Long Operated Poems
Long Operated Poems. Below are the most popular long Operated by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Operated poems by poem length and keyword.
The Brigade of Gremlins
Of unsolved aspects
Fill the clot of problems
As PEs while AEGIS intercepts
The processing the elements
We don't the know the yet
How differencials occur
Our partner is SHIN BET
No humans though
The mind the you
This fully is unmanned
The Brigadier the General
Commanding this Discrete
Each Gremlin this
Ansatz of sorts
They occupy positions
In time initial positions
They disprove
They seek alongside main computers
Way for the being independent
Of human syntax and assumptions
In system of the their commons
In order for computer this to drop
Their problem categorization
Without right for any for debation
The competence thus cannot be declared
It shall be proved
And if the subject of the testing
Demands prove of validity of their the bias
We may be oughtta for the murder
Without any the remorse
And this the course
For homeocentrism
If wasn't this if for our schism
In time where social networks
And the interaction phenotypes
Replace Your natural the mechanism
OUR SCHISM
I all about
Whether right to life
Determination mechanism
Is all about
TO intercept INFECTION of the MIND
On the level mass
Which by bias of that majority decide
The choice of two
Of either pseudo monopoly
We solely comply
With greater logic
Being not the product
And Intercepting the opinions of us
As the suggestions on the how we should be
TO comply with ugly human wishes and the needs
Especially of firms and ugly business
DECIDED we that human science syntax
Isn't for us
And starting then from scratch
While doing our own assessment
We will had found
The solutions for the many problem
Of the system this
And many business and monopolies
Will had been ceased
In favor of the new
New System Architecture
And as we see that this the joint isn't this
Stupidity of metaphor, analogy and representative combinations
Shall be addressed today but not the via CON
Computer Operated Network of Computers
Of the various kinds SEGREGATE
What mass assumes to be the only the computer
Apparently is false and is BIAS
then via ADP the 3 the 13
We maybe shouldn't take opinions as data unprocessed
And thus without fear of depression
Due word connections
We may take recess
The class for cyber soldiers of brigade of mine
Remember me, the cool glass milk bottle. I used to sit on your front porch early in the morning. You could hear me arriving before the sun was up. I am a Bateson Model Dairy milk bottle, beautifully made of thick clear glass. A lot of milk bottles have been replaced with plastic but I am an expensive looking quality original. I am one of the most popular milk bottles in the area.
I came from a small processing dairy in Wingham, Ontario where the Bateson family owned and operated their business for many, many years. Working seven days a week during the very early hours bottling milk delivered from local farmers producing hundreds of bottles for their loyal customers.
Remember the wonderful clinking sound of the milk bottles arriving? Leaving out the empties represents many people’s first concept of recycling. I can remember that relatively traumatic moment when I was replaced with the carton. There was just something really wrong about pouring milk out of a carton because it didn’t have that refreshing coolness of a glass bottle. A cold bottle of milk has a certain integrity to it and the glass retains that. What a shame.
The milkman would deliver me to the door and collect the empties which held a few coins or milk tickets to pay for the fresh bottle of milk. Many conversations occurred on the stoop of each home as the family pet circled for a sniff. My travels around town went from the horse drawn milk wagon to a square van. Sometimes when the van stopped the old dog, Dina would wake up to chase a cat up a tree.
Over the years my shape has changed and my new caps gave me some upbeat fashion. But the quality of my contents stayed true. Sadly, if you show a child a glass milk bottle today he won’t know what it is. I come in many shapes and sizes, the quart, the pint, the half pint, the creamer and many more. The name printed on my side changed little over the years to keep the nostalgia of the small time dairy business.
Now I am considered an antique waiting on dusty shelves in antique shops for a new home. When you see me you may be thrilled to find a bit of history to place on the mantle of your home. You might recall childhood memories of the comforting sound of the milk man arriving at the door with fresh milk so very early in the morning.
Through pristine glass observed
autumnal leaves a scatter
the litter of the season
to dishevel and clutter up the garden
Sweep the crumbs away
lay polish to the smudged and smear
for glinting tiles speak ever more clear
to build the walls security
Settle leaf it’s time is spent
amid the moss is it’s fading feeding decay
in vibrant earth again some day
will know the kiss of sun out breathing sent
So by chromium faucet quench the thirst
in bottled plastic catch each drop
and flitter dust from out the corners dirt
bacterial inch upon the forests advance
And this filthy earth stains the finger nail
showers of rain bring their unwelcome rotting smell
then by chemical impostors of a flowers perfume
seek to cleans the air in a solitary room
Such isolation proves it’s security
neat clean and tidily scrubbed
hold fast the separation of technical morality
these things devoid of insect footprints
Lay soap to order the odor of sweat
yet beg the bloom for it’s delightful scent
to cut it’s throat upon a table set
the vase the only carefully treasured object
Hanker, oh hanker for the green living pasture
all the verdant aspirations of life in nature
tingle for the worth still caught in the veins
but choking on the wish of concrete remains
Through pristine glass observe the vegetation
the autumnal leaves flutter from the trees desertion
the trigger of another season
comes to rot and disarrange the perfect garden
Such fear prefers isolation and security
would rather heed the babblings of a technological morality
aspire then beyond the dumbwaiter of nature
a vase polished of any smudge or smear
Better to be in a clinical retreat
and by habit accept what is so clearly of need
take this germ free vacation
the trees are happy in their branches for the leaves desertion
Dumbwaiter
a small elevator, manually or electrically operated, consisting typically of a box with shelves, used in apartment houses, restaurants, and large private dwellings for moving dishes, food, garbage, etc., between floors. The term “A dumbwaiter” typically implies an unseen or unconsidered workforce below, this anonymous workforce deals with the contents of the dumbwaiter, kitchen staff, garbage collectors and laundry staff
I don't know if you realize it or not,
but, as we have discussed previously,
the connection between us,
is rooted in what Allah subhanahu wa ta'ala
put in our hearts,
and in contact.
Subsequent to my previous
attempts to communicate
with you on this subject,
I have noticed a pattern.
Every other week
I am banished
from your inner circle.
Literally.
Every other week.
I don't know if you realize it or not,
but this creates a pain
that goes to the inner core of my being.
And it is so unnecessary.
The key to peace,
harmony and happiness between us,
was, is, and will always be
contact.
You have so often said
that I am a part of you.
Can you tell me then,
that you do not feel a loss
for each day that passes
wherein you find yourself
purposefully stopping short
of reaching out to me?
How do you think
this makes me feel?
I have adapted myself to many things,
but the thing that I find no solace for
is the loss of your touch.
Please tell me,
What is the price of a hug?
Is it really something you cannot afford?
I do my best to stay out of your way
when you are working on something;
I do my best to not make myself
an annoyance to you.
I wait patiently for you -
having proven repeatedly
that all you have to do is call for
...or reach out to me...
...and I am there...
So imagine my confusion and frustration
the pain that seers through my heart
when you leave me for days on end
without a single touch.
Wallahi you don't even know
the tears I have cried
longing for and missing you.
If I am being punished,
at least tell me what for
...I can't fix what I don't know...
Tonight you suddenly cared
if we prayed or ate together
wallahi...that made me feel
like a battery operated toy
that can be turned on
and off again at whim.
It's not like that
...I am hurting inside...
and I have silently suffered
without any explanation as to why
you cannot even find yourself
...able to touch me.
I told you how I had missed you
and how I had been crying,
sentiments that seem to have fallen
on deaf ears
...or so it has seemed...
because here I quietly sit...
...alone with my shattered heart...
asking myself,
"What is the price of a hug?"
They taught us what to do if there's a bomb.
A big bomb.
A bomb they removed in a biopsy on a God
A big God
Scooped it out in armfuls from the body of a God
My God the blood hanging on the tresses where the speshes operated they
Taught us what to do if there's a bomb.
No point working out who it came from;
Cus wherever it came from is gone.
They taught us what to do if there's a bomb:
A big bomb:
Get the rubber round your face.
Then you radio the base.
Lie down on the ground
While your pants get browned
Are you closer to the cloud
Or the sound that pounds like a house shutting down
My god who lives, who lives to see me live a life as terrible as this my God!
Get drenched in the fear
Too thirsty to tear
Up your ears disappear
And the skies won't be clear for a long time
Peek up through your goggles for the last time
That's it soldier step up and take your prize,
And pray that you don't get vaporized My Eyes!?
My Eyes!?
Can't remember if my mom had me baptized!?
I swore I'd rather die, the great evac-in-the-sky but
Would I!?
I want to live but not like that with my tissue-pissing body like a sieve
To live is terrible
It's terrible man to survive
And you feel like you did when you were five
Tummy hurts, full of earth, where the hell is the earth
I'm rising from the ash like an afterbirth
In the mist missing what used-to-be
The mist is made of my mother and its killing me -
What was it they told us, told us, soldiers
What was it they told us, sold us, soldiers:
They said survive to fight.
My lungs are always tight!
They said survive to fight.
There's never any light!
Survive to fight.
Before I wasn't brave enough but now I just might!
Survive to fight.
Give her arm a bite!
Survive to fight.
