Long Machismo Poems
Long Machismo Poems. Below are the most popular long Machismo by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Machismo poems by poem length and keyword.
Does machismo make a real man
with its excessive ego of superiority?
If it is considered the vital part of masculinity,
how come disregard, vulgarity and obscenity are
highly valued by anyone encouraging this character;
I've known such individuals whose breath
had the stench of alcohol and narcotic...
I was disgusted by such behavior and it made me vomit.
Faithless dudes spend a night in the bar, then go home staggering
to their wives and children...abusing them with vulgar words, screaming,
beating them up and then faint on the neatest bed;
half-men with nugatory affection treat them kindly,
you have promised to love them unconditionally,
why do you break that vow recited before God and Man?
The morning after, your machismo loses its equilibrium...
over the beast you had become, to fill you with delirium.
Machismo is a misconception of what men should be;
machismo evokes dark thoughts of all the evil-minded ones,
not a model to look to or worthy of imitation as expected,
and as your strength swoons, your perception is blocked
by clarity, and your gazes fall to factual disgrace
to reveal fallacy. How will a false-hearted man, filled with machismo, ever be
released from his ominous state? There are countless errors and faults,
and foresight is the solution to his self-inferred woes.
Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci
FOR WHAT IS POWER
For what is power?
A dream, a vision, a destiny?
All un-achievable because….
Because we accept the definition handed down by those in power.
Power is strength. Strength is power.
Rosa Parks had strength, she exhibited power,
not in muscle or machismo but in her presence, in her tenacity,
in her steadfastness. Rosa Parks was empowered
by her strength - to act.
Ghandi had strength, cloth wrapped, sinewy strength.
He exhibited power, in his defiance, his belief.
He shed blood, his own, while refusing to strike back
at those who struck him but at the laws and mores that
permitted such actions. He was empowered
by his strength – to act.
They did not wait to become empowered,
did not seek validation of their strength,
became the empowering strength for others.
Martin Luther King was not empowered by his dream,
he drew his strength from it,
used that strength to empower others
to find their strength, to stand, to march,
to defy, to unify – to act.
And what of us? Will we acknowledge our strength?
Will we use that strength to empower others
to find their strength? Or will we deny that strength
and hope to find empowerment elsewhere.
John G. Lawless
7/10/2014
for Verlena S. Walker contest-Strength Empowers
((sorry Verlena, I blew the line count))
(07/09/11)
He had taken a firm stand
To prove that he was a macho man.
He built his body and tightened his abs
To make them look like the bricks on a wall
But with time those abs would fall.
He thought that by building his body
And looking like a macho man
You would love it and understand.
But he did not think to ask or
To see in you, just what you was going through.
You had fallen in love with him for the way he was
Not for the way he wanted to be
But that was something he did not see.
Flaunting his machismo to everyone around
And starting to put everyone down.
Ignoring you and the family
You decided to set him free.
He did not believe that you would part
But you left him with a broken heart.
Stunned and shocked he didn’t know what to do
And people that he knew, turned their backs too.
There was a lesson he had to learn
Respect is not given, it has to be earned.
Apologizing to family and everyone around
His inner spirit he had found.
“Be Yourself” - you have your own personality
And this is what people love, and people see.
Now that your love has re found her man
Her heart you will understand.
Tongue Twisters:
*********************************M********************************************
Meditation maliciously masks my mighty monogamous minx.
Modestly managing my machismo.
Mastering my maturity.
*********************************P*********************************************
Paranormal peasants of a pathetic and permanent percentile.
Penetrate peace from perjury.
A patriarch parallel to a partial and
partisan passage.
Jared Pickett
10/24/09
Asavvy1
Michelin star cricketing cook…by hook or crook.. so canny..will find every nook and cranny…if you took a look at the record..score or text book ..won’t have forsook ..our dutiful..beautiful babbling Brook
Although the barmy army might suggest this almighty Blighty Test best..is more like an umami tsunami..
Bravissimo heave ho machismo..top grade…gung ho pyro Tyke tyro.. renegade hand grenade.. Bowlers afraid.. dismayed..slayed and flayed..somehow right now kapow..but also retrograde..
