Long Moot Poems
Long Moot Poems. Below are the most popular long Moot by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Moot poems by poem length and keyword.
Fruit Fly, Cockroach, Random Lie Fruit fly, cockroach, random lie, here we go eternity sis-boom... bye.
Dust to dust, ashes to ashes, just like that, I am gone, after living out, like water up the spout it's all days gone bye.
Like a riddle, It's long, it's short, it goes by quick, after all, is said and done we don't really give a lick.
Chased the dream until I screamed, some attained, some elusive but at a price that is utterly too abusive.
Fruit fly, cockroach, random lie, here we go eternity sis-boom... sigh.
We just leave as we should because it's time, time for God's next trick. Rich man, poor man it don't matter none we have had our fill and our fun.
Next man up, fasten your seatbelt it's quite the ride, don't want to fall until it's your time to die........
Fruit fly, cockroach, random lie, here we go eternity... my oh my!
Everything true was just mere lies, some more, some less but lies nonetheless, deceived, distressed, completely undressed.
What to think, what to say, when all of one's beliefs are taken away, press pause? restart? reboot you say? It's all a bit late, it's all rather moot, wouldn't you say?
It's all very odd to begin the decline when everything seems strangely fine? It all weighs so heavily though on your mind.
Best not to think, just do! try to win each day as it's all anew. It's good, it's bad, it's happy, it's sad, my son calls me dad so I'm not feeling mad, just happy to be and, not, not be and to be as long as I possibly can be. Is that the answer? maybe? we'll see.......
Fruit fly, cockroach, random lie, here we go eternity... Please don't cry
For we die each night, Born again every day, take it or leave it, it's better that way. Take it!, take it, I say, try to make it just one more day, what more can one possibly say, but be thankful for just one more precious day.
Like the common fruit fly and cockroach, our life span is but a blink of an eye before we die, just minutes off the cosmic clock of which we have no apparent key to its eternal lock
Colures transposed orbits closed whence derive the rains of rose?
Across million mileage magic and magnitude are striding
O'er holistic horizon svelteness and smoothness are sliding
Meridian framed parallax tamed whither swash the rains of rose?
Spray by spray, knuckle down to my mood pensive
From ethereal to real, from sparse to intensive
Soon drenched head o'er heels
I found the root of my romance's route
Under a bracing baptism bringing fine feels
From amazed to aplomb, from something uneasy to nothing moot
Memo peeped murmurs eavesdropped how to diagnose
My long-overdue romance syndrome, rain of rose?
Among infinitesimal traces palpating sentimental palpitations
And probing their pathetic derivations
Throughout infinite engrams pinpointing fugal focuses
And precluding their maudlin metamorphoses
Tender spot perceived hardened navel-gazing detected
Rain of rose, how to track and treat my vulnerable veins well-directed?
Self-moderating little by little
Instilling solace into me trickle by trickle
Yarn by yarn, untangle my yearns intricate
From aggressive to assimilable, from inquisitive to intimate
Rosy, rosy rain
Messenger from ineffable Cockayne
Where comet breeze fondles her finery of frieze
Into my laps leap swaths of her lusty ease
Rosy, rosy rain
Sharp switcher of memory lane
Where murk and melancholia of yore
Transfigure into present horoscopes and kaleidoscopes galore
Rosy,rosy rain
Recoverer from romance drain
Ripple by ripple streams into her likeness, lusciousness lacing limpidity
Alleviating my lovelorn insipidity and rigidity
Rosy, rosy rain
Precise pacesetter of telepathic vane
Wisp by wisp floats familiar fragrance and grace
My well-oriented paces in lockstep with her fairy trace
Rosy, rosy rain
Shuttle through sensorial chain
Calm inside, my premier ego as huddled as a musing esthete
Passion outgoing, the alter ego as loosened as an effusing synesthete
Rosy, rosy rain
Seamless scourer of sour and pain
Inch by inch rinses away blue waves of woes
Rousing the resting redolence of rose
Rosy, rosy rain
Merry melody with voluble refrains
Note by note, elicits dulcet endearments of old years
Fleeing from errant mindscape, destined to attentive ears.
Fruit fly, cockroach, random lie, here we go eternity sis-boom... bye.
Dust to dust, ashes to ashes, just like that, I am gone, after living out, like water up the spout it's all days gone bye.
Like a riddle, It's long, it's short, it goes by quick, after all, is said and done we don't really give a lick.
Chased the dream until I screamed, some attained, some elusive but at a price that is utterly too abusive.
Fruit fly, cockroach, random lie, here we go eternity sis-boom... sigh.
We just leave as we should because it's time, time for God's next trick. Rich man, poor man it don't matter none we have had our fill and our fun.
Next man up, fasten your seatbelt it's quite the ride, don't want to fall until it's your time to die........
Fruit fly, cockroach, random lie, here we go eternity... my oh my!
Everything true was just mere lies, some more, some less but lies nonetheless, deceived, distressed, completely undressed.
What to think, what to say, when all of one's beliefs are taken away, press pause? restart? reboot you say? It's all a bit late, it's all rather moot, wouldn't you say?
It's all very odd to begin the decline when everything seems strangely fine? It all weighs so heavily though on your mind.
Best not to think, just do! try to win each day as it's all anew. It's good, it's bad, it's happy, it's sad, my son calls me dad so I'm not feeling mad, just happy to be and, not, not be and to be as long as I possibly can be. Is that the answer? maybe? we'll see.......
Fruit fly, cockroach, random lie, here we go eternity... Please don't cry
For we die each night, Born again every day, take it or leave it, it's better that way. Take it!, take it, I say, try to make it just one more day, what more can one possibly say, but be thankful for just one more precious day.
Like the common fruit fly and cockroach, our life span is but a blink of an eye before we die, just minutes off the cosmic clock of which we have no apparent key to its eternal lock
Part 3
Long story short,
Let's cut to the chase.
To where the end of the day,
Marked the end of the race.
And as the sun set,
Who did they all see?
Cresting the hill,
It ... wasn't ... the ... bunny.
For, just plodding along,
As though heading somewhere,
It was Sheldon the tortoise,
They saw over there.
Well, such a commotion,
What a hullabaloo.
None of the animals
Knew quite what to do.
In the end, they were thrilled,
That Sheldon might win.
Thought of Rabbit losing,
Well, it made them all grin.
News of events,
Had drawn a huge crowd
And, as such, the noise,
They made was quite loud.
And I'm sure you've all 'heard',
About forests and sound,
And trees when they fall,
But when there's no one around
But, whenever this happens,
Since no - one's ever about,
On the matter of whether,... well
On that, the jury's still out.
But this time there was,
So the matter's twice moot
And of no interest to Rabbit,
Who, upon hearing Owl hoot,
Had woken from slumber,
his "only - one - hour snooze,
When he'd thought to himself,
"There's no way I could lose."
But the knot in his stomach,
Grew with gnawing concern,
Had he rested too long,
Avoiding sunburn.
And upon that note, that rabbit ran,
In fact he practically flew.
And how many records,
he broke is unclear
But it was definitely more than two.
But alas his best, was not enough
Poor Rabbit looked awful dour.
For Sheldon had just finished crossing the line,
(which, from head to tail,
took just under an hour).
When he'd broken the tape
They'd all gone ma-goo,
But, thirty minutes still crossing
Had grown more subdued.
And by the time crafty Sheldon,
Won that race and for good,
Half of the animals
Had started thinking of food.
And this brings us too,
The end of the tale
Where tortoise beat rabbit
In a race through the dales.
And though he had hoped
For an ongoing ovation
Their response fell far short
Of his expectations.
For half of the animals
Were planning their supper,
While the rest were avoiding
Being a meal for the other.
And so while rabbit, still fuming,
outran his fox nemesis.
Tortoise plodded home
And pondered his existence.
The End
Misery accompanied, haltered, tethered... tattered web
This health conscious lx year
roam'n, hoodwinking hoodlum doth wear
two pair bullet proof underwear,
(which confession rarely trumpeted),
plus yours truly admits unclear
why tibia long in the tooth fellow,
prevaricates with tongue in cheek oh contraire
good n plenti humor absent clear
sense and sensibility so beware
me figuratively pulling poetic foot
mainly "white lie" fibula I air
discombobulated gobbledygook,
which corroboration ye might declare
choosing to cease reading
feeling in high dungeon as all hell... where,
twitching (bull leave me you) nostrils flare
analogous to spewing dragon
rare endangered species from Zaire
of corpse stewing in dungeon
hooping on wing and prayer
to attend Renaissance Faire,
thus word wizard conjured
aforementioned as metaphorical veneer
cuz, he really sought to pioneer
his breakout poetaster career,
thus far batch
prefabricated rejection letters
posits alternative to forswear
writing another feeble rhyme
relieving anonymous critics
providence beckons I course hear
doom and resignation refrain
repeatedly hammering and echoing
within chambers of each ear
mancave best provenance
divine providence especially if nuclear
war rents tentative moments to spare,
which doomsday looms clear,
perhaps half fortnight away
fatalistic mindset, I despair
money woes exacerbate pesky news
sense under_scoring dallying,
dithering, lollygagging... while linear
rise regarding global temperature
gives cold comfort the buccaneer
occupying oval office laissez faire
attitude, hence pennilessness moot
total mortal kombat global warming
further accentuates real Halloween scare,
no trick only ill treatment
unleashed courtesy mutineer
hand over fist handily did profiteer
minting daily another bajillionaire
government coffers bursting
mother earth biosphere square
within uber targeted crosshair
talking heads poles
apart as global warming
melts Antarctic frigidaire
Santa Claus reindeer and elves
schvitz as north pole melts
in short shrift oblate sphere
formerly teeming with life
field day for hardy
indomitable creatures thriving
within most scary nightmare.
jeezis …
didn’t you know?
you HAD to know
you were there, too
you felt it -
you said so
before I said a WORD
you had expressed it …
perfectly
you were the river I swam up
slow
deep
pristine
warm and welcoming …
touch, caress, kiss, impel, look …
look …
looking
straight to your soul
no walls
no games
no pretense or curves
your eyes were my HOME
my eyes …
your playground
WE … were the source
that place where identity meshed
chaotic passion
a swirl of ids and motions and
ecstatic desire
so rare …
so incredibly rare
didn’t you know that??
you HAD to
I know you did …
and that’s what is so senseless
that’s what angers me
in the dark hours
the black moments
the moments of loss and
reality and regret
was that sacrifice worth it?
I wish I knew …
oh, how I pray to heaven it WAS
for you …
for what does that say about me …
about my worth …
my value …
my desirability??
the saddest thing
for ME
is that I can NOT answer that question
maybe …
just maybe, you CAN
but it’s the last thing I ever want to
hear leave your lips …
not because it wouldn’t be the truth
not because it would ache to the marrow
not because it might change everything between us …
but because everything you think and
feel and say … is now moot …
your betrayal of those
priceless, precious, extraordinarily
rare and invaluable things
has shown me that you cherish the
tangible over the intangible -
that your priorities are the
things you can hold and see and
put comfort in …
and THAT actuality in itself
proves that all those soul-deep,
profoundly intense conversations we
had about what is truly
important in life -
those things that enrich the
spirit and give love it’s meaning and
immortality -
were just so much effluvium …
thistles on the winds of passing
that you puffed away
with one weak, careless breath
and despite all the
miraculous connections we once had -
the joy and passion and
heart-melding experiences -
those priorities haven’t made ME worthless
(though I spent years believing so)
they’ve made your AFFECT upon me worthless
and in the grandest
most honest and cherished schemes of life
I just no longer …
give a damn.
