Long Manufacture Poems
Long Manufacture Poems. Below are the most popular long Manufacture by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Manufacture poems by poem length and keyword.
(particularly when nursed at room temperature)
I learned that Kombucha
best be kept refrigerated lest
said probiotic drink
served at room temperature
(incorporating live bacteria) erupts
chia seeds flying everywhere
potentially causing
serious damage to consumer
as nearly happened to yours truly,
nonetheless patronizes company(ies),
who manufacture
aforementioned healthy beverage.
Analogous to other fermented brews,
one must cultivate an acquired taste
regarding delicately sipping Kombucha
now if you will kindly excuse
wordsmith henpecked and
away from Macbook Pro
fortunately satisfied with poem thus far.
Hello, I got back to laptop
today - December fourth 2021
after few hours elapsed
got hunger pangs
during brief hiatus
experienced relapse concerning
craving vegetarian hypocrite's delight
meat product constituted chicken sausage,
which greasy entree
invariably caused cholesterol to spike.
The missus (a plump carnivore
to the bone with plucky constitution)
vowed never to purchase
named poultry appurtenance ever again
so help me dog, cuz she
(connoisseur of gluten free foods)
attempts to promote healthy eating.
Indeed buzzfeeding body, mind and spirit
courtesy fruits and vegetables
ideally, preferably, and undeniably organic
helps me feel emotionally,
mentally and spiritually fit
able, eager and willing
to staunch the flow,
whereby yours truly
would become deceased,
thus imperative to jot obit
before that instant I exit
stage door left,
the only occasion witnessing
ala bumbling and fumbling performance
(despite unalterable fact that
life haint no dress rehearsal)
courtesy painless suicide
exhibiting true grit
regarding one generic long haired
pencil necked geek,
whose demise undermined,
when his lovely bones
deteriorated analogous to
rotted fascia and soffit.
Golden Boys light years Time Jacks crossbows
The source of regret is sometimes best known by its own remorse
Gords are cheaper to manufacture then glass jars
Fragrance Arura sight sound taste hear feel speak
Pronounce the Miracle as it is performed
Drains the rain as its poured down
Kinetic Energy Telekinesis levitation strong pulls
Omens dreams vision The Spirit is no greater than its DEliverance my sons
Hostess night caps A prideful man boast more
Legends give hope so that all men may learn from them
Stories are more than just passed down they are lived only for a moment
IMagine memorize overcome the spells she has casted on those
Numbers add up sometimes if they don't than go slow
Memories of childhood haunt most of us because the pulls often last longer
Virtual reality is a comparison too that often called Ghost ghouls
Westernly southbound points to the North Pole
Leaning towards the battle zone endurance is what we pray for
Some recalled Kristallnacht,
the white mob’s facial fever,
once the same fever of a night,
now the fever of a day-mare.
Some recalled Charlottesville,
the white mob’s lust for blood,
once the same blood craved,
now the blood of a purgatory.
Some recalled Greenwood,
the white mob’s rampage,
once the Tulsa rage inflamed,
now the ire of the privileged.
Oh persecuted one,
aspiring despot, so maligned and martyred,
your words hang in the air like the endless
echo of wailing toddlers.
Captain of the siege,
What incendiary drivel have you sown?
What lie ignited white wrath again?
Broken glass, shards of democracy.
To steal elections, accuse your enemies of it.
To win by fraud, manufacture it.
To decertify black votes, rile white mobs.
Broken glass, shards of democracy
swept from the floors of the capitol,
the bloodied casualties,
the pipe bombs awaiting discharge,
while white thugs are protected by white justice.
Broken glass, shards of democracy.
White supremacy
beds well with fascism and capitalism.
Broken glass, shards of democracy.
When will the next carnage surface?
Where will democracy die?
they body shame
they spew hate posts dipped
in virulent venom
vehemence for the voluptuous
crazy mad about the curves
mocking the well stocked
where do they get all the hate
wait!!!
they manufacture it
burning off calories
they work themselves into
hate hysteria
zero sized is no prize
what makes thin, in?
Beauty goes through phases
women through their crazes
must fit the body type
that's the hype
fashion famished
emaciated models
thigh gap miles wide
poking bones they can't hide
unhealthy unwell
they send the fat ones to hell
well....
big booty bullies
think they'll get away
with what they write
with what they say
they have no shame
lame...they're so lame!!
haters will hate
to give a damn?
it's too late!
