Long Implants Poems
Long Implants Poems. Below are the most popular long Implants by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Implants poems by poem length and keyword.
I WAS ROME - MING THROUGH TIME.
WHEN I PASSED THROUGH A DOOR.
I WAS PART OF THE CLOUD ,
OBSERVING A WAR.
FREEDOM RIGHTS AND PRIVACY
WERE HANGING BY A THREAD.
LEGAL PROPAGANDA
BEING DRILLED INTO FOLKS HEADS.
PRIVACY IS A FRAGILE WORD.
ESPECIALLY WHEN I KNOW ,
EVERYTHING YOU EVER SAID ,
THOUGHT , HEARD OR TOLD.
GOTTA LOVE WHEN PEOPLE SAY,
THERE IS NOTHING I NEED TO HIDE.
THAT'S UNTILL I EXPOSE THE TRUTH
YOU SIMPLY CAN NOT DENY.
INVASION OF YOUR PRIVACY,
GOES BEYOND THE SCOPE.
MANIPULATION OF YOUR THOUGHTS
HAS THE SAME EFFECT AS DOPE.
IF YOUR SUGGESTION CREATES IDEALS
THAT BENEFIT THE CORPORATION,
YOUR SURELY GOING TO GO ALONG
WITH NO NEED FOR EXPLANATION.
INVASION OF YOUR PRIVACY,
INCLUDES THE FOODS YOU EAT.
IF BIG AGRA SAYS IT'S GOOD FOR YOU
TO JUSTIFY , YOU REPEAT.
OWNING WHAT YOU NEED TO GROW.
CORPORATIONS PATENT , AND SELL TO YOU.
GOVERNMENT , BLINDLY , GOES ALONG
AND THE POPULOUS , HAS NO CLUE.
KNOWING THINGS THAT FRIGHTEN YOU
LIKE HATRED , WARS AND CRIMES.
GOVERNMENT HAS TO PLAY ALONG
IN THE FORNICATION GAME OF MINDS.
INVASION OF YOUR PRIVACY
INCLUDES SETTING PEOPLE UP.
IF ORGANIZED CRISIS ARE EXPOSED
THE COMPROMISED COVERUP.
ANOTHER WAY OF INVADING PRIVACY
IS STEALING PEOPLE'S TIME.
THE COMPLICIT AND COMPROMISED
CREATE CHAOS OF YOUR MIND.
MEANING THIS AND SAYING THAT
CLAIMING WRONG IS RIGHT.
WHEN CONSTANTLY BOMBARDED
DEPLETES YOUR TIME TO FIGHT.
WHEN WEAK. , TIRED AND GIVING IN.
METAPHORICALLY , THE SHIP IS SINKING.
YOU WILL RELINQUISH "ALL" PRIVACY
DRINK WHAT THE REST ARE DRINKING
ONCE DEPENDANT ON CORPORATION
THERE IS NOTHING YOU CAN HIDE.
CORPORATIONS NO LONGER NEED YOU,
YOU BECOME RAWHIDE.
IT STARTS OUT WITH YOUR PRIVACY
WITHOUT NOTICE , YOU LOSE YOUR RIGHTS
THAT'LL BE THE END , OF SOVEREIGNTY
AS HUMANITY, GIVES UP ON THE FIGHT.
ARTIFICIAL INTELLIGENCE IMPLANTS
FOR SURE , THERE'S NO WAY OUT.
DOESN'T MATTER WHAT YOU SAY
THEY'LL OWN YOU , WITHOUT A DOUBT.
YOU'RE PRESENTLY IN A LIFETIME ,
GUIDED BY SOCIOPATHS.
IF YOU DARE , DISAGREE WITH THEM
YOUR DISCARDED JUST LIKE TRASH.
ARTIFICIAL INTELLIGENCE , DELETES
AND SENSORS , VITAL INFORMATION.
IN OTHER WORDS , THE PSYCHOPATHS
CONTROL YOUR DESTINATION.
Michael E. Harris
01192023
In a world where beauty's often measured and defined,
A girl at twenty, had dreams intertwined,
She sought about change, a shape to embrace,
But little did she know, it would alter her grace.
Every glance in the mirror, she’d sigh,
She longed for the curves, the world defined.
