Long Hang loose Poems
Long Hang loose Poems. Below are the most popular long Hang loose by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Hang loose poems by poem length and keyword.
Hammers, Slammers, Polly Pockets, My Little Pony, and Pogs
Back when my big sister collected frogs
Hello Kitty, Kerokeroppi, Badtz Maru
I'm bringing the 80's back to you
American Dolls, Cabbage Patch Kids, Kareoke Machines
These were the 80's toys - back when they were a thing
Saying: Rad, Dude, Far-Out, Cool, As If, and Hang Loose
D.A.R.E. to keep kids off drugs - at every participating school
Stupid fabricated lies about pot commercials (or weed)
To virtually f--k up our Stoner's Scene
Crazy-Daisies, Slip•N•Slides, Ferris Wheels, Graviton and carnival rides at fairs
Neon non-permanent colored hairspray in your hair
Nickle Nickle Arcades, Gigantic Pickles, Big Sticks
Froot•By•The•Foot, Pixie Sticks, Fun Dip, and Big League Chew
The Ice Cream Man, Vans, and butterfly kisses that children knew
Catching and trapping beach crabs in the sand
Basketball Hoops, A.Y.S.O. Soccer, Atari, Super Mario Man - and even more
Tinker•Toys, Sock 'em Bop 'em Robots, VHS, and burning CD's
With your Legos sprawled all across your grandmother's floor
No wireless phones and no Internet
Just wired landlines, dial-up, and pink butterfly nets
Mud pies, cigarette gum -
Back when being a child was fun
Bop•It and Twister, Monopoly, Game of Life, Mousetrap, Sorry, and Candyland
We can't forget Operation, Don't Break The Ice, Jenga -
And to remember to always play nice
Magic the Gathering, and Dungeons & Dragons - with dice
I miss these days - now that they are all gone ---
How many other kids had to come home
The moment those street lights came on?
So it was disinfectant after all, that's really bats,
the plan was simple - we can get rid of the democrats;
why didn't someone else think of that, perhaps they did,
but not good enough - only a one no-trump bid.
It opens a new wardrobe for future use,
bleach, turpentine, meths would all hang loose,
perhaps we could use Brasso for the *******,
or even grease from the lap-dancer's pole.
My mother had a cure for all ills, no pills,
Calamine, TCP, Lloyd's cream, pain it kills,
Milk of magnesia, germolene, Andrews for liver,
Benolyn cough mixture, if your throat starts to quiver.
She said: 'Get upstairs and wash yourself with disinfectant,'
now we can go further and use it as an expectorant.
"All a man really wants, is a girl who looks good in a bikini."
- Jack Freestone
Bikini Betty's Beef
A randy surfer from Malibu Crest
Untied the bikini top off of Celest
You’re my Betty let’s hang loose
As he tried for her caboose
Celest slapped his hand away from her breast
Aloha Barney, this isn't your turf
A lecher you are who can’t even surf
Damn men with no brains, think again
Bet you’ve never even hung ten
I’m not your Betty, uncool stupid Smurph
by I Am Anaya
As striking as a Malibu Barbie doll
Gals in bikinis I love, summer and fall
But I'm classy and kind
And so drawn to their mind
That they need not wear a bikini at all
by Robert Gorelick
Everything in life has an end
Except sausage, which has two.
Sometimes I feel like a sausage
Like when camping
Stuffed into a mummy bag
Or bundled up in bed
Crowded by a human and dog companion
Especially if in a hot, unfamiliar place
And I wake feeling claustrophobic
Trapped in a body/mind
With nowhere else to go.
So I go outside
To gaze up into the dark sky
A full Harvest Moon above beyond
A thin wisp of clouds.
And once again am reminded of the cycles
Of everything that has an end
Or if it’s a sausage, two.
In these moments I feel balanced
At a midpoint, always the midpoint,
Of a lifeline I call my own.
Birth and death, two points
Which in effect are the same.
Maybe sausage is the wrong metaphor
To see one’s life through
And the cause of my claustrophobia.
Maybe donut is the better image,
A bit glazed perhaps tonight, awaiting
The frost and powder that will come soon
As the harvest season continues
Its fall into winter.
But donut, like sausage, is too prosaic
To describe an actual life
With not only form, but substance.
So torus is perhaps a better word.
My life a sphere, divided through the center
By a central shaft, or
Something like a circle orbiting
Around an axis
Simultaneously folding and unfolding
Into a circular tube
Both donut and sausage-like at once.
