Long Mate Poems

Long Mate Poems. Below are the most popular long Mate by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Mate poems by poem length and keyword.


Immunity To a Death Sentence

Now the public library in our town contains the knowledge for mankind, 
and there’s not much happening ‘round the world, that I cannot find.
I can think of any subject that I like and tell Jenny what I’m after,
and she can find a stack of books that darn near touch the rafter. 

The library’s helped me countless times from days when I’m at school,
and I’ve become a handy man with books my back up tool,
but aside from books on lifestyle needs, on fiction some are geared,
and some authors write for little kids, and some write on the weird.

I’ve hired books about our history and read about some shocking wars.
Our garden is designed from books, and I’m obsessed with reading ‘Jaws’.
But crime became my new desire with cases filed from years gone by,
where Capital Punishment was handed down and why some had to die.

Description of the victims sent a chill right through my bones,
right to the guilty on death row with all their over-tones.
I read about their last few weeks, with how and why and where,
before they took their final walk to the electric chair.

One story written by a Warder based in a Southern US gaol,
is penned about a chilling case that for you I will unveil …
Leroy murdered seven folk; the warder wrote down in this book.
For twenty years appeals were held then Leroy’s goose was cooked.

When you’re with someone for twenty years, no matter what they’ve done,
you can form a slight attachment even if a fragile one.
So one week before that final stroll Leroy was asked by Warder Black,
if there’s something special that he’d like, and Leroy answered back.

“There is something I do desire - but it must involve me faithful wife.
“My wish is” Leroy grinned. “Is to eat her meatloaf now for life”. 
Well Leroy’s wish was granted and for three meals every day,
he ate the meatloaf that he begged for while the hours ticked away.

On the eve of Leroy’s execution there was tension being shown.
The corridors were creepy now with a ghostly eerie tone.
Forgotten were the seven victims - in the morning there’s one more.
Leroy must face ‘old sparky’ waiting down that corridor.

His final meal of meatloaf was brought before him on a plate.
Said Warder Black with teary eyes “You don’t look worried mate!”
Leroy laughed “I’m not my friend, that chair won’t kill me man.
If this meatloaf couldn’t do me in - I know that nothing can!”
Form: Rhyme


Judas Christ

Im not sure what i did to you
what i've been blaickmailed for
under the rug we swept the page we tore out
dance around what it told us to do
its your gold to figure out
this time, your pain, of the sin for being the creator
did it to myself
pointing out the abuse of my father
whipped and chained
crucified
no enemies
confusion of salvation
weapon for a messneger
for those who choose to hear it
the tower of babel fell
what if we were all wrong together
back to the basics of how i did this to myself

My father gone crazy
scared of mirrors
his own reflection
another gopher hole to remind him
of what you are
remove the blind fold
and see all my scars
never should have trusted you strangers
fictitious lies
graves of danger
holes to dig
in plots to fall into
wrap myself around the obvious to turn this loose

forgive and forget
i forget all the time
the leash on my neck
i dont forgive
choke at the tears i dont understand
fallen from my throne in the clouds
i didnt deserve
into your nightmare
to live a lie
called your perfect life
and who arwe you mad at
judas or christ for saving you from crucifiction
for the crime of the century
where the finger of your god gone awry
realising his mistake of his image altered
has come with an obvious omen to translate
and photoshop you into restrictions, consequences,
ways you werent supposed to bend

judas christ
the only face left to blame
the truth of the game your playing,
three moves ahead opf the game
me in check mate versus a world not playing fair
creating your god, to be the sin, to live your nightmare
way out of hand...

stuck in this corner
without a hand
opiates for mary jane
and nobody complains
fear farmers and desperation
eyes of the shamed
necisary contradictions
to pull you out of the deepend
swimming towards the sharks we keep at bay

what do you think he did to you?
those who walk around carrying a grudge?
lied? died? never ran away leaving you with the bag in a previous life?
or saved a future generation from a future of nightmares
only he could save us from
unravelling now
never to be forgotten

hail to your mercy
which i dont see exist
hail to your truth of who did it
hail to your emptiness
i am forgiven,
welcomed to the family
treasured as the brother
i am judas 
judas christ

so knock it off with this kane and abel blitz
Form:

Spring Equinox 2018

this middle aged rue stirring bummer
   haint no stranger to cold,
when dark hen stormy wintry days
   eggs hit from Arctic portal en fold
ding Atlantic Seaboard

   in a blizzard of bitterly, blindingly, and
   brutally sub zero temperatures
   from an occasional nor'easter
   fiercely gripping hold

the majority years, sans this prolific
   recalcitrant scrivener lived
   in various and sundry abode
   housed within Southeastern
   Montgomery County, Pennsylvania
   with 19*** zip code,

and during my boyhood recall,
   how massive ice sheets did erode
the (then) opened expansive farmland,
   in preparation for planting time,

   where runnels of frigid water flowed
with childish cheeks exposed to glowed
after hours upon 
   many a green acre got tilled and hoed

despite feeling energized and refreshed
   with arms and legs n'er fro zen
aye didst eagerly await with exuberant yen
kickstarting thy body electric

   experiencing hearthstone nook
   designed and built by Christopher Wren
after heading indoors counting fingers
   and toes to make sure, i still got ten

soon hearing the chorus of fauna,
   and floral kaleidoscope of color 
   aground or taking wing
thus, upon thawing out thoughts
   drifted toward approaching spring,
the season revitalizing 

   dormant natural inhabitants,
   whose excite (like mine) didst ping
announcing the debut of fecundity
nsync with screeching from the lizard king.

This Spring Equinox (i.e. man date:
   12:15 PM Tuesday,
   March twentieth two thousand eighteen)
doth rejuvenate 
   inviolable hibernating animals

   and plants, and me equate
to experience sensation,
   whereby entire being does inflate
and (despite marital status),

   nonetheless envisions another gal asthma mate
no...no...no...please do not think this chap
   mean spirited and under rate
the woman (at present taking a siesta,

   and i breathe easy),
   who oft times doth henpeck, a trait
inherited many a chic hen
   (with tantalizing tail feathers)
   now (until she awakens)
   proscribing yours truly to wait

for my repast most likely ad hoc
moist ideal for any nerdy kid to knock
senseless, the worst facet of self important jock
   consisting of pop slop mock
Hungarian Goulash, a melange
   of relics from age old meals 
   transformed into a petrified sawed little rock.

Love Bug's

Love someone setting it free                                                                           It wasn’t a bug it wasn’t was a bee                                                                  It was just flying free that captured me                                                          What was the delicate romance squashing a bug                                            The spontaneously ancient thing                                                                     Written on the butterfly’s wings                                                                    Rejections fragility like unbound jealousy                                                      Excerpting their power on the loves fate                                                       Giving it the same chance the lovers mate                                                    Love someone setting it free                                                                             It wasn’t a bug it wasn’t was a bee                                                                     It was just flying free                                                                                          The butterfly whispered a verse                                                                            As it lightly chose your finger                                                                            If it chooses to linger awhile just smile                                                                     If you grasp too hard good becomes it worst                                                   The nectar becomes bitter the song loses it beat                                             While tender love me not’s lay at your feet                                                         Love someone setting it free                                                                              It wasn’t a bug it wasn’t was a bee                                                               It was just flying free
© John Beam  Create an image from this poem.

Sold For Three Trillion Dollars

I have something precious that money cannot buy, no matter how hard you try to convince me that money can make me happy, I would be living a lie if I sit by your side without a dime in my purse and continue to work in the dirt, that is not what I mean, I need the money to fulfill a part of my dream but it cannot make me happy.

I still cannot believe that it is true, that you have searched the whole world through and you could not find a single one that you can understand, and when the nights gets cold you wrap a towel around your soul and walked out in the snow and let the night air penetrates your skin and somewhere in the universe, your soul mate is playing a different rhythm.

I just cannot hold back the tears, when I check your hang out spot and see that you are not there. I have waited so long for you to come and the daily wait makes me feel like a village on the run, wasted time cannot be regained and the long wait has cause me so much pain; I don’t know if I will ever live the life that I was destined to live, other than the life that has caused me so much pain and misery.


Sometimes I feel like a clown sailing between the clouds, moving from cities to town, avenues and streets singing songs of yesterday while I watch the people go astray and the clock keeps ticking away.

I have orbit the globe more than a hundred times, searching for something that is on my mind. I think about it from time to time and I just cannot erase it from my mind. Shall I wait for you here or shall I wait at another place, I have waited here from sunrise to sun down and still you have not come around, I no number to call or the address for the city hall, I will let nature follow the course and when the time I will go through the door and hold destiny by its hand.

I thought we had an understanding of a mutual deal in the making and the binding contract that cannot be broken, why am I still here waiting; there must have been some misunderstanding, if you listen carefully you can hear the musical strings singing they are in perfect harmony.

I will force myself from underneath the clouds and go out and buy some new clothes and change the place where I stay for a new promotion is coming my way. I will wait for a few more days and if you don’t come I will go my own way and I hope that we will cross path someday.

She was sold for three trillion dollars.
Form: Narrative


Theres a Pedophile In the House

There's A Pedophile In The House...
(ah...ah...ah...ham eye white...???)

OMG,... and he looks...
     SAY WHAT??? just like me???,...
     absolutely NO WAY!!!,
would this sensitive,
     respectful, "FAKE" veejay
quiet-natured, mindful,
     loving, kind, underplay
justice invoking, hew today

mainly, gentle, friendly, "I say"
enlightened, democratic chap redisplay
any besotted abominable,
     blamable, culpable, quay
esse chin hubble
     despicable, execrable prey
dot door formidable,
     inhospitable...overplay

ying faux indulgent,
     NOR be mistaken
     to assay, betray, convey,
display, expressway more fay
     writ his'm to
     gainsay hearsay, inveigh
jaw dropping "FAKE"
     yuge weak accusations

(by a long shot), sans
     basket of conspiring deplorables
     attempting to assassinate
bigly believe me tubby "stupid"
     winning loser to berate,
who doth unequivocally create
mine substantial vocabulary rumor,
     versus 4th grade reading level

     trumpeting librettist - thee great
test Don Quixote
     (as falsely sung with hate
full sotto voce), and ramped up
     as ill suited mate
a minus [sic] zero moron,
     which doth hapt
     tubby incredibly tremendous

     disservice to bona fide classy idiots
     with a lot of money
     (like the millions and billions
     of my golfing confrères)
given bent iron golf clubs
     used by crooked Hillary,
     when former Secretary of State
     ideal for Putin on the Ritz

by far less exciting, with
     Bill Clinton's flirtatious flits
trained pudenda purse
     sin null property
     of intern (NO FALLACY)
     topped as southern delicacy dish
consume mated with buttered grits
     pricked prurient peccadilloes licks

suddenly recalling seminal kicks
starting, how with Little Rock kits
he received assistance,
     sans starts and fits,
eventually then nubile
     ingenue Monica Lewinsky
     called time out, cuz at her wits
end once assisting helping

     express his "naughty bits,"
when done completing
     cum mincecd secrete mission
     blue dress draped 
     expensively furred

(i.e. tricked out) in her
     "FAKE" minx hiding
     sable animal spirits,
when animal rights
     activists vehemently protested
     out-coming result
     slapping former president
     with a PETA file.
Form: Elegy

Terry Parker Deceased

After finishing a seminar based on demand and supply,
I walked out to the street and hailed a taxi going by,
and as I sat down in the seat, the taxi driver said to me,
‘my, my, your timings perfect, you are just the same as Terry.’   
  