Then came the implants, a promise of light,
A chance to feel whole, to finally feel right,
But the joy was fleeting, as symptoms arose, Beneath the surface of beautiful flesh, her whole body ached.
Her headaches and pains made life hard to take. Suicide sometimes seemed the easiest escape.
All the strange illnesses that whispered in her ears loved to perform in the shadows of her fears
With a weak immune system and pains so severe shed scream "Let me just die! "to the heavens about but it wasn't her time, she couldn't give up.
She wore her struggles like a cloak made of fear,
Each day a battle, each moment unclear.
Years rolled on, twenty-seven in tow,
With every new ache, her spirit felt low,
Yet deep in her heart, a flicker remained,
A hope for a future, unchained and unfeigned.
She scheduled the surgery, her heart in a twist,
What would she look like? Would she cease to exist?
The implants, her armor, her identity’s thread,
But the thought of release filled her heart with dread.
With courage she stepped into the bright, sterile room,
A leap into freedom, away from the gloom,
As the surgeon worked gently, she felt a release,
A shedding of burdens, a whisper of peace.
And when she emerged, a new dawn in her eyes,
The reflection before her, a beautiful surprise,
No longer defined by the weight she had borne,
She blossomed like flowers, anew she was born.
With each passing day, her health found its way,
The headaches subsided, the aches turned to play,
A vibrant young woman, with laughter and light,
No longer a shadow, she danced into night.
Her journey was long, but the lessons were clear,
True beauty is found when we shed all our fear,
In the mirror she saw not just curves, but her soul,
A radiant spirit, finally whole.
So here’s to the girl who dared to be free,
To embrace her own self, to finally see,
That beauty’s not measured by what’s on the skin,
But the strength of the heart, and the joy found within.
Under the dark sky of 2025, where the Genetic Basin pulses
like an overloaded server beneath the shadows of a Sulimi,
my thoughts flow like a faulty algorithm through 6G networks,
whistling beneath faces lit by screens, with AirPods in ears,
running through Amazon Go, crushing biodegradable packaging,
in a digital chaos colder than the melted ice of the Arctic.
Faces of extinguished moons, scrolling TikTok under artificial neon,
with quantum phones vibrating in pockets, lost AI messages,
in the metaverses of a world forgetting to breathe under the gray sky.
Baneasa Mall, now an NFT hub, with free tokens fluttering,
like false stars, bots from online marketplaces invading,
shouting "IT'S FREE!", grabbing synthetic meat, solar energy by the box.
The autonomous bus rattles like a faulty drone, shaken,
where the Suleni virtually trample each other to be the first to board in AR,
to be the first to descend, to sit, crawling slowly through VR, but dashing,
like panthers at the "drop" of a rare NFT—a grotesque dance under the sky,
gray with climate change, under lost AI rhythms.
The Church of the "Holy Sepulchre", a 4K live stream, with digital bags,
sprinting at bayonet, ready to overturn a sanctified NFT, shouting,
"Sirrr, we're in line too!"—a knowing but blind mob,
under pixelated vaults of forgetfulness, under the heavy sky of 2025.
On graphene slabs, between cleaning robots and 3D printers,
I ask: those who built Opera, Roman baths, divine statues,
would they have crawled on nanotube floors for virtual energy?
The master whispers: "These were brought, heating with biofuel,
on trodden floors, with straw under the gray sky!" Today, assistance,
robotic parking, digital muddle, quantum discord, discipline,
under AI sanctions, like Pavlov's algorithm—a metaverse of oblivion.
Under the dim light of a holographic screen, I see the Sulimea as a shadow,
hybrid, with neural implants, unsporty digital fauns, lost.
In quantified globalization, wings broken by AI, stars melted in carbon clouds,
a drained Genetic Basin under the rhythms of an AI mimicking
Inna's voice—my melancholy is a lost code, an eternal bug, a dream,
magic under silent slabs, where Chess Pieces no longer see, and I remain, blind,
under the sky of 2025, an echo of a millennium shattered into ashes.
