Long Outsourced Poems
Long Outsourced Poems. Below are the most popular long Outsourced by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Outsourced poems by poem length and keyword.
Sponsor Tom Woody
Contest Name Alice Through The Wormhole
Flowers outside the schoolroom grew bigger and brighter of their own volition. " Alice, Alice !" the teacher called. All she saw was a saucer eyed girl sitting, staring out the window. Sober as a Deacon she sat there with her mind blow-stitched to the earth. Fireworks burst in the sky as a big purple blubber bounced out "Alice, Alice" ssssssssss was the sound it made as it cupped out O with a sticky jelly mouth.
he was from outer space
unlike her own race
he was soooo, gooey gooey!!!
A slight change in atmosphere and suddenly Alice fell topsy-turvy into a dark hole. Exotic energy clung to her as she spun out of control and dropped into an inter-stellar tunnel filled with brilliant stars. Faster than the speed of light she travelled into a non existent wormhole. A sweet little paper plate with eyes, nose and mouth greeted her on the other side. He spoke the infographics of his knowledge to her, sending shock waves of pleasure to her extra-sensory perception with telepathic communication;
Lost in gravity waves
time dilation ...
She arrived safely.
Oh the flowers, the flowers were everywhere! Each specific tessitura sang to her in baritone, soprano, mezzo soprano and tenor. It was an elevation of the highest senses. Through vertical angles the sound was outsourced, so she listened with continuum " Alice, Alice " is what they sang in chorus. She tried to determine where the melody was coming from but deep down she knew that this heavenly music was an extension of her and them. Oh what a sweet tonality it was. Both subdued and energetic at the same time. As the galaxies split, the tidal forces merged together and suddenly it made no difference where she was or how she got there. All she knew was she was finally home !
The End.
My five-year-old wrote:
Today I went to school.
We sit so long
we wet ourselves if we forget.
We are tested to read,
to obey,
to survive silence.
Dragged from bed by scared parents,
faces pressed into coats,
eyes half-asleep,
small bodies hauled to obey.
Exhausted, feverish,
falling asleep on the walk home.
The “village” is gone.
Mothers work.
Mothers clean.
Mothers breathe in the halls of the school
that slowly kills us.
Work, chores, survival—outsourced
to the institution that measures life in lessons,
marks, and obedience.
Every day, a machine.
Curiosity flattened.
Joy stolen.
Bodies trained.
Minds caged.
The cycle of work, of consumption, of obedience,
designed to trap us,
to keep the brainwashing alive.
We are alive.
We are here.
Even as the system tries to vanish us.
One day, the world will wake.
We will see the cages we lived in.
The system that called itself education,
but was really slow, quiet abuse.
The great child abuse scandal of this century.
And we will ask ourselves,
whatever role we played—
teacher, parent, policymaker, bystander—
why did we comply?
We will remember:
children wetting themselves,
children falling asleep on the walk home,
children dragged from beds before the sun could rise,
children forced to learn,
children always ill,
children always exhausted,
trapped in a world designed to crush life,
to flatten joy,
to cage curiosity,
to train obedience.
We went to school.
We survived.
We remember.
We will not forget.
Written By: D. Collins 12/29/23
There's only one kind of love, that lasts throughout time.
Those who accept the ups and downs and still lay it on the line.
They give 100 to ensure the entire family is intact.
No matter what their digression, always have their back.
Imagine a one kind of love having a tremendous force.
Re-creating families, while begging to be outsourced.
We all know that kind of love is rare in this day and age.
What people call love has many shades of gray.
There's only one kind of love that originates from the root.
And if, you don't have it now, it wasn't given to you.
It is out there lurking trying to get your attention.
To put back what were "ALL GODS" true intentions.
Guy in Guantanamo
Catherine’s wheel spins round the revolution ever since that day her lover died
when both lost the plot and their passion and she cried her grief into Bedlam
Guy jumped to his death to avoid torture hanging in quarters and disembowelment
gonads stuffed into his mouth like hot chestnuts did not appeal much I suppose
He had been a sparkler cracker Jack out of that ordinary box a hero martyr terrorist
criminal but one woman’s arsonist is another one’s flame hot passion crusader of love
Same smoke screens for religion and dogma today with mouldy gunpowder exchanged
for suicide bombings and some misguided faith merely faithful to death and destruction
When lighting a bonne fire today and caught on the ‘right’ side of evil trading life for
collateral damage oiling power in the name of wheel’s fortune and hegemony’s axes
Medals glory decorations await the champion wielding drone’s buttons for the sake of
remote controlled ‘democracy’ but when found reading the Koran Guantanamo beckons
Legality outsourced to Caribbean delights with water music suited for rackets and rockets
of massive destruction and Monopoly played in the board rooms of walled streets where
Playing with fire one does not hear Catherine’s pleas to have mercy without victor’s justice
and as of today I still do not know whether we celebrate Guy’s death or his disorderly guts
Effigies sizzling on feu de joie do not sit well with my statutes and statues of liberty when
hypocrisy measures with double standards and when two wrongs surrender what’s right
15th November
My sons are always telling me that they can’t teach an old dog new tricks. Since I’m older than dirt myself, I guess I’m living proof of that. But just because I know how to do it, doesn’t mean I want to. It's a whole lot easier for me to feign ignorance and stare at them like I’m the dumbest thing alive, while one of you gets the chance to show up their old man. The big question must be, who is it that just got schooled?
All those who can, will
those who don’t want to do it-
Will get it outsourced
Little Santa Helpers
Santa has outsourced his services to child labourers from Bangladesh they
fit zero-sized through chