Long Mete out Poems
Long Mete out Poems. Below are the most popular long Mete out by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Mete out poems by poem length and keyword.
Oh Lord, it seems to me, You are a God of pain
without which some people say there is no gain.
There is only so much that we creatures can bear
and it’s sometimes I wonder if You really do care.
Throughout the world You’re generally loved, hated or feared
and there are certain times when You are very strongly jeered.
Most people have a hard time making up their mind about You
because of the trials and tribulations that You put them through.
It seems strange and true to say that with Your almighty nature
You somewhat force people to bend to Your imposing stature.
To impress on them that You’re the Only One they should please
You have to prepare and teach them all how Your Will to appease.
Is it because of You’re being Immortal and All-knowing and we are Your heirs
that You subject us all to such rigorous training to overcome illusion’s snares?
One only has to reflect on the lives of Your so-called True Sons of the past
to realize the suffering and attainment their example on humanity has cast.
If I sound to be a little cynical towards You and seem to complain
how could You be so insensitive and not help me get rid of my pain?
Though ignorant as I am to One Who is great as You’re made out to be
please show a little more compassion to those who are helpless like me.
As life in this world demands so much of our time
is it forgetfulness of Thee that You consider a crime?!
This whole world is a cruel proving ground to one higher above
and yet it has been spoken or written that You are a God of love!
If I don’t seem to see the bigger picture now of what really goes on
then You’re held responsible for allowing this situation to drag on.
And even though You have given Teachers to show people the way
the illusion is still so strong that most get caught and lost in the fray.
Remaining a while here where they play out either minor or major roles
being only a matter of time before they too become aware of their souls.
When after much disappointment and suffering that You seem to mete out
they gradually realize by pain that this world is not what life is only about.
__________________________________
The Bad, The Ugly and The Good (aka: Bad, Badder, Baddest)
The Bad
I am the gun-toting, God-fearing Ganja Gangsta.
I’ll smoke you, pray for you, then have my daily siesta!
I answer to no one, and fear no man; No Sir!!!
I answer to only One Master. That’s Heaven’s Prime Minister.
I am the player-hating, man-baiting Sister Disaster.
I’ll woo you, thrill you, then …kill you; true that, mister!
I just swagger thru the city with my ‘Ghetto Blaster’,
I don’t mean sounds, fool!!! I mean my ‘piece’ … to blast ya!!!
I am the mean-looking, menacing Monster Mobster.
I’ll cut ya, shred ya, and have me a pasta fiesta.
I do not boil ‘em…! No sah!! I’d eat a live lobster!
I’m so mean ….Hey! ..I’ll even steamroller your hamster!!!
I am the fast-talking, Bible-bashing Pastor Imposter.
I’ll bless you, fleece you, then sex-up Sister Disaster
I’m just a shyster - but please don’t tell the Menacing Mobster!
She’s the God-fearing Gangsta’s wife - and the Mobster’s sister!
The Ugly (Badder)
I am the flesh-eating, life-sapping, Cluster-Sinister.
I am impartial; care not for class, colour, creed or gender.
I am microbe, but not a person-respecter; ask the sex inspector.
I am sorry, but for me to survive, you have to become a spectre.
I am the tear-jerking, game-changing, people-Prankster
I get called ‘*****’, ‘Sod’, …some even call me a ‘Mater-Conjugator’.
I don’t like Gangsters, Mobsters and especially that dodgy Pastor
I may get mad, or even get even; Call me ‘Life’, or call me ‘Karma’.
The Good (Baddest)
I am the Beginning, the Alpha/Omega; Heaven’s only Prime Minister
I wrote the Good Book, but look inside, I have never been a Jester!
I carry fire and brimstone to bolster my holster - you’d better helter-skelter!
I mete out justice, and vengeance administer: you'd better pray faster!!!
