Long Ineffective Poems
Long Ineffective Poems. Below are the most popular long Ineffective by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Ineffective poems by poem length and keyword.
we’ll be parasocial (enjoy one-sided emotional relationships).
practice ineffective communication
swim the algorithmic swamp
speak insurance language
soak in social exhaustion
trigger and be triggered
relish anti-affordability
do the bare minimum
embrace a conspiracy
manage our topics
accrue aura points
enjoy resenteeism
take the rage-bait
overuse backlash
seem authentic
explore AI sex
digitally clash
be bias blind
scroll away
rage-farm
deepfake
Job hugg
glow up
buy gas
ick date
go viral
resist
drip
.
.
Songs for this:
NOT CUTE ANYMORE by ILLIT
Who Knows by Daniel Caesar
you want to know a secret
when I write a poem and it's perfect
i dont share it
i bury it
deep inside of me
where no one else can see
i mean its perfect
not like this shift
it's elegant, poignant,
simplistic, bueatful
trucking perfect
its not erotic
but i read it
mentally masterbate to it
a euphoric chorus
straight form thesaurus
its just that great
im not being egotistical
if read, it would become universal
a meter tethered in clasical measure
a rythmic flow
with many metaphoric undertows
an iconic harmonic tonic
to make you feel like an embryonic hedonic youth
im not being napoleonic
its an actual truth
factually accurate
high in heaven
it produced a tear in the eye of god
who proclaimed
not a single flaw
not a single flaw
and he only saw what i wrote
well, because hes god
me being me i like to tease
allow me to be inclined to share a few lines
blow your mind
redefine your collective defective perspective
realign your ineffective respective connective tisue
"all my cows milk is homogenized
all my crows are well organized
all my sheep like to stare and creep
like to stare and creep"
but you'll never see
the rest of my secret poetry
that only exsist inside of me
cows will always moo
crows will always ka kah
sheep will always go baah baah baah
and the perfect elagance
of my literary inteligence
will die with me
never being seen
qouted, memorised or plagerized
as i will say with my last gasp
the next line being twice my last
all you super-duper-soupers can kiss my ***
ok all you super-duper-soupers have been slammed. if you want to slam me back just a few things. make it funny. make it a little nonsensical and definitly make it over the top
and if you do slam me back send me a soup mail or leave a comment so i can go read your slam.
He found me in a dream serene,
then I found her in a stupor.
LATE! I realized for the first scene,
ineffective tense tired tutor.
Wampanoag's dismay on fierce face,
on her’s pale, nothing but despair.
Knew I was doomed in any case,
me; I wish I could disappear…
My wardrobe gray, black and a frown,
I walk with slouch instead of proud.
Place spiraling on its way down,
my soul's lost in this crazy crowd.
Immature arrogant revolt,
devoted defenders hold line.
They “got things figured out” — but don’t..,
mayhem for fun’s sake a past time.
Hellions running wild the prison,
bitterness taste - lemon pucker.
Hierarchy ears deaf, won’t listen,
moment of truth taste for sucker.
It’s a sorry state of affairs,
a sad society we live.
We won’t survive if unawares,
civility bleeding through sieve.
Susan Ashley
August 31, 2017
*Poet's note: this poem was based on a dream I woke up with this morning*
I read on my laptop today--
automation is making us dumber,
ineffective, maybe even impotent.
Perhaps it's a conspiracy by that secret
society, the computer brotherhood.
(Do you really believe your Apple is
innocent, and IBM is not plotting?)
Or maybe we should just blame
human sloth, that siren call of
sheer damn laziness which can
lure the best of us to a quiet doom.
A simple proof: hand a twenty to a clerk
and ask him to make change without
looking to the machine for succor.
That blank innocent look he gives you--
"Why me?" he seems to be saying,
and you can't help but pity him a bit.
He is, after all, a victim of mass education.
There are worse victims:
airliners wildly crashing,
doctors killing their patients,
nuclear power plants going
BOOM! and killing the land
for an eon or two, or three.
How like little children we were!
Thinking these machines would
be our slaves, sans the brutality.
But it is we who are chained by
the zeros and ones, we who are
thinking less, creating cheaper,
settling into a cybernetic fog.
