Long Lobbyist Poems

Long Lobbyist Poems. Below are the most popular long Lobbyist by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Lobbyist poems by poem length and keyword.


Premium Member Todays Soapbox Opinion

Today’s Soapbox Opinion
Written: by Tom Wright
6/27/2019

 Ambition, to politicians, is like powerful drugs,
We’re shown clean hands but most resemble slugs.

Seems It’s more of the same with every election,
And this years field typifies a dingbat collection.

Catering to lobbyist while with voters patronizing,
They can’t seem to agree on where the sun is rising.

Each has an agenda and firmly set in these ways,
A socialist wants free stuff and the wealthy pays.

America is a country where opportunity is rife,
We’ve become a fractured nation, thus inducing strife.


“Well done is better than well said”
Benjamin Franklin
© Tom Wright  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Couplet


Premium Member Good Old Boys

Good Old Boys
Written: By Miracle Man
6/17/2019

Our country is presently run by “good old boys,”
We’re inundated daily with incessant noise.
Their primary focus, is on accumulating wealth,
And spinning the media to keep matters stealth.

There’s only one remedy to rectify this matter,
Vote in term limits and watch “good old boys” scatter.
But change won’t happen for it requires them to fix,
They were born with the smarts, and see us as just hicks.

One thing is perplexing and definitely isn’t funny,
Is the way they choose to spend the tax payer’s money.
All the time, from lobbyist pockets, they’re busy gleaning,
Causing egotism to take on an entirely new meaning.


“What is morally wrong
Cannot be politically right”
William Gladstone
© Tom Wright  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Lyric

Premium Member Term Limits Are Needed

Term Limits Are Needed
Another Tom Opinion
1/16/2021

When running for office they run as our elves,
but once in hallowed halls become full of themselves.

Voters send some as pups, who’ve become set in stone,
unwilling to retire as long as meat’s on the bone.

Some now north of eighty and firmly entrenched,
send enough pork back home to avoid being benched.

They won’t willingly retire and give up these alms,
as long as lobbyist will continue greasing palms.

Many votes are cast just to gain some lobbyist’s favor,
and It really doesn’t matter about political flavor.

Then comes election time and a huge media blitz,
as dirt is uncovered they’re exposed as hypocrites.

But there they remain, another wrinkled up old face,
expounding on all they’ve done so voters won’t replace.

Many speak of swamp draining but I see there’s no rush,
and unfairly I’ve painted each with the same brush.
© Tom Wright  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Couplet

Premium Member On My Soapbox Again

On My Soapbox Again
Miracle Man
7/28/2023

Most politicians are becoming political snowflakes,
If not in agreement you’re viewed as a traitor.
They cow to lobbyist, while playing patty-cakes,
and queried by the press they become a debater.

Some are offended by the words husband or wife,
so a bill is in congress to force the word spouse.
The word binary can be chosen at start of new life,
but this type of changes, some will never espouse.

We’re doing every sinful thing under the sun,
and I’m thankful that I don’t have much longer.
At eighty-four my life’s race is near being run,
so I pray for sweet Jesus just to make me stronger. 



Matthew 24:13
But he that shall endure unto the end, the same shall be saved.
© Tom Wright  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Quatrain

Premium Member Prince Among Paupers

While I'm not so sure
I would go so far
as to exchange our WhiteHouse Prince
with our homeless shelter Paupers,

I would support
a matriarchal unlobbied petition
that our WhiteHouse Prince
could best reside in nearby resonant shelters
where he will find all the advisers
and secretaries
and counselors
he may need,
and more,
about what not to do
to further offend
those who could never afford
even a part-time lobbyist,
much less an ecopolitical therapist.

A Prince among Paupers
is what I patriotically seek
to relearn by listening
to Mother Earth's hard cooperative lessons
in what is a cultural climate  of and for health
and what are failing economic landscapes of pathology,
disinvestment away from well-sheltered regenerativity.


Premium Member Click

Of the people I know
And the people I see
All want to be happy
All want to be free
Of organizations, clubs, and groups
Forcing their opinions
Through political loops
To the masses their way is right
Preaching their peace through a superior fight
Religion, race, color, and creed
All to fill an empty need
Right wing, left wing, republican or radical
Reformist, anarchist or arsonist
Socialist, communist and lobbyist
Or………………………… Liar !
No matter what group you belong
You’ve given your soul for hire
Your part of a click
Playing a game
Learning the trick
To belong………you have to get along
Strength in numbers, masses with the same idea
All with the agenda of wanting to be free
One common goal
To put the other click in the hole
Do yourself a favor
Be your own click
Have your own thoughts and ideas
To yourself be true
It’s yourself that you please
Things are never what they seem
But to be part of a group with common goals
Is the ideal dream
Just never lose yourself in the idea
Let it work for you, not the other way around

Eric (and sometimes not)
© Eric Nolan  Create an image from this poem.

Premium Member Mr Softy

The Illinois emperor favors no bail for the violent
He's a softy in the middle, and more so on crime
From his bullhorn pulpit, he proclaims that we're safe
I'm afraid the land of Lincoln is made of papier-mâché.

