Long Impropriety Poems

Long Impropriety Poems. Below are the most popular long Impropriety by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Impropriety poems by poem length and keyword.


Premium Member Just Leave Me Davy Crockett

There are people we've selected
    who think they were elected
        to flout and mock us with their sordid lies.
In hopes we might surrender 
    to these patriotic pretenders
        as Congress is where a hero goes to die.
They waste their precious time
    along foolish party lines
        avoiding the issues that stokes their hearts with fear.
By showing their immaturity
    in not dealing with our security
        to trash the principles to which we all adhere.
        
So just stay out of my pocket 
    and leave me Davy Crockett
        and the memories of this Country that I love.
You seem intent on causing misery
     by changing all my History
        to stain those Heroes looking down from high above.

Now no one born is wholly flawless 
    and it would be completely thoughtless
        to judge a person by their greatest sin.
When it is the core of our Society 
     to see such old impropriety
        through forgiveness where the healing can begin.
So please look into a mirror 
    and you'll find it can't be clearer...
        nothing good comes from casting hellish stones.
So take from this poor letter 
    to try and behave a little better
        and leave our treasured Heroes all alone.

So just stay out of my pocket
    and leave me Davy Crockett
        and the memories of this Country that I love.
You seem intent on causing misery
    by changing all my History
        to stain those Heroes looking down from high above.

Now there are those who lack humility
    and lay a claim to untold bigotry
         and rile against the strides we all have made.
By trying to say we're hopeless 
    and trying to change our focus
        from the lies and plans you all have carefully laid.
You may hope we run and cower
     as you try to usurp our power    
         and turn this Country into something you abhor.
But we will not lose our focus
     and I'm here to give you notice
        we will defend this beloved Country we adore.

                            The End



*For those who are interested. I will be posting my cartoon 'Bob's Your Uncle' on my homepage. A new one will appear every second day.
Form: Rhyme


Flatulence Upon First Date

Upon the first date (decades ago) with the gal,
whose troth aye did pledge allegiance to wed
we agreed to dine at an ex-mex eatery
in north Wales, Pennsylvania, where angels feared to tread
carefully scrutinizing bon appétit the menu selection, 
a touch of Latin lick QED

all American version sans south of the border cuisine –
Quod Erat Demonstrand – translations spit out in rapid fire Hispanic
by a beady eyed inked kid named Ned
whose couture favored a punkish style
with spiked gelled green hair, piercings galore and
necklace with a genetically modified sizable
entombed glass encased amber ked

which beastly fully intact organism with a miniature grisly bear like head
momentarily hypnotizing me tell nudged out of trance sans this egghead
who make a selection by randomly 
landing finger on an item feigning to be well bred

unbeknownst to the arbitrary choice this senior made
within an ample number of mouthfuls
of beans and rice that quelled hunger pangs
mine lower gastrointestinal tract,

felt a bubbling sensation played
though impropriety struggled with gaseous mounting perturbations,
what promised to be hot malodorous, would induce an air raid
from this “wind bag”, whose saving grace divine, when wallet of suede
discover herd visa vis tubby devoid of cash, thus and excuse to beat the tirade
of volcanic eruption found me bolting
out the restaurant door fortunately not waylaid

and madly dashing (like some comet fiery dancer) 
performing a cheeky number hopping on one foot than the other – 
since forceful blast triggered kidneys to be tapped, thus prancer
two step extemporaneously incorporated while await the ATM to disburse cash
legal tender coveted akin to Cupid sprinkling spell of romancer
while expulsion of noxious fumes from thine sphincter from this hob er dasher

brought relief as aye nonchalantly strolled inside 
the cozy diner and slipped into me seat
disinclined to relate vents to future spouse,
the bodily aeration and stream of urine from me magic flute
which amazingly synchronized with the Maximus glute
from consuming food triggering tushy to toot.
Form: Blitz

Premium Member Therapeutic Tinted Thoughts

Therapeutic thoughts have feelings
of resonance and dissonance
as healing behaviors have internal beliefs
motivating
inspiring spirited resilience
and passions for love
surpassing anger,
compassion
conquering all dispassions,
positive attraction
reconnecting past negative distractions.

