Long Lubrication Poems
Long Lubrication Poems. Below are the most popular long Lubrication by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Lubrication poems by poem length and keyword.
Aghast at explosive industrialization/
urbanization once sacred wild woodland
whittled away overlain bumper crops
comprising trappings green lighted
supposedly signaling progress unwittingly
overrides avast enclave (teeming with
diverse flora and fauna passively cleared,
dominated, expropriated by dictate of
commercialization, exploitation, fabrication
fueling amalgamation, fabrication, lubrication
oiling cogs and wheels sustaining, murdering
guaranteeing production trumpeted at
expense native flora and fauna acquisition,
cooptation, extermination, gratification
decreed domination *****sapiens usurped
law of land i.e. eminent domain foisted
upon unsullied "new world" defining
European age of exploration, whereby
pristine undulating immense acres
indiscriminately partitioned, (despite
indigenous peoples unrecognized precedence
to remain holistic caretakers of Mother
Earth tendered, predicated, linkedin with
generations worth of sacredness, which
spiritual reverence meant naught to
unwelcome trespassers solely hell bent
to force acquiescence, compliance,
obeisance,... to warlords, whose cruel,
diabolical gall lee jeepers libidinal
incursions sought extinction toward
defenceless native inhabitants subject
to machinations spelling extermination,
yet their restless spirits infiltrate occupants
of once happy hunting grounds devoid
without a trace, when this bucolic tract
devoid of present schlocky vinyl zoned
abodes, whereby fast disappearing vestige
alluding to pastoral vista spurs overactive
imagination regarding yours truly, who
chiefly hankers he got born during
sparse population versus pell mell hustle.
Tackling a slick problem like D’Alembert’s paradox—
a cylinder set in motion, destined to roll on and on—
My fresh numerical method spoke in the same voice,
but sparked sharp debate—someone blamed me for ignorance.
Until a quip cracked the tension: “D’Alembert’s paradox doesn’t account for lubrication.”
Truths can slice deep, sharper than we expect,
Yet a wry smile, a joke, can transmute iron into gold.
Humor doesn’t erase the sting—it dulls the edge,
revealing strength when despair weighs us down.
A sense of humor is our forged armor:
a spark of joy in the heart, a reluctant laugh on the lips—
it signals someone who grasps life's brittle elegance.
A gentle jest softens the hardest truths,
shading overwhelming realities with grace.
When wit stands as a stronghold,
even bitter truths echo with less sting.
You don’t flee reality—you greet it with a grin—
and in that greeting, you find the courage to begin again.
Enough of golden daffodils, romance and paths not taken
Let's lend poetic airing to a subject quite forsaken.
An opportunity's emerged to give a little plug
To that much lambasted creature called the common garden slug.
Though snails have stirred the poets' muse on many an occasion,
The slug has been subjected to a poesy evasion.
No poet worth his salt would waste much time on this intruder;
A slimy, homeless gastropod and shameless gunge exuder,
Repellent garden wrecker with a squirming gloopy tail
Which lathers lubrication in a sticky winding trail.
But just to be contrary have you ever stopped to think
How an absence of these creatures would create a mighty stink?
They go about their business eating signs of plant decay
And help the ecosystem in a beneficial way.
The hedgehogs, frogs and badgers, salamanders birds and shrews
Would view their disappearance as quite catastrophic news.
So next time you are tempted to dismiss them as a pest
Take pity on the homeless and give naked slugs a rest!
20.05.20
And Now For Something Completely Different Poetry Contest
Sponsored by John Lawless
My soul had long been troubled...
by hatred,
dejectIon
and contempt.
They were the poisons
that flowed red in my veins,
burning like wildfire from my head to my toes,
as if this world were inhabited by demons:
that have teeth instead of fangs,
tongues instead of flickers,
and take delight in loading tears with sorrow.
But from that day you responded to my greetings,
the heavy burden life placed on my mind...
was lifted by your single show of love,
such that I am full of smIles,
joy and grace.
Your love is the lubricant:
that greased the torpedoes
fired from the mouth of haters...
the balm that soothes
the wounds my foes inflicted...
a calm for all my affliction.
You became my protective shield ~
that the fashioned weapons of enemies
became like blunt sticks...
landing with no impact,
no pain,
no repercussions —
more of a toothless bulldog.
My machine needs more of your lubricant, sweet baby,
be my lifeblood,
giving a kiss without a hiss,
that invisible driver
that rolls sorrow into the abyss,
needing no assist to resist ~
evil over good —
an emolument as my emollient.
I can't just be insouciant
to your love being my life's lubricant.
It is like trying to recant
all the toxicants
that hatred had previously injected in my life.
So let the lubrication
brought to oil the machine of my love
never dry,
let it run through my system:
cleansing every trace of hatred left behind.
Reborn my soul.
Redefine my purpose...
my eternal lubricant.
Even in my words on the computer, I still like to offer a prayer before I fall asleep.
At times, I walk and wonder if my past is a prediction of my future.
I see your message as I study with others. Each time, there is a union of three people.
When I am alone, I pontificate on your message and your guidance.
All I can see is peace through my tears of strength.
It is the lubrication of my soul that I come to speak with you.
The person I love is far away from me.
It has taken me time to realize that they are the chosen ones.
You have revealed them to me. Yes, there are times when we both ask if we are meant for each other.
Stil,l you keep pulling us together and apart from one another as a divine yoyo.
Well, this is just proof that you are not rigid.
You tend to make those you know will be the destiny of one another to go through trials so that they can prepare others for their path.
Feelings of jealousy are only a reminder that we are destined for each other.