But with Life, so more like a space station
Spinning on its own axis
In an arc around a larger axis
Which in turn spins around other axes,
On and on in ever larger pan galactic orbits.
In all of this the idea of an axis is central
But ultimately too vast
To grasp into a single concept,
Let alone word.
Spinning in cycles thus I go
Both ends burning, my own
Beginning and end joined
Always balanced in this moment.
Now cold and tired, my muse’s comfort spent
Under a Harvest Moon
Softly whispering the night is young
Dreams await, of open spaces
Vast and cool in gentle breezes.
Sleep tight my child, hang loose and
Rest in peace old man
Tomorrow is another day
The moon then will not be so bright
And miles you still have to go
Before you wake.
(9/27/26)
Let me rap to you about where I'm from.
Sidewalks are broken, weeds grow through the cracks.
The people that use them are like the sidewalks,
broken and bummed out.
They have handles like Turkey, Louie the Bum, Sand man.
No one's hip to their real names.
They all think they're righteous.
Me, they call me Kid, so don't be freaking out,
no one cares, it is what it is.
All we care about is the hustle.
The next minute, then the minute after.
So it goes.
This, is my school, I'm hip to it.
In these alleys, on these sidewalks,
where no one can tell if the garbage man came,
where rainbows are neon, books are painted words,
scrawled on concrete walls.
It's where you can get sliced for a joint,
and die for seeing what you shouldn't.
It's cool, don't sweat it.
It's another realm man, so don't flip your wig.
No manicured grass here, only advertisements for whiskey.
Are you hip to it, what I'm laying down.
Listen up my brother, cause I'll be bookin.
In this place, pain is a commodity,
sold by dealers and pimps.
Can you dig it.
I gotta split man, before the fuzz comes.
So hang loose, I gotta drop a dime,
to my connection.
Maybe I'll catch you on the flip side.
1960's slang
contest..Talk the Talk and Walk the Walk
I was a shirt filed with straw and rags.
Pants that hang loose. Jeans cuffed pinned uncomfortably.
Nothing to think of; a hat filled with straw.
The inability to walk. Pinned to a board.
Hickory oak.
Chest disproportionate to a small waist.
Sleeves flung in the wind.
Left standing still; a face motionless.
Pinned to hickory oak.
A shadow left in an empty field, the boundaries of a checkerboard shirt.
The insecurity of straw hands.
Pickett fences to the feet of crows,
Still she'd visit often.
Distance cut short by dark heavy wings.
She'd caw in my silence,
Not knowing the ability to smile I stood against purpose.
She refused to run, poking fun at my hat.
The clothes that hung loosely in the wind, scurf tied tightly around my neck.
Feeling her prick the strings of my chest.
Strands of straw filled by her need to find home.
Was there anything there at all before that moment.
Becoming shelter to the way she pried.
What is wrong with the people
Today?
A bunch of dumb people are leading
The way.
Seeks ATTENTION,
You find ABUSE.
If you hang,
Hang loose.
Lacking BACKBONE,
Loud and BOASTFUL.
Mass shooting sprees,
They go postal.
They can’t CAPTIVATE,
They CAPTURE.
Stuck on the same page,
No new CHAPTER.
DIFFERENT is not the same as
DIFFICULT.
Aiming for change,
Get the same result.
It is better to EDUCATE,
Then to ESTIMATE.
No more wild child,
Domesticate.
Try Being FRIENDLY,
No FURY.
Patience is the key,
Don’t act PREMATURELY.
GIVE more,
Less GREEDY.
Take care of self,
Less needy.
HEAL don’t
HATE.
Be selective when choosing
A mate.
INFLUENCE without
INSULT.
It is not age that makes
You an adult.
Be JOYFUL,
Forget JEALOUS.
Relax don’t be
Rebellious.
Show KINDNESS,
Don’t KILL.
It takes time to hone your
Skill.
More time LEARNING,
LESS LECTURE.
Leave the drama,
Bring pleasure.
MORE MENTALITY,
Less MACHINE.
Cut out,
If it’s not your scene.
Try to NEGOTIATE,
Cap your NERVES.
will happen,
Crap will occur.
OBSERVE don’t
OPPOSE.
That door is
Closed.
More PASSION,
Less PAIN.
Work harder,
Don’t complain.
Seeking QUALITY,
Less QUANTITY.
Side-step tragedy,
Enjoy the comedy.
REPAIR before you
REPLACE.
Is it the kill or the
Chase.
