Long Jumpsuit Poems
Long Jumpsuit Poems. Below are the most popular long Jumpsuit by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Jumpsuit poems by poem length and keyword.
we are now seen as disgraceful
deplorable, terrible, unacceptable
the leaders of the other countries are laughing
we are allowing a convicted felon
a person with no integrity
who makes fun of people’s medical and psychological conditions
to run for president of the USA
we are laughable
A man who caused an insurrection on national TV
who should have been hanged for treason
it is unacceptable, dreadful, unpardonable
but what else would they expect?
We have a sexual harasser and a rapist on the Supreme Court
The USA government has become a joke
but who is laughing?
Not the children mowed down by guns in grade schools
If I was from a foreign country
I would never come visit this upside down place
It is shameful what the thinkers have allowed the nonthinkers to do
and it gets more shameful
every single
second
that this
presidential candidate
is not wearing his orange jumpsuit
and that the electoral college
can allow a woman to get two million more votes than her opponent
and still not become president.
Who is laughing?
Not me.
There was a time when I was young,
My cousin Glenn and I,
Did fall in love with one young man,
Whose face and form were fine.
He had a twinkle in his eye,
A movie star like smile,
And it was said we'd walk a ways,
To glimpse his fine profile.
He worked aft school a mile away,
From where we lived back then,
And we decided we'd walk that way,
And mayhap talk to him.
We dressed ourselves and combed our hair,
To look our very best,
To see which one that he might choose,
To be his special guest.
My cousin stole her mother's clothes,
A jumpsuit of bright yellow,
In hopes she'd catch his eye and then,
He'd be her steady fellow.
The one piece suit was very tight.
It looked like she had poured,
Her roundish form into a great,
Big, giant gourd.
She smiled and asked me if I thought,
The suit did show her figure.
She couldn't sit, could hardly walk,
"It could be somewhat bigger."
She didn't care for what I said,
And we set out to walk,
The mile to where "Adonis" worked,
And mayhap watch him gawk,
At two such beauties as we were,
As we set about a drill,
Upon the trampolines where we,
Would show athletic skill.
Glenn was first, she gave a jump,
Into the air so high,
And as she sailed aloft her suit did burst,
I watched the pieces fly.
Like a big yellow balloon it popped,
And flew in all directions.
She hit the ground and screamed and ran.
So much for grace and perfection.
I laughed until I wet my pants,
And so we both lost face.
She hid in the bathroom and tried to pin,
The pieces back in place.
With pins I got at the snack bar,
From Adonis, my face beet red;
For he could see I'd peed my pants.
We both wished we were dead.
Variations On A Theme...
Ach'n (ache Ken) Existential Struggle...
(NOT by Bellini, Paganini, Rossini...
Eeny Meany Miney Moe - si,
nor the three stooges tee hee hee)
twill never end till...this oft writ trend
of mine will never end,
only when...mortality
ike'n no longer defend!
Thus...once again, (or...as per usual),
this poem iz a boot
ruminations about bout,
who else except this ole coot
at das receiving end damned
lifetime role, and goot
raw end of deal, sans docks side of
moon efficient intervention
(teachers never gave a hoot)
as they appeared oblivious,
how moost all classmates did loot
mine emotional account, viz
cheap trick super tramp ping coot
tees reviled, renounced,
and wreaked havoc as root
of all misfortunate previous
to mine existence,
as iced (sic culled) hood
reaper remained mute
and scythe lent,
while (cue in dolorous)
melody issued from
Mose Arts magic flute,
whereat serpent (also known
in political circles as
Sally Salamander Newt
Gingrich) charmed goaded,
and relentlessly needled
Eve with snake hushed snoot,
thenceforth viper got ramrod
rigid taut as jute
of course this a fallacy as
just smore hove my fruit
fully "FAKE" pre fabric hated
discombobulated trumpeting ill suit
head prevarications – more
offal than glute
tee us expulsion, donned
as invisible faux poetic
apparel clothing with astute
cheeky effects, thus allowing,
enabling, and providing
adapt tub bull usage as zoot suit,
or as space age jumpsuit,
when I travel (with my cute Malamute
outsize prairie dog like fine home
companion) to the outer limits
of the twilight zone,
which groovy farout signals
detected by vodafone
and desperate plea made
to aliens to abduct me
(receiving an affirmative
digital binary tone)
courtesy of publishers,
unlike the negative responses,
predictably forecast, no complex koan
but clear as day -
inducing a slight inward moan,
which figurative slap in face
finding yours figuratively prone,
hence...a recurring well known
fantasy regarding plucking
this chicken (198920) heart lee
moss see rolling stone.
Wearing her zippered jumpsuit of lime
My queen loves to survey the valley's field.