Twittered Via Chilled Wren
At Valley Forge, Pennsylvania
Prior carte blanche to confessing illicit
extra-marital affair
I embolden tomb ache
elicit, and baldly bare
faced laid out some
of the sordid details clear
embarrassed at one escapade
in particular constituting dear
peppy's questing randy romping caper
necessitating vigilance 'ere
a park ranger, (or other unsuspecting
winter weather way
Farer attired in gear
adequately bundled
cold as a witch's tit
seasoned trooper)
reluctantly repeated here
(unforgettable if only be
cause this "FAKE" Casanova ace
thee Missus i.e.wife)
did conversationally chase
beseeched, hen pecked,
and implored me NOT to erase
boot to recount with (itty bitty)
Monty Python glory, a straight face,
that one particular amazingly grace
obviously penned up,
and not in the write
mind (pre poetry daze),
which scurrilous anecdote
did (and still does) in vite
guffawing, sans
peculiar public philandering,
with atavistic cave man
designs tried to unite
where daunting phallus spite
confronting Arctic Vortex when right
lee let loose from pants
froze like a little popsicle quite
purposely remained flaccid
leaving me in a penile plight
when trying to hump
(standing up like a good Knight
comically ridiculous travesty)
With Barbara B****, light
of adventurous Green Beret spirit, the
Unabashed MILF about average height
fifty years, whose busty bosom
silicone breast implants
tell tale viz radiation
and chemo therapy fight
(resulting from post
Ductal Carcinoma in situ)
needless to tell
nary an erectile spell
Asper tinker soldier
tailor spy didst quell
basic animal instinct,
and feral gonadal horniness
with intent to consummate sexual intercourse
according tummy ought to occur,
cuz that blustery air
mirroring said day when hell
nearly froze over invoking
intervention from Cain and/or Abel.
Thus when prick remained
limp and nearly frost bitten
(at a boulder christened cock rock),
aye frostily smitten
slogging wet sneakers, thru
knee high snow...now, no mo' tubby written.
Form:
Archetypes flash straight from a pack of Tarot cards
anti-terror Jing Jang synthesis with neuro-spiritual precision
implants explosive animation from the deep unknown
like a taro rootstock growing wings to fly with found suspension
Stereotactic stereotypes archetypes semi-circling soothing storm clouds
thunderbolts and enlightening darkness are my enema of anxious anger critique
of the mono-morph collision of the scalpel shadow ‘Prozacian’ nemesis
neology of ‘animusity’ of ‘newfoundlandel’ comprehension
Dialectical complementation rises higher and higher culminates in
ethereal transcendence where collective personal unconscious
presents my animus in wishful thinking and projections as
soft and gentle revel rebel raising entropy in tender conservation to escape from
Dogma categorically demanding artificial classification replacing with dimension
flow and rivers stagnant pools of stream of consciousness evading
sexist fragmentation disenfranchising marginalisation assigning male
and female emasculated o-variation where seminal origin implantation
Precedes nurture socialised indoctrination assignment of celibate promiscuity
My animus refuses to accept in emotional rejection whether Jung and I read
symbols from the same page or not of masques façades and liberated self
where academic artistry split hairs and personality for the premise of debate
I am a rebel and claim no higher lower ground of superior distension
He or she who animates friendly animosity is right and incorrect whatever
common ground belies the provocation I propose but possibly my
presentation of what others mean in kindness is too neutral neuters psyche
While anima and animus illustrate conclude a symbiotic destination
the starting point of this and that left right up above and side by side
is far too circular an argument when we should start not end in union
Male and female are constructions of disparity of power and repression
Archetypes are not therefore I am
11th June 2016
Animus-Anima Part II—Animus – Poetry Contest
Sponsor Tom Quigley
It was two days before Christmas
Joe feared for his life
He had clearly forgotten
A gift for his wife
He sat on his bar stool
An ache in his heart
As he pondered his route
To the nearest Wal-Mart
He waved to his cronies
As he finished his beer
Wishing them riches
And holiday cheer
The snow had been swirling
And covered his car
For all of two hours
He had sat in the bar
Perhaps, yes perhaps
He could re paint the hall
Put up new drapes
And plaster the wall
Hubby was fretting
As he sat at the light
Would he please the old bat
By the end of the night?
He stepped on the gas
And plowed through the snow
Giving the finger to drivers too slow
At 6:21 he stopped at the mall
Jumped out of his car
And entered the "Wal"
Joe had a brain wave
As he pushed through the crowd
"I know what to buy her!"
