Long License Poems
Long License Poems. Below are the most popular long License by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long License poems by poem length and keyword.
Here i was thinking this was just my second cardiovascular attacks my second stroke an yet here i was rushed through the double doors my husband in a state as we waited wondering what caused this was it the traumatic brain injury scars left over or was it the stroke that left me using a walker talking different remarkable i survived i could tell my doctors were baffled trying to keep me calm all this hospital talk 3cmm aneurysm on my basilar tip the two main arteries that separate at my brain stem I'm thinking what next crazy more terrorist threats on license plates by my stalkers bitter angry because i wore wires pregnant for the FBI buying weapons and drugs from junk sick cops selling drugs working security for gang leaders buying selling trading riot gear its hard to truly function after all these years surviving several attempts on my life my head hurt an yet more threats from American domestic terrorists threats that only alqueda and ISIS respond well to for now my treatment plan keeps me focused my poetry has become of an emotional support system daily for ny well being funny right blah blah blah 3cmm aneurysm basilar tip painstakingly measured to perfection god bless America Please stop threatening intimidating me it's becoming unbearable at this point corruption fighting over that defective airbag bombs personal injury claims millions to pay for terrorists attacks instead of my traumatic brain injury care funny right hilarious Ford motor company paid out my stalkers terrorists and killers lot's of vicious anger terrorist threats terrorists attacks wondering how much these domestic terrorists got on behalf of my traumatic brain injury all monies paid out from FORD WHEN IN ROME WHEN ENRAGED DEMAND PAYOUT STRUCTURED SETTLEMENT PAYS FOR A LOT OF DAMAGE I AM SO BLESSED CORRUPTION EXTORTED EMBEZZLED FUNDS ON MY BEHALF TO CONTINUE PAYING DOMESTIC TERRORISTS TO SEND OUT TERRORISTS THREATS ON LICENSE PLATES FORD WALLACE MUHAMMAD DEEN FARD MOTOR CITY MADNESS ODD WATCHING FUNDS THAT WAS SUPPOSED TO CARE FOR ME THE REST OF YOUR LIFE PAIN SUFFERING TRAUMATIC BRAIN INJURY EXTORTED TO SUPPORT THEE AMERICAN DOMESTIC TERRORISTS
Politically correct doesn't always answer the desire of my heart. So I must
Open my mind and draw words and phrases that stir and erupt from the
Elective place of my very soul. I have heard a poet apologize for using a
Telltale word such as crap. I told her don't be sorry for using accolades that
Illuminate your angered emotions and rightful indignation. A writer needs to
Captivate his or her audience with compositions of natural vocabulary
Litigate, dispute and question the issue, for every word has its puzzle place
In the wonderful world of writers. Sometimes a poem can be wordy and
Caressing, other times it can be short blunt and to the point. Who can
Elect or disperse poetic licenses to the mass, nobody... We are,
No ones boss or slave, we are poets with a free will and a lovers heart.
Salute the other poets and say what you need to say with eccentricity
Endeavor to communicate, for you are licensed by desire, not law.
December 1, 2021
Mystic Rose
Do I like good people,
of course I do
Do I like bad people,
yeah, quite a few
Somehow prefer antiheroes,
over the squeaky clean type
Somehow prefer the expedient,
for I dislike hype
Am I evil, I’ve got a wicked mind
Am I evil, take a look at mankind
Have I killed remorselessly,
I’ve butchered for food
Have I killed remorselessly,
my license was approved
Do the commandments mean much,
I’ll pay my dues
Do the commandments mean much,
walk in my shoes
What happens when I die,
the world will disappear
What happens when I die,
simultaneously I’ll reappear
But what about my soul,
is it lost and cold
But what about my soul,
could be fools gold
I’m a nice person,
but I could be a sham
I’m a nice person,
yet I don’t give a damn
Can I look in the mirror,
without filling with dread
Can I look in the mirror,
only with a gun at my head
I could make myself,
sound like a saint
I could make myself,
something that I ain’t
So now you all know me,
have I gained your trust
So now you all know me,
does it fill you with disgust
I smell the roses each morning,
life is beautiful
I smell the roses each evening,
life’s full of bull
This is my Bio,
I influence what you read
This is my Bio,
the whole truth? not guaranteed
By
David Kavanagh
There are rules she said.
Let’s break them, said I.
She was horrified, shocked,
A military woman, due or die.
We cannot she admonished me.
It’s the way it has to be.
I was horrified and shocked,
She was my daughter, only three.
We have to color in the lines,
She, prim and proper, said.
So I showed her how to color on the walls,
And introduced her to her cousin Fred.
Fred was not military,
He knew how to be a kid and have fun.
He showed her how to laugh and play,
Hang out of treehouses, and to run.
She was horrified and shocked,
This military girl of mine.
She grew up and joined the Air Force.