She dreams of finding a perfect place and time
She can make her dream city something real.
Megiddo was an ancient and famous city
Where starting at Solomon's gate then entering in,
Delight, pleasance and joy showed no pity,
And t'was no comfort not to be found within.
This proud city of great power and zeal--
The glory of some rare ancient engineer--
Has seen dust fly from many a chariot wheel,
When victorious kings came to holiday here.
Perhaps ancient Israel's most splendid city,
It soon captured every kingdoms' eye.
A diadem of the Jezreel Valley so pretty,
It invoked the kiss of the Assyrian sky.
Surrounded by its high double-thick stone walls,
Megiddo’s palaces did lavishly and amply abide,
Containing their ornamentally furnished halls,
With towers, storehouses, and courtyards alongside.
And then there are temples—believed to be three,
With vestibules for believers to enter in.
Then of course the altar for only the holy to see,
Where doctrines are given a positive spin.
Where’er perfect foundation might lay,
My queen shall find a delightful field.
And there to be in full domain and array,
The promise of Eden most
empyreal.
The gavel slammed its judgement down
On my impassioned plea,
Doomed to run-on sentences
Served concurrently.
My term began an infinite jest,
Time after time, time without rest.
On and on, again and again,
Ad infinitum, days without end.
Illicit contraband stashed in my sock,
Wearing a jumpsuit here on The Rock.
Sand in an hourglass keeps me in hock.
Forever and ever, and ever so more.
Each day and night a grim tug of war.
Idle in lockdown with yada, yada, yada,
Etcetera, etcetera, and desiderata.
Oblivion’s limbo looms dry as a drought.
The light at the end of the funnel runs out,
As the wastewater swirls down the drain,
And my hair falls away from my brain,
While the ferryman’s taking his toll,
And the calendar’s carving my soul
Into tidy, discrete prison blocks,
Where hands slap the faces of clocks,
Till you can’t tell the ticks from the tocks,
And the warden keeps changing the locks,
While my nightmares add weight to the years
By retelling my worst childhood fears
When the ragman went lurking about
By that streetlight that always was out
On the playground there by the church,
With dead eyes and black-market merch,
As the wheels on the bus go ‘round and 'round,
Like prison yard walks, but I’m still glory bound.
I curse the screws, flip a finger to the void,
And serve my penalty in splendid isolation,
Not defeated, just righteously annoyed.
Of the benefits that come with doing time in the hole,
The best is being favored with a birdman's soul.
As I once heard a lifer say in the exercise yard,
"Freedom is being satisfied with the terms of one's confinement."
I see you each day in that big department store.
You have all the good looks many men would adore.
Your silky blonde hair compliments your bright blue eyes.
Such attractiveness is easy to realize.
Every day, you are standing there in the same place.
It is not hard to notice that beautiful face.
You always seem to be staring out into space
as you are exhibiting such poise, style, and grace.
You wear something different each time I see you.
It may be tights, jeans, jumpsuit, or dress of blue.
Whatever you are wearing looks so good on you.
I hear soon you will be replaced with something new.
The store is undergoing some more transition.
Another will be standing in your position.
Soon, you will be replaced with a new successor,
and destined to the fate of your predecessor.
When they disassemble your head, legs, and arms,
you will no longer possess any of your charms.
See them walking around the city in unbridled fashion that makes them feel jittery, soft and loose in their custom-made jumpsuit; they went shopping in high heels shoes wearing perfume that you could smell from a distance.
The threads are woven evenly and the seams at the front are explicit, it makes them feel like saucy peppers spread on top of a sedated platter at the Ritz. Lips painted in bright red colors and body soaked in lavender balm and the aroma oil extracted directly from the maple root saturate their bodies in time for the truth.
The ambience of room with the filtering smell of spring ushered in from the tropical island engulfs the room and increases their appetite.
In seconds their bodies caught fire and saturate their innate desire, it swept quickly through the room leaving a stained passion on the bed, shouting in joy and laughter from the top of their head. They wrapped their bodies in pleasure leaving a diamond bracelet dangling at their feet and smiles that you could not compete.
The tall skinny one's parades down the street in their roll Royce limonene, fricasseeing on the back seat and disrupting the driver's heart beat, while courage stood up on the stand seeking ways to devour the guilty man.
The Jumpsuit has taken over the town and pleasures are floating around, the tightness has disappeared and the distress is laid bare, the people’s mind has loosened and everyone is drinking from the same cup.
I pinch myself to see if I was alive for these images keeps flickering on the screen and it feels like a midnight dream; the fire is real the people are there and the bartender is running up and down the floor and there is a long line standing at the door; everyone was wearing a jumpsuit.