He shouted out loud
"She doesn't need an ipod
New shoes or a mink
A plasma tv
Or a new kitchen sink"
She doesn't need diamonds
Or a portable phone
A fancey new blender
Boy, would she moan!"
Turning around
Joe raced for the door
Flew to his car
Pushed his foot to the floor
He knew that his wife
Just hated her chest
And thought right away
What gift would be best
A couple of implants
Would be the choice thing
A size 44 would
Make her heart sing
He stopped at a phone box
and flipped through the book
Searched for a doctor
To give her that look
He dialed Docs Bergen,
Cully and Lear
Who gave him an appointment
For the first of the year
With a grin on his face
He made for his house
Hoping his wife
Wouldn't call him a louse
He imagined her glee
When he broke the surprise
And thought of the wonderful
Glint in her eyes
A new set of boobs
In a size 44D
He chuckled and rang
His hands in such glee
So Christmas did come
And Joe broke his news
His wife glared at him
Saying "do I look like a flooze?"
So after some coaxing
And unneeded strife
Old Lizzy aagreed to
Go under the knife
So all was resolved
And due to Joe's knack
They eagerly awaited
Lizzy's new rack
Thank you for sight,
Thank you for feel:
Each hue of light,
Words that can heal.
Thank you for love,
Thank you for light:
Grace from above,
Spirit moves sight.
Thank you for joy,
Thank you for time:
Love now employs,
Words set to rhyme.
Thank you for good,
Thank you for gains:
Touch fills each mood,
Sense pleasure-pain.
Thank you for life,
Thank you for touch:
Love conquers strife,
Now bears fond much.
Thank you for peace,
Thank you for soul:
Stillness and bliss,
A wholesome whole!
Thank you for tears,
Thank you for pain:
Faith edges fear,
Grace floods again.
Thank you for art,
Thank you for science:
Live wholesome heart,
True Spirit signs.
Thank you for more,
Thank you for each:
Grand, boundless store,
Abundant reach.
Thank you for zest,
Thank you for zeal:
Urge and life quest,
Fond heart and will.
Thank you for taste,
Thank you for touch:
I work with haste
Feelings that nudge!
Thank you for sight,
Thank you for smell:
Empathy lights,
Compassion tells.
Thank you for sound,
Thank you for feel:
Senses flood round,
Wisdom now heals.
Thank you for sense,
Thank you for thought:
Purge my pretense,
Watch beyond plot!
Thank you for day,
Thank you for night:
For work and play,
For zesty sight.
Thank you for health,
Thank you for more:
Life's precious wealth,
More attracts more.
Thank you for path,
Thank you for road:
Soul knows enough,
Wholeness bears load!
Thank you for light,
Thank you for truth:
I feel insight,
I see love's proof.
Thank you for mind,
Thank you for thought:
Ego lives blind,
Watcher sees lots!
Thank you for all,
Thank you for style:
I heed soul's call,
I discern smiles!
Thank you for "Now",
Thank you my Lord:
All You endow,
My Darling God!
Leon Enriquez
22 Feb 2014
Singapore
(Note: These verses were written in Nov 2008 after I had both cataracts in my eyes operated and new lens implants done. My eyesight was restored to full clarity for which I am forever grateful! For the first time, and ever since, I enjoy crystal clear eyesight. What a joy! Verse number 2 has become my everyday mantra.)
