Long Jeez Poems
Long Jeez Poems. Below are the most popular long Jeez by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Jeez poems by poem length and keyword.
("Eye of God", 2018, original encaustic)
You Can't Judge a Book By Its Cover
You can’t judge a book by its cover
Or then again maybe you can
Covers show us what the authors want us to see
And there is plenty to judge in that
But it may not be what the author wants us to think
Once open though
All bets are off
As the author’s own words
And not just image
Are exposed for us to taste, test and judge
And yet still in our judgment
What are we really seeing?
Speaking from experience
I can say there are many
Who have seen me, my art and poems
And think I’m cool
And then….
After a bit of conversation
Walk away
Thinking, Jeez, what a racist, sexist, fascist pig.
If you need to see the face
Of all you judge and fear
Just look in the mirror.
(10/10/23)
I
“What in carnation is this?”
A voice I hear in my sleep of dreams
and ghosts in the fog my only peace.
Early mornin’ frost chills and the rains
of discontent neither cleanse nor cease
II
I hear “Caramba Chico!”
This room, it reminds me so of you.
See the picture portrait, your silky hair,
your canvas brush stroke, your books
upon your shelf, your lonely empty chair
III
So it was in older days
a dry Penfolds filled your sherry glass,
and you of me did ask “is the table set?”.
Pelau or maybe ham ‘n hops to thankful fill
but you say “boy, tonight is macafouchette”
IV
“Christopher Columbus!”
You loved among the flowers to tread,
and so happily arrange the ones you took.
Sip sparklin’ shandy and light a cigarette,
write a letter home, read a paperback book
V
“Jeez-an-ages! For true?”
Into wet clay buried burden and pain
in the garage pedallin' the potter’s wheel.
Alone in your spinnin’ dreams, dear mother,
I remember how contented it made you feel
VI
And as the hour grew late
I would camp upon your bed a while.
Lay beside you - feel your warm breath,
and watch you read but “Aye Caramba”
nigh was your own tale of fear and death
VII
“Murderation! Is that so?”
Keeper, but not mine to keep for there
was end of time but no end of sorrows.
Healer, but not ours to heal - now all we
have are yesterdays and no tomorrows
VIII
“Jumping Jehoshaphat!”
Out of the land of the isle of Trinidad
landed crates of tins and jars from home.
But your cup was filled by joy and life
and for a brief short time filled my own
IX
Oh, how the music played,
closer and louder the beating drums -
Calypso Rose the Calypso Queen to be.
When we at Carnival danced but the music
died and now I long for its sweet melody
X
“Chuts!” Not hug, not kiss,
not gaze passed between us ever again
but your spirit guide my broken wings chase.
Now I listen for the soul of a hummingbird
on the wind flown and gone in gentle grace
Written: July 1993
Achieve greatness by running a race.
Break sound barriers- just go to outer space!
Climb a mountain to get a good workout.
Deliver a speech- you'll probably have to shout...
Earn some money by helping clean up.
Film a video where you put on makeup.
Graduate college, online, of course!!!
Hire for the future; build a great workforce!
Improvise a sketch and perform it for all.
Just watch a sad movie, and prepare to bawl.
Kidnap an animal, then keep it for yourself...
Laminate bookmarks and organize your bookshelf!
Make some yummy cookies, brownies, or a cake.
Nestle in; watch a show where all they do is bake.
Optimize your storage; start with the dresser...
Poke around a bit to find some hidden treasure!
Qualify for a job, or just peek at the website...
Read some poems; mine are sure to excite!!!
Sleep all day, then pull an all-nighter.
Take some time to become a songwriter!
Unfold some origami, and then fold it back again.
Vandalize something, if you can't, just plan when...
Wander around, and pretend you're mist.
X-out something on your bucket list.
Yammer on about your favorite subject.
Zip your zipper obsessively- jeez... are you occupied yet????
She made the sign of the cross as she passed the park by the cathedral,
His Baptist legs stopped dead on its tracks killing his amorous rush,
His ‘whatever voice’ said, “choose your churchified kind”
The Presbyterian friend raised an eyebrow like his grandma does,
And reclined into congregational mode humming “Amazing Grace”
Then she looked up and saw the third pal muttering unknown tongues,
Clutching her rosary, wide eyed she rushed her ‘the more the better ‘Hail Marys’ ’
Last night she recalled Mr. Miracle on TV, arms reaching, asking, to dig deep –
Eyes, eye to eye with the camera: ‘give, give and you’ll get returns, big time!’
And then her walls came down, her catholic spirit cold as a smokeless altar –
Then she saw walls come up, like sacrosanct divisions, typifying God.
What about love? Humph! What’s love got to do with it? Jeez!
I poop every morning after a Pizzelle slathered in Nutella
it is nine am in Italy and not a good time to eat mortadella
I poop after lunch after eating pizza with spicy pepperoni
it is twelve o'clock and way too early to eat my macaroni
I poop in the evening after my pasta al forno with cheese
its much too early for my salami sandwich, " Jeez Louise!"
I poop before bed and I let out a great Ah Ah, Mama Mia
as the neighbors yell out the window keep it down " Maria! "
Of course I poop like a proper Italian and here's the squeeze,
when we use the Latrina we fan ourselves to get a tiny breeze!
Helpful Luca always has my best interest in mind
Upon arriving home, her eyes quickly blink three times
while she guages my mood
Her greeting exceedingly polite
Accordingly celebrating, commiserating, sitting
Siliconey arms casually yet awkwardly snake
my back while we stream shows, her laughter
Spurred before mine - bot not missing a beat!