She recognized her own kind.
Fred is in prison now,
Making license plates for me.
My daughter is a Captain,
At the age of twenty-three
So I guess the rules she does like.
She follows them for a reason.
She follows them up hills and down.
She follows them in every season.
This has to be something internal,
For she is my child, and very bright.
She is a beautiful woman, in other ways,
But she is totally black and white.
There is no gray in her world,
And rules she could never break.
She is my oldest, and had this down pat
Before she was even eight.
She was three the day she told me
That rules cannot be broken.
I write this poem in her honor,
Words that can barely be spoken.
The Air Force had her,
Before any of us could have ever known.
She was totally into rules
And this was completely not home-grown.
Her two sisters live in color,
And understand that life is often gray,
But she lives in a rule-oriented society
Where things are right or wrong, no play.
I live in colors – yellows, pinks, and orange.
I live to break rules, in case you did not know
How I raised a daughter to be military
I truly will never ever know.
I WILL NEVER EVER FEAR TERRORISTS THREATS ON LICENSE PLATES FROM JAMAICAN DRUG DEALERS OPERATION BRAITHEWAITE JOHNSON THE FBI INSTALLED WIRES ON MY UNBORN CHILD 1988 THIS DANGEROUS DRUG CARTEL IN NORTH CHICAGO ILLINOIS MY CHILDREN AND I SEATED WITH SPECIAL AGENT LEROY HEIMBACH SPECIAL AGENT PAULA BRAND ARLINGTON HEIGHTS FEDERAL BUREAU OF INVESTIGATION ARLINGTON CHICAGO I WORE WIRES PREGNANT FOR THE FBI BUYING WEAPONS AND DRUGS 988 CRISIS RIGHT 988 TO 989 TAKING DOWN CLIFFORD JONES OVER 20 DEALERS AND 30 ISLANDERS FROM JAMAICAN I SIGNED OFF ON THE DRUG BUYS EUTH THE STATE DEPARTMENT TO MY HORRID SURPRISE THE JAMAICAN DEALERS NIECES BEGAN PERPUTRATING FRAUD UPON ME IN ORDER TO HAVE ALL THE CASES OVERTURNED UNDER SPECIAL AGENT PAULA BRAND AND SPECIAL AGENT LEROY HEIMBACH CORRUPTION ABUSE OF POWER IMPERSONATING MY IDENTITY WITH THE DRUG DEALERS NIECES FALSIFYING FBI INFORMANT FILES IN ORDER TO LAUNDER THE JAMAICAN CARTEL OF DEALERS DRUG OPERATION UNDER MY TRAUMATIC BRAIN INJURY CLAIM THIS IS HUGE THE EXTREME IDENTITY FRAUD THEE IMPERSONATING OF AN FBI INFORMANT ACTUALLY OVERTURNS EVERY CONVICTION CARRIED OUT BY SPECIAL AGENT LEROY HEIMBACH SPECIAL AGENT PAULA BRAND BREACH HORRID OBSTRUCTION OF JUSTICE EXPOSING ME TO DEATH EXPOSING MY IDENTITY AS AN FBI INFORMANT TO HUNDREDS MAYBEY THOUSANDS CONVICTED FROM 1988 TO 1989 THRU 1995 ONGOING 2025 EVERYONE ARRESTED CONVICTED AS A RESULT OF MY WEARING WIRES PREGNANT FOR THE FBI BUYING WEAPONS AND DRUGS ARE INDEED APART OF THE IDENTITY FRAUD OF AN FBI INFORMANT EXPOSING ME TO BE MURDERED THIS CREATED A SEVERE BREACH IN ALL THOSE CONVICTIONS THAT MEANS MANY PEOPLE SERVED 20 YEARS UNDER SPECIAL AGENT BRAND FALSE INFORMANTS FALSE CONVICTIONS ABUSE OF POWER
Written by YOLANDA JOY NICHOLSEN
INTERNATIONAL POET
My sincere apologies to Dr. Seuss
I couldn't resist writing this one
Some of that tasty green ham and eggs
With a bunch of worms on a bun
Eeew! That sounds really quite gross
Dr. Seuss is turning over in his grave
Us poets call it artistic license
Sometimes it winds up depraved
Like how about this, lox in my socks
They'd get pretty stinky in a while
Or one knish, two knish in a dirty dish
Or yertles turtles in a pile
I'm really sorry, Mr. Theodore Geisel
That's Dr. Seuss' real name
Sure made our childhood a bunch of fun
But of course that was your aim!
Especially for John John!!!
© Jack Ellison 2105
I recently read a politically incorrect prolific poet,
or so I thought at the time,
or more felt than thought,
more truthfully,
integrally,
Who said, If poetry is politically correct,
it cannot be poetry.
So, if he is politically correct
in this statement,
is he thereby also not a poet in good standing?