I have the dentist blues
I have them bad
Have to go to the dentist
For my twice yearly torture session
In order to save my remaining teeth
I must endure the never ending pain
I have the dentist blues
I have them bad
I must have known over 100 dentists
During my 61 years around the sun
Some were good, some were great
A few became friends
A few became enemies
All became richer
From fixing my crooked no good
very bad misbehaving evil teeth
I have the dentist blues
I have them bad
All tortured me
Saying it was for my own good
To save my crooked wicked teeth
My teeth are bad
Wicked, misbehaving
Rotten to the core
And always have
I have the dentist blues
I have them bad
I tried orthodontic braces
As a child
Gave it up as an adult
Did everything except implants
So many crowns
So many root canals
So many pulled teeth
And partial dentures to boot
So much dental work
My teeth are gold plated
Monuments to the dental artistry
I have the dentist blues
I have them bad
A few dentists were exceptionally good
A few exceptionally bad
A few were crooks by and by
I have the dentist blues
I have them bad
My current dentist is good
He keeps the chit chat down
Does not lecture me on his political views
Imagine having a dentist praise GW Bush
Or Trump taking your forced silence
As acceptance of his right wing views
Imagine a dentist talking endlessly
About her children’s latest escapade
While drilling away
Assuming you cared
When all you wanted
Was to end the torture
I have the dentist blues
I have them bad
And imagine a sexy dentist
Or hygienist working away
As you think of her in bed
And can’t get that thought
Out of you head
As they drill and poke
I have the dentist blues
I have them bad
Yes I have a love-hate relationship
With dentists
Can’t stand them
Can’t stand the pain
But they save my teeth
And save my smile
And so I forgive them
One and all
I have the dentist blues
I have them bad
It’s been 3 years since the low blow of nadirs
As we said hooroo to you..goodbye to our top guy
Still feeling...reeling from the pain
Of all the polished veneers of careers
Which is the best palimpsests of Test contests..conquests
The class...VIP pass..no glass ceiling
Why..has to be the insane arcane Shane gravy train
You know they’re in the hall of fame..like Elvis
When they just get called by their first name
Palpable fears cricket will never ever
Be quite the same game again
Cricketing Gods above showered their love.. on an upstart..
Who didn’t just play his part but resurrected
The respected but sadly neglected.. leg spin art
Vision of befuddling precision & derision lingers
The dawn of Warne
Muddling aplomb of his first ball against a Pom
Fingers flipped…it dipped..gripped..ripped
Nipped..skipped..clipped off stump
Leggy bomb….under the pump
Down in the dump chump
Plump Gatting slipped..pipped
We quipped..ill equipped..standing sentry for
The outstanding ball of the century
Shane twirled & quite simply
Changed the world of batting
Gandalf's celestial staff...walks the walk...talks the talk
On some extra terrestrial path
And at tother end..you're having a laugh..where
When there's then the zen
Of his old friend Glenn McGrath
Warnie’s masterplan of..flair…elan and despair
Devious...mischievous...had plenty of previous
Alright unfair trite slights about hair implants..highlights
Off the square delights…did revel with rare
On another level.. seedier devil may care flights
Done like a kipper by a ripper
Wannabe chipper skipper's flipper again
One of the game’s greatest readers & media feeder
Should've been.. hallowed.. not fallowed leader
Memories never wane of how
Shane did forever entertain
A whizz doing the biz with such fizz
Legendary larrikin of sin & spin
So let's ordain the Champagne
Campaign & Reign of Shane!
The ocean jade, its
white-veined waves,
flush the sponge land,
as dangled toes melt into sand.
Far across the earth ends
in a silver bright horizon...
Almost blue then, there
the sky, the water
Transpose in sight
Coalesce inseparably
Those seas, those skies.
I wonder why
Our illusory eyes
See not what is real
but a trick of light
The ruse marries us all
And we walk a worldly aisle
towards an altar lost
in chaotic traffic.
“Do you take this blemish
of life
To become your trusted husband
or wife?
To sell and be sold
Like trinkets of gold
A ring of wills
To have and to hold?”
For some feel entreated
to win, no matter costs.
To shackle our spirits
in a burgeoning frost.
Eternity is just across
the sea and the sky
but the star=shine
no longer is visible.
Cloud mocks the sun.
Together we mingle
with implants and robots
Brains more than minds
Through particular spots.
Forever and a day
does not make any sense.
It never has.
But it used to sound
comforting.
Look ye all
To the majesty of darkness
and see oneself,
Or rather, not see.
For there, merged
with a lack of light
hearts, never singular,
ever broken in night.
And the dead may rise
And the living may fall
And our paralysed eyes
will wonder at it all.
The end come quickly,
pulses faintly stalled,
for witchery’s magic
spells out words
For all and all time.
So look to the jade
and white-sinewy sea,
to the far dome’s beginning
where almost blue it seems.
Definition between one
and another
disguised by delusion.
And air floats
invisibly smothering
As we breathe and breed
detached, insensate
to such utter confusion.
The light, the light
fades from bright,
Greys into ocular voids
The light, the light
flip shut glaucoma blinds.
The windows darken...
why, it’s nobody’s fault,
for we all are invested
like dollars in a vault.