tasty repast did help me to crank
out this artichoked gibberish,
which when placed
atop pyramid of cranberries sank.
as didst this heart of darkness
within soul asylum
of papa and momma genes
to two beautiful young women
re: daughters, whose absence
felt as gloomy fiends
similar to the Ogre encountered,
when goose that laid golden egg stolen
by Jack of beanstalk
of story book fame as a cash cow means.
Thanksgiving Day
~ pretty weird that it is necessary to have one day allocated during the year to give
thanks to the harvest or anything else we might and should be grateful for during
the year and I do not suppose that turkeys approve of this pagan feast when we
stuff ourselves with bird flesh digestives condiments from the gravy train of riches
Hallelujah for burgers wine and soft drinks Coca Cola Mc Donald’s Gallo’s Alamos
on consumption’s battle fields entrenched in modern living praised be the Harvest
Queen the God of Wall Street the Guns and Drones that feed our seeming needs
the wants of affluence and exploitation the fig leafs of sweet environmental humility
You sow the wind and reap the storm and flatulence and bloated waistlines waste
lines of reason’s indigestion shed fatty malnourished winds of tempest’s thunder
Armaggedon in the waking waiting helplessly for paradise at least in our neck of
the woods the Global North’s power broking houses of doom injustice domination
Far from honouring the beauty the Dominatrix yes mother Gaia is female and
should protect ancestral love and kindness from the milk and honey breast of
feeding body mind and soul and spirit communal comprehension ancient modern or
just timeless cycles of sustainable responsibility we pilfer rape and pillage desecrate
One day of feasting praising what we otherwise forget lest we remember leaves
three-hundred and sixty-four periods of moon and sunlight spinning out of all
control and we’re oblivious to the warning signs of plenty erase the gift we should
pass on to our children lineage progeny now left with massive mess and no Messiah
Were we more honest we would solemnly acknowledge that what we’re praising
in hypocrisy and neglected conscience is human depravation the demise of dignity
loosing the plot the fields and garden from where our harvest needs to prosper
would in frank and serious good faith admit that what we garner and amass is
Genocide…
05th November 2016