Long Mastercard Poems
Long Mastercard Poems. Below are the most popular long Mastercard by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Mastercard poems by poem length and keyword.
These people make me sick
These false prophets
These religious money pits
These well dressed demons of deception
Nothing but
Con artists
Liars
Purveyors of pure sacrilege
Pretending to offer you salvation
Offering you the comfort of the lord
For a price
Selling you a seat in heaven
The more you pay the better your accommodations
Religious travel agents
Without their blessing
You’re doomed to be left behind
You wont get into heaven
Without your donation
I myself believe in religion
Support all religions
They may be different in their views and customs
But the end goal is all the same
Eternal peace
But these people are different
They to,
Want peace…
Your piece
My piece
And anyone else’s piece they can get
Their goal is simple
Fleece the flock
Sell them promise
Sell them an eternal ticket
Guarantee them eternal bliss
For a price
Sell them anointed hankies
And blessed books
Promise them wonderful lives
With their religious looks
They are the one-armed bandits of the new age
With a bible in one hand and a credit card machine in the other
We take Visa, MasterCard, American Express and Discover
But no checks please
We need your “prayer” right now
Not in 7-10 days
These people make me sick
There are so many of them
Saying they represent God
Flashing 800 numbers
Requesting your “prayers”
Which will only be “answered”
As long as credit card is valid
Are people that dumb?
I mean really that naïve?
Do they really believe?
The cheap suits
Silk ties
And piss poor acting of sincerity and caring
Do they not see the obvious?
Are they truly blind?
Do they want to be spiritually slaughtered?
Do they not remember the one very important rule?
You never have to pay to pray!
All God has ever asked of anyone is their faith
Time, is your most valuable asset
It is what you have the least of in life
And this is what you pay to God
Your time devoted to him and your faith in him
Wake up, before it’s to late
You don’t have much time left
Spend it wisely
Spend it on God
Eric (and sometimes not)
Donald trump = pathological psychopath
Fred Trump taught his sole son Donald
how to steal the leading way into more ass,
though no hint given, nor prediction forecast
in his growing up years, that would foretell,
thru base anaphylactic cronyism, egotistical
gall insidious kleptomania call, malodorous
Machiavellian offal obnoxious quintessential
skullduggery, unfair wicked yik yak zeal
to wield selfishness, a mean mogul with brass,
who would unstintingly live up to his surname,
and trump every law in the books of jurisprudence
and crass bend avast set of constitutional laws
to feed his ferocious fealty to the all mighty dollar
flaunting, fleecing, and flipping the welfare
of those (he deemed must serve him
his insatiable hunger) to connive, dictate,
and expedite his hell bent assiduity,
an empire fit for a King, who felt no aversion
to mollycoddle, peddle, and wheedle
any zealous contractual obligation
(immediately abrogated), and concoct fabrications
vis a vis, a visa versa MasterCard his
American Express shun re: the art of the raw
FitBit (if necessary browbeating, depriving,
forfeiting meting out legally obligated pay
whenever an inconvenient truth awoke
in his noggin reneging fiduciary promises
to the risk-taking, moon shining, toiling citizens
ala Indian giving per many an unfair deal
exuding crass with especial treatment
to withhold wages for his (held in check)
Polish laborers, who built his city on rock and rolling
stock – so a Starship emblazoned with
outsize ego of an exploiter with no pay
to his backbreaking Polish construction
motley crue nor even mucho grassy us
for erecting his empire now ranked in
billions of dollars unfairly pointing a finger
to berate, dictate and finagle foreigners
(illegal immigrants, he would now boot
out of this country) to carry out drudgery
with hungry stomachs growling at slave wages,
lamentably plodding since any other employer
might question their vlsa status, hence anger
boils within this generic human enraged
his wealth squeezed from every last drop
of said craftsman, now if still alive old and
broken men crushed by the mighty
self proclaimed dictator of the proletariat,
whose hollow being blind sides those
he stares down, yet beware all that glitters ain't gold!