I must admit he had me thinking, so of course I answered ‘Who?’
‘Terry Parker’ said the cabbie; a bloke it’s obvious he knew. 
‘Yeah, anything that Terry did, he was right on every score,
he lived with perfect timing and Terry never had one flaw.’

I had never met a bloke like Terry, so I’m wary of the fact,
so I subtly gave me answer in a way most would react,
‘None of us are perfect mate,’ but the cabbie did insist
That Terry, he was faultless, and so few like him exist.

I heard that Terry was an athlete with the most amazing skills,
His golfing matched the pros, and his tennis playing simply thrills,
he could sing like Johnny Cash; and even better so I’m told,
he danced like Fred Astaire; his piano playing…simply gold.
    
I could only think he must be special, this Terry Parker bloke,
and the cabbie uttered ‘hang on,’ and once again he spoke,
‘there’s more to Terry yet, you see his memory never failed,
he remembered every birthday, and every one detailed. 

‘He was a connoisseur on beer, and knew everything ‘bout wine,
He knew how to serve the finest foods; all simply pure divine.     
And if anything needs fixing, then Terry was your shining light,
he was streets ahead of me, ‘cause I can’t do nothing right.   

‘He could always read the traffic, and you’d never find him stuck,
not like me when I am driving, for I had none of Terry’s luck,
and I ought to mention women, and how he made them feel so good,
he was the ideal gentleman; he treated women how I should.

‘Terry would never answer back, even if the woman’s wrong,
he was a charming butler, and his charisma it was strong,
he kept his house immaculate, as no other person can…
no one could measure up; Terry Parker was the perfect man.’

When I reached my destination but before I stepped outside,
I paid the driver what was due, and then I thanked him for the ride,
but I thought it best I mention, at more or less a parting whim,
‘this Terry Parker is remarkable, how did you get to meet him?’

The driver took my money, and then he muttered deep and slow, 
‘Actually I never met him, but I’m married to his widow.’
Form: Rhyme

Perche Sono Me IV Fire Part 1

Perche Sono Me IV (Fire)
It’s been a long time since I have told anyone why I was myself and why I am me. It was long ago that I dictated three prose poems on this matter. The same questions have come up; newer ones add to my plight. I am single because I will not settle for anyone who only fulfills the needs of my loins. I prefer a person that arouses my intellect and respect for her. The people I have met only meet one of those criteria, except one meeting two of the three. Still, to get all three is a challenge. Even getting two of the three is a challenge.
Why are you Single?
I am myself because of the pain I have endured by many who have claimed to want of me while they were giving a kiss of deceit. Playing with anyone's emotions is an unethical crime that haunts the perpetrator later in life. Several females who claim to know what they want are falling and feeling the pain they deserve for what they wanted was not deserved or earned. If you are stupid enough to want a bridge and house built for you without contributing to the production, then do not expect to have them when the man has built them. Of course, an unethical man will claim to have these until you are trapped and left out in the trash. Do not expect the good man to take you in, as you are not recyclable. When you give up on wanting a respectable man, you give up on being respectable to yourself. Your pain and the pain of your children were caused by you pursuing the pleasure of your false beliefs. One of them believed that she wanted a person of her faith. He could not commit to the person of free milk. He used her for five years. HARK to her for showing disrespect to herself and her daughter. Now, she is with someone who cares about how they treat her. Putting aerosol on excrement does not make a candle's scent flow in the breeze.
What type of partner do you want to marry?
Education is vital to me as I have seen many go to school only to find a mate or find a person to mate with. It is pretty disturbing that the goal is procreation and recreation. It is wiser to find someone who matches the qualities of a good girlfriend or wife if they meet the higher qualities. If you want a good friend, find someone with the qualities of a good girlfriend. If you want a good girlfriend, find someone who would make a good wife. If you want a good wife, then focus on these two aspects.
Form: Prose

