Long Manufacturers Poems
Long Manufacturers Poems. Below are the most popular long Manufacturers by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Manufacturers poems by poem length and keyword.
the only real winners in conflicts ~ are the arms manufacturers
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bombing campaigns don't ensure victory ~ people's resolve is stronger
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wars are expensive for everyone involved ~ peace costs you nothing
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why are schools and hospitals always targeted ~ they cannot fight back
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Just because others do not share your views ~ doesn't mean that they are wrong
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history remembers the warmongers ~ but why not the peacemakers
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talks about ceasfires and peace are futile ~ without trust and compromise
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lennon and plastic ono band sang give peace a chance ~ so why don't we
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why do all the despots in the world ~ have weapons of mass destruction
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skeletal buildings a dreary landscape ~ once thriving communities
Written 14th April 2026
You must have heard of “planned obsolescence”
But manufacturers say it ain't so
A devious mind surely thought this one up
Must be absolutely rolling in dough!
An automobile could be made to last forever
If these guys would play by the book
But once they discovered the money involved
They're decidedly hopelessly hooked
And what about toner for your printing machine
Imagine if it lasted a lifetime
You could buy a yacht with the money you save
You don't have to be an Einstein
To figure out what these shysters are doing
Their bottom line is all that's important
So what if they have to be a wee bit underhanded
It's disgusting and absolutely abhorrent
Well hello, great masters of devious deceit
We're on to your tricks and games
But we carry on with our thumb up our bum
We've only ourselves to blame!
© Jack Ellison 2013
why will men fight and suffer to advance the interests of their masters, who fling them aside when they have no further use for them?
Arthur Findlay
The black king and the white king, well they didn't see eye to eye
A war was looming, but not them; it was the pawns that would die
They placed them up to the front, with their cavalry at the rear
No side had any notion of backing down, and no side showed fear.
God is surely with us, the bishops on both sides proclaimed
Anyone saying otherwise would have been publicly shamed
A white pawn was the first to move forward, ready for the fight
But in just a couple of moves was struck down, by a black knight.
Two white knights moved forward in a blazing counter attack
The black pieces managed to hold the line and didn't fall back
Then a white bishop moved forward in a straight diagonal line
Black King told his pawns to move forward; everything will be fine.
The black queen wanted action and urged her pawns to be brave
But it wouldn't be her or the king that would be digging their grave
One by one her pawns were slaughtered, like lambs on the battlefield
A ceasefire was out of the question, because neither side would yield.
But the proud white king was about, to meet an agonising fate
When the black queen with her knights, declared a checkmate
But there were really no winners or losers, in this senseless war
Supporters on both sides wondered, what the hell it was all for.
The two main players in the background escaped without a scratch
And were already preparing to meet on the battlefield, for a rematch
Both sides exchanged their battered pieces of the injured and the slain
And maybe tomorrow or the next day were preparing to do it all again.
Meanwhile the arms manufacturers, were making big monetary gain
Whilst the landed gentry ate caviar and sipped on their champagne
Victory parades were held in all the towns, with all the pomp and flair
Hollow platitudes read out to mourn the dead, but do they really care?
Written on 6th June 2022.
Whatever is good is divine,
Whoever chooses wrong is entwined with evil,
Let the foul pollute themselves,
And those who lie, let them continue their tales.
Bad liars must have good memories.
Today, my passion is my solace,
It helps me navigate the madness around me.
It only takes one, two, three to trigger my anxiety.
"The thoughts you resist persist," they say.
With the positive energy I hold,
I greet you all with a hearty welcome and a smile,
Letting you know I appreciate every one of you.
Whatever is good is divine,
Whoever chooses wrong is just evil.
My life is an open book, revealed in my poetry.
Some seek plastic surgery to better themselves,
I improve my mind with my writing.
Words are my friends, surrounding me.
As my broken heart aches, my writing improves,
Like a crying baby given a lollipop.
At times, the sound of rain calms me,
Lying awake won't help, but the tick-tock of rain might.
I choose my words carefully,
For manufacturers lie at times,
And one size doesn't fit all. Because the manufacturers lie at times
All sizes don’t fit all.
The air is foetid and breathing is so difficult.
The open window allows floating debris,
To spread its pungent staleness over all.
It’s a difficult struggle for sunlight to shine
Through the clouded fog we must inhale.
I see more pallid faces of people at the portal.
Where I read trees and flowers once grew,
Is now an industrial slum with a thick oil slick,
Oozing across the land, dead trees pillaged.
A cemetery for what once was, a thing called beauty.
Nothing that can be described that way still exists.
Farms had to die in the regal name of progress.
Oceans of fish polluted and poisoned, whales extinct.
No sand left on our beaches, Coral reefs destroyed.
Shorelines stinking and black, streams contaminated.
Waters have risen and islands sunk into the seas.
A novelty to see one of the remaining birds,
Concrete replaced something they used to call grass.
Praise the pharmaceutical manufacturers
Producing pills with vitamins to feed us and keep us alive.
The first king size bed was fashioned nearly two thousand years ago,
Not by Thomasville, Broyhill or Bassett, manufacturers we all know.