(Fg 81.5.8 - January 2016)
First, I was a horse,
proud, fierce, untamed.
testing the texture of one continent,
competing with the winds and tornadoes
to achieve the ultimate granular vortex,
testing the manhood of the Cheyenne,
twisting the blistering ropes of the Sioux,
defying the white man with bared, scornful teeth
and a rusty, booming cloud of contempt,
rearing up disdainful hoofs at his challenge
of a lumbering smoking iron donkey
trapped on it's molded rails.
Then, I was a plane,
lithe, lightweight, defined.
with a body DaVinci once dreamed of
and a clear canopy
of tense eyes and sweaty, twitching fingers
on the throttle.
Soaring high over another continent,
beaten down by polished black boots.
The elegant, rich roar of Rolls Royce,
The searing steel death of Browning,
clamping together to mete out
justice and liberty,
higher and faster than any swastika propellers.
Then I was a car,
with clean lines and a pure promise,
born of optimism and innovation,
first brought forth under a steel sphere of the world.
My lean, youthful frame and bristling energy
beckoned to the untamed young,
bringing elation and
the whoops of warriors
as they pony up precious pennies
to slip easily into my low slung, leather saddle
and pick their soundtrack
and flick my fresh rubber hooves
across the next horizon.
Their nubile females in splendid mating colors
ponytails wagging their eager assent
in my ever growling breeze
as I assault their narrow strips of tar.
I have thundered through untrod dust.
I have been caught only by men like Remington.
I have sailed above exploding black skies
and landed farm boys safely to their futures.
I have raced through muggy summer nights,
blaring out my rebellion to a rock and roll beat.
I am freedom in flesh and hooves
and wings and guns
and canvas tops and pinstripes.
I am what Art should be:
I am versatile.
I speak in a thousand ways
in a thousand forms.
I please the eye and thrill the soul.
I am ..ME.
Charge d'affaires struck by lightning bolt
While high falutin dip low matt
flying his kite insurgents
planned coup d'etat
clear out of blue, a devilish
forked, jagged, knifed
dagger "O" type electric current licked
more'n the pants off harried envoy
clear rants heard
all the way to Timbuktu
damn donnybrook loosing mayhem
special averred ambassador
last best hope
thwarting total mortal Kombat
Zeus bribed - putin two and two...
together spelled collusion
arch enemies of democracy de facto
2020 election in cahoots,
whereby sore loser trumped,
activated thinly veiled plot
made good diabolical promise
demanding winning or else
"ye ain't seen nuttin"
imposing himself victor
nee, declaring tyrannical
prince sup pulled "purple" reign,
despite just shy winning majority
crowed as "FAKE" optical illusion
claimed apparatchik infiltrated
voting booths rigged
machination stole courtesy
bounty on mutiny playbook page,
the average joe buyed
entire hook, sink, and liner
titanic ruse to unseat
all time self crowned best president,
apprentice skills garnered
thru "art of the deal,"
albeit machiavellian
who refused to admit defeat
usurped, proclaimed, kindled... diktat upon
those opposed driving fiat
vis a vis disallowing, discharging,
disenabling, disguising, distilling
carving up United States
in league courtesy
best buddies Kim Jong Un
populace will pay price
bear every burden
every hardship el don jon doth
punishingly mete out
recruiting military modern
death cab for cutie squads
dirty deeds done dirt cheap
personal vendetta and vengeance
as just desserts
succeeding presidential term
to abdicate pronto
lest civilization bombed
back into stone age
no matter enfranchisement
law within lady liberty land,
nonetheless he decreed
global hegemony forever
pressed hot button
omnipresent nightmare manifest destiny
global destruction unleashed
threatened to obliterate
every last trace of mankind!