He lives in a crystal bubble in a billionaire's den 
with state-of-the-art, impenetrable defenses.
He hates the 2A and the working-class men
his weapon of choice is a red-headed commie pen.

His next plan is to mix wildlife into our lives
like lions and elk and black bear... oh my.
He's caved to the lobbyist and tree-hugger friends
while playing with his snubby under a wooden desk...
But the citizens of Cook County keep voting him in; he bribes them with freebies and slaps them on the wrist.

Braggadocio Haint the Style of This Whelk Hooked Sluggish Autodidact

Nay, despite failing to make the grade,
     this bluesy well red, duff mute 
     average white band hit,
     hard knock school alumnus
jack of all trades master of none bumped along

     pot hole cratered steep pitch
     while riding the bus
bullies skewered kosher me all, cannibalized
     carte blanche timid ego

     brandishing exacto knife
     threatening jugular, cuss
sing maniacally pulling out all stops
     going headstrong for this doofuss

Embracing premonition making me mincemeat
     vis a vis via, Atilla the Hun plus
Godfrey Gordon Gustavus Gore
     after diet of worms

     as hors d'oeuvre hug guess
if given a choice, would prefer Loch Ness
monster, or the whale that swallowed Jonah,
     either t'would be a quite im press

heave feted feat, versus being poached,
      roasted, skewered burnt alive
perhaps sautéed to feed additionally, 
     the Gothic (Jacks sin) five
the latter adorned with

     Bandolier prototype, whence they would jive
to Vandals mess sigh ya,
     these last yet another contra band
     to play on command, or risk not being 
     he gee beegee bing  a live

all thee above iterated blather spluttered
     as punishment against revive
ving human sacrifice by pence hoove lee donning
     a new jersey wordlessly trumpeting, and strive

ving assiduously as a one man lobbyist,
     and aye willingly negotiate
     to take more'n one wive

even though that would be big o' me decor,
thus a last minute reprieve given 
     without axing por favor
and black keys handed over

     to Holy Roman Empire in hoar
rubble ruins (over the Weeknd), thus brutish nasty,
     and short tempered surprisingly
     (boot not prematurely) ejaculating bon jour

foo fighters actually (grand 
     aery an nah - did a three sixty)
     feting me guest of hun or,
boosting self esteem, the first time
     since being a kid in a candy store

which poetic digression
     did make quite a dee tour,
and bringing detente amidst marauding
     village people hoop reef furred war.

Premium Member Psst, You There, Just Once Won'T Hurt I'M Your Friend

Psst, You There, Just Once Won't Hurt
I'm Your Friend
By: Tom Wright
07/03/99

I have stolen your children,
caused broken homes,
fostered child abuse
and killed your neighbor.
Because of me you have ungodly thoughts
and perform ungodly acts.
I shorten your life.
Ad men say that I'm what's happening
while many teens think I'm cool.
Like other sin, I'm portrayed as glamorous,
the in thing to do.
To many, I'm a crutch,
still others an excuse.
When lonely, I'll pretend to be your companion,
for awhile.
Socially, I'll be just one of the guys.
I'm a battle in which you can't win,
at best, a draw.
To many, I'm classified as a disease
but correctly put, I'm a DRUG-- a habit.
A habit that you can't break.
Millions are spent yearly fighting things I've caused
yet I remain stronger than ever.
Man keeps statistics on Drugs,
Wars, Aids, Heart failure, Cancer,
Cigarettes and Automobile wrecks.
So it is with great pride that I say
I am responsible for more deaths than any of these
and the primary cause of a large part of these.
I raise insurance rates,
steal your pride,
and cause degradation and embarrassment
at every given opportunity.
Political lobbyist protect me as if their first born.
Citizens seek restitution in your courts
for wrongful deaths in all manner of things,
but not against me.
You will sue the car maker, the driver, the gun maker,
or the tobacco company,
but never the Spirits Industry.
I have a free ride as I destroy your lives.
Oh, in and of myself I'm not bad,
I've many useful purposes
and man has made me what I am.
I am that small bottle
that society chooses to ignore,
called Alcohol.
Psst, hey kid, over here
want a drink?
© Tom Wright  Create an image from this poem.

Premium Member Term Limits

Term Limits
Would Drain The Swamp
Miracle Man
8/12/2023

Now draining the swamp
is a worthwhile topic,
Only those who could drain it
appear to be myopic.

I oft hear the catch phrase,
“It’s for the American people”.
But if swamp truth be known
it’s usually for congresspeople.

Their interest lies mostly
in things benefiting their person.
So as a consequence, I think,
I’m seeing things worsen.

Seems decisions are born
from some political whim.
So term limits won’t come
because it affects them.

Most politicians know lobbyist
on a first name basis.
Lobbyist are like unlicensed banks
and a political oasis.

It’s a game of “you scratch my back, 
and I’ll scratch yours”
A swamp once filled with snakes
 is now home to dinosaurs.
© Tom Wright  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Quatrain

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