Feelings have internal colors
compassionate green health environments
and narcissistic snarky red hot interiors
and radiant blue light
and absorbing yellow warmth,
and many multiculturing other hues
and cries for resonant ultra-violet peace
with black and white and brown restoring justice
not so much grey-scaled punishments
for too liberally 
compassionately coloring outside 
proper eco-political WinLose lines,
social walls of propriety
against impropriety of full-scale wildly imaginative colors.

When I heard Caillou's white-speak mother
inform her son,
Red is the correct Valentine's color of love,
I knew this could not be my whole virtuous enculturing story
because red is also the color of bloody fraternity
and viciously escalating anger,

Healthy passioned red
or short-flaring diseased fear
of overpowering betrayal,
losing power to overcome
threats to green therapeutic self-portrayal,
regenerative esteem
virtuously red-blooded,

Surrounded and benignly invaded
by green nature,
yellow absorbing internal blue heedfulness,
caution,
discerning nurtured feelings
attributed by more dissonant color relationships
said and sung in virtuously harmonious major,
and viciously dissonant minor, keys,
round co-relational octaves of color 
revolving rhythmic qualities fueling flow,

Morally affluent yang prescriptions
with ethically effluent yin descriptors
of exterior green sanctuary natures
with interior red-blooded
DNA ultra-violet
communicating nonultra-violent
recycling nurture wheels 
of resiliently felt therapeutic thoughts.

Dear Daughter

Avast emotional gulf manifested; courtesy
series of unfortunate events; sundered
biologically accorded, cherished, enshrined
paternal bond; resultant dereliction defies,
justifies, ratifies...dissonance; unbearable
hindsight excoriates impropriety reviewing

dirty deeds done dirt cheap; impossible mission
to excise indelibly etched psychological
impacted repercussions upon mine fountainhead;
weighing excruciating deserved self loathing;
permanently deplorable depravity yoked;
unyielding choke hold, no longer asking

forgiveness, but airing errant culpability;
dada's guilt indefensible impropriety; begetting
permanent fallout; exacting just desserts; bitter
regret beast of burden (oxe see moron) housed
within self made villain; unjust to impinge your
providential opportunities, whose blessed smarts

plus unfettered, unencumbered, undaunted...
daring do promise productive existence par
excellence, versus anxiety riddled torturous
legacy writ large across countenance this papa;
analogously das scribe bing mortal epitaph, while
dark shadows haunt this edgy rusty knight, who

once pawn time shrugged off mischievous
lascivious actions as payback; recognizably erred;
misperceptions (mine); deduced ex post facto,
when the missus doled out unpleasantries;
exploding anger; vented regarding significant
roiling perturbations harkening to her own

unrepentant poisonous stinging toxicity;
delivered courtesy birth parents; hands lack
king awareness to rock cradle with tender
loving care, hence burdened with childhood
tsoris prior to accepting yours truly as life
contra dance partner these preceding xxii+

years avoiding unseemly behavior; aware
that the mother of our two darling daughters
doth love and forgive me, though recouping
similar results with first offspring may remain
tense, and many years past not a happy camper.

