Long Off the rack Poems
Long Off the rack Poems. Below are the most popular long Off the rack by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Off the rack poems by poem length and keyword.
Who, Why, What, Where, When?
Take a meme, and make it clean by belief, engagement,
God meme, Santa Claus or denim jeans are fundamentals,
They offer a magic carpet to all partakers into fulfilment,
When we endorse the concepts behind these credentials.
Like god, belief in Jesus is optional, warranty undelivered,
On two levels: as the son of god, and as the son of man,
The latter being the term more frequented by gospel word,
When he emerged as the people’s hero, up for a ban.
Richard Carrier believes that Jesus never existed at all,
Historically, but he doesn’t speak much of psychosomatics,
Which assumes contemporary phrasing and a high call,
To spread medical remedies and to dismiss ecclesiastics.
Crucifixion was the punishment method used back then,
Just as the electric chair is used today in the United States,
And very many people were crucified each week, like Ben,
Some who’d changed their name to Jesus, or “demonstrates”.
Jesus in the Israeli language meant saviour of the people,
Meaning intrinsically from the Roman government seed,
Trying to figure out how to make progressivism capable,
So they asserted themselves in the court case of creed.
So, if we take the storyline stat, then what does it emit,
Did Mary and Joseph name the boy on their first day?
To call him then by an off the rack name - “Jesus” bit,
Which indicated that he would create medical sway.
If Jesus crucified as god never happened, that's fine,
If Jesus was not born virgin god incarnate, then ok,
But if a Nazarene boy fit the bill as Jesus the myth, rhyme,
Then don't claim that he needed this mould to thus say.
And don't presume you don't have a faith to propel you,
That is, if you believe that a man died for his human acts,
Towards the poor and the sick who upon old age, chase,
Were only encouraged to commit suicide as bad facts.
Reading the text, many Jesus’s were crucified at this time,
So the canonical gospels may not consider just one healer:
Therefore if you think this then life can be not sublime,
And so whether you're called this or that is not clever.
I decide to take the plunge, internet dating is all the rage
My loneliness grows, I decide it’s time I try to engage
I join several dating sites, cynical of what I may find
Hoping it’s someone sweet, who’s honest and kind
I write my profile and describe myself as stylish and chic
Smiling with a chuckle, right now I am not dressed for my pic
I go to my closet; the fancy date dresses are way in the back
I move all the comfy clothes as I take the sexy ones off the rack
I narrow it down to two dresses, one glittery red and one slinky black
I grab a pair of heels, spiked red leather and with sexy strappy backs
My face is now make-up, red lipstick, blue liner and false fake lashes
I set up my camera and tripod, hoping it takes my pic and flashes
A week goes by and I have several hits and messages on my profile page
I find one I like, he seems nice and honest, or it could all be staged
We chat awhile and then he invites me to talk to him over zoom
I agree to video chat in a few hours, as I stare at the dresses in my room
I get all made up, wearing my red dress, spiked heels, flashy fake rocks
As I try to walk, I take the heels off and put on my fuzzy socks and crocs
We video chat, really hitting it off, until he asks to see my sexy shoes
I panic, as drop my tablet, it crashes, lands at my feet, I am not amused
I grab my tablet, my face is red with embarrassment, maybe he didn’t see?
He laughs as he tells me, he now knows I am the one, it was meant to be
He's holding up his foot, below his suit, he’s wearing shorts and fuzzy socks
and says he loves that I can be glamorous while wearing socks and crocs
WHO SAID TEN GRAND IS SO GRAND?
There are just some things that should be decided by fate
And the others are conceived in my mind like a flash
Don’t shoot bad dope, don’t go into bad neighborhoods too late
And never owe the biggest dope dealer in town ten grand
Sometimes I feel as if I should move on to someplace new
Somewhere when the cock is your alarm clock and that’s fine
Sometimes I feel as if I’d like a new name, perhaps Lou
Whatever place or name I choose it will become all mine
Sometimes I wake up feeling as if someone is staring
a pair of eyes aimed accurately in my direction
But my eyes are only half opened because the sun was glaring
So I check out my house, section by section
Simply because no one’s following me doesn’t mean I’m not paranoid
It just means there’s no one constantly on my tail
Besides I know the ones to avoid and those who get me annoyed
Since I have no one who knows where I am and I don’t get calls nor mail
Sometimes I feel as if I should pack my bags and go
Just take my hat off the rack and tote my ragged bag
I just get this feeling that I’m a target somewhere I don’t know
And when my dog gets nervous as well I see his tail wildly wag
Some suns tell me when the moon comes I should be in an alternate place
So I find my lover and relocate to another languid land
But stagnation will kill me or hurt her to get to me and mess up my face
Because that’s the price you pay for owing the biggest dope dealer ten grand
© 2011.….Phreepoetree
You chose me off the the thorny pine lake
And gently place me on a rocking rack,
I could breathe the cleanest air above the pile of pineapples
You took me off the rack showed me an easy way to go
Made me like the water made me flow,
And i was the sweetest fruit for the thirsty and of bitter taste
You made my life a happy song
And took the spikes off my chest
You made me fly and diffuse my wisdom and then every one followed
They took me by their mouth and made for themselves freedom
Freed themselves from stunting,
Muscled up and helped others cross the street
They grew up to raise kids by pineapple juice and moral feet
Then i knew i was nutritious
I had made the society conscious
Because you made me first into that pineapple,
And my juice i serve to Gods people.
(in many ways those moral teachings
of the bible makes us as human as we should be,
they are all a different fruit to us)- Lucas-
Author's note: This is a sort of postscript, dear reader, to "My Life Upon the Wicked Stage"
When I think of how my life's turned out,
I can say without restraints,
This simple boy from far West Texas did just fine.