There was no pillow-top mattress made by Sealy or Simmons for the bed,
Nor a chenille bedspread or foam pillows upon which to rest His head.
The bed was not located in a cozy Hampton Inn or Embassy Suites,
But in a lowly stable with a bed of straw sans snowy-white sheets.
The first King size bed was a simple manger for a royal destined to rule!
A King of Kings was born whose birthday we celebrate this joyous Yule!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(c) 2014 All Rights Reserved
I am my own confidant
I breathe with my own lungs
I learn with my own mind
I chose a partner with my own heart
Although I still depend on other necessities
Food and rice are cultivated by farmers
Clothing is fashioned by tailors
Vehicles are produced by manufacturers
Houses are constructed by carpenters
Medicine is prepared by doctors
Even the restroom is provided by others
People from all nations and religions
Create meaningful things to share
Support and love one another
Only a few leaders are cruel and selfish
They view themselves as superior to others
They do not prioritize living in peace
Embrace immorality and wage brutal wars
Me and Alex were walkin' on State Street one early Saturday morning
in the bright sun reflecting off deep snow. I saw long-haired ghosts of '67
drift by on the nearly deserted sidewalk....Alex didn't see them, but they looked
my way, held my gaze, and shuffled on.
....I heard bullhorns blasting truth, and
students rushing by, clutching busted heads,
early in the mornin'
.....30yrs. ago,
walkin' on State Street.
now,
silent anthems sleep,
while ages sow keepers
who lift hearts
like the sunrise,
spurring miracles from
helpless seeds,
amid the yearning, frozen will, and
gun-clenched enemies of peace,
....30yrs. ago,
walkin' on State Street
....dedicated to the courageous students at the University of Wisconsin, Madison who, in 1967
staged a peaceful sit-in on campus to protest 'Dow Chemical' (manufacturers of napalm)
recruiting at the University,
Madison Police were called in to clear the building, (at the request of the school's Dean)
brutality erupted, sending chills to College campuses nationwide, sparking students at
Universities across the nation to protest the 'Vietnam War' the rest is history...
Are you searching for holiness? How is it viewed? Or
To be? Is on some scales its worth.' Is it to be found with
The beggars? Or a King? Or Emperor.' Is its essence in the
Wind? Is it the servant of kings? Or perhaps its to favour
Of countenace? Largesse? Are there many? Who on lifes
Treadmill chase its essence.? What do I see.? I see people
Resorting to whips and chains.' Starvation diets are maybe
Prayerless lanes? Who resort to drugs to gain release from
This tomb of death' as age makes each crease the body
Beautiful belongs to some.' Others inhabit a marred one but
Is it a type of hell.? Some trapped in anger, find it hard to
Trust in any human' any advance of love? Some men trust in
Strength and force of arms.' Another denial.' All must buy the
Farm' face mortality.' As some still here have done.' beautiful
The stream of living water can; come to some' dissolving
The tempral things around.' Then know how God took Enoch'
Translation was just like so.' Holyness, holy? It is what all crave.'
Eternal validation no matter ' your age ' i see its desire in so
Many alive; reaching out.' Or rejecting the desire and strive' I
Value openness of manner.' It seems a type? A shadow of
That holyness.? In which God delights.' And the murders in
Syria.? And the world around.' Arms manufacturers upon what
Grounds.? Upon what principles are their actions founded.?
The dregs of drainstream media..Churn out that we are surrounded.'
By terrible people, and happenings' and rumor of war.' And we
Can have some holiness.' And integrity find peace needed sore
Just another raising of funds.' Or are we just idol worshipping
Of missiles and guns.' Will others blood gain you holiness? Is that
Why some be-head? Yet I see that such a precept just promotes
More death.' And they recognise Jesus? Well so those demons did too
In a Nation of observance.!! Into swine they then flew..' into the
Profane! before the teachers of 'The Law' well everything in its order
I leave now thinking of human mores.' Of desire and striving; and the
Honour maybe.? In the killing so often sanctioned.' By holy decree.'
A cloth tag on my bed disturbs me
So much so that it woke me up from sleep
I prayed that it would go away
In reality it will be there till doomsday
But that's not all
I know the ways of labels
They get their way
Manufacturers protect them
So does the law
It reads as plain as day
“Do Not Remove This Tag Under Penalty of Prosecution
or Persecution”
Some such nonsense…something like that….
It's too much for a simple man like me
I fear authority and prison
But I can't continue with this obnoxious thing
First, I placed a pillow over it
Tags don't need oxygen to breath
Labels are persistent, persevering
Even resolute in their condition to prevail
I could shoot it with a gun
No. That's no good
Smoke and noise don't scare it
Bullets hardly tear it
A relentless dangling appendage to the end remains
Clinging to the ends of beds
Duct tape was next
But I knew that words continued underneath
Also hidden by sheets
The butcher knife would have to do
Savagely removed…blood curdling rips and cuts
I blew a fuse..... My bed is new
No one could refute that now
Now my life is through
I am tagged as a bed label fugitive
Furniture police men hunt me down
I could be executed… or incarcerated
Made to make amends, repairs… or even face the chair