Jealousy is meant for those who are in love with one another.
You once stated that you were a jealous God/god, to the point where you would not share us with others.
All of the other gods have not been like you.
What they sacrificed supposedly is not enough.
You came into the world and became the flesh to pay for all of our sins so that you could have us again.
I see that you are in control, and we must become unified in you for the divine blessings.
Proximity is not your concern, as you have scattered many among the nations for your purpose.
These scatterings add diversity and unity as each will find their own.
The man will find the woman as both have different lives; however, you have made this so in an effort to make us more unified and stronger for the future.
I feel it smoothly, gliding freely,
Liquid fluidity surging.
Not a fraction of too much friction,
An undulating path followed effortlessly.
Movement and balance allowing continuous flow.
A sense of harmony as the lubrication guides easily.
Embracing depth with no distraction.
No tension felt as if all melts with fluid energy.
A transition of like particles melding without abrasive motion.
A sleek silky transition is accomplished.
Liquid fluidity surges.
The artist textured an abstract artwork to the canvas.
Bold gradient strokes, are a pivotal attraction adding to the ambience.
Light, and layered emotion captivate through transitions and bold contrasts.
The paint melts across the canvas, intersected by frivolous bubbles and a masterful juxtaposition of cracked and fluid textures.
Each element from the fractured patterns to the luminous flow of paint, contributes to a sense of wonder of movement.
The more I gaze into this painting the more I see the effects of lubrication.
Imagining the paint is still actively moving freely on the canvas to a degree.
Well, she boiled up the water
in a construction worker’s can now:
seems she forgot all about the library
that she told her old man now:
and with the kettle boiling,
she’ll serve up some cups of Jiguan now -
and she’ll have fun, fun, fun
till her daddy takes the teapot away.
Went to a dance
looking for romance:
saw Barbara Ann,
but I left with JD Vance.
My buddies and me
are getting real well-known:
Zelensky met us
and he sold us a drone.
We came in on the Sloop John B,
Mbappe and me:
Around Nassau Town we did roam.
The beer was like pee:
I caught an STD:
I feel so broke up,
I wanna go home.
She’s giving me good vibrations
with quality lubrication.
I think they’re taking a notion
in Californ – eye – ay
to throw themselves in the ocean
before election day.
The options are gruesome,
as you’ll acknowledge when
it’s bushy-bushy-bon Newsom
or Orange Trump again.
I spent my day shopping for rubies
for my Mommy who wished to mate
misheard though because I was small
asked for boobies instead for her date
the vendour asked me how many
I replied I only had money for one
he offered two small ones instead
in that way cost would not overrun
silicone or saline he wanted to know
water goes well with my rubber duck
I’d like them squeaky please dear Sir
but I can’t say what rhymes with suck
they go with shackles or do they not
would you kindly wrap this small gift
she said about suspense or suspenders
the present has to give her face a lift
then I need two rings but have little dosh
a stud is what she called Dady at night
ripple rings the two have also mentioned
but are the two tit offerings watertight
must not wet sheets when evening comes
they tell me off when I pee in my pajama
threaten me with going back into diapers
by the sound there is enough adult drama
cash or plastic the shopkeeper enquired
but you mentioned sodium chloride solution
plastic is like rubber and they’re not using any
and in any case there is quite enough pollution
here is my piggy bank for payment trick or treat
I give you that and can throw in some lubrication
from the night stand to oil this smooth transaction
now I must rush not to miss this eventful occasion
oh one last thing or am I pushing your pleasure
I think Dad needs a penal extension or a trembler
for when he runs out of steam in hot shot pursuit
this party is a treasure hunt they’ll always remember
09th July 2020
True love was once a distant fantasy
An affection based on a fallacy
A theme for movies and stories
A thirst for the rejected and lonely
A self-conscious boy, I lived
A vicious world around me, I believed
Who has time to love?
When there are only moments to survive
Time for myself, is time I scrambled
Words for myself, are words I mumbled
But discovered time is never enough and words can lie
When I saw a glimpse of myself in a girls eyes
One hello, one phone call, one snack
I felt a hungry emptiness inside
One hug, one long call, one stroll in the park
Then came a longing I couldn’t hide
Our common tastes gave me a thrill
Our conflicting views made me real
I opened up and knew myself more
And when she did, I began to adore
That which was distant, was as close as an instant
That which was a fallacy, was truer than a romance
My first love was like a birds first flight out of a lonely nest
The thrill transcending fright, as I aimed for the crest
In my arms was a centre of my attention
I grip that could not be loosened by any lubrication
She turned a fantasy into this reality I have
I learnt a new side of me with my first love
Come on and race with this heavenly devil
Watch as hail reigns on that holy umbrella
You could never become a conductor of this level
I only race with the devil
I ain’t no sinner, but don’t judge me
Temptation drifts toward beginners
Only trials touch me
Alcohol and lustful trust all through your body
Like diarrhea gots a three year old rushing to the potty
Ghostly stats, bitter chit chats
Conquered maps bleeding on mats
Hustler magazines, lonely couples addicted to claps
Strapped in lubrication
So I can live to climax another day
White around my nostrils
Maybe I’ll live to quit another way
Witness my enemies coming ever so toward me
I’ll never live to see a better Hell
For death has assured me
This is only a prelude to a dream
Pastors and priest
Never hesitate to infiltrate my schemes
To get major means
Reality floats above my vanilla sky’s
My conscience tells me
Gods screaming aquapella or at least he tries
Life has no scene selection or fend protection
Choices of a simple election
Hardships are our special features
Heaven and hell have never been so neutral
So come on and race with this heavenly devil