Boisterous babbling brook…a silky blade…gorged.. slices through a dappled glade..forged..handmade..the republic of Yorkshire conveyed and displayed
Stands so tall…enthrall with his gall.. like Jaiswal…towering…flowering overpowering..glowering…never cowering ... .just run showering..
Us all believers.. that larruping levers.. panache dashers rule…fielders does tease..
Shirty..become go fetch receivers..flash or is it dirty Harry..360 degrees wheeze with such ease..
What a way to play…with that hint and glint of Clint ..Please ..go on funk punk.. make my day
Not the most erudite but when it comes to timber tickles…willow wizardry….no luddite… will ignite… when things get dark and stark… Harry will be that spark..shining bright delight..having a lark out on the park..
Our sumptuous Aurora explorer…humming run sorcery scorer..tropic kaleidoscopic hues..rambunctious strumming the spectrum with his plectrum..woos queues with verdant voluptuous views
Many a sage would rage..even those on the other side of the Ribble.. wouldn’t quibble or contest..knows..the latest of those white rose heroes..is the Test best of the new age..
A pest..blessed with zest from the Yorky conquest treasure chest....won’t wain and never in vain…slain by Brook’s insane high octane rampage..gets us off the hook again…
Can’t cage..does entertain…on the ultimate stage..his disdain like heavy rain…no refuge from the deluge..babbling Brook subterfuge..floods the back page once again..
True add verse situation,
whereat me mission
trans send dint state didst ache
after yours truly nearly
did nearly break
chassis 'pon took drastic
over corrective measure,
not quite August,
nor jejune piece of cake,
while rounding raised
curbed contra corner
suddenly felt wrath of wife quake,
viz passenger rear tire
gone flat as a pancake
impresario found myself
hearing Thus Spake,
Zarathustra, when in truth...
twas ma constricted trach.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Some weeks back
acting so cool and chic - bank
king all bravado, machismo
self importance, and frank
lee babbling like a cripple creek
off by a black key with Hank
Williams tune imagining
myself swaggering like a lank
key trump petting Don
(feigning faw being "Beefy") plank
walking lampoon able
laughingstock Freaky, thank
less as a lapsed worn eraser head
pencil necked Geek yank
key doodle dandy hood be
forced to do penance as cap
pit dull leotarded asinine
arthouse flop, where nary any words
(worth their weight in gold)
described my benign
behavior, NOT even
smattering of unflattering deign
nig grating hammock colorful expletives,
that would find an ensign
sailor to blush at my inept
shameless travesty over the line
utter in apropos totally tubularly
moronic juvenile mine
ness zero car raze zee antics,
didst drive my doppelganger nine
tee bajillion miles away in search
of another auto body – pine
ning for newer model
then a 2009 Hyundai Sonata sign
ning off contract with this
stunt driver wannabe
unimpressively try'n
to act the blithe dare devil,
while thee spouse didst wine
and scream more'n bloody Mary
as the gunned axle nearly broke
trying my damn nest to
"FAKE" dagger a type cloak
his husband resembled a fool,
where angels fear to tread didst evoke
unsuccessful, unstinting, and unsparing
unstrung epithets of colorful expletives
unsuitable for poetic folk
boot urgent prayer went out
to incredible Hulk
Hogan, and/or even the ghost
of Andre The Giant, this haint no joke!
Our weatherman loves his flamboyant maps.
Apocalyptic works of art, with giant smears of white and pink.
Swallowing half the nation in rococo delight.
He talks in excited hush about accumulation and wind chill.
He has a lust for slush and black ice.
Thunderheads always in his mind like a Prozac pill.
The snow wizard predicted 10 to 12 inches by nighttime.
He was right this time.
He told me to prepare for the blizzard.
I found my favorite shovel. It has a wide silver mouth.
Pushes tons of snow if I give it the power to do so.
Years ago-my arms were forged in the hearth of Buffalo winters
, but they are old arms now, and I waver.
I always start at the foot of the driveway.
Where the snow is heavy and deep, and I'm at my peak.
I keep a keen eye on the snowplow.
Lest he plows me under my emerald dreams.
My neighbor is young, strong, and nimble.
He's like a mad machismo maestro in a whirling snow globe.