(alternately titled: tongue in cheek humor
cuz the following hyperbole
from this pencil necked baby boomer
without intent to badmouth,
nor start unfounded rumor,
who chalks, i.e. attributes gobbledygook
to funny bone tumor).
Impossible mission maneuvering around
soiled clothes pile
floor to ceiling humongous mound
terse reply hopefully adequately sound
to convincingly doth explain
absent poet buried alive underground,
perhaps never heard and/or found
till 1-800 GOT JUNK uncovered
emaciated (lovely bones)
formerly Matthew Scott Harris
his remnants discovered
visa vis mastercard bloodhound.
No need to fret
(while guitar gently weeps),
just talk to who barkeeps
works long late hours, he oversleeps
thus best track him down,
without uttering peeps
please find out if he knows
anybody reliably housekeeps
maybe lady luck will
thru think magical realism
deliver sophisticated robot
harkening within outer limits
from twilight zone
hookin get the job done
in one fell swoop sweeps.
Meanwhile yours truly
tries to remain upbeat
despite being royally tricked
upon pledging his troth
haint cool wedded bliss
heavily perspiring courtesy ultraheat
smellbound by malodorous laundry
necessitating heavy amount
of clorox to pretreat
which I rather drink,
(and thank president Trump)
for sakes Pete!
Though the misses upholds
voluntarily cooking as wifely role indeed
worth commendable attention,
I do concede
and doth adequately buzzfeed
her hubby lest he
wither away to lovely bones
(well past due date
late to avoid
above mentioned outcome,
his (mine) corporeal
being well nigh freed,
thus complaint regarding
spindleshanks solved no knead
to strain skinny ankle muscles
and maintain self promise
holy matrimony, cuz
aye know weed
never remain married forever
as initially agreed.
Fickle finger of fate
hath spoken thru smelly
potential Superfund site
perhaps... not amazing how heaping pile
of unwashed laundry can create
ecological hazard, that warrants B44
one bedroom apartment condemned
management understandably irate
to withhold security deposit
nearly four years at Highland Manor
now ready for model
domestic counterpart to debate
with her better angels where to relocate.
Wedding Day
I can say that I had a bit of a headache.
We should have had more drinkers
If we planned to float the keg.
I left in plenty of time...to be on time.
I had my tuxedo complete with shoes.
And, maybe those aspirin would do the job!
Well she was upset...There's no such thing as 'on time'!
Lots of pictures needed to be taken...
This day must be recorded...not repeated!
My brother...the Best Man...forgot his tux!
He wore Robert's...another brother.
I felt bad for him.
I'll never forget standing up front
Waiting for her to enter.
Then they played the song.
I didn't have a headache anymore.
She was BEAUTIFUL....
Of course!
I watched as she approached with her dad.
He looked relieved to put her hand in mine.
It was like a foreboding moment...
But don't worry...It's all been good!
I just wish she could forgive me
For forgetting my street shoes!
When we left the reception
With me in my tux shoes,
Johnny gave me his mastercard,
"Put the motel on this," he said.
Good thing - I had One Hundred Thirty
Dollars to my name!
We drove straight to our little duplex
And spent the first night together...
We were so tired, we went straight to sleep.
We would have wedding cake for breakfast!
The rest of the story is yet unwritten,
But so far...So good!
P.S.- 35 YEARS IN AUGUST
My wallet is empty of cash
When it appears which is rarely
I usually give it away
Doesn’t really matter, not really
It’s gone as soon as I get it anyway
It never lasts but that's okay
Besides, I have plenty of credit
VISA, MasterCard, Discovery
And the more I “spend”
With that lending hand
The more trust I build
Upping my score. Score!
Up the stakes, wait, change the rules?
Now, it’s me who can’t trust, who?
Sky rocketing interest rates
A debt that’s out of control
Taxing me everywhere I go
The scam’s all decorated
Beautifully choreographed
Beautifully camouflaged
All alluring, so endearing
As I assume my plastic smile
At my recently installed
Big beautiful screen on the wall.
Scrolling for hours...
"What to do next?"