"I read the news today, oh boy" - Beatles
apocalyptic revelations spinning 'round inside my head/have me tossing keep me turning wide awake upon my bed/so much hating too much lying chaos just outside my door/brainwashed zombies from their pulpits spewing vitriol and more/horsemen riding children dying famine warfare take their toll/politicians see their ratings drop in value with each poll/earth is battered lives are shattered bombs and land mines maim or kill/ Satan laughing spreads his wings as mankind wallows in his swill/locusts gather then they scatter out to spread the word of doom/news crawls flash across the telly in the safety of my room/insurrection tribulation agitating anxious minds/weary travelers seeking refuge thus fulfill prophetic signs/lift your heads up never give up soon will come the final fight/Armageddon's day of judgment soon will set all matters right
"Run to the hills, run for your lives" - Iron Maiden
broken trams cause traffic jams that clog the streets and alleyways/people running seeking shelter for it's now the end of days/can you hide us will you save us from the wrath of Christ the king/every day yes everywhere we hear his judgment message ring/ law defying God offending wicked men now merit death/liars rapists pedophiles blaspheme with their dying breath/peace they cry out strife they mete out hypocrites will face their end/frogs keep croaking propaganda via media it wends/retribution’s in all creatures causing some to turn on man/seven-headed beastlike monster marches to the Devil’s plan/Babylon with all her daughters sing a song of treachery/to their gods they give allegiance - spiritistic witchery/when the end comes have we earned some merit with the One who reigns/future blessings in the offing paradise will end all pain
“Amen. Come Lord Jesus” – Bible
A BENT REVIEW: INSURRECTION
Had rent on the coin of their mind
Played them well to toil their mind
Would've hid'n a nut so was it bent ?
Could've sold them a remedy for their ment'
Just got told was not all they meant
Mette parsin ordered a weight
To mete out a shilling that fuels
At the plunge of a jungle called lounge
Zombies to collect wotowoto saige
At rest was the best human found; there was!
Ordered! Yet got no penny but paid
Tis' was a show like a cancer- canker!
That bite to milk all mine away from well
Yet left the well smiling in her dryness
Whose fault? The pecked, fetched or fetter?
Called thine lawyer; to act, served thee
Bit upon bit soaked thine ribbon in reed
To fasten thee to thine yoke but burdens
Beaten but shalt thou not heap a cry
As thine taskmasters watch bye like warlords
Tilt to thine valley of pleasure, to no sight seen
Visit thine vine dresser to no taste of liquor
Abysmal to the Hades of all that never satisfy
Yet quench not but furnace thine toil to a gloomy brim
At thine confusion, thou clap for the clapse of thine oppressors
When wilt thou wake from thine slumber
Till when will a ransom be held for a rise
To fist that never surrender to tyrant gladiator
To brain ever conscious, impervious to perils
Will thou only wake to stupor no more, oh dude!
Think of now to then
Think of then to now
Think of now to there
Think about there in the future
The future you're about to sell out?
You may not be in the future to reap
You may only have a taste of what's like
At a grip foretold since all of donkey ages
At the loin so tight where it's outcomes pain
Just think and think it over to take back your land!
The fusion of indecision and imprecision robs lives of vitality
Freezing minds in a state of petrified fear
That slays sagacity, perspicacity and versatility
In circumstances where room for a tear
Lives and survives in dreams and screams
Born from excess procrastination
Wrapped, strapped and capped in saline streams
Where strain and stress sail to an unknown destination
To accommodate losses tossed helter skelter by wasted time
Angry and hungry to the maximum
When time determines laggards can no longer climb
To the platform where reforms mete out sanctions against the podium
That condones pardons for omissions of standard operating procedures
To advance progress and minimize distress
In minds that fly to ply their trade in grudges and smudges
Meant to obliterate and digress the dress and tress
Indecision and its mate imprecision don
As they strut their tardy stuff
When the cult of progress and success they abandon
In favour of promoting snuff and bluff
As Kaizen pops up on the scene
Dismisses both indecision and imprecision
Banning them from society where their obscene
Attitude scampers to safety. Precision
Takes over proceedings
Revamps operations
Rejigs seedings
Repositioning and rearranging choices and voices in vocations and destinations
In which perspicacity and prompt decision making earn first berth
Followed by agility seeded second
Indecision and imprecision suffer dearth
And procrastination and obstination choose to abscond.