mysterious as Lemuel
unlike hundreds of
other rowdy seniors
constituting the nineteen
seventy seven graduating class
of Methacton High School,
this now mooch older non "Warrior"
(alma mater mascot) alumni -
of late more astute,
(yea rather boyish looking edging
into age bracket,
viz ranked as ole coot)
far to late for
me or any brute
to gather rose buds,
fat and/or slim
chance i.e. remote
while I may in my dreams
play Mozart's Magic flute
at this late stage of life,
no harvested crop yield,
nor any sown
healthy product rendered moot
('cept tantamount to rotten
tomatoes and fruit)
all, cuz your truly
did not give a hoot
'bout his future,
later when the
requisite need for loot
would be absolutely necessary,
not necessarily to buy
a fine gold spun suit,
but more so to be financially
(non bombastically, egotistically,
nor inimitably) to toot
my own (baritone)
horn, no any which
ways appearing snoot
tush (more likely absent minded,
versus trying tubby astute),
no matter this myopic googly eyed
non-boastful logophile,
these days (lives duet
tough lee hand to mouth
existence) nearly destitute
his whole pro Lix life,
witnessed, and flaunted
(reed dit as) inked badge,
(regardless getting promoted,
but nearly failing every grade),
and ambivalent toward
dismal poor performance report cards
testament toward tummy
severely lacking ambition,
while analogously forced
to climb hemp fat tick rungs
jute dish shuss academic ladder,
no matter rope burns
squarely didst root
moost unfavorable outcome
to this wimp who mouthed
pop eyed expletive
conveying "oh chute",
whose then palm (olive)
oiled pilot size glute
more accurately boot
found me poor bum promoted
to higher baby boomer chair
despite favorably portentous signs
tubby potential vagrant,
who would lack self reliance,
nor give a hoot
to stitch survivalist parachute.
War is the art of making a withdrawal at the bank
With checks written in the blood of patriots
Spending lives
Without a care or whim
Sacrificing body and soul
Life and limb
To justify a means to an end
The most vicious of my troops I send
To pillage a loot
Your cries of peace are moot
Its truly a tragic scene
For the continued slaughter
Of the fleshy targets
Of everyone’s daughter
I surrender myself
As a modern-day martyr
This is what I do
I destroy them
For you
Point, aim, click
And they explode on cue
Delivered death
Retriever of your continued breath
Until there is nothing left
The charred carcass I heft
To be tossed to the pile
Stacked deep by the mile
Offering a wicked smile
To intimidate
My target of late
The reaper of souls
Would like a date
Not picky
Of your attire
Or where to eat
Just where to hang you by your feet
So you swing to the beat
Of the ratty tat tat
And the boom boom gloom
It’s a buffet of mayhem and doom
Your dance partners
Wear a pin and a spoon
Pull aim and throw
Watch the flesh
Separate and blow
Meat and greet
A disgusting show
Yes its quite fun
Fooling the simple
Almost satisfying
Like popping a pimple
But more fascinating
To watch the meek
Struggle like sheep
Taking orders for death
How would you like it prepared?
Well done, medium or rare?
How about vile and unfair
Without a care
Doing everything I dare
Laying the insanity of humanity
Bare
For all to share
In 1080p
For all to see
Or possibly 4K
To taste the flavor of the day
Bright and vivid
So you can get good and livid
And cry out WHY?
Do so many have to die?
A fair question to be sure
And I do concur
But humanity has it’s lure
It’s a hook
Its a crave
To control others
By filling the grave
Of the willing
To do the killing
Because they were told
By the rich and old
If they win
We fold
Were sold
They will break our mold
And end up cold
It’s truly a rotten game
This thing called war
It should be called
The nothing of evermore
Nothing
Ever
Becomes
More
Eric (and sometimes not)
the Medicare, an undeserved fund the patients spend,
which seems extremely excrescent,
must be crushed immediately without any mend.