The promises fell
as excuses became,
the voice of the man
who is casting the blame
While off on vacation
these moment to share
Informing the masses
he hadn’t a care
“It comes from another
who made this design,”
he mumbles and stutters
in televised time
“Do not look at me
for I haven’t a clue
It is obvious now from
the scenes out on view”
“The pipeline I stopped
and the border is free,
but this is much different
you cannot blame me”
So now as they die
harshly falling from planes
Their old way of life,
not a fraction remains
The enemy now holds
the key to the vault
Yet still he insists
it’s another man’s fault
“I’ve stopped everything
he had put into law
But this I choose not for
you can’t have it all”
He has no regrets,
the one truth he has told
While winking at China,
his soul quickly sold
He sits in his chair
with a beady eyed leer
Counting his yen for the
buck does stop here
The Afghan people have been betrayed as this weak and ineffective President vacations.
Greasy hair, recall loss.
This idiot comes to kill your kids free of cost!
You, Mrs. America, born here years ago,
Have no rights anymore, don't you know.
Many of you, selling homes, leaving this state.
We have to fund the largest number of illegal Ingrates,
A vaccination, no they do not have to do
at all.
But as for you, born here, arms up, right now..,high,
against the wall
Nurses, doctors, leaving here in droves,
This drought ridden state.
Newsom cares not for Americans lives or
fates.
For children, funerals will be free of charge.
And adults must stop driving cars.
Just wear an ineffective muzzle like a dog.
Propoganda has wrapped your head in a fog!
This grandmother, who lived free all her life,
Will not live under such egregious strife,
10/18/2021
THREE STEPS
We’re getting close to when the bubble may burst
But hold on a moment, that is not even the worst
As now there’s no chance left of it being reversed
Do they know we are approaching a critical stage
Imminent grief no comforting words can assuage
One thought, one decision, one act
Tensions have been slowly building for some time
The melody’s off, that for so long’s been sublime
Discordant, and somehow the words don’t rhyme
Moving toward an outcome that nobody sought
With weak intentions that have come to naught
One fantasy, one possibility, one fact
It needed management with a strategic direction
Little tolerance for merely exposing imperfection
Intervention is critical and with timely correction
A scared team, with the fear seen on their faces
Ineffective, shuffling around and changing places
One ignored, one retired, one sacked
To be truly, fully present
Of consciousness and
answering why we are here,
These studies are a promising field of research
Yet by powerful backlash
research has halted
For severe depression and PTSD
Universities use micro-doses of psylocibin
Derived from mushrooms
It lowers stress and doesn’t
cause hallucinations
Follow up studies show dramatic improvement
of conditions not previously responsive
to conventional medications and therapies
This chemical is still widely banned
Except for a few controlled studies
Underway at accredited, renowned medical
and psychiatric departments
at major universities
When popular conventional
therapies prove ineffective
the 60’s and 70’s proved a fertile ground
for those seeking help
New age treatment called Primal Therapy,
When religious cults such as love Guru’s
Hare`Krishna mantras, Buddhist chants
of Nam-Myoho-renge-kio or being shakabukued
or Hollywood fix its— for anxiety’s
mental illness failed,
Came the psychotherapists
and the latest Primal Scream Therapy
new and experimental, so-called Hollywood therapists
took it to levels unimaginable and a bit too far
and should have never been licensed!
I keep picking up the phone to call my mother
To hear her voice and her laugh, which was terrific.
I know she would be chuckling at the latest tweets.
Laughing her head off at the ridiculousness of them.
And she would be incensed by the murder of an innocent
In a street where other police officers stood by doing nothing
We would discuss how soon we flipped that off
Not wanting to witness a killing on national TV
We would discuss the fact that my sister could watch the whole thing
Stating how awful it was, and we would ponder how she could do it.
We would discuss the weirdness of online school
And how ineffective it is, pondering how long to wear our masks.
We would discuss and laugh and joke and have fun
I would stay on longer than usual, realizing life is shorter than I thought
But she traveled home to Heaven in January,
Which I do not remember until I pick up the phone.
No. She's not an angel;
Of this I am certain.
For she is very much a mortal
and seeks no other identity.
She's only human
She's just a woman
I love her. She loves me.
Of this I am certain
Moreover, from where I sit, neither
hypocrisy nor selfishness exists.
On the contrary, she models purity
of purpose and exemplifies Truth.
Her love for others is deep.
She's strong and she is weak.
Her strength defies her weakness,
rendering it limited and ineffective.
Yes. She is a saint;
Of this I am certain;
For she is a par above
and highly connected to God.
Both her tears and her laughter
exude a captivating aroma with a
divine fragrance that compels me
to give attention and high regard.
And I? I am blessed to be her husband.
She's God's gift to me above all others.
I have been married to her for 50-plus years.
Valentine '24 will be our 54th Valentine together.