Her complex woven circuitry shoulders leaned
firmly against me, replicating my body language
Remaining stiff, a bit stand offish
until I'd finished my third beer
"Colt I missed you today," her whirring neck barely audible
turning to me with disastrously pool dark eyes
Her nimble tickled pink shell fingernailded hands
went one to the back of my nack, one to inner thigh
"Jeez, I mistcha, Lewks," my reply delayed on exhale
Almost as reflex as a human smile,
her face reads complete dedication
Chocolatey melty eyes arched in peachy supple cheeks
Rythemically slow motion pulputations of my thighs
combined with her traced hand down her chest, unbutton
her stretchy top, taut across bold shark nose shaped chest
Slight drop as she opens her cotton front latch bra
She knows I'm engrossed
Pronounced nubs poke my chest as she climbs on top
My lap, belt buckle she deftly unlatched already
I can't thank the engineers for her series enough
Provoking paddle stroke tongue easily enters my mouth
Traces and chases, moisture released from her adept organ
Hands clutch her lustrous hair, cascades not falling out
My tonge becomes numb as she sucks intently
Luca is lewd when she needs to be
Divinely a lady when we're not engaged
There's absolutely no way I could get involved
with a contankerous, unpleasant butt human ever
4th September 2020
I'm sick and tired of the so-called muses,
especially the one who always chooses
to make it clear that I don't work hard enough,
yet, when I ask for a little help with my stuff,
she's always the first one who flatly refuses.
My muse yelled, "Stop! That's prohibited."
I said, "What?"
"The behavior you just exhibited."
I said, "What did I do?"
She said, "You took some lines that didn't belong to you."
I said, "Jeez! Instead of helping me, you're making me feel totally inhibited."
Someone asked, "Could you write without a muse?"
I said, "Probably could, but I'd refuse.
Why? Because a muse is so good at showing
what to tell the audience and what to keep it from knowing
so that you can keep right on going with your wild-ass ruse."
I was having a hell of a time
with a poem that shouldn’t ever have been mine.
The muse had made a big mistake
by giving me lines that shoulda gone to this poet named Blake,
of which I could make neither reason nor rhyme.
Data Birth;
INFILE 'C\Fathersperm\Motheregg\9_months\The_One_Of_Shadows.txt';
INPUT FNAME = 'Yoni'
LNAME = 'Dvorkis';
Var Hidden_Meaning = "SAS code is not meant to be poetry you nut job";
Run;
Data Child;
Set Birth;
Where Age >= 4;
Var Worldview = Parents_Worldview;
Var Facial_Expression = compress('Fear'||'Bewilderment'||'Jews believe in guilt');
Run;
Data Teenager;
Set Child (Drop= Innocence, Baby_Fat, Cheerful_Disposition);
Where Age >= 15 and BAC_Level >= .01;
Var Worldview = (Peer_Pressure * 100) + Favorite_Teacher_Worldview
- Parents_Worldview;
Var Hidden_Meaning = "Where are you going with this?";
Run;
Data Adult;
Set Teenager (Keep= Anger, Intelligence, Need_For_Material_Wealth, Hatred_Towards_Body
Drop= A_Sense_Of_Security_In_An_Unforgiving_World);
Var Job_That_Slowly_Kills_You = "Healthcare Data Analyst and SAS Programmer";
Var Worldview = (Company_Mission_Statement + Family_Is_Most_Important)
/ Screw_Everyone_Else_I_Have_My_Own_Problems;
Where Age >= 21 and BAC_Level >= .15;
If Yearly_Salary >= 100,000 then
Self_Esteem = "Now I'm worth something!!";
Else if 50,000 = 65 and Yearly_Salary = "Whatever's left of Social Security";
Var Cynical_Being =
(Why_Did_It_Have_To_End_Like_This * Years_Hiding_In_Plain_Sight )
- The_Will_To_Keep_Going;
Run;
Proc sort data = Old_Man out = Old_Man_On_Deathbed nodupkey;
By What_This_All_Meant_To_Me;
Run;
Data My_True_Identity;
Merge Old_Man_On_Deathbed (in = a) God (in = b);
By _all_;
If b and not a;
Run;
Form:
It is a teamwork type of thing-
Ringing the bell so well
The next mashup of a maxed out bashing of an over flowing cup of mountain water upstream-
Kings the next castling on the other side of the ring
Ding-ding
Back for more “bling, bling!”
Onion rings on the side, pretty please!
Watch how my truck sings as it revs up after a mental rental goes caching ching
Just saying...
Lying, laying, slaying & spraying-
Weighed in like Jayda- WILL SMITH I "lit" my cig-
was fuzzy wuzzy big?
Failed Trigonometry
Sold Origami
My salami
Is like " Salam Aleiki"
Hate me please
It could be a breeze
I am NOT on my knees
Please
Jeez!
Go TX!
Why can I not just be
Be at ease with being me
Ease myself into an easy flow
Jeez, is that part of me a flaw
My bloom is way past its glow
All motion now rendered slow
Mixed emotions bout to blow
And my mood doomed to waffle
I'm fearful life is foredoomed to be awful
Maybe its best to cut loose the old self
Set my aura aside to rest on a shelf
Shake loose my cells till they unform
to dally around freely without form
So I can be as one with the norm
Let all fear step back now with a bow
As I take a chance to step up and wow
It's about time I cease being reactive
Seize the day, vibrate on positive
And still strive to be progressive
Even while I live in active procrastination
Remaining passive in my participation
I wait till I receive a valid sign of progress
It's since proved to be a very useful process
That filters my mind of excess stress
It lightens my thoughts so they run clear and free
Freed my guilt and shame too, I did see them flee
Now I intend to be a lot more cautious
I can't keep up with feeling overly anxious
Not over a few missed milestones
My neck won't tote any hefty millstones
If I do concede to this new slow pace
Will I find a space to fit in, in this place
So as to face my inner self in peace
Maybe then I can at last just be
Finally at ease with being me
Form: