Long Micro Poems
Long Micro Poems. Below are the most popular long Micro by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Micro poems by poem length and keyword.
Yes, you came last night as I had wished
Normally reader, if you are after it that you desire
Your soul by hook or by crook is going to be the complier
When dear reader, you are lost into nothingness adrift and keep up as such
Be sure what you wished, a part of your mind would, insist on piecing it together.
So, exactly so it happened with me
It was a charming moonlight flooding outside
To my great delight a flower of that soft radiance I saw seated
In my chair in front of my computer table with the room in rhythmic dance
And then the flower shaping into a slim human figure looking a woman in trance
I felt a mild tremor within my anatomy
There were micro waves inside my hemoglobin
It was not the perfumed woman I had been daydreaming
Then came people walking along with the now familiar figure moving leisurely
Very affectionate peaceful slender composed friendly arisen from the moonlight
Initially I felt confused with the easy gait
A soft and serene smile with a little bit of frivolity
The head half-covered with a veil of soft and silky drape, that is, Shari
Sort of gesturing with her beautiful eyes asking me to come close to her side
Then confusion gave way to the joy of a child looking at his mother wide-eyed
I felt exceedingly happy and kept looking at my mom
I felt the hugs the scolding the tears the smiles and the flavours
I wanted to rush towards her and to hug her tight as I did when a child
But the film faded fast as the world was coming back with its dawning sounds mild
I thanked the ruler replacing the desired woman with my mom in the colored void
Amazed I could not settle for a while in the day thanks to the great Sigmund Freud
He stood in the middle of
The ring and asked the
Members of The
Right Stuff inc.
To stop the B.S.
And start making things
Right for the people.
In his lavish robe
And pink mask
Ghetto Sushi
Said if it comes to
Wrestling he'd out
Wrestle them
If it came to
Brawling he'd
Out Brawl them
He spoke about
Being first in line
And having his
Back turned to
All the hungry
Wolves, he scared
The micro phone
Interveiwee when
He started speaking
About things he didn't
Understand saying
Miss Tusslers baby boy
Was a champion
People the world over
Loved and admired him
Miss Tussler and Big Meanie
Liked nice things but they
Didn't like you
MissTussler liked cool people
But they didn't like you.
I use to think Big Meanie
And Miss Tussler were
Bad people til I meet you
Ghetto Sushi say
Miss Tussler beat that
Ass and Ghetto Suchi
Gonna beat that ass too!
Ghetto Sushi represents
Clean areas and living
Responsibly The star
Shing bright in
The big sky
Ghetto Sushi
Ah Superstar a
Bright light among
The night a sample
Of what greatness is
I am Ghetto Sushi
The Greatest of Altime!
(a series of micro vignettes)
Chella and I are reading our analysis assignments together because that’s how we link and build.
We read out loud too, because how else can you judge the flow?
When my phone, lying on the table, jiggled. The caller ID read, “Tommy’s girlfriend.”
Chella gave me a little look. “I never change anyone’s ID,” I confessed. “Neither do I.” Cellia agreed.
“She broke up with him years ago..”
I feel sorry for panhandlers, I don’t see them often but I saw one yesterday. Who carries cash any more (Noone)?
Along the same line, Chella and I are wired, it-girls - we’re noise cancelled. Were you talkin’ to us?
We’re hard to engage, not because we’ve got attitude - we just can’t hear you. It’s irritating when I have to tap-out of some stream to hear people.
Even if it’s the waiter from the bistro downstairs delivering their exemplary frozen-strawberry-smoothies and burgers.
Later, after the pool, we showered. As I was toweling my hair, I studied myself in the mirror.
“My skin is SO screwed up,” I moaned, “I need a ‘rescue spa’ facial.. Let’s go to New York (city)—I’m taking you there.”
“There’s a ‘Forever Young Spa’ on Beacon street.. about a mile from here,” Cellia offered.
“Ever been there?” I asked.
“No, but the ad says they have an AI-powered massage robot. I’m curious.”
“Ooo! Call ‘em up, see if it does happy-endings.” I laughed.
“We could get a home unit.” Cellia updogged.
“I think we’d need the industrial version,” I added, “that’s the sell.”
.
.
Songs for this:
Nothing Can Stop Us by Saint Etienne
Goodbye by The Sundays
.
.