There've been some bumps along the way, of course,
But all in all I've no complaints,
And any failures or successes all are mine.
When I retired from teaching,
Oh, so many years ago,
To seek my fame and fortune on the stage,
I quickly learned how fleeting fame is,
How feeble fickle fortune's glow,
Still, I've no guilty conscience to assuage.
I make a decent margarita,
I read and speak un peu Français,
My suits and shirts are off the rack from JC Penney.
I rent a one-bedroom apartment,
I drive an ancient Chevrolet,
And of stocks and IRAs, there aren't any.
But when the muse of poetry
Sought me out and said, "Hey, Jim,
I propose the role of poet you embrace.
If you let the page become your stage,
Your acting bulb need never dim,
And we can help to make the world a better place."
Sure, my life has had its ups and downs,
But, as I said, I can't complain,
I've my health, good friends, some money in the bank.
My dream is now to write a play or novel,
And if that goal I should attain,
I'll have this practice posting poetry to thank.
If i could summon you to my perception
Or host you whole to my being
Only then
Only then would you fathom the wreckage
And take a dip in my alcohol thoughts
Or come watch me redeem my aggravating flaws
Hues from my mouth dripping void , dripping scarlet
Like the letter except that im unwritten
And the sounds of ill relief form an orchestra in my ears
They are diamonds , not tears
Pulled triggers not passing years
Im only dreaming when my my head hangs low
only winning when my mind is stray
Im more familiar with the shattered glass yet your touch cracks more of me
Be the muse to my blues
Or just be , thats enough for me
Pour gasoline to the inferno
Hang me by the neck like your dartboard , aim the dart
I'd rather you be the wretched end of me than anybody be my clean cut start
They'd offer you umbrellas in the rain
Then you'd have me asking if all is resolved by my lipstick stain?
During the harvest they'd help you with your grain
I, my eyes'd mist
pleading in your arms wondering whether your love for me was washed by your terrain
But darling , if you chose the vodka off the rack of the champagne
You'd have to accept the bitter warmth of it , hauling at you like acidic rain
Cindi! Cindi!
Wipe your tears, Cindi!
You’ve been given no rights.
Somewhere life made a wrong turn.
Your heart is made of glass.
Your reputation shattered,
when dear, old daddy, departed.
She wasn’t a princely wife.
She brought her bratty baggage,
tolerated your twinkle-eyes and laugh.
Attic locked up tight,
every squeaking mouse in sight -
they start to look tasty
when your tummy is empty.
The click when it is still dark,
she flies into the room,
throws you a broom,
and down to the cinders you go…
when it is still dark.
You’re afraid of the dark.
The herald invited everyone
except you.
You were locked in the closet
with the broom.
If you made a sound
you would be doomed.
Cindi! Cindi! Wipe your tears.
I’m here to make wishes come true.
Those tasty mice will drive you.
The pumpkin will transport you.
I know you think I’ve lost my mind.
Your shattered heart will bind together,
become shoes of glass - don’t lose them,
don’t give away your heart.
Cindi, choose from off the rack.
Each stunning gown is your size,
just choose the style, length and color -
you’re about to have a ball!
Trust your fairy godmother!
My suit of self-loathing no longer fits
The mirror of compassion tells me so
Years of bad-intentions held back growth
After a time, the length of my sleeves bind
I didn’t realize I’ve become over-sized
These angry pants are fit for a small child
How silly I look with cuffs choking wrists
How I’ve loved my painfully straight jacket
Like it or not, the right suit still waits
No one other than I can disrobe loathing
The best cloak is the one from the womb
It takes skill to unstitch a childish blazer
It takes care to unhem pants outgrown
It takes love to go out in my birthday suit
Let tatters of anxiety fall down the chute
Self-loathing keeps me from disrobing
But, I’m not ready to shed my suit yet
The manly scissors that cuts are too heavy
After self-loathing is bare understanding
Forgive the man unstitching childishness
Let go of short-comings without clinging
Take the macho suit off the rack with care
Try on that fitted suit made for just me
Wear it till love fills the over-sized space
Take it all off till nakedness feels nice
Matthew 24:18
"Whoever is in the field must not turn back to get his cloak."
As I come to the end of the year
it's always good to take a look back
see the ups, the downs and their effects
learn from mistakes to get off the rack
Many lovely holidays we did enjoy
the highlands in January at Crieff Hydro
then in April to lovely sunny Madeira
so relaxing taking life real slow
Learn to grow in God's word come July
great week at Keswick convention no less
then October took us to Pitlochry town
the enchanted forest there simply no stress
Throughout the year many Hospital calls
my PSA kept down under control
my stammer took the slide once again
so dry my tongue many words own goal
Such a blessing all my friends on here
too many to name they know who they are
so encouraging and inspiring all over the globe
their pens come to the fore from near and far
My greatest support is my Christine
at my back keeping me going strong
but my blessed saviour Jesus always close
stands with me always to eternally belong
The boy will come and tell you that
It's going nowhere fast
He just decided he don't want you
Written in his past
Not that you aren't sweet and warm
But that's too much to be
He'd rathar he was standing on
The side of being free
So pick yourself
Brush a tear from your eye
Say so long honey
I'll be saying goodbye
Never thought it could last
But sure hoped it would
Gotta get myself out
Of this neighborhood
Now you know you're only grasping
At a dim reality
You thought it was something
Folks call love
What's that supposed to be?
If you'd only known what you know now
Would have never come to pass
The wiser now,you'll just forget
This melancholy jazz
Open your eyes
Take your hat off the rack
Say so long,baby
I'm never coming back
Gonna go it alone
In complete misery
Start tasting the fruits of reality