Long Lip service Poems
Long Lip service Poems. Below are the most popular long Lip service by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Lip service poems by poem length and keyword.
Social media became the judge that poisoned physiognomy
Social media now has its own psychology
There is no more genuine face to face interactions, because lust floods biology
The face has been erased for the pixels of sexology
A drowning economy because we rather support only fans than find ways to support the bureaucracy
No wonder we are seeing the death of neuropsychology
Roles so reversed we have lost the genealogy
When she looks in the mirror she sees Daddy's eyes, and Momma's smile but the world undresses her facial personality
Curving conversation selfishly only seeking the artistic curves of her body
When he stares at the broken glass, he sees Momma's strength and Daddy's courage but the world sculpts his body into the pleasure of a transactional protection, oh the dichotomy
When the world saw a face, it used to reveal the honest truth
Lord knows you could smell a lie under the bags of weary eyes
Lips used to serve kindness now you need a social media degree to get by lip service and scams
We no longer see face to face, so word of mouth has turned into opinions over facts like everyone is playing telephone
I hear you through the keyboard, but your WPM aren't fast enough to hold real weight
So, I'll just wait until you can say it face to face
p.s. you used to see a heart when you looked at the face...
Poetry is what happens when your mind stops working, and for a moment, all you do is feel. ~The 2nd-century Greek philosopher, Atticus.
giving lip service to trending topics
might ensure a broad reach
with ample accolades
but does the multitude
actually read the words bleeding on your page
written to the heartbeat of fear?
history does not prepare us for the reality
where we are now adrift in uncharted waters
our voices drowned out
by a tsunami of opinions
even in the legend of Noah’s ark
the basic human need of a partner
is understood
I don’t have a need for the populace
but an innate need of you
just to sit with me
as we ignore the broader reach of Lilith’s shadow
washing over mankind
He’s a Sunday Morning Christian
Sitting prominently in his pew,
On the other six days of the week
He exploits folk like me and you.
From his position of privilege,
Where he’s never known any need,
He accuses the low paid worker
Of striking out of avarice and greed,
Thinks there’s something wrong
With their concept of work.
Instead of being grateful
They only whinge and shirk.
The service being over and
His contribution being made,
His conscience newly clear,
His lip service being paid,
He puts away his Christianity
Until this time next week
To continues his exploitation
Of the sad the poor the weak.
Suddenly it’s next Sunday,
Another eventful week gone,
This Sunday morning Christian
Puts his Sunday morning suit on.
Talk to me you losers,
am I being sent to Coventry,
I need more adulation,
lip service on tap, so damn hungry,
Living off my work, lap dogs
you bite the hand that feeds,
I want my daily dose,
of granulated egotistic seed,
O please talk to me,
your silence is a torment,
Like dying slowly in my
quick drying cement,
All alone on my own,
got a signal on the phone,
Ring you bastards of mute,
Why me I should’ve known,
Under the train I’ve been thrown,
In bits on the tracks,
left dead amongst stones,
Well it’s just not good enough,
I’ll buy new friends
Sick of you anyway,
was all just pretend,
Yes I’ve got money just
gonna spend, spend, spend,
Always cheers me up,
I’d highly recommend,
Now sycophants are
knocking on my door,
Lick that crap off my boots,
cheap little whores,
Dance you swine,
while I scratch my golf balls,
Ha ha this is great,
better than any phone calls,
So now take that, imaginary
no good chicken feed,
I’m a man, of influence,
my heart doesn’t bleed,
What’s that I hear, your loaded,
but have no real power,
Hmm quite true,
I do live in an ivory tower.
Fed up again,
would be better if I was king,
Could control the hoard,
carry much more sting,
A whole empire below me,
quaking in their boots,
Unlimited peasants to harass,
guaranteed salutes,
No matter how thick the mud,
it would never stick,
The almighty grandiose,
mayor of slick,
What the, don’t ring me now,
damn my poem is stumped,
Anyway I became POTUS
the name is Donald Trump.
By
David Kavanagh
POTUS = Person Of Totally Unfiltered Smug
If Joe Biden is our only hope,
Where do we go from here.
Inspired by Kevin and Sophie's love story in a show. Heartbreaking and moving.
I thought, and you thought
By Michelle Morris
25/02/2024
I wanted you to see me
Like you see the world through your lens
I wanted to be included
In the joy that your creativity brings
You wanted me to join you
Leave my life to meld with yours
Fly across the country
Leave behind my family and cords
I thought you were excluding me
That I wasn't exciting enough
And when I found out you cheated on me
You broke my heart and my trust
You thought I wasn't supportive of you
That I didn't believe in your dreams
You thought I didn't think you'd make it
Have a future as a photographic genius
I thought, and you thought
And yet somehow we didn't trust our feelings
We tamped down our deepest emotions
And didn't communicate our secrets
I thought, and you thought
Maybe it was just too much for this love
Because truth and respect and loyalty
Deserve more than lip service and ego
I wanted you to see me
You wanted me to support you
Round and round our inner dialogue coursed
Instead we chose to ignore it
I moved on to a new life
You moved on to yours
Like star-crossed lover tales
Forever from afar adored
Maybe when we're older
We'll look back with wisdom and light
Forgiveness of betrayal and sadness
A second chance to make things right
© Michelle Morris, 2024
May I have the attention of the soup please,
some flies have been tainting and
contaminating the contents,
Some think they are been infiltrated by non paying members
like myself, that actually believe if they subscribe
they will receive lip service for their poetry.