Our cast:
Chella, A tall, lithe black girl, from Liberty City (Miami) Florida. She's a Harvard Master's candidate with a ‘Bachelor of Science in Global Affairs’ from Yale. She had it rough growing up - she was buying skin-care at Trader Joes! I'm showing her some things.
Your author, a simple trust-fund baby from Athens, Georgia and a Harvard Master's candidate with a Bachelor of Science in Molecular Biophysics and Biochemistry from Yale.
.
.
Burgers = bacon cheeseburger w/tomato, sautéed onions, ketchup and fries - hold the mayo and mustard.
AMERICA, OH AMERICA
America, oh America, the mother of Exiles,
Mighty woman with a torch,
Towers high as a top notch
Whose flame is the imprisoned fire
With conquering limbs empire,
Astrife from kingdom to kingdom
Aiming to regulate the world's freedom
Fooled the world, psychopathic savagery
Comes a nightmare nation's can't win. Sadly
Inciting the world's pain
Just for a self-centered gain.
Why enforce anti-coronavirus vaccine
To reduce the world strain
And population via an epidemic never seen
Earth quacking, nation's unconscious
Micro chip initiative, a sociopathic barbarism,
5th Generation arising but the world is suspicious
Now terrorism unites the Christians and every Muslim
Illuminati illuminating ill-boding injuries
With unimaginable wealth and affluence,
Obsession for power and control influence
Implementing the Luciferean agenda,
On a mission of no retreat no surrender,
Initiating a Bill through the Gates,
Deaths baits? Well, we will willingly wait.
Bill's Billions breeding bioactive vaccines,
Satan launching his arsenals and machineries,
Forby mendacities leading to deadly advancement,
Deceitfully enforcing a One World Government
Suggestively and opinionatedly by Pope Francis
Preparing the ground for the Antichrist menace.
"In God We Trust" means God's own country
Now oridinary a slogan to all and sundry,
Deviated from the Godly path of ancestors & esteemed,
No more the dream the dreaming dreamers dreamed.
America, oh America!
VickWizzy
Vick Manuel Poetry {VMP}
Copyright © 8th April, 2020.
Mine offset fooey zook equilibrium
translated into at least one raw bit
(hmm...maybe the naughty one) being askew,
which nearly (worse case scenario) critically
could burn up every hair strand fiber optic wired conduit
sans, and destroy the primary, secondary, tertiary...
connection of this (motherf******) circuit
board, which (sorry tubby explicit),
whew close call offset (viz skin of
"FAKE" teeth), in NIC of time avoided major deficit
thankfully technical glitch
bit dust courtesy re: micro
processor faux wall thwarted,
toppling scaffolding upholding democracy forfeit
sure would totally wreck global functionality luckily
ace craftsman ma papa with keen insight
anticipated built-in catastrophic fail/
safe under soldering gun,
preemptively incorporated chess
grandmaster measured gambit,
hence avoiding future government
shutdowns since implicit
within migrant manufactured mesh
of webbed components houses white lie
sense to circumvent, via automatic
nanobyte size trigger
comprising a binary coded buffered kilobyte,
yours truly able to attune
consciousness to any slight
fluctuation, perturbation, variation, et cetera
imperceptible to nobody but me,
a "smart" sensor, that doubles as infrared light,
whereby coded instructions encrypted airtight
bequeathed to this artificial intelligence
as digitally patented birthright
also linkedin virtual reality appurtenances
portray futuristic bombsight
of World War III a minuscule,
yet not improbable chance event, some bright
eyed and bushy tailed hacker infringes copyright
gleefully launching atomic missiles,
which thermonuclear midnight
leaving Earth a lifeless burnt offering,
where scant bands escape by spaceflight,
whence this garden variety
will no longer be able to write!
THE WOMAN WHO COULD EAT WOOD
Who defied science?
The Woman Who Could Eat Wood had.
How and why at first no doctor could say
to her mom and dad.
Years later the doctors had discovered that after a test
special micro-organisms helped the wood in her guts digest.
‘Perhaps B can survive off wood because of some unknown power,’ her father had said.
‘I agree 100% with your thought,’
her mother had said.
‘A superpower I don’t have
All I can do is eat wood. That’s good.
But no one gets saved!
So I’m not special,’ B had made understood.
Sometimes she worried like crazy
that she was different. Sometimes she didn’t worry that she was different like crazy.
At first the cruel media (and some did too on Oak Street) teased her, hated her,
was terrified this kind
of “natural ability” could occur in her.
Quickly they lost interest,
forgot about her.