Billionaires hunker down in their Queenstown bunker lairs

Let’s pester Uncle Fester

After dafter Luxon 

Pushed the button

Welcomed every glutton

To the isles of mutton


Theme of the meme

Team New Zealand 

It does seem

No longer a

Stronger eclectic sceptic


Spanked by the rank 

Septic tank stream

Peptic Pyramid scheme


Grand slam.. glam sham scam

Desperate Dan or Tangerine tan plan

God damn..American dream


Our rancour on social media

Danker seedier leaders crimes 

Hanker for every greedier 

Rhymes with banker


Sleazier golden geezer visas 

Accept any offers to

Fill their many coffers


Brokery.. jiggery pokery 

Immunity without impunity 

To the unity of community

Profanity of their vanity


Insanity of their depravity

Clarity...disparity not charity

Tramples ample wokery


Our amazing landscape

Instead becomes their escape

Coined..after all they’ve purloined

Jolly jape…no red tape


Not being rash

But it is a rash

Debunk the gunk & funk

Forsaking the avarice 

Taking the pis*

Bliss abyss monk


Crass..brash..flash git

S***k a chunk of cash

From their balderdash stash

Making..a complete hash of it


Fake elite on the take

As they see fit

Billionaire boys ploys annoys

Replete yet still cheat 

Have your cake and eat it


Our government just envoys

For a small fee..sweet

Deploys the swanky..w**ky

Yankee all about me

Time to flee plea


They lit the fire

Liar & denier

Dug the quagmire


Piety for impropriety

Moolah Messiah ruler

High flyer pariah

Crueler society


Who when the s**t 

Does hit the fan

No fibs..his nibs gets

First dibs on cribs


Outlier masterplan zen..know 

Then where to go


Can always hunker down

In a spick & span den

Their Queenstown bunker


Amen
Form: Rhyme


Incident At Owl Inn

Incident At Owl Inn
A simple call placed to the authorities created panic
Police and Fire vehicles speeding, crashing into each other
Everything they could, in pursuit of the truth
Hysterical hectic red sirens spinning out of control to Owl Inn
Officers of the law drawing guns mercilessly in all directions
One young cop shot his foot in his fervor to kill anything in sight
The captain of the force, ugly breath, panting, takes the Inn in storm
Grabs the manager close and begins his rant
While fire department and police jump and gyrate uncontrollably about
Proprietor Pepper was glowing with concern about the crime
His dissertation was anything but calm or kind
Room 209 was the subject at hand of something odious and grand
A man called John was filthy guilty according to the manager
Who could not continue speaking at this time
But wrote a note about the incident while nearly collapsing
Captain trembled as he read the message, turning pale and gray
In his mind this was a crime of the highest magnitude
Of malfeasance, impropriety, to perpetrate such nasty deeds
The chambermaid was interrogated for hours
She confessed to seeing the man from 209 but once
She told detectives she had soap at home to wash her mind
And screamed at them to leave her be in peace to cry
Scientist, archaeologist and pharmacist were called in
To measure every square inch of room and surrounding Inn 
Firemen chopped down the door of 209 to find the truth
The captain of police made his announcement to the gathering
The note of the proprietor was read aloud as follows
“The occupant of room 209 stole 2 small hotel soaps and escaped into the night.”
“We suspect he is from New Jersey.”
Everyone was shocked, confused, did not know what to think or do
What was the bigger crime; stealing hotel soap or being from New Jersey?

Lips On the Tuba

when Bobby Messiah 
the new kid next door
asked if I wanted to see his
Silly Putty **** collection
I know we were on the same page
It was hidden in an old transistor radio
of red plastic with a silver speaker grid
in the shape of a human foot
marred and curling on one corner 
where something had pierced a hole in it
a suicide bullet from his ex-mom 
Bobby said and I believed him
because Bobby was a natural born Fuhrer
a 10 year old Genghis Kahn
so opinionated he didn't even know
how he got his opinions
and I was a 9 year old breast feeder
I would have ridden the axle of a 20 wheeler
across the state line if he said it would
prove I wasn't a mud humping butt boy
it appeared to me a better bargain
to be anything than nothing.
I still hold the line on this position
even though I write from prison
with a new range of facial expressions
thanks to Bobby's sense of impropriety 
and a pocket full of matches
and the result of legal malpractice
by my perfume counter mouthpiece 
not finding the magic combo
told me I kept looking around too much 
to be taken for an empty seat
wore a noose around my neck tendons
more times than a fish has scales
trying a little harder to separate
what is inside from what is outside
shuffling the index cards over and over
I will describe it further
this planet is an IQ test
the contained has changed 
the shape of the container
it may be a 49-51 kind of world kid
but not everyone will clap and sing along
and as long as them brittle 
mystic devil fire pickpockets
think they have their lips on the tuba
the free angels will sleep 
with a gun in their shorts 
for system redundancy's sake


From "Engine of Didactic Beauty" available on Amazon
Artist Portfolio: http://walteralter.site11.com/

Premium Member Consciousness correction

Gradually it internalized.
Taking over it mesmerized.
Initially it demonized.

Intense pressure loomed.
A feeling I was doomed.
Festered a previous wound.

Forgiveness given in confession.
I continue to feel recession,
Wavering on deep depression
.
Harder for me to pardon my part,
Lord I will regain a contrite heart.
I seek conscious correction to start.

Turned its back on fidelity.
Guilt enveloped me.
A dark room developed me.