Guilty pleasures
has you on a Siberian Ferris wheel,
spinning rapidly
Gulag suicidal libido
urges you to cock the trigger and squeeze
Keep repeating the nightmare:
Six torture chambers
Six gas chambers
Six motel rooms
with five vacancies
It's your last chance to exit
this cursed promiscuous existence;
but you don't beg to get off,
this is how you like to get off
Six bridal chambers
Six bed chambers
Six hotel rooms
Face the sex gun ... spin the chambers,
and watch the cowards run
You don't like to play it safe,
law abiding abstinence makes no sense to you
You love the thrill of knowing you might die
from doing something you love to do
It's the way of a sex outlaw: hell raising and guns blazing
and booties shaking in every bar and brothel
Thrill-seeking junkie cowboy,
you're gonna stay on this rough ride,
try to buck the bronco
You got big macho dreams
of being the head legs-spread honcho ...
sweating beads of lead perspiration
in the fire down below
You need amoral nerves of steel,
if you wanna partner up with the devil
Mete out to the innocent souls much ricochet suffering
Promiscuous criminality don't pay ---
Doing anything with anybody,
then giving it to everybody ...
gonna send you to your grave one day
Guilty pleasures
has sentenced you to a life riddled with
holes in your two brains
Serving time in chains of misery and pain
The destination is oblivion,
for all who board this prison bullet train
SONNET(S) ON WISDOM and AGE
When I was young my folly knew no bounds.
Though some may say the perimeter’s been extended.
I now confess my ignorance, giving me grounds
To think that some false knowledge has been amended
Full many have sought enlightenment as their quest
Some ascended peaks of wisdom and marked the way
Yet interspersed their lives with faults manifest
Transcendent knowledge could not lift feet of clay
So perhaps a degree of common sense and prudence
Would be a more rewarding aspiration
Giving increased self respect and sin’s avoidance
To live lives with more fulfilling destination
Still I hope that I achieve before my demise
A state of being a little less unwise
But on the other hand ……..
Away with common sense and ruling caution
I no longer have the time for such restriction
I’ll not go with care and mete out every portion
But live life without consent or benediction
There are two diverse types of sin which to admonish
There are those of commission in other words ‘the done ones’
Then those we should’ve but didn't, and it may astonish
We feel guilt though without the pleasure of ‘the fun ones’
Now if we do, there's a risk of errant action
So we shy the primrose path to the permanent bonfire
But should we do nought, our inaction ensures infraction
So we might as well take our chance and perhaps reach higher
Though in deeds that damage another we may be chagrined
Let us otherwise throw caution to the wind
I want to be a poet to write those words which rhyme
But it seems I'm having trouble with tempo, tense and time
How do the poets do it rhyme words so undisputed
They neatly find the perfect word and exactly where to put it
They make it seem so simple words flow in easy verse
While my words go from good to bad and then they just get worse
Oh to have the poets flair for grasping words from out the air
But alas I stare at paper bare and pine for words which are not there
With ease the poets do it pen words so neatly dressed
While I sit here debating and getting more depressed
To them it's not too arduous to mete out rosy prose
While in my mind bewildering a musty cobweb grows
Ornately Poets do it scribe sentiment so clear
That lifts the heart and stirs the soul like music to the ear
As I scan their lines which meld and knit I envy those who conjured it
And when I read their words united tis my id which gets excited
I twitch and get elated when I find two words of whit
But I'll be darned if I can find another two which neatly fit
I thumb through my thesaurus till the moon is fully lit
But my brain is still in neutral and not a rhymes been writ
Each pair I work to sound enhance fails to bring the bards due dance
And the prose I opt for seems to lack the poet's gift of word romance
But I'll persist and see how it goes
And perhaps one day I'll write some prose