No coverage serves them right! Be they gravely ill or convalescent.
In his favor, all the rules the Capitol shall bend,
prosecution immunity, business chance----each prerogative coming on end.
His flagrance in abuse of power, plus republicans' acquiescence, plunges to a state perversely putrescent,
in consequence, honest individuals wizened while tower of liar and mar-a-lago mire tumescent.
High as the staff's passions hit, perfectly as their patiences fit, more than half at last have to quit.
What has ground away every panjandrum's wit and grit?
His inopportune blah-blah and twitter tantrum bit after bit,
the latter a globe-mocked target and also, often a globe-shocking tool kit.
Atmosphere of allies only too calm and bland,
against them, with his single hand,
he stirs up trade wars amid the entire world's guffaws.
Prostrate shall be the security of homeland,
prostrate shall be the competence of diplomatic corps,
bolt upright frontier walls shall stand----
but stand only in his brain, which constantly bolts out lunatic lore.
Pants on fire, collars on fire, hard and fast is this refractory liar.
Really a refractory and prolific liar, really a refractory and lifetime liar,
boasting his lying score higher than the steepest steeple's spire,
never plans to retire, until one day he has to expire.
Nonsense the globalization trend, nonsense what the majority attend,
abandoning all oversea interests and renouncing all international duties are the cause he shall defend.
And the itinerary of isolationism, his pilgrimage route.
Endorsed by none, would he be alone? A point nothing moot.
Epiphanic from Roman catacombs, arms open, ecstatic and naked----an epiphany non-faked----
Nero comes up to embrace him grinnily, like a kindred spirit in long pursuit eventually slaked
acting as his soul mate cum his sole friend
and escorting him all along to his final end.
His final end, Nero's end, that's who could brazen out the mass hoot.
His final end, Hell's end, that's where he takes root.
Thralldom etched in *****sapiens (mine) DNA
Though your true blue stated civilian
never enlisted nor impressed,
nonetheless I own an opinion
originally embarked on poetic quest
to express purposelessness,
when soldiers rest
at peace i.e. eternally,
many attired courtesy
smart uniform strong with zest.
Psyche steeped, macerated, brewed
as token scapegoat, cue
trumpets Don to toot
courtesy more'n one
nasty shortish brute
weasley chastened me
round mulberry bush
said monkeys chased scaredy
cat me... point moot
regarding... rung me
ragged standing astute
adjacent Thomas Jonathan
"Stonewall" Jackson
(Confederate general during
American Civil War),
his own troops accidentally
fired on him during
Battle of Chancellorsville
in Virginia doth not compute
"friendly fire" unleashed during
one among many hot pursuit
part and parcel of wars,
since time immemorial
gung ho practiced soldier and/or
scared cat neophyte unwittingly shoot
pellets traveling speed of
sound bullet out - gunmetal chute
ordinarily pardoned distinct mistake
versus homicide statute
nonetheless...about
thee (rhetorical question), wherefore
art thou purpose to war,
those slain now paid tribute
since major hostilities of
World War I formally
ended at 11th hour of 11th
day of 11th month of 1918
yet... I question military conflicts
battle hymns constitute
legacy e'er since Homo
sapiens stood erect,
many soldiers of misfortune,
sons of destitute
versus wealthy heirs accepted perception
that war was "a rich man's war
and a poor man's fight"
countless generations ago
deserters fate would mean execute
"the bastard," even second decade
into twenty first century
once sworn in at basic training,
getting discharged (vodka luck), but absolute
zero tolerance quitting before
duty commitment desertion flagrant violation,
no easy task leaving service minus
tribunal meeting severe to prosecute,
thus joining military unlike
accepting any other job
punishment greater than Das boot,
yet patriotism, née jingoism
not ideal, viz conflict resolution,
verstehen, or did this wordsmith convolute?