Long Loren Poems
Long Loren Poems. Below are the most popular long Loren by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Loren poems by poem length and keyword.
Deeper and deeper We go,
inside hell,
While shouting paradise is for the rich
So we hope, so we smoke dope
Deeper and deeper we go
The abyss, the hell I had to come out of
To my dark complexion that I'm sentenced for life in,
Cops and crooks,
Cats and rats so don't snitch!
Mouths sealed and bottoms up
That's straight to the rear end,
A watchtower and a lighthouse
Curse it, dogs are watching again!
Deeper and deeper we go
Hell for the mind,
so i took hallucinations to gamma radiations,
Feeling The effects and having lucid dreams,
altered perception and seeing myself as hulk
High levels of toxins and perceiving my friends as The avengers,
Mumbling to myself that we'll avenge the wrong doings done to mankind,
My brother snapped! and told me to stop with the childish fantasies,
Like the high was over
that's when Thor answered
“like who invited you to the helicarrier”
so we continued,
Deeper and deeper we go
The abyss, the hell for my people
So they gave the keys to my equal
Strange!.....
So he betrayed the clan
To join the kings of the land
Damn that rat!.....
A red dot on the forehead
I ain't the devil so don't you dare!
But I'll be rebelling and not ruling
Well that's what you get for fighting for humanity,
a big sign that states Reality Check,
so curse it!
Drawing circles and inverted crosses
So they call me a satanic,
cause im drawing shapes on the ground and scrambles on walls,
Strange........
This is the call of the kid,
The son of man so there's screaming and worshiping,
we all feeling the spirit.
deeper and deeper we go
We in hell,
Streets and pavements
Tied up, watch out for the cross roads,
That four way leading to the great work
So we walked, chased by dogs,
Curse those hounds but thanks to the man for his kindness,
Loren whispered "what about her?
I replied oh yeah and Marvin grabbed tons of antibiotics,
I guess he had bacterial infection
So I jumped out the window
To escape through the c section,
But i made sure to document all the facts
To adding emphasis so y'all be interested
Thank you all mates.
Charles and my predawn jog was a sweat-athon and as the sun rose, a heat-dome brightness tattooed crisp shadows in every corner. Any lingering coolness was burned off - evaporated.
It was 94°f, 3 hours later, when I walked to campus - why don’t we use parasols anymore? Drag on, radiant afternoon heat, please.
That was 100 proof sarcasm, in case you couldn’t tell.
Hot days seem to drag-on slowly, like waiting for a microwave or a droning, liturgy. It wasn’t in the forecast but I wouldn’t have been surprised to hear, “Today’s forecast is slow, really slow.”
Let’s start an Internet theory that the atmosphere is thinning or we’re just ants under a magnifying glass.
The finally setting sun left a blood red line under the falling blue dark, like a gash of wound in the skin of young-night.
Once my nightly obligations are done (classes, homework, reading), the silence can seem oppressive. I’m used to the never ending hustle, boiling drama and noise of seven suitemates - so there’s that.
On now empty nights, I’m tortured by the high-beating pulse of youth, and I pace my empty apartment, like someone restlessly waiting for their venti-mocha-latte at a Starbucks.
Can anyone suffer like a young woman left all alone?
Why, oh whomever, must I sip from this deep, bitter, undrinkably salty sea of solitude?
In this, my prime season, why do I only manage to exist?
My needs are in a shameful state of decay.
.
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Cruel Summer by Bananarama
Habits (feat. Haley Reinhart) by Scott Bradlee's Postmodern Jukebox [E]
All That I Need by Ebony Loren, Matthew Ifield & Sebastian Kamae
I walk the plank
Lit the bed, laugh at myself
Like whose that in the mirror?
Laughing at me, now I'm sad
Playing with dolls
Hocus pocus to the kids next door,
The voodoo
I contemplated for the whole neighborhood,
The jokes on them
Said Loren after seeing Marvin
The strange feeling
then the day turned soar like lemons,
Dad said thanks to mom and that was it,
Like a cheetah just went by,
Spot the difference?