To SAVE means
SACRIFICE.
You must suffer on way
To paradise.
Better to TREAT,
THEN TRICK.
Take your time,
Not so quick.
Choose the UNDERDOG,
Avoid the UNABLE.
Diversity instead of
Racial.
VALUE before
VARIETY.
Things clear up with
Sobriety.
Be WILLING,
Less WORRY.
Slow ride,
No hurry.
Don’t XANAX to
XTREME.
BOLO for a snake
Or a scheme.
Better to say YES,
Than not YET.
Recognize an incoming
Threat.
Be ZANY and ZOOM with
ZEAL.
Just saying,
Keeping it real.
Turbo1904
There's no need to worry, who wants to steal your work?
You think that under every stone, some thieves may lurk;
I wish they would - they may have more success than me,
perhaps they might get the credit for decent mystery.
Someone said they changed websites because of abuse,
don't say everything's wonderful, be smart, hang loose;
one guy called me a 'f------ ****,' just be a mouse,
what would you expect from someone like a scouse.
I won a competition, someone liked me after all,
but then how could you resist something so magical;
my wife also writes, with perception, iron with feeling,
a good team - she does the ironing and I do the stealing.
Check your bank account - the scammers might clear you out,
before you start wondering what all this security's about.
"""""""""""'""""""""'
say what? gibberish jabber and jive
thrown off by that name design
i’ll pause for hee-larious devilish crime,
just this once, yo!
befriending puzzled game of who i am
roarrr! gotta hang loose and chillax...
click the clock and go with moment’s groove
if i hear some laughs, i’ll con you with slum stuff
for now, i ain’t your momma’s sweet thing
to give what’s due, let your green bucks talk
my tricky demons have been impatient,
now let that flat tire settle you.
this rhythm spins for bad, bad girl i’ve never been...
drums roll for a con girl… i’m ready for bullying
spinnin out scum and knowing i spit the shots
sleeky me, too not quick to catch
upside down and underground,
brace yourself or turn around. if you do please,
keep your smarts… street life is my major major punk
i’m callin last call, and all of you, hear this...
it’s time to bail out and bounce up,
live beyond lucid dreams and spark your plug
far beyond the images we see, there are split
mirror- dualities of what seem to be… see, i fancied
the title “Candle Net Out” also known as
nette on the clouds…too pretty and normal,
i’m experimental,
let me shock you from inside out…
just for today, it’s wickedly freaky showtime!
all rights reserved
©
*twisted because this was the teenage side of me
that wanted to rebel..but just did it half- way through!
:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
PD's Any Twisted Poem
by: nette onclaud
Points Above and Below the Line
(Enea Canonises Catherine of Siena)
It's not a thing we go for any more,
that hierarchy malarkey, but in fact
the medieval mind set mega store
by stairs and ladders. All things interact,
and therefore can be neatly classified.
(There's endless fun in drawing up these lists!)
The lowest rung is "is", all pride aside:
a rock is "est", because it just exists.
Your jellyfish can breathe and reproduce,
so up we go: it wins a badge named "vivit".
An antelope can feel, get scared, hang loose,
so "sentit" is the title we can give it.
So living, then, is better than existing,
and feeling better still. Take Esther Blodgett.
She's capable of pouting, outing, twisting --
so humans come out tops again, with "cogit".
So all these so's, I hear you say: so what?
Well, what if humans almost reach "divine"?
Suppose there's something Esther Blodgett's got
that takes her over life's Dividing Line?
"Sublunary" means "underneath the moon".
"Diurnal" means "divided, night and day".
(Now, please don't chafe: the point is coming soon.)
Below the line means "subject to decay".
The moon was key for medieval man,
because it marked the mortal azimuth --
Above, eternal, there since time began:
below, corrupt, unwholesome, marked for death.
And now we come to Pius, making saints.
There's Catherine of Siena, looking flirty:
They must have used an awesome box of paints -
The chick had been a corpse since thirteen-thirty.
Above, the Pope, the Cardinals and Kate.
Below, the groundlings watching it go down.
Above, all spirit, high, inviolate:
below, all bulging groin and earthy brown.
If Kate was Sienese, that's nepotism?
Why ain't he canonizing Capistrano?
It's all to do with black and brown and schism.
Dominicans are gold, the others guano.
Franciscans are Heart,
Dominicans are Brain.
Franciscans use Love,
Dominicans use Pain.
Franciscans are Italy,
Dominicans are Spain.