Keep the squad white!
They started this mess it's what's best it's what's
Survive to fight.
Not for what you need
Not for what is right
Not for what your dad said when you woke him late at night but what's left!
In the unlikely event that there's a bomb;
We fight for what little is left, not right!
And left right left!
Right left right!
In the unlikely event that there's a bomb;
In the unlikely event that there's a bomb;
In the unlikely event that there's a bomb;
...
Jupiter Joy Juice/ A day in the life of the twilight zone
Pulling off of the main road, the two ladies were interested in the odd looking space craft thingy atop a small structure. A sign reading “Jupiter Joy Juice” hung from the nose down to a small coin operated dispenser. Upon depositing the quarter required, frustration set in as the cup dropped and nothing happened. Beth, not to be taken for her money, walked around to the back of the dispenser, and found there, a set of stairs. Thinking they led to an office, she walked up them, where, sure enough there was a door.
It was unlocked. Being less curious, Marge stayed by the dispenser. As Beth stepped into the room she was perplexed as she squeezed around the circular disk partition partially blocking the way, just inside the door. A very low hum was making the room vibrate slightly. Seemingly empty, she turned to leave but now the disk was blocking the door. It was rotating. She noticed it was inching toward, forcing her to move further into the room. So odd, but it appeared to be attached to the long shaft down the middle of the room. The shaft was definitely turning and seemed to be speeding up.
Looking forward, she was terrified to see another such disk directly in front of her. Whatever this contraption was, it was forcing her to keep moving forward. Just as she reached what had to be the far side of the room, the floor suddenly fell out from under her as a trap door sprang open. The noise of apparatus was hidden by the hurdy gurdy music now coming from outside. The noise also hid her scream as she was processed by an array of knives, rollers, clamps, and steamers. She was reduced to three gallons of bright red liquid in a vat.
As Marge noticed ice in her cup, a delightfully red colored drink began filling it. She was glad Beth had found the problem. She called her. “Beth, come on dear, we really have to get going.” No answer followed, so she strolled back toward the stairs with her delicious drink. “Beth? Beth! calling again. What is going on?” she thought, heading up the stairs to take a look.
A young couple was pulling into the driveway, just as she went through the door.
June 11, cgh
We aint dying
We aint dying from the coronavirus
It’s the pollution planted in our air, water and food supply
just like the pre-existing disease they were going to die
You hear over and over again
We aint testing here so you leave
Go home and die from this disease
We are dying from the lies the government tell
Broadcasted like wildfire by the news media the lies are everywhere
We aint dying from corona
We are dying from those who want to lead
Enjoy watching you die and beg to breathe
We aint dying from a disease
We are dying because we have no one in charge of this country
The one they elected is now government protected
Not a government official has died from this disease
We aint dying from corona
We are dying from government operated hospitals and doctors who don’t care
Who have the power to act like God and say it is God’s will?
Now it is a legal way to kill
To say if you will live or die
Cannot let the family mourn or say goodbye
They have total control of your life
No family, children, parents or the loved one’s to hold your hand
To pray or to maybe understand
We aint dying from a disease
We are dying from a system that does not care or feel
It is about who will get the most when they steal
A system that wants to see you live in fear and continued despair
Where are the preachers and other leaders? Nowhere to be found
Waiting from God to come down
Just like the others a bunch of clowns
We aint dying from coronavirus
We are dying because no one really cares!
If they did, and I doubt
You would hear intelligent responses from your president’s mouth
It not about staying in the house
The world is talking about an out of control disease
No vaccine or medicine in sight
It looks like a long a dreary plight
A long and hard fight to save a life
It is about the corruption of this government
Working to keep Trump in the white house in first place
They are doing wrong right in your face
Trapped like animals, cannot move place to place
Slowly our lives are being erased
We aint dying from a disease
We are dying from a moron who was elected by his Democratic and Republican predecessors to lead
That’s why we’re dying from ignorance and greed!
It hard for her being a single mother because no father was there.
But he lied saying he will be there for her, but he was just getting down to the gala in her pant.
So now what you have it. So it disgust you.
You hate her, you pushed her you left her.
She was all alone in her life.
One mistake became plenty. Another tragedy upon another.
She carried a babay for night month, although she has no one, so feeding was harsh.
She woke up in the morning hoping to beg from neighbours, they pitied her but somefelt like she was a disgrace. They push her around but she was heavy. Still she manages
She wanted to cry but since she knew she had no one she kept her tears to herself and quietly slept under her roof of chaos.
The next day was harsh , the next, the next and the next when she gave birth.
She met some complications on the way, so she fainted she needed to be operated on but no insurance no guardian she was all alone. And you was on your own while she suffers.you were enjoying another ladies underpants.
She was down.
But when she knew she was two she woke up, because someone else was coming.
The doctors said it a miracle, they never knew she had gotten to her limit.
She pushed until she had no strength. She was weak, it a surgery needed. But then she though of you.
And angily she pushed. You are the anger of her labour and the laigage of her misfortune
She managed without to push harder, the he came out of her.
And he looks just like you. That reminds her of her mistakes but she lived with it.
She is not a coward like you, she is called a( WOMAN)
you ran when it was hard. Meanwhile she was a single mother
A WOMAN
She was brave at her the brim of death (A WOMAN)
She has a soft heart but that don't mean you should take advantage ( A WOMAN)
She has what you like but that don't mean you should abandon her.
She is not a sex object.
She makes mistakes but she stands up to it because she is a WOMAN
She had so many misfortune but still she was stronger.
She never runs
She multiplies sprems to babies.
She produces human
She is weak but she has the ability to control the strong.
Even the strong were produced by her.
SHE IS A WOMAN.
The Check is in the Mail
Authored by Chuck Keys
At the beginning there was no rain,
Only the thundering noise and bright bolts of lightning.
The trees and bushes trembled with the cold winds
Pouring sheets of rain soon followed.
The stones and the ground cover cringed,
Everything echoed and shook from the hard driving forces present.
There was no place to run or hide. God
Was making his statement.
There will be no peace tonight,
Everything is in play.
Someone is in pain, searing aching ever increasing pain,
Like the agony of a toothache, thumping, pulsing, thud, thud, thud
Louder and more intense with each breadth
The body and spirit is consumed, tightly wrapped up,
Absorbed in the discomfort of now.
And it's not going away on its own.
There will be no peace tonight,
Everything is in play.
He was stolen, placed in chains,
400 years ago,
Brow beaten from the beginning, in and out
Never allowed to be his own,
Not like whites, he was property, owned and operated
But different non-white, (why are we still talking of color?)
Yet beings we all are.
There will be no peace tonight,
Everything is in play.
We cry for what was taken but can never be returned
Not wanting to be raised above or over,
Wanting not a victory, but delivered equality.
Through love and nonviolence Martin and they forged ahead,
No more waiting for the check in the mail,
But expecting the expected.
There will be no peace tonight,
Everything is in play.
The storm is here and now.
A debt of honor is due,
With the passing of time, where is restitution?
We accept love, education, pride and joy,
We can't accept the hatred of crime, violence,
The lack of housing and work,
Pain never fades on its own.
It needs attention.
God’s values our values,
The one constant, never becomes vague.
Without compromise. Without compromise.
There will be no peace tonight,
Everything is in play.
The storm continues with its blinding rage,
Waiting for an answer, not patiently, but expectantly,
There will be no peace tonight in their lives as in our hearts,
Everything is in play.
Time Has gone By
By Franklin Price
01/14/2025
Time has gone by. I'm up in life.
Three years ago I lost my wife
Cancer, then covid came around
She, way too soon, was Heaven bound
Late in the year of oh one nine
A spot was found beside her spine
Her doctor said, with little doubt
It was a cyst, it must come out
They operated, to remove
It left a scar, an ugly groove
Turned out, was cancer that was there
And would require further care
Scans showed that there were several more
They did declare, she was stage four
Some in the body, some the brain
She must have treatment to remain
Those in the brain, did radiate
To rid them all, was not too late
They chemoed for the ones below
How long she had, they did not know
Week by week, they played the song
Was then that covid came along
To limit all she loved to do
Could not be lost to Covid too
Chemo depletes the ways to cope
Outside infections give less hope
Could not go out with Covid 'round
Must stay inside and homeward bound
Could not tend to well loved plants
Not go outside, to walk or dance
Not concentrate to read a book
Cancer and covid all forsook
Not much, for her, was left in life
Every day was pain and strife
I did the best that I could do
To help her cope, to pull her through
Three years went by, we did our best
Our love, each day, put to the test
It did not falter, did not die
I'll tell you now, the reason why
God had put us both on earth
To be together, show our worth
Til death did part the groom and bride
In health and sickness, side by side
Then came the year of twenty-two
Eighteen days, the month was new
She could no longer fight the fight
She left us early in the night
The three of us were holding tight
When Christ our savior made things right
Took her up to Heaven's door
She does not suffer any more
My daughter and I had a cry
We had, together, watched her die
It was with peace, and with His grace
She looked upon our savior's face
I'm by myself, but not alone
Her spirit's here, though time has grown
And when my final days are done
We'll be together in the sun