We in a jungle,
Guess who's hunting?
Not me but I'll be hanging on trees,
Screaming and shouting lift me higher!
As the tormenting begins,
High walls are built
A house with no ceiling for the heavens to peek in,
This is the creation of my cell,
From the pit to the peeks
Its tall like the great pyramids,
Misty and creepy so don't go in
Doors closed for the monster being,
Everything I touch disintegrates
So curse it,
Meditation to levitating
My powers are in,
From opening chakra's to psychic abilities
Telekinesis, I'm moving my dreams
Super human strength
I got the whole world on my shoulders
So they call me a freak,
An abnormal cause im holding weight
Dark glasses and a leather jacket,
Skulls and bones as accessories
Tattoos of doves and butterflies
Man im such a loving guy,
Sit on my throne
The cell of a king
The lockdown of things
Marble flooring,
A house with the whole white interring
Red be the dashing,
animals be in the food chain
so no one would be breaking in.
I’ve been approached, to write this Ode, by Michael:
he wants me to identify three traits
of his. I told him, life is just a cycle
of ups and downs. I cited one Matt Gaetz!
“Don’t count on your intelligence,” I said:
you’re bright alright, but that is where it ends.”
“I need a friend to do this,” he admonished.
“You have,” I pointed out to him, “no friends.”
Internally, he’s clever: outside, dead.
If anybody phones him, he’s astonished.
“So tell them, girls mistake me for George Clooney!”
No way. “No doubt,” I said, “You’re polyvalent.
But as for looks, you’re nearer Mickey Rooney.
Yet I’ll concede your literary talent.”
He seemed appeased by this. “Brigitte Bardot
would love the chance to glance upon my sonnets,
and Sofia Loren says she’s read my plays.”
“You live on leprechauns and Easter bonnets,
you sad buffoon.” I truly told him so.
“The nineteen fifties were your salad days.”
“Those times are gone! Get with the modern world.”
“I’ve got a brain, and I can write a bit:
we need another quality unfurled.”
“There’s no more in your favour. That is it!”
We scratched our heads. We pondered. Nothing came.
“I’ll put up money …” “Michael, you’re absurd.
You couldn’t, if you tried, put up a tent.”
The bribing-plan was stillborn. In a word,
he hasn’t got a penny. All the same,
there’s no-one would deny … the guy’s a gent.
Many are my favorite things,
but nothing is more exciting
that ravishingly beautiful sexy ladies:
those seen in a movie theater
who light up the wide screen under
the Califonia's palm trees swaying.
Marilyn Monroe was an exceptional beauty,
not to mention the elegant Audrey Hepburn,
who many times made my silly heart burn;
and what about Sophia Loren, the Italian sex-symbol,
who attracted men of all ages, and entertained them all,
right after World War II had devasted her beloved Italy?
Today there are more glamorous stars,
and Madonna is one of them for her fabulous
acting in "Evita"...and her, big blue eyes
captured the audiences as she brightly danced;
lots of folks thought she was lewd, but what other choice
did she have, if not rise to power and be admired?
Allow me to list some more sensational beauties:
Angeline Jolie with her dusky complexion and pretty eyes;
a powerful sexiness that woos audiences worldwide,
but is it her talent or sex appleal that people admire?
And finally, another gorgeous actress, July Roberts, who besides her stunning
looks, she was brilliant in, "Pretty Woman" and "My best Friend's Wedding."