I try to keep pace but cannot match him.
He doesn't even wear gloves or a hat.
Maybe that's his way of giving me a handicap.
He started late but still finished well before me.
I hope one day he catches a machismo death...but not really.
This Dissembling Man...
Trod thru three
score orbitz with air
tight (hermetically sealed)
lid on his emotions bare
reft of evincing
concern and/or care
ring forever guarded against
incursions upon fragile as chinaware
psyche foregoing giving
healthy breathing room
never to dare
risk challenging discomfort zones
skirting, hemming, and hawing
deliberately averting, shying,
sidestepping away against
welcoming awkward adolescent
romantic experience, thus
never playfully trying to ensnare
and/or allowing, enabling,
and providing gamesome
opportunities providing willingness
tubby triangulated ascending
ark hay yick teenagehood,
when deux dozen, foursquare,
nor eighteen candlebox birthdays,
nonetheless hungrily glare
ring with salivating
envy peers that hare
tuff hoar did gather
their rose buds...despite,
or perhaps because raging
testosterone overtook coy
demure lassie tude surrendering,
whence young womanly
primal urges let machismo insnare
whereat discovering prickly
"beau" vine love on par
with being a millionaire
despite tiffs that,
tested one's mettle quickly
learning the vital lesson
to turn/beat cutting
edge sword into plowshare
setting the figurative stage,
when feathering one's
nest to prepare
for legal covenant,
(a death do me part
binding resolution) endeavoring
to sustain a lifelong
commitment however difficult and rare.
A True Luxury
So Simple, Never To Much For Me
We Watch The Christmas Lights and Not Think
Despite The Yuletide Brightness, We Do Not Blink
I Surprise You With Poinsettias To Make You Smile
You Never Know When The End Will Come, So I Go That Special Extra Mile
The Tears Of Joy From Your Face Obliterates My Machismo
Radiantly Picturesque, Such As These Go
A Gentle Snow Begins To Fall, and We Rejoice and Give Thanks
Another One Of Many Warm, Classic Moments Fir Our Wonderfully Filled Memory Banks
Times Like These We Need
The Center Of Positivity's Blessing We Take Heed
We Feel So Healed That It Fully Stopped The Bleed
The Nucleus Of Our Sanity Is Finally Fully Freed
Tonight I Honor Thee With A Star Of Generosity
I Treasure The Pleasure Of Our Mutual Coexistence That Is Devoid Of Animosity
The Foundation Of Our Bond Is So Rare To The Touch
A True Luxury Indeed, That Is Why I Miss You So Much
My Angel
My sons on a secret mission full of bravery, loneliness, comradery.
His smiling face I miss so dear, now his aloofness is quite so clear.
Rich politicians making victims from the military industrial system, as they send out the youth to fight battles they would never send their kids on.
Cowards, and hypocrites, selling, negotiating international arms deals to allies that only stab our nation in the back, as they secretly meet behind closed doors to attack.
War, organized religion, money, greed, power, commodities are the fall of man.
One country flexing their arm muscles while wearing a wife beater shirt; stating that their nuclear weapons are more powerful than the others.
A machismo of sorts, taking over the media with no conscious for the real men and women that die and sacrifice for others.
Humans are so combative, so ruthless, so ugly, such cowards.
The peace loving hippies love to justify their hatred for war.
A Justification for a theatrical sort that embraces love through eccentric high brows and their self education appointed by a family lineage of war or peace, of power, or slavery, of hope or despair.
I miss his gregarious smile, his witty little jokes, as I await to hear from him; from an island that was once war torn.
Killed off by the small pox disease, an island that survived several violent take overs. Once governed by Spain, China, and now America.
A super typhoon or two that scared off the locals, and tourists.
Where our brave sailors await their destination to an unknown underwater siege, as they place their lives in the hands of their military seniors.
Freedom is not free, peace is not peaceful, war is raw, the scared hearts that defend my words in this story, fend off cyber criminals that hold our future, and our presence for ransom.
A thorn of crowns that weep for the brave ones, a mother cub , waiting
patiently for her eldest to return.
In a perplexing state of frenzy, a worried mind, an accelerated heart beat, I see his gregarious smile once again, and I know my angel will return.