Beauty isn't a size
it's in what you see with your eyes
the beauty within
is not limited
to fat or to thin
it's the size of your heart
so shut up and get smart
Listen to this big girl
Take a bow, take a twirl
Sexy unbound to size
GET WIZE!
Be Body Beauty Brave
Silence the Shamers
Give them a smile
knowing what you do
about BARE truth:
Better to have thick thighs
than thick sick minds....
Eileen Manassian
I follow Tess Holliday on Instagram and Facebook. I love that woman. It really angers me what haters write to her. Her message is simple: Big woman have the right to feel beautiful too. Plain and simple. Haters...move on!
They made mammon somethng measurable, mighty, & magnificent,
everywhere that labor, exchange, & entertainment exist monuments
to money, large and small,
the genesis was excess manufacture
such as grain, gold, textiles & ceramics,
animals & people,
purveyors were born like corn on the cobb,
like mist in morning,
buearruacracies of religion & government emerged from the basic business
of buy & sell, structure was supplied by law & covetuousness,
the greed of need,
people enticed to sell their Spirit in the form of toil for products,
eventually for fiat currencies, profit took the place of contribution,
slavery evolved into serfdom,
from the plantation to the factory unproductive owners needed managers,
individuals with minimal compassion & maximum ambition, essence extractors,
the whip replaced by the 'write up' and tacit threat of poverty,
the iron chain supplanted by hopelessness of ignorance in limited training,dependency,
management believed in synergy,the kind that rewarded the few
at the expense of the many,
the river of Life tore into the irrigation of wealth for selected heredity,
bussinessmen want employees & citizens with low self esteem, shallow interests & passions,
economy as cosmos, profits as pieties, workers as sinners,
edicts of 'minimum wage' and requirements for age are simply Market stabilizers
implemented to ensure profit,
taxes a financial plan of slave paid for regulation,
the management caste, the sociological strata designed to keep laborors feeling underachieving,
crows squawking against crows so that dragons fly free -
J.A.B.
You not interested in knowing my mind,
But your only keen attraction is on my external being.
My interior is nothing you concern to know,
So you gaze at physicality,
And not at the comprehension that obtain in I.
The intoxication of our lips pressed as one,
Brings the dissolved moisture of your inside to surge
down your thighs,
And has the nipple aroused for love manufacture.
You take the diversion that seeks from my mouth,
And takes it as the delightful moment in your life.
You thrust your body on pinnacle of mines,
And have my hands melted into yours like,
Ice cream on a scorching summer day.
You endure the lust to seek out of you,
But your nervous that it may petrified the love you
desire to request for inside.
So we adage in a dialogue,
And you sense my terminology touch your soul.
We continue to amuse each other for hours,
And then your temptation insincerity clutches no
longer.
The being of you attacks me,
Kissing hard and passionate,
Pressing your body deep into mines,
And feeling the beating of my empathy thump numerously
for yours.
So through all the exotic obsession of devotion,
The construction of desire is seeking out of your
pours onto me.
But once the construction of love making has ended,
And the night turns into day;
We terminate the perception of one another.
Cause once again,
The night of instance adore creation,
Has shattered the existence of love to be formed.
Form:
I do so love harvest thanksgiving,
That time of year which celebrates agriculture,
When church flips from being god-centred,
To remembering farmers and good food manufacture.
It’s not an Armenian or Amish allusion,
‘Cos tins are given no problem;
Natural remedies aren’t primed as better,
Than medicines, to the mind and body superior.
As a child who regretfully attended church,
I thought on that day of poverty and Christian giving:
That their offer was kind of a respectable food bank,
A silent redistribution of wealth, income and living.
No food bank is respectable, of course,
But they can channel wealth efficiently and appropriately;
And that the Church offers such for just one day,
Should be celebrated as a positive sign most definitely.
God is sometimes just such an abstraction,
Academically, he’s for the objective mind;
He’s not comforting when your needs are just so real:
Physical, emotional, psychological: he can be so unkind.
When you just need a meal on the table,
And need it supplied by someone else,
Whether by government, food bank or church,
It’s a person that's there, not divine impulse.