Please remember some people actually
believe in not subscribing for this very reason,
and that poems deserve comments on their own merit.
Remember a star or torch beside your name is symbolic
of subscription and not an accolade on your poetry
or a judgmental privilege to slate.
People will only respect the actual quality
of your poetry and the integrity of your comments.
A lot of poets on this site have strong beliefs in a
higher authority, and I respect that fully,
But there is no absolute authority on this site,
In my eyes we’re all equal regardless of our
beliefs, sex-color-race-age-height, get the idea.
All newcomers deserve encouragement unless
they’re outrightly offensive for the sake of it.
I have absolutely earned no right to write this SLAM
but feel the need to be blunt, with the tiny minority
who attempt to bully others for
expressing themselves in a transparent manner.
Please remember bully’s are cowards
that hide in the ether of cyberspace
never throw your hand that’s exactly
what they want, believe in yourself,
We have nothing to lose only the bullying
By the way I am a nobody.
By David Kavanagh
Form:
I came upon serried ranks
Of once-men who'd given their all,
Silent sentinels who'd known fear,
Pain and terror before their fall.
They'd stared the grim Reaper in the face
And knew their time had come.
But there were those who knew not that
Their lives were a rounded sum.
Some in distant lands had fought
For causes they knew not what
A vague concept of patriotism
In them was drummed and taught.
Cannon-fodder or grist to mill
You may call it what you want
A budding life, a blooming soul
Sacrificed to dogma and cant.
Time passes by, we sing their praise
And recall their valiant sacrifice.
We thank them for all they did,
And forget them in a trice.
For such is the folly of a war
For whate'er cause it's fought
The soldiers give their ultimate
And soon they are all forgot!
Form:
We charge into battle,
Everyone side by side,
Prepared for inevitability,
Through the course of the ride,
We'll get cut, we'll get hit,
We'll get smacked around often,
While our critics and enemies,
Pray that we soften,
Our most secret of weapons,
They cannot detect,
They can't buy it or steal it,
Or, for themselves, resurrect,
It's knowing, for certain,
That we will prevail,
Knowing how to succeed,
Knowing how not to fail,
Our relevant outcome,
We cannot predict,
The time, place or nature,
The fate that we picked,
You choose a direction,
And follow it through,
Use all of the power,
That's inside of you,
If this becomes habit,
A worthy addiction,
Dreams turn into life,
From mere interesting fiction,
Some call it hot air,
Or simple lip service,
From unknown results,
That make you so nervous,
Precisely, my point,
If you can't control,
Anyone or anything,
Except for your soul,
The power of one,
When squared or when cubed,
Remains just the same,
One less than two,
But add to it slowly,
No multiplication,
Your singular voice,
Has mass replication,
So, bring on the battle,
There's strength in our lot,
Enough to defeat,
The fear that we fought,
The battle is over,
And we remain standing,
Our feet have absorbed,
The force of the landing,
Our win is subjective,
To what was at stake,
Our real intentions,
Or those we forsake,
Did we attempt,
Did we progress,
Was thinking and action,
Used under duress,
What more can we ask,
But response-ability,
Set goals and plans,
Build its facility,
Push ahead, gather,
Supplies for the journey,
Including first aid,
And a one-size-fits-all gurney,
So, here is my hand,
Please take it somehow,
My other I need,
To wipe sweat from my brow,
Because one thing is clear,
Despite smoke in the air,
We'll win going away,
Proceed if you dare.
(5/2/98)
We live today in a world of great tumult
And of rising uncertainty and anxiety
Which pervade the world stage like a cancer
Despite soaring technological advances
Our environment and our home Earth
Are bearing an unimaginable burden
People are wondering what must be done
To right these wrongs and adjust our course
Before we turn the corner to “No Return”
Tyranny, Poverty, Disease, and War
Are still with us today since the beginning
Of time and are mankind’s greatest shame
God may be with us intellectually
But mankind must be self-reliant
To survive an inattentive, distant deity
People see answers to these enigmas
Sounds are made, echoes are heard
But nothing comes back in response
Frustration reigns supreme for many
Fear and anxiety multiple all concerns
There can never be easy answers
*******
Tyranny still reigns alive in many countries
As the actions of tin-eared dictators abound
And are on ample display for all to see
Poverty is still a shameful, terrible curse
Which afflicts the most unfortunate
And is paid lip service by the wealthy
Disease is a scourge still in our world
And still felt by those most in need
And never enough is done to change this
War is the ultimate insult to mankind
And its wide-felt swath and affliction
Plagues yet our modern, enlightened world
What to make of all these challenges
Is not easy for any of us to digest
And let alone understand why
Yet understand, comprehend we must
If we want a better world for all to live in
A Sisyphean task at its very best
Man still holds the key to make change
Positive and real for our troubled Earth
But can it ever be really so in the end
Gary Bateman, Copyright © All Rights Reserved,
Schoeningen, Germany (October 16, 2014)
(Tercet unrhymed poetic format)
three o'clock soap
the edge of night
day off from school
partridge family
traveling band
a tv road show
televised
landing of the moon
reloading cheese plate
warm country feelings
littlest house
on the prairie
star trek
interstellar adventure
before homework
reciting lessons
during carol burnett show
queen of improv
sunday night
with ed sullivan
~ old flannel pj's
columbo
trench coat and cigar
adjusts rabbit ears
the birds vertigo
alfred hitchcock clocks in
creepy shadows
sonny and cher
sassy lip service
do not try at home
bedtime lights out
good night
waltons
AP: Honorable Mention 2025