"I'm bored."
"Life's a mess."
How can that be true?
They call life no fun.
They experience boredom
when the journey has just begun.
Just ask the dreamer,
the thirst to fly.
He sees a lot in bed,
wants to see all of it
before his soul's dead.
It's hard for many
to lock their legs,
'cause the magnetic world
tries hard to attract.
Some eyes broaden
when they hear "boredom."
In this magical world,
it still exists—
they find that dumb.
How are you relaxed?
Don't you see yourselves enjoying everything
ten years ahead?
Why don't you try hard?
Live the world with fun—
the ultimate MasterCard.
Resolution To...Too... Tooth... Thou..
(house sand zero, and own nine)
Wine hot ja... jes... justa bead devout
boo... boos...booze hound 'n
frog git (hic cup) bout...
new yea ears rez: hill loo... dang
(burp) louche huns, eh an...,
and beg... agh hen ah nee new wheel 'ear
as zha roosting gadabout
fra... fru... froom this ska...
ski... skid... row... man hunk scout,
ah so... sub... sober chip... er ...,little
tea...poe... pot short and stout
er... chap, cuz in necks stay...hm...
here...ism handle, and thar hiz muss spout
oh...ha rill lee odd doubt
y'all 'member wha...whi...
whoa, what 'prom says 'eed shout
th... hiss hex 'spurt advice
fro...fru...framed dis lout, yea?
What a difference (in meaning), clear
as hub ba hell...(belch) bell jar quake
obvious, (when one not pull lath ta heard) ,
my...er re... rev vol ting... lush 'n not be opaque,
one alphabetic character doth make
duff France sans, the nineteenth versus twenty
first letter of English... lake
really awesome man, how dog nabit,
I could hood ho...hu... hoof accomplished...
rather steal piece o'@$$ er...rather tastykake
alm high ghouls when hide goot awake!
As somewhat (hmm...) not so evident,
one need not be a rocket
surgeon, or brain scientist
visa viz mastercard whiz
at effect of one sprocket...
nor a judge explaining gobbledygook
of law to witness in docket,
cuz this po boy haint moost
richly endowed in his pocket,
nor talented ska, rocksteady,
or reggae tunesmith
never earning any moolah, but forced to sell
off each dreaded locket.
Fellow Americans, this poetaster
lacking hocus pocus
not merely here tubby chiefly
as time waster, with locus
of airy mission to plant sole
lee seeded to shift your focus
from aimining to satisfy reVolution verse us
impossible mission couched
as reSolution lest ye be deemed
moost laughable joker, who makes major fuss!
The thing I least look forward to,
The root of my financial ills,
Is the vile administration
Of my monthly pile of bills.
You'd think a single guy like me,
Whose needs and wants are all but nil,
Could whiz through funds manipulation
When it comes to paying bills.
It's the interest on the principal
Of credit card accounts that kills
And perpetuates extenuation
Of MasterCard and Visa bills.
Man cannot live by cash alone,
Hence the propensity of credit mills,
And the gross accumulation
Of large revolving charges bills.
But when statements say there's naught to pay,
Oh, how that "zero balance" thrills!
No refund as remuneration,
Just dismissed from that long list of bills.
My credit's good, I shouldn't brood
Upon this fiscal tribulation,
But if I had my druthers,
I'd druther hide out in the hills
Than face the monthly calculation
Of my bills, bills, bills.
Before I had a credit card,
My car, newly repaired,
Required cash to pick it up
And I was unprepared.
I borrowed money, then I got
A MasterCard - hooray!
It changed my means of payment,
Which I still do use today.
Along with checks and cash, that card
Could pay for all I’d need
And up until quite recently,
It seemed that way, indeed.
But then there was some money
That I wanted to convey
And a credit card or check
Just wouldn’t be a way to pay.
Then how ‘bout Zelle or Venmo?
Was the question I was asked.
Alas, I called my son and
For this favor, he was tasked.
It isn’t fair that things that worked
For years no longer do
And with this new technology,
I do not have a clue.