The paradise of hope lies on the brim and the wisdom of man is carried away in his sin and his naked appetite dangle in front of his pride and his lover stood briskly by his side.
The jumpsuit is coming back on stream and everyone is writing for the big screen. You have got to have courage to fulfill your dreams, if you don’t have a jumpsuit go and get one now, the cold is setting in and your fingers will be numb.
Can I ask you something?
Yeah, sure.
Would you say I’m the tear the clothes off sort of woman.
What sort of clothes are we talking about.
Any clothes.
Does that include that leather jumpsuit.
Apart from the leather jumpsuit, though every other guys managed to get it off.
Maybe they had the instructions.
Or maybe they were just more experienced.
I would be more experienced if I didn’t have to phone your office to book you in for sex.
Is that why Sally was laughing at me.
Was Sally the girl who took my message.
Yes, do you know the embarrassment that caused me.
Sally says she’s got a leather jumpsuit, and she’ll show me how to get it off quick.
Yeah, I just bet she did, they don’t call her SS for nothing.
Are her parents German.
No dummy, she’s a slapper.
That’s not nice, I’m going to her house tonight to practice getting the jumpsuit off quick.
Have you lost your mind, one look at Sally in her underwear, and you’ll be frothing at the mouth.
She’ll not be wearing underwear, seemingly this is how you get it off quick. Sally says after five attempts, I’ll be an expert.
Let me put this to you in a simple language you’ll understand. You go near Sally and I will chop something off you.
Oh, I’m sensing insecurity here. Sally said this would happen.
Right, I’m going into the bedroom, and I’m going to get naked, then I’m going to put the bloody leather jumpsuit on, then you’re going to take it off five times, then we’re going to have sex all over the house.
Better not tell her, Sally said this would happen.
Ask is love blind, or deaf or dumb, still kind.
At eleven, what hypnotizes me -
Imagining perfect, like braids entwined,
His eyes always on mine; and all is glee.
Wide smile on screen, his star-studded jumpsuit.
Sings puppy love, in midst of brothers, cool.
He is all mine, I think - he is so cute.
Alas, I must look to those in my school.
Dream-talk things out in a gentle manner.
Godmothers are real at this juncture.
Our children fly harmonious banner.
Can’t foresee a fairy-balloon puncture.
My gaga-ness sits well - can’t wait for date.
The cuckoo clock strikes knot - open the gate.
The cuckoo clock strikes knot - open the gate.
Whee…here’s reality…he’s hopping mad.
There’s making love…then each other frustrate.
With seasonal beginnings like nomad.
Throw kids in mix, tantrums of grown adults
Who wipes behind - changes diapers; and mind.
Answer: I consult God with good results.
I listen intently, lean into find
That nothing’s perfect all the time, but love
Is the kindling, bittersweet fire, sublime.
We can smile now as kids kick out and shove.
We work as one unit - we’re at our prime.
Why are beginnings called going steady?
Prepared for what life brings? Are we ready?
Prepared for what life brings? Are we ready?
Looking around, at emptiness, I see
Our empty nest - kids have left already?
At sea, we lose our minds on a cruise spree.
Small time later, our knee-decks creak, languish.
And side to side, we’re off balance - at sea.
Can’t find the shore, went overboard. Anguish
About future of aged, of you and me.
Mom’s eyes sealed shut, we had to say so long.
My dad kisses her lips, holds wedding rings.
My mother had cancer but she was strong.
Looking at my husband- the gifts life brings…
Rejoicing when in dark closed room, confined -
Ask is love blind, or deaf or dumb, still kind.
She sits by the stream of consciousness with the echo of silence
Takes her mind into blistering darkness below false reason’s truth
Down by the water of tears she lights a candle in her mind’s storms
Embraces the sadness of sorrows and rewires misleading thoughts
They called her a witch with no conscience a gipsy lost on the road
Burnt her broomstick branded her skin and confiscated her wagon
Shackled her whistles and bells to hot metal rods and straightjackets
Turned down the heat in the foregone conclusion that she was gone
Yet when the ashes rose she floated on wings of kind forgiveness
Remembered her many friends in Auschwitz in the chambers of hell
She had come prepared in a purple jumpsuit made from asbestos
Forged by history and knowledge that she was stronger than hatred
She assembled a step ladder one rung at a time and slowly ascended
To a waxing moon sickled with hope and compassion into laughter
‘These imbeciles did not take my passion for starlight and wisdom’
‘My tea leaves are stronger and smell of freedom scented in love’
She brought a basket of sandalwood and sweet lavender dreams
And retrieved a besom bequeathed to her by ancestry’s lineage
Looked up to the sky and breathed a prophecy painted from clouds
Sealed her escape with seven locks of her hair and brushed off the dust
15th November 2019