At Elmwood Primary school some people
ate for lunch sandwiches and fruit.
She ate doors and drawer knobs
and the occasional wood flute.
Some people
in the beginning
were scared that her
bodily functions were strange and not prizewinning.
‘She c-can d-d-i-ig-g-ge-s-st-t-t w-w-woo-d. As b-b-beav-v-ers d-do!’ a classmate had said, not grinning.
‘Friends, Pleeaasssssssssse DON’T be scare of me!
You’ll soon come to understand me. You’ll see.’
‘And YES. I eat like a beaver.
But I don’t cut down trees with my teeth to build
lodges and dams. I don’t eat layers of tree bark.
It’s totally impressive how quick they can build.’
After a long while
most people just accepted she could eat wood. Sure there were a few meanies of guile
who teased her and her parents to tears
for awhile.
She made some friends
and she even had some boyfriends.
She actually loved the taste of wood
that’d make most sick. That she liked to admit.
'I have no choice but to,
I guess,’ she’d admit.
She never felt sick or put on any weight.
Skinny as a HB pencil she was, but not unfit.
Her poos were wood when she didn’t pig normal food when she asked for it.
In fact she preferred wood.
It was free and it
saved her parents a load of money and too,
saved on dentist bills because her teeth never split.
TO BE CONTINUED ... IN PART 2
Carol Ellen’s love of granite will turn her into a fulfilled geologist.
Tim’s fascination with stem cells will help him be a fantastic biologist.
Me, myself, I want to a tri-scientist. Maybe paleontologist.
If not that, there is my secretive dream of being a micro-biologist.
My neighbor’s cousin is a boring, bored, cardiologist.
His former dream was to be an Egyptian anthropologist.
I’ve invented a new career, a Sabertoothologist
Which sounds almost as terrific as a ColdDuluthologist.
Both are my self-made ideas, as I am a well-known ideologist.
My outrageously lovely fall back plan is snappily dressed zoologist
Except the Latin might kill me, forcing me to become an astrologist.
If I want to begin soon, I had best get out some books and blow off the dust.
Cerro Gordo. Which one? Yeah thats how it goes. Either you are talking about a small farming town on the east coast of the Us or a Silver mining town on the west coast of the US> Both names have spanish or Mexican orgin. Cerro Gordo which translated means "Fat Hill".
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------Micro Hydro Turbine Generator Manufacturer - Suneco Hydro.A hydroelectric generator for a creek converts moving water into usable electricity using either kinetic "in-stream" turbines or high-head penstock pipeline systems. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Nuvo jHorn - Black-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------Stacked together quilters (wof)---------------------------------------
As I watch the sun descend from view,
cast shadows across the land anew,
Floating warehouses engulf the sky
thus the shadows never die.
The drones which fill the evening air,
aren’t drones of old to thus compare,
but silent, programmed to communicate,
delivering goods and never late.
The chip implant within my hand
is my identity, you understand,
encrypted with a micro currency
for transaction approval of efficient fluency.
The robots, just like silk to touch
for which nothing is too much
parade the house, each play their part
like humanoids devoid of heart.
From cars that fly to boats that hover;
with 3D printers, everything’s on offer,
from building houses, making repairs
to all items in need of spares.
We sleep in pods with medical guile
monitoring organs in high tech style.
Ageing, now a long lost plague
of a distance past so acutely vague.
The cell phone, an archaic relic
now holographic, almost psychedelic,
run your life, in complete control,
total dependency with no parole.
Vacations restricted not to Earth,
so choose the planet of your birth,
Venus, Mars even the moon
places you will visit soon.
But species die out day by day,
we can do nothing else but to pray,
for nature’s habitat must prevail,
not advancements which the humans hail.
Black kitty, my sweet cat.
The memory you left behind,
A small cardboard delivery box—
To you, it must have been a micro-universe.
And close to my bed,
Near my notebook where I look at the screen,
Sits the backup mouse
I bought for the frantic Nasdaq futures trading.
Unable to forget you,
Who has departed from me,
I just sit on my bed,
Gazing and gazing at you,
The you who is no longer visible.
Yet, I must sleep on this bed.
But my feet keep drifting over to that spot,
Inadvertently pushing your space away.
Then, the memory floods back.
Because I never, ever want to push
Your precious memory away,
Before I know it, I curl up tightly like a grub,
And fall asleep.
And then, I awake.
And that memory comes alive once more.