Long Misfired Poems
Long Misfired Poems. Below are the most popular long Misfired by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Misfired poems by poem length and keyword.
All I hear of Hilton Hotels is terrible,
making mistakes but taking the money,
slanderous to staff now that ain’t funny,
acting all proper job
when a proper nob,
discrimination I can prove
seeing certain staff removed,
we had no HR we could turn to
the manager had no concern for staff like you
setting me up to be disciplined and sacked
somewhat misfired though that plan, fact,
and when I was eventually fired
it was illegally done I’m no liar,
if Hilton Hotels challenge this poem as libel
then I will prove it’s not a lie I will,
they keep managers that manage like monsters
power mad heads become like satanic imposters,
this manager got sacked but still works for them
he's the manager of the York Hilton
they charge too much
care too little
so to Hilton Hotels here’s my middle!!!
"The future depends on what you do today." - Mahatma Gandhi
Sages long ago, from experience
and insight have stated in unequivocal terms
that our future depends on
what we do today. So, spring into action
and leave the comfort zone.
Turn away from the shadows
of the past, mirroring fear and doubt,
of actions that misfired
of battles fought in vain
or dreams that never came true,
giving one aches and self- contempt
making one withdraw into a life of inaction.
Instead, search for new opportunities,
fan the flames of self- love
flickering within,
never before fanned,
yet may blaze and blossom.
it will script new stories
breathe fresh life into you.
it will come in the form of quieting peace
like a hand holding one, never letting go
find joy in giving up a plan that went futile
take one day at a time, live now
and steal the moment like a thief.
extinct are our Yesterdays,
illusory are our Tomorrows,
Today is all that exists,
what there is and all there is.
When seeds of action are sown today
We shall reap the harvest later
today is our way up hill
the arena for action decreed
the stage set for the show
the tool and trade for life.
so, toil relentless today.
panic not over yester years,
rant not on chances missed
greet Today, right in front!
live Now.
render it your respiration and perspiration
strive, find and reap rewards galore!
The Darwin Awards are a posthumous honor, recognizing those who have improved the human gene pool by removing themselves from it by their own foolish actions.
In a robbery way out in Long Beach
Elliot's handgun misfired in the breech
Down the barrel he took
A quite scatterbrained look
Then made it more than a figure of speech
There was a foolish fellow named Gary
Who gulped gasoline over near Cary
The fuel made him gag
So he fired up a ***
And now smokes in the state mortuary
"Look, no helmet!" Phil proudly decried
In the headgear disobedience ride
He stood for his rights
Then put out his lights
When he flew off his Electra Glide
An impatient Korean got miffed
And was ramming the doors of the lift
Then went a bit daft
When he got the shaft
But his ride to the bottom was swift
References:
http://jdgroover.wordpress.com/2013/08/20/the-2013-darwin-awards-are-out/
http://www.darwinawards.com/darwin/darwin2012-03.html
http://www.darwinawards.com/darwin/darwin2011-03.html
http://www.darwinawards.com/darwin/darwin2010.html
All England, blinking nervously, is out!
A little mild spell, much to our surprise,
has brightened frowsy February skies.
We sniff the air with nostrils schooled in doubt.
Baffled by balm, the fruit trees have misfired.
Like foolish virgins, hurrying on their scarves,
They've pushed out blooms half-petaled and half-starved.
The coming frosts will slice them like cheese-wire.
And I have loved you far too eagerly.
My half-cocked hopes have withered on the bough.
I should have doled my sweets more meagerly -
then, had I granted space, and time, and light,
your hobbled feelings might have taken flight,
in any time or place - but England. Now.
I blink my eyes and then the world is gone.
Open once again to see some peons upon the lawn.
They came to hear the Lion yawn and swipe a wife by dawn.
That's why I keep my pride and believe,
to conceive that it's respite is my reprieve.
But you yuppies be just mere pawns in the grand scheme;
placed at rank 2 file C.
I treat myself to treats I don't need to ask the priest.
I fill a lady's niche when God's dead like Friedrich Nietzsche.
I'm an autonomous man, the world needs me.
Due to greedy deeds, I lost the lot of you to petty thievery.
Now standing orthogonal to the bishop you orthodox Cis.
Tearing holes in the fabric of time while mother nature sits and knits that.
Amidst a scrimmage over minish mishaps, fisticuffs and misfired mitts with whiplash.
Hexed by wind and turbulent syntax.
As activists vehemently flail at the fascist crux; only to be met by impasse.
Making my attempt to love exclusively an outward expression;
a barrage of affection bombarding the good intentions of a meta-man’s vision.
Otherwise known as fortified Freudian defense mechanisms.
To deal with ideals in an asymmetric system.
Oh but I pray praise that I am what I be.
Hallow thy be virile amongst a creed of faulty seeds.
Yet I’m an enantiomer, a Chiral Beast;
my courage can never be superimposed upon the fear of defeat.
Finally granted with the Coupe de Gras when disagreements meet.
As if graced by chance, I advance with the apex of a Sword’s vertice.
Striking clean from the left to then evade your deceit.
I take a seat while a woman cleans my wounds with peace.
Ahh but even in victory, the warrior’s woe must be debriefed.
All England, blinking nervously, is out!
A little mild spell, much to our surprise,
has brightened frowsy February skies.
We sniff the air with nostrils schooled in doubt.
Baffled by balm, the fruit trees have misfired.
Like foolish virgins, hurrying on their scarves,
They've pushed out blooms half-petaled and half-starved.
The coming frosts will slice them like cheese-wire.
And I have loved you far too eagerly.
My half-cocked hopes have withered on the bough.
I should have doled my sweets more meagerly -
then, had I granted space, and time, and light,
your hobbled feelings might have taken flight,
in any time or place ... but England. Now.