Long Mob Poems
Long Mob Poems. Below are the most popular long Mob by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Mob poems by poem length and keyword.
We need to organize, demand the right to be mindless.
Deserve we compensations,
restorations for the witless who riot.
Compassion and pardon for all moronic mobs.
The right to choose death for others, free booze.
The freedom to abuse, shut down, condemn,
and censor.
We fight for the right to chant
every meaningless slogan,
pledge allegiance to double-speak & gobbledygook,
and of course,
the unalienable sanctity of the male womb,
all gender-fluid birthing, the freedom to groom.
To boldly march on, arm in arm, in tune
toward another dumb-downed.
doltish dawn.
The crowd investigated a thought of a crime,
The web was the tool of their choice,
The arrest by the crowd, the charge by the crowd,
To the crowd he now had no voice,
No confession of guilt, no evidence needed,
When the crowd put him directly on trial,
Beyond reasonable doubt meant nothing at all,
To the crowd which’d now become tribal,
You see, the burden of proof was thrown away,
The rumours had a life of their own,
The rumours grew to a spectacular story,
A story where the truth’s left alone,
And the sentence was swift, no appeal was given,
His soul was on full public parade,
He was hung, drawn and quartered by the rumouring crowd,
And then he was thrown away.
He is a bit unusual, you will have to eat outside, my pet.
I was warned, but still, did not understand quite yet.
It was a blind date, and he came wearing a Russian hat.
But wait, it was not a Russian hat at all, it was a huge cat.
You must be Shirley, he said. He had a lovely sweet smile.
I am glad to meet you. May I sit down for a while?
We had a lovely conversation about the weather and my job.
He introduced me to his Cat her name was Missy Mob.
Missy Mob hissed at me a couple of times after my food came late.
Don’t mind her, he told me, she is angry she does not have a plate.
I offered to give her a bite of salmon, but he said an emphatic no.
She will get feisty on my head, and then I will have to go.
At the end of the date we each pretended we would meet again.
I knew I’d rather jump off a cliff into a wild starving wolf’s pen.
I imagine he also knew this would be the last time we would say “hi”.
I have to admit I could not wait to tell this weirdo a strong good-bye.
Savaging what he has left
after the mafia takes his last
bowl of soup his last slice of
bread his last cup of coffee
the mob boss then gives the
bum a cigarette and a light
pats him on the shoulder
tells him to keep warm its
cold out here drives off
the mob boss then douubles
back around and ask the bum
for change for the parking
meter the bum reaches in
his pocket with worn finger tips
torn gloves and give the
mob boss his last dime
and says take it that's it
that's all I have the mob boss
scratches his head and says
are you sure this is your
last dime the bum replies
yes I'm sure take it you need
it way more than me now stunod
stumps I’m your new Boss Bum
now do you got any change
It was a flash mob…somewhere in Italy…a maestro was conducting Ode to Joy
and I found myself fascinated by the conduct of one little girl…and boy.
Moved by the beauty of the music…and how the maestro was instructing….
the little boy started dancing…and the little girl…conducting.
I love how, out of nowhere, this flash of music put these children in a trance
causing one to begin conducting…and the other one to dance.
And I thought I need to bring that childhood innocence into my morning walk
to be more open to the flash mobs around me as I circumvent the block.
Now, my heart controls the rhythm…providing a steady beat
then my brain receives the message and sends that rhythm to my feet.
Rabbits hop their steady beat to make sure I’ve got it right
as the birds, who provide the music, wake from their slumber of the night.
The crickets begin their collective chorus…voices reaching for the skies
until the owls, the mockingbirds, seagulls and squirrels begin to harmonize.
And on those mornings, when I’m lucky, in the trees I hear the wind begin….
and softly into the symphony…enters the violins.
The flash mob always plays the same song…it’s a daily Ode to Joy
and I try hard to listen with the innocence of that little girly and boy.
Which means on any given morning it is purely happenstance….
whether I choose to be the conductor…or if I choose to dance.
Too much Edward G
You dirty rat
James Cagney
Mae West
Chicago gangland in her heyday
Portrayed with beautiful dames
Singing seductive songs,
wearing mink, diamonds, slinky satin
Belonging to their men
I was almost asleep one night
When I heard a car chasing me down an alley.
I turned and saw it; and was terrified.
I knew it was a past life memory
Also the mobsters in the car were after me.
Snitches get stitches.
My heart had never beat this fast.
They were gaining.
I turned down an alley.
Heard the car stop.
Terrified, I was looking for an out.
Hid behind a trash can.
Someone fished me out
Threw me down.
I saw two men in shadow above me.
One leaned down and I felt a knife
Cut my throat from side to side.
I knew I deserved it, so I closed my eyes
Mob Rule
Tom’s Opinion
July 16, 2020
Today mob rule is taking over our nation,
its time for those in charge, to grow a backbone.
Street mob rule must be brought to cessation,
turning a blind eye signals that they condone.
An era of mob rule is taking over some cities,
by wiping out history a way of life is corroded.
Done under the guise of showing others our pities,
we’ll soon find ourselves as a nation imploded.
The time was chosen when in a survival mode,
for progressives to push their new paradigm.
Oversensitive lawbreakers alleging their owed,
blatherskite doesn’t work, for action it’s past time.
History is, what it was; our ansestors weren’t perfect.
good or bad we can’t change the past.
We can review it, learn from it, and be better because of it.
Tom
Why is ‘Almost Good Enough’
never what you need?
Why is ‘Clearly Not Enough’
an ounce more than you deserve?
Why is ‘Almost What You Need’
the most you’ll ever have?
Why is ‘It’s Not Only That’
the only thing that’s left?
Why is ‘In Almost Every Case’
not in any case at all?
Why is ‘In Lieu Of Everything Else’
the thing sure to be missed?
Why is ‘In Actuality’
in real terms actually not?
Why is ‘To Be Perfectly Honest With You’
the biggest lie you tell?
Why is the serious ‘Last Ditch Effort’
the one you continue to try?
Why is the ‘Absolute Final Time’
the one you repeat again?
Why is ‘Really’ not real at all
and spoken then in vain?
Why is ‘Probably’ not possible
or even close to that?
Why is the phrase ‘The Bottom Line’
the top of your agenda?
Why is the trusted ‘Old College Try’
strictly out of school?
Why is ‘Painstakingly Difficult’
the easiest thing you do?
Why is ‘No Sweat—The Deal Is Done’
so much harder than before?
Why is ‘Let’s Start At The Beginning’
the end of the debate?
Why is ‘The Last Word On The Matter’
the beginning of what comes next?
Why is ‘So What’ a euphemism
for the most important thing you do?
Why is ‘It Is What It Is’
categorically not, and never meant to be?
Why is ‘The Bull In The China Shop’
ceramic and for sale?
Why is the celebratory ‘Victory Lap’
the one taken in disgust?
Why is the magical ‘Three Point Shot’
four points more than its worth?
Why is the special ‘Love You Lost’
the only one you’ve never found?
Why is the figurative ‘Bird In Hand’
the one that flies away?
Why is ‘Bantering Back And Forth’
the silence you extol?
When will your words wrap like copper wire
to conduct the truth unrobbed
When will you cease to pander and mislead
—naked before the mob
(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2015)
My friend and I were nineteen.
We decided to do a frenzied chicken dance
In the park, to see what would happen.
People ran out and joined us.
First it was an old lady. She was probably forty.
Then it was a toddler with her mommy.
We were hopping and spinning, dancing.
Pretty soon there were eight of us.
The only one I knew was my friend,
Yet there was a connection on this beautiful fall day.
I felt like we were all supposed to be here,
At this time, on this day.
Forty-eight years later I look back and smile.
Remembering how much fun we had.
We were kind of an untrained flash mob.
People started standing around watching, smiling.
By noon Channel 7 news was here, filming us.
I began clucking until my girlfriend gave me a sharp look.
She silenced that in about two seconds.
Food trucks would have arrived but we did not have them yet.
A S.W.A.T. Team would have been called in
Except S.W.A.T. was not invented yet in 1971.
Someone called the sheriff and he came down to see it.
Pretty soon he and his wife were dancing with us.
Fredo got me and the gang
A primeval chord inside me rang
We went together on patrol
On the territory rebels had stole.
We saw him then, once one of ours
He tried to hide; you could see him cower
We kicked him, pounded till he was dead
It was a hoot, the blood we shed.
Then I noticed a creature further back
She was a human who I don't attack.
She shed tears and wrote in a pad
She had just learned that we could be bad.
She had bottle-fed me when I was a child
But a chimp is always part of the wild.
Can't blame us for ganging up on a foe
Its in the DNA, its how the winds blow.
My remote relative looked at his socials online
He noticed a trend to call Mary a swine.
He unfriended her, Mary gave a sob
Something primeval in the call of the mob.
Between Chimp and Man about 8 million years
We're still too close, it appears.
Some say evolution is not correct.
But why such an irrational intellect?