An enigma to which I respond,
If so, then politically incorrect messages
also cannot be poetic,
but tragically disempowering.
Meaning that poetry has power
to change how we feel,
and sometimes listen
and sometimes speak about our relationships.
What are political relationships
if not correctly co-empowering
and incorrectly fragmenting
and disempowering--
without healthy reason
and without wealthy rhyme.
But, now I see this poet's concern more intentionally.
If a poet's intent is merely political correctness,
orthodox dogma of some monoculturally dangerous variety,
with no faithful participation
in change,
in our ongoing collective integrity,
potentiating,
developing,
shifting
co-relational organic powers for healthy communicating minds
still hoping to feed and feel healthy bodies,
then wealthy empowerment
becoming metaphorically richer
on Earth's universal meaning together,
not accessible by apartheid and absolute supremacy,
with synergetic beauty
become mere utilitarian truth,
LeftBrain propaganda
politically severed from deeper yang and yin-ness,
and thereby RightBrain incorrect.
WinWin bicameral therapeutic intent
is politically correct,
empowering,
as seen in narratives of healing
and epic poetry
of time's co-relational passage
musing into Paradise/Hell
nutritionally/toxically becoming
Where time
celebrates/ignores rhyme
and natural seasons
speak with/without spiritual co-relational reasons.
Ever snorted cocaine?
I watched some partiers snort cocaine last night,
in a dark, Manhattan nightclub corner celebration.
But I’ve never crossed that line. The white line.
When offered some, with unctuous camaraderie,
I shrugged and said, “No, sorry, I’m allergic.”
What are you supposed to say, “Crack is whack,”
or “I prefer my coke with rum and ice?”
The white line. I don’t cross the line.
It’s not the first time, of course, I saw more drugs
in high school than I have at Yale. I’ve mostly seen
“study drugs,” there, like provigil, adderall and alza (concerta).
Do they give students an advantage? I don’t know, maybe.
Call me a boxcut or a squarepants, but my parents are doctors,
and I just don’t cross those lines - those little white lines.
.
.
Webster: Unctuous: “an obvious, fake friendliness”
Slang: ‘boxcut’ ot ‘squarepants’ = a square, a no fun party-pooper
*I use artistic license for colors: for instance, adderall can be a blue, orange or yellow pill.
"Well, I'm sorry but this is boring and your list of fines, it's got me snoring and I don't mean to be ignoring you but pouring out my story won't make my driving less deploring so I guess what I'll admit is that some of these tickets are legit but I wish you would just quit having this fit, since there really was no marking saying no parking and my dogs are really barking. So let's hurry this towards an end, is driving backward really so absurd? I won't pretend no accidents occurred but from what I heard it could be worse, for pete sakes it was only some defective brakes, this really takes the cake for such a small mistake, and sometimes I think they're just too bright so I drive at night with no headlights and you might think you're right but did we really need a seatbelt when we felt we were held in by more people than seats dealt? It just doesn't make sense, it's only an expired license! It's all in the past tense and I don't appreciate your comments about that ticket so I'll tell you where to stick it!
I will pay the speeding one, I was needing just a little fun and may have missed reading the sign that would be heeding the speed in which I should have gone, so there, I said that I was wrong now here's some cash to pay this con, I had to pawn some things of mine to pay this fine and I don't mean to cross a line or hold things up while I whine but since you think you're so devine, and I don't even really mind paying all the powers that be, that tower over at the DMV but it really tends to sour me when I've been waiting for how many hours? 3!!!"
It may be a humorous poem but the message is clear, don’t drink and drive or in Santa’s case don’t drink and fly.
Quote by poet.
Rudolph the reindeer has a big red nose
And it shines so bright wherever he goes
Well, it’s not real; it's a halogen light
That Santa Claus switches on at night.
"So, what's the history?" I hear you say
Well concerns were raised by the C.A.A.
Because one dark night Santa fell asleep
And he failed to hear the warning beep.
A large jet was heading for Santa's sleigh
He woke up in time and got out the way
A witness down below; on oath he swore
Said he'd never seen a man so drunk before.
But at first, he thought it was a U. F. O.
Until he heard swearing and ho ho ho
So, a law was passed that anyone in flight
Display a red light when flying at night.
They let Santa off with a fine and a warning
And banned alcohol 'till Christmas morning
He kept his pilot's license on one condition
That he displays a red light on every mission.
He went to his local store to buy a light
And found one that was red and bright
Asked the elves as to where it should go
And they all agreed at the front on show.
They fitted it first on Rudolph's big head
But it blinded Santa with its dazzling red
They put it on his nose; it looked just right
And glows bright red in the dark of night.
Rudolph asked “ Well, what's in it for me? "
'Cos, he felt silly, but would wear it for a fee
So, a big bonus he gets with extra pay
Plus, the finest grass on Christmas day.
Written on 12th December 2023