Long Operators Poems
Long Operators Poems. Below are the most popular long Operators by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Operators poems by poem length and keyword.
Racism,
and sexism
and violent capitalism
are as American
and as bad for you
and your kids
as pre-millennial rotten and burned-out apple pie-sellers
And ProMatriotic learning
and living
and health loving
post-millennial WinWin co-operators
against LoseLose
racism
and sexism
and violent capitalism
as AntiAmerican
as burning-out
and hanging-out
and banging-out
and harming the health in any way,
of matriotic cooperative apple-pie makers.
So said,
rather more than less,
one of the ancient river campers
speaking curbside
before the double-glass front doors
of his Cumberland Farms Cathedral.
In a sad and quiet voice.
Not a position he gloated about
as if he stood morally apart.
Rather,
he speaks of dis-integrity
of our shared powerless positions
as autonomous systems,
struggling through each impoverishing day
of lost good faith youth
for, now, mere survival
when we could become sooo very much lighter
to rediscover
remaining integrity of our identity systems
for cooperative organic thrival.
Outside,
my neighborhood prophet
for world peace
was long and lean
with sun-dried and bronzed wrinkled skin
over muscled sinew,
a long-grey bearded
and skeletal nature mystic,
with clear and open stereophonic memorizing eyes.
Inside,
remembering his times with swimming wet green frogs
and sleek flying flashing ravens,
eagles of EarthPatriotic balance,
both honorable predators
and prey to aging apple pies
regretted and suffered
by long grey-bearded prophetic times
surviving threats and violence of nationalistic racism
and monotheistic sexism
and MightMakesRight capitalism,
WinLose subnormal optimization
of WinWin BothAnd opportunities,
Left integrated in and outside Right-felt memories
of maternal love
far too unmatriotically far behind
for EarthTribe's cooperative thrival
of these our fit-in
cooperative powerlessness.
So, I asked our neighborhood prophet
if he had mentioned these problems to the Mayor.
"I guess your news for today,
I am the Mayor."
Customers are like bouquets of flowers passing through our twenty-four hours.
Breakfast, lunch, or dinner all 365 calendar days guaranteed for a full twenty-four seven.
“Hello Sir”! Welcome to Waffle House America’s favorite place to eat!
Some say we are the closest thing next to God's Great Heaven!
We have a confusing language of our own, the blabbering towers of the real “April Showers”
Service with a smile that has walked the many hard-earned extra tenths of miles,
Nothing computerized with files, just organized by our own genuine unique styles.
Waitresses are serving with hard enduring time and each crosses over a mighty fine line,
Master grill operators optimize a divine talent marking your plates perfectly aligned.
Friday and Saturday nights the party train arrives blessed coffee to the many lips we’ll revive.
Regulars and irregulars you’re served just the same, pardon me did I really get your name?
Loud ones, quiet ones, and even the picky ones strive to come back to us,
Here we bring back the basics of being alive.
Scattered, smothered, covered, chunked, diced, peppered, capped, or topped?
So do you want them “All the way or just partly aflame”!
Young, old, or different at being indifferent just being sane,
Especially when the “Waffle House Way” is to say the first “HELLO”!
“Morning Mam”! Can I get you your usual or will you be having something different “TO GO”?
Brief moments of insanity with the moods that walk through our doors,
Thank God for every single one of those Jukeboxes!
The quality of service opening an eye to the sly foxes,
We’d really be in trouble if we sold liquors!
Foreign, military, and even civilian are in and out,
Our servers are like the gold stored at Fort Knox.
So what can we get you today that you haven’t already had before?
“The Waffle House Way” America shouts!
It’s like being home because that’s what we are all about.
Second mag time and more damage below
A gas bottle blows in an orange blast of debris
While this occurs beepers still beep and lights flash
It’s a huge yard and there are many targets still
Slowly but surely he eliminates them like a surgeon
His next gun is a BAR Browning Automatic Rifle
This he shoots on single shot bipod lying down
It’s a powerful 7.62mm gun and simply superb
Each shot hits home and kills 4 operators dead
Explodes rear 3 mounted gas bottles and more
But the BAR does full auto too and he we go!
Jap sniper full ing auto 30 shot mag wham
Soon empty rounds down range more hits
The fire has been devastating attrition mounts
There are far less fork lifts now in use there
Burning trucks and dead or dying operators cry
In his head he’s the rock n roll man on a roll
I’ve got more guns to fire and now it’s my cod piece
Browning 7.62mm machine gun with bipod
I quickly pull the parts from my bag to assemble
Then a belt of 250 rounds with 1 in 5 red tracer
Happy it’s ready I click off the safety and fire
I’m sat down and hose fire downwards
I slowly move the gun left to right left to right
Impacts spark and in the night air tracer guided
My 250 bullets lasts fifteen seconds and is it
Nothing intact remains below working wise
I took out 30 fork lift trucks and operators
Many are dead some injured others hiding
Lastly I use my M1 Garand rifle with blank ammo
I fire eight rifle grenades at the builders’ yard
I pop a grenade on the end angle up and fire
The blank shell launches the grenade up and down
It takes seconds to fall and hit and Bang Boom Blam!
I fire 8 at random spots of the huge yard
There are no more reverse beepers sounding
All fork lift truck use ceases forever due to me
Now I can peacefully sleep in my room at night
Do not destroy my slumber!
MAJOR INSOMNIA
CORPORAL SLEEP
Nick Armbrister and other writers
The sound of hooting and shouting behind the steering wheel sends a cascade of traffic crawling down the street while two men arguing about time started a heated debate in front of the gate. None of them seems to agree with each other, each one contradicting the other and the passersby emits an energy that rocks the sky.
It transcends a pillar of smoke in the atmosphere blackening the clouds and disrupting the rhythm in the street and the birds on their migration journey fly around in confusion seeking fresh air.
I sat on the seat of mercy watching them shouting outing on for glory stuck in mid-air and deprived of fresh air with nothing to hold on to but their faith, stalled breaks and a frozen battery.
Anxious passengers screaming and shouting, others holding on to their children trying to comfort them. They were all clothed in emergency suit waiting for the time to open the parachute.
I watched him from above through cockpit glass, he looked calmed, reserved and undisturbed, midths the chaos he silently mapped out a safety plan before he attempts to land.
While chaos was erupting behind him, a ferocious wind come chiming in, they could feel the turbulence from the earth when a miraculous wind propels the plane in another direction and it went on an unknown path.
While confusion was mounting behind him, he got his communication back on track and continued the journey from a different direction.
The rage continues in the street with taxi operators throwing punches at another, one man got shot in his leg while another passed out and lay dead.
Check your temperature before you venture out and ignore the blowing horns and the musical sounds. When the ugly frown stares in your face ignore them and go your way or they will shoot you dead in the middle of the day. The rage is all around the town and it will take you to where destiny is bound.
24 says of obsession to cure us all
gumming to death on a dagger of toothless bubbles
meeting with another
digital spirit guide whom I may never
fully trust
sorting out death who is sorting us out
a gullible god who doesn't seem to care at all.
Tricks and puzzles
Royal treatments and the works
Annointed metaphor realized,
and the many masks of terror.
Complaisant self-rejected submissive spiritual man ostracized
tasting your dreams
won't you come inside and smell mine.
Learning to breathe waking from a nightmare,
mistreated and defeated
introduced to a life that isn't fair.
Live around here and these groupings of colored houses,
someone trying to find a place
they can describe
but don't know what party
is waiting inside when they arrive
Haunted houses
children suffering inside
threatened constant retaliation that the rich can buy
another man's death and their own freedom.
Grudge of love screaming what do you want?
Vengeance not vengeful,
and justice ill dignified
cracking beneath the surface of the hypnotists
that has the hypnotists hypnotized.
Systematic tranquility and the law on the right side
promise of equality meant to be kept
not just showered with selfish lies to color pride
Overheard conversations between the operators
and many friends
spy versus spy versus spy
and the hushed conversations of the hundreds on the other end.
Sirens circling of a tornado warning
and flood towers receiving aid
saddened and sickened I am
by your blame game victim campaign
Get off it
stop the rocker
and corrupted by lemon aide
someone chose me to rightfully
put the world in it's place.
Now everyone worried and studying waiting for their turn,
I click my pen,
and you begin thinking
of what it means
to teach you how to hate, but never learn
An adolescent of the 60s,
now nearly sixty years later,
I still at least half trust
thirty and under agree
If you and I
are not part of our cooperative solution,
then we are part of Earth's competing subclimate problem,
pattern,
economic anti-ecological policy,
political bicameral bipolar procedure...
In fact,
or so I subjectively feel
is objectively pointed fact,
I could agree
this is precisely
an important half-balancing dipolar truth,
Because
if we are part of Earth's cooperative health intent,
motivation, both spiritual and natural
raison d'etre,
holonic gestalt,
then we are also not not competing co-operators,
as LeftBrain logically calculating
as RightBrain silently, holonically, listening
for non-violent co-operating potential;
Which is why I feel as fact
when +1 is not(not) 0-squared egalitarian,
then, at last, and least imbalanced,
we are getting some co-operative bilateral ego/eco-binary where,
phallic-1 and orifice-0 icons
following patriarchal and matriarchal behavioral passion powers
Both ego-here and eco-there
no longer quite so either/or square
LeftBody v RightMind, and Wing, and Wall
competitively dividing future opportunities
for health care circle giving
and receiving ZeroZone cooperatively owned
and managed
recycling wealth of binomial opportunity,
Like a universal patriarchal capitalist Right
bowing namaste with
uni-dipolarian matriarchal sacred communion Left
grace- and peace-full,
which feels awesomely like a square diamond
rational polynomial fact to measure
in a potentially flowing kind
of fleeting non-violent wave-function
ultra-violet brilliant
reverse dualdark
non-hierarchically inclusive
WholeSystem True
HolySpirit/Nature
ElderRight/NewerLeft ZeroZone healthy Life
whole warm womb
wealthy wet-flowing
wiki-nomial WuWay.
GOOD AFTERNOON
LADIES AND GENTLEMEN.
WELCOME TO THE WORLD
OF TRANSHUMANISM.
I AM YOUR HOST
THE DAPPER RING MASTER.
ANSWERING QUESTIONS
AFTER OBSERVING DISASTERS.
TODAY WE WILL TOUR
MY STATE OF THE ART,
FUTURISTIC, LABORATORY
OF BIOLOGICAL BEHAVIOR.
HERE IS WHERE WE RESEARCH,
ALTER, CREATE AND OBSERVE
BIOLOGICAL ALTERATIONS.
IN PREPARATION FOR PHASE II
TRANSHUMANISM.
TO YOUR LEFT IS OUR BEHAVIORAL
NEUROSCIENCE DEPARTMENT.
WHERE WE STUDY THE
PHYSIOLOGICAL BASES FOR
MOTIVATED BEHAVIOUR, EMOTION,
LEARNING, MEMORY, COGNITION
AND MY FAVOURITE, MENTAL DISORDERS.
TO YOUR RIGHT OUR RESEARCH
DEPARTMENT WHERE ACTUAL
EXPERIMENTAL EXPERIMENTS
ARE EXPERIENCED.
PREFORMED BY OUR VERY OWN
PSYCHOPATHIC RESEARCHERS.
THEY ARE CURRENTLY OBSERVING
BIOLOGICAL ALTERATIONS OF MAN MADE
COMPUTER GENERATED VIRUSES.
STRAIGHT AHEAD OF YOU.
BEHIND 36 INCHES OF
GRAPHENE FORTIFIED GLASS.
YOU ARE WITNESSES
TO THE FUTURE OF MANKIND.
WHAT YOU ARE SEEING
WITH YOUR OWN EYES IS
CREATURA.
STILL IN DEVELOPING
STAGE.
THIS TWELVE FOOT
EIGHT HUNDRED POUND
LABORATORY GROWN
CREATURA IS NEITHER
MALE OR FEMALE.
CAPABLE OF WITH STANDING
TWO HUNDRED DEGREE
TEMPERATURES.
CREATURA HAS NO SENSE
OF SMELL TASTES OR TOUCH.
CREATURA WILL GROW UP
TO BE EIGHTEEN FEET TALL.
AND WEIGH OVER TWENTY-FIVE
HUNDRED POUNDS.
CAPABLE OF TOLERATING
SEVEN THOUSAND DEGREES
DESIGNED AND CREATED
TO WORK IN THE DIAMOND
MINES AT EARTHS CORE.
CREATURA WILL RESPOND TO
MANMADE FREQUENCIES.
CONTROLLED BY COMPUTER
OPERATORS FROM AFAR.
WE NOW HAVE REACHED
THE END OF YOUR TOUR.
THIS IS THE FUTURE
AND I AM YOUR HOST
THE DAPPER RING MASTER.
Michael E. Harris
09052021
My vacant stare was sure to be
a giveaway to anyone that saw . . .
I was a Pilgrim there to the land of techno-jargon,
of icons, Help instructions meaning nothing,
and a world of young and savvy operators.
Our teacher wasn’t there.
Certain that the worksheet explaining all the basics
would be a breeze for us to carry out,
he’d arrogantly left the room
and left the lot of us to the mercy of
a keyboard and computer.
I looked up from his worksheet
to a screen that stared right back at me,
awaiting my commands.
I was on the starting path to what is often called
the Super Highway,
and my boarding pass, tuition to the class,
was non-refundable.
Overwhelmed, I started out. Then I hit a rut
and didn’t have a clue what next to do.
My learning peers already seemed to know
the route quite well.
Some, in fact, were calling it a day
while I stayed on, ashamed to bother
any of the others there for help.
I looked around the room, my tired brain
a hot plate in the midst of younger minds
with the speed of ovens made for microwave.
Perhaps they’d all conspired to put
the older lady at unease.
It seemed the more I tried to understand,
the more pathetically off course I’d go. . .
Till finally (longing for a time when
“cut and paste” implied the use of scissors),
I got up from my seat and left behind
the self-instructing worksheet which
that egghead teacher said would be “a cinch.”
Two big words were scrawled across the top
of its first page, two big words in red,
written with the one tool I could trust:
SCREW IT.
For Natalie Whitlock's
"Talkin' Technology" Contest
IF ever I had a country : XXI - XXII
" I will follow that system of regimen which, according to my ability and judgment, I consider for the benefit of my patients, and abstain from whatever is deleterious and mischievous. I will give no deadly medicine to any one if asked, nor suggest any such counsel; and in like manner I will not give to a woman a pessary to produce abortion. With purity and with holiness I will pass my life and practice my Art. " Excerpted from the translation by Francis Adams in Wikisource of the Oath of Hippocrates, 400 BCE.
XXI
IF ever I had a country
And if ever I were but the Health Minister
And if some breach some tort against The Hippocratic Oath reached my ear
I'd rage and storm through ward portals in Olympian Apollonic gear
To arraign the culprit whether Male Nurse Sister Matron or specialist Doctor
Till no patient need fear contamination poison nor Secret Service murder
That is, if ever I were but the Health Minister
And even if I never ever had no country
XXII
IF ever I had a country
And if ever I were the Health Secretary
And if some sleepless stateless victim of the Secret Police's Third Degree
Was put under Trileptal and made to undergo Tomo-Scintigraphy
And the operators abandoned the patient to general tonico-clonic seizure in epilepsy
I'd either order the hospital closed or put the service heads out-of-activity
That is, if ever I were even the Health Sec in Gay Paree
And even if I never ever had no country
© T. Wignesan - Paris, July 9, 2018
One cooperative way to take back disempowering choices
is to teach and mentor our young
not to give empowerment
to disempowering plutocrats,
anti-democratic Win-Lose supremacists,
when casting ballots
and when choosing whom to invest in
and whom to listen to
and whom to read
and whom to invite
into our cooperatively-owned,
non-violent,
mediating communication places.
Asserting mutually-held rights
to speak your healthy
or unhealthy
mind,
usually a dipolar hybrid of healthy and unhealthy consciousness
of creative and decomposing power analysis,
experience,
ego-reflection and eco-deflection,
does not further stipulate
investigative journalists
and actively healthy children
are required to hold oppressive microphones
while NegativEnergy moves from one ageist,
sexist,
racist,
homophobic,
xenophobic remark
toward its inevitable egocentric last LoseLose gasp.
It seems awkward
and embarrassing
to listen to,
much more speak,
such ignorance
given full disenculturing volume,
space,
listening sit-spot place
inside millions of health-vocational outdoor daytime voices
and nighttime terror lives.
One cooperative way to hold empowerment
is to invest only in PositivEnergy,
rather than NegativEnergy anti-democratic,
reinvest in goodfaith-investors,
healthy trust co-operators.
If the medium
is at least part of the message,
then the lack of media,
absence of listening,
is at least part of non-violent communication
to free PositivEnergy good faith speech
restoring health with cooperative all.