I thought it was moral to impose that on believers,
As a kid who just so wanted to talk and shoot,
About real mechanisms, real structures and methods,
Which made life’s systems, dynamics, art and roots.
Being grateful for food, diet and health,
Eclipses salvation humility and responce;
Eternal purpose lays as distant and non-tangible,
To people and belongings which have an unimpeachable force.
Farmers need to be remembered, given relevance,
For their labour, dedication and sheer love of the job;
It’s that occupation and training which ensures,
Our basic daily needs are met not just with contours.
The harvest basket every year means to me hope,
Nourishment for those who starve and scrape;
Church wealth rides so high and mighty on average,
That this real examination is something to advocate.
I have no intention of jumping off the cliff,
Despite having the ability to manufacture a reason,
To show there is a season.
So why am I so sure,
When others who seem much more together, than me,
Jump out of season,
For no apparent reason.
If I ever wrote a list of reasons to,
It would far outweigh the reasons not to.
But still the seasons and the reasons come and go,
And I am still not seen at the top of the cliff,
Despite many a tiff.
I can't blame my apparent sanity,
For this state of mind,
That has got me through so many seasons,
When others for whatever reason,
Have chosen to end a season,
Looking up from the bottom of a cliff,
As all who know me will agree,
I have had moments they don't believe were sane.
Maybe I was born lucky and came without a self-destruct button,
Or decided early on that purpose can outweigh almost any number of reasons,
For not seeing out another season.
Especially if that purpose has was planted in the right soil,
By those who were not afraid of a little toil,
Or cod liver oil,
Mixed with malt that came in a can that never seemed to run out,
No matter how many times my spoon was dipped into it,
When I thought no one was looking.
So, if you are standing at the top of a cliff,
Because of some tiff,
And have never tasted malt and cod liver oil,
I know a place where you can get it wholesale,
But only online while we are in lockdown,
To keep the death rate down.
It's good to be modern, don't you think?
Bowling alley, skating rink.
If we moderns want a swim,
we drive our cars down to the gym.
We've mastered plastics, studied steel,
no fears about tomorrow's meal:
our meat is packed, our fruit is tinned,
our ships can move without the wind!
But, seeking boons beyond all these,
we want to grab some colonies.
You know the kind of thing we mean --
the sea is blue, the forest green,
they pick wild fruit, bask in the sun,
they've never seen a gatling gun,
and when we show up with our forces,
we'll help ourselves to their resources.
We'll load the booty on our ship,
and sail away (and pay them zip) --
back to the belching chimney stacks
of Huddersfield or Halifax,
and "manufacture" something new
(the chocolate egg, the high-heel shoe)
then ship it back to Paradise,
and make them buy it. We win twice!
But 1860 -- what a shock!
Three new kids show up on the block,
see Martinique and Mandalay --
and say, "hey guys, we wanna play!"
The Slant-Eyes, Eyeties and the Hermans
(the Japanese, Italians, Germans)
can now boast countries of their own,
and want to join the Modern Zone.
But Britain and France (and here's the rub!)
are running an exclusive club.
They won't allow the new boys in.
So sit back, watch the war begin!
It was untimely but not unexpected nor unthinkable my husband fetish led him there she was Mexican and black a manufacturer of goods for services my husband frequented her place of business I often wondered where was he open for suggestions on my way to mass there she was Mandy claiming he fathered her child it was weird I felt absolutely nothing at this point I told her you should have told me when I cared right now I feel nothing no anger no jealousy nothing you took that from me if you had told me when I suspected I would have felt something anything at any rate he was a loser crawling into Mexico as I lay I’ll brain injured suffering mental illness today man die serving four years for stabbing five persons I am blessed she didn’t get a chance to stab me in one of her jealous fits she told me her real game plan moving up the ladder sleeping with corrupt detectives providing her with drugs to manufacture hiding her children conceived by the abusive force mastering excessive manipulation manic maniac Mexican Mandy queen pin gang member flea from me Man die alone I wore wires pregnant for the Fbi buying weapons and drugs this revealed my ex husband’s sharing Mandy falsehood looking for a get out of jail free card for brutally stabbing five persons her lover mr detective excessive force back off I donated my abusive ex husband to corruption and Man die severe repeat violent offenders stop badgering intimidation stalking terrorist threats