Creating an orb, so negative.
Becoming photosensitive.
Now totally insensitive.

No light to bear to appease.
No way to encourage ease.
Foreboding thoughts in degrees.

All hope was in the past.
To conceptualize at last.
Options now were vast.

No doubt I handled it wrong.
For conscious correction I long.
Demanding that I remain strong.

Resulting in Sadness and Anxiety,
No chance of achieving piety.
Committed to sheer impropriety.

Remorse brings sadness as I regress.
Learning to look back less.
Experiencing an emptiness.

Spiritually watching the future unfold,
Yields a finer perspective to hold.
A stronger conception of bold.

Conscious correction eradicates sorrow.
Seeking a perception of tomorrow.
From a deep engulfing hollow.

Once sadness is finally alleviated.
It should instigate Anxiety to be fated.
Eventually to become abated.

Clear intellection to lead the way.
Knowing it’s not possible to fix yesterday.
The fortitude to hold anxiety at bay.

A past that should not be foretold.
Anxiety, an emotion that should be controlled.
A nervousness I can furtively withhold.

With the reassurance of calm, I can bask.
Positively conscious correction asserts this task.
In addition, nothing else can I justifiably ask.
Form: Tercet

Hideaway In Advance

Some way to be
When the next thing comes along
To find some way
To explain what we think we need
Is it an excuse to blame the world
For what we refuse to see
Unhappy

Unhappy
All the erksome things which count so much
All those things which then cost so much
Come to lay out your heart
In thier ditch of troubled speach 

 Unhappy the lie which hides behind 
The smile in every greeting
And there's the blame
It keeps on accusing
The sorry selfs
hypocrisy
And no-one else can see
A buried bone
Is one to exhume 
When we feel the need

A bitter seed
Of judgements reprehensible
Impropriety
Do we feel its greed
Consuming all the moments
When from its glooming addiction
We are freed
Be
Unhappy 

Unhappy
It kick starts all those reasons not to smile
Etching your days with its denial
Never been
Not ever when
Can't remember if you can
Happy

Unhappy
Swirls around the reasoned why
Taints the edge of tears we cry
Infiltrates and burdens now
Changes every cause to be.........

Having to believe in its reality
So involved in what you think and feel
Unhappy
Not the compass of any other persons
Point of view
Not of something
Which has anything at all
To do with you

Unhappy
Is written in our face 
And it writes itself into our eyes
A slow motion response
Wanting to define our lives
No moderation of its sadness
As it alters the breathing heaviness
Curling up its tightness 
Within your chest

Unhappy
As it kick starts all the reasons not to smile
Unhappy echoes on the irony
Languishing in its contemptuous laugh
Scratching at the days with its denial
Never seen
Not even when
Forgetting that ever once could be
So
Happy

Premium Member The Truth Room

Come with me my Brother,
to a secret place where Light and Shadow line the face with fear and grace,
leave sophmoric style, wry smile and sly bile on the road of your forgotten mile,
sick sarcasm is the symptom of envy, a pet to your heart destroyer,
such artifice and malice have no language in this room of roasted dreams,

Enter through the damaged door, touch the destruction of vandals,
you have never been here before, where gold blood cuts the floor,
do you see how the walls move like squalls at our approach,
feel how they tell stories with the sensations of defeat, anxiety, impropriety,
in here we witness a collection of seperate yet synthesized segments of Self,
childhood torment, shallow manhood, virility limp as stolen victory,
underachievement, the underbelly of your arrogance, flacid like placid passion,

We journey further into this gallery of emotional gallows
smelt by the hurt of innumerable adavances
repelled by the demands of Quality,
you will writhe wildly
from the harrowing healing leeching into your concepts of self control,
graceful in absorbtion of Truth's attrition,
fruitless ambition shall now cling as cleaving contrition,
your face Brother, look long into the shimmer of sorrow become the old,
tattooed you are like a snake's skin checkered and beautiful
with scaled episodes of submission and aggression, dying to be Divine,
I want you to know that there is no exit of ease from this place Brother,
we trek within your very Soul,
this is the home and harbor of everything you've decided to be,
there are other rooms here, some of joy and some of strife,
but you leave not the Truth Room of your anger
until the Light finds no fault in your intention -

J.A.B.
Form: Epic

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