Copyright 2010 by Andrew Crisci
thank you Lord for the gifts in my life.
the farah fawcett, the michael jackson my willy wonka,the muhamad ali, the al green.
the prince, the babyface, the elvis presely, the johnny taylor and b.b. king.
the john wayne, the charton heston, the sophia loren. the paul newman, the alfred hitchcock,
the spike lee. the bruce lee, the jackie chan. the david carradine, the johnny carson, the ed
mcmahon, the aretha franklin, the whitney houston. the last batman movie, the matrix
trilogy, the terminator. starwars, indiana jones, dark shadows, star trek, the twilight zone,
cassablanka. the billy joel, the kiss, the aerosmith, the sting. heatwaves greatest hit, the
temptations, the stylistics, the marvin gay. the sugar ray robinson, the roberto durran, the
walter payton, the o.j. simpson trial and marcia clark. the clint eastwood, the brook sheilds,
the richard pryor, the redd foxx, and joan rivers. the rodney dangerfield, the tiger woods
the michael jordan and ozzie smith. the johnny cash the garth brooks. the left behind series,
the internet. the rodney storts; an old preacher that died. and all my childhood heros and
stars. but mostly thank you Jesus for dying on that cross
It’s mellowing around the corners of the moon,
The vision was clearer than the eyes could see;
The breathe was refreshing than the wind could share;
The light was brighter than the sun could give;
And the moments were fairer than life itself.
Alas, the past paste the present;
And the future fears its time.
Long has it been thought about;
And unexpected did it arrive like a sailing boat,
Boarded by the most beautiful but amazing creature.
Fluctuated from year to year depending on the weather pattern,
An impression was made.
I am but a writer with a blowing cup of penny,
And a heart full of roses with beautiful songbirds here and there.
Loren she answered to, wonderful singer she is but broken she was.
I am in love, yes I sure but same emotions she fears to be true.
Call my name and I shall appear,
Smile to my notes and I am yours as you water the notes with your voice.
Remember these moments now, and remember me thus,
For distance is measured in meters but closer it is than you think.
There and back again the writer wrote, as always he will, and the beautiful songbirds sang a new song.
The poverty
It has been raining for days, but now the sun shines
the walls of the old ruin look whitewashed and with its pride intact.
Sunlight makes paucity look nostalgic, a whiff of the old days
when life was supposed to be simpler; a movie by Sophia Loren.
We go on romanticising time of need like it should be an honour,
and the poor are so funny they speak grammarless and happy.
Nevertheless, we give obeisance to the past, a ruin no one in
their right mind will spend money on.
Ah, but I was wrong, and English gentleman- if this adjective
comply, often it doesn`t- has bought the dwelling, plans to
keep its front so it will be an old looking new house and will
live with a churning cement-mixer for weeks.
Whatever happens in the future is none of my business
today is a beautiful morning.
The white man
In Algarve, I met the world's tallest poet
blessedly free of athletic prowess and
dressed for a warmer clime, perhaps Swiss
or some other country nearby
Alas, he suffered from high education and
tended to overlook people, which, in his
case was understandable, but he had
a great sense of irony
He spoke French to my wife, who came
into my study to tell me she looked like
Sophia Loren, who am I to disagree with
a woman who speaks seven languages
The tall poet and I went to the beach
I noticed he was white as unchurned milk
people looked like he came from Mars
whitest human they had ever seen.
One day, he disappeared, going back to
Swiss where people tend to wear solid
shoes, but I remember he recited a few
poems, full of wonderous thoughts.
Gene Autry, Hopalong
And Tim McCoy
Waved goodby to me
As off into the sunset they go
Wild Bil Elliott, The Lone Ranger
And Tonto were there
As we sat around the campfire
In the night air
Gary Cooper, John Wayne
And Johnny Mack Brown
All of them were serious
Not ones to clown around
Fess Parker, Loren Greene
And James Arness
Knew that next week
We would be their guest
After the movies
We'd rush right home
Get on our horses
And relive the show
But oh how my heart did sing
When Joel McCray
And Vaughn Monroe
Came on the screen
You see all of these men
Were heroes to me
Until that night on the H bar T spread
When I told Billy Beer we would be wed
And That is another story !