I'M Not Sure You Know What To Say

I wonder today
As I sift through the sands
And peer through the depths of other peoples verbalized talents
Works of intricate emotion and stanzas of hyperboles oxymoron’s and similes 
and metaphor

When I refuse to welcome you to my world
When you stumbled all this way
And I show you how to clip an angel’s wings
and you relate to the angel
Even though you have soo many inner demons
I’m not sure you know what to say

So I sit here in the silence
And stutter to myself
I lay in bed at night and talk to myself
I hang pictures on the wall to inspire me to push me
and listen to things that will drive me to become another
But when you open this chapter of the metaphor I will upon your sleeve
When you walk through that open door
And are not too sure of what I mean to my soul mate when I say
that one day in heaven his experience will be a love note from me

I'm not sure you know what to say

Soo many of you are of few words
and soo few of you are of many
The angels are soo far away
And the four demons, my invisible enemies
are always on this merry go round
too busy to stop the roller caster where I find myself
Dizzy I am
Confused I am
Abstract and bizarre
Creatively thrown away by my fairytale godmother I dream
To remind me
I am a man of some higher power god
And instant gratification isn’t necessarily what I need
from the race of a reflection that doesn’t understand why it cowers
Instead of receives

While I clip the angels and fool the demons with the thoughts
and words of the wise and how I hate more than you
You become my poetry with hearts on your sleeve 
a valentine I cant send demanding healthcare 
for Christmas before all we get is Halloween
But when your eyes roll back into your head
and you try to resurrect what I express and bring me to life
through twisting my words that cut like a knife and carve marble stone
into gargoyles that guard castle gates
In this royal palace where no compass will help you find your way
and my thought seem soo far away
The feathers fall to the floor
The soldiers look down at their weapons realizing they are still little boys 
but intoxicated now and forced to the realization 
This is how we raised them to be men with awards for serial killing 
Of stars and stripes

I'm not sure you know what to say

Premium Member Monoku Monday - June 2021

"Give Me Your Tired"   posted 7 Jun 2021

i'd join the morning person's club     except their meetings start before noon

early to bed, early to rise     makes a man healthy, wealthy, and beat

they make clocks to tell me when to get up      i need one to tell me why

a bicycle cannot stand up by itself      because it is two-tired

my wife got tired of hearing my zodiak puns     it taurus apart

teen's concept of an early bird:      one who wakes up at the break of noon

[humor attribution - all humor found online, sources unknown]


"Just Asking (part III)"   posted 14 Jun 2021

wow, is that an optical illusion      or am I just seeing things?

why does the sun on the raisin bran cereal box      wear sunglasses?

why are wise men and wise guys      considered opposites of each other?

when styrofoam companies ship their product      what do they pack it in?

if swimming is so great for the figure      then how do you explain whales?

how does the person who drives the snowplow      get to work in the morning?

[humor attribution - all humor found online, sources unknown]


"It's All In A Name"   posted 21 Jun 2021

i visited a new dating website in Prague      they call it ~ Czech Mate ~

there's a new contraceptive on the market      it's called ~ i kid you not ~

my vote for the best beauty parlor name of all time    ~ curl up and dye ~

good name for an ultra-conservative fashion boutique      ~ clothes minded ~

maybe you shouldn't name your brand new restaurant      ~ eater's digest ~

perhaps this plumbing company is worth a gamble     ~flush or full house~

[humor attribution: #2 and #5 Edmo Snord, #3 and #6 are actual company names I've seen, others found online of unknown origin]


"Random Brain Guano (part III)"   posted 28 Jun 2021

children are hereditary      if your folks had none, neither will you

the best remedy for your bad memory      is milk of amnesia

buy your valentine a bikini      it's the least you can do for her

i tried making a belt out of watches      it was a big waist of time

my toddler kept chewing on electrical cords      so I grounded him

sometimes Bigfoot is confused with Sasquatch      Yeti doesn't seem to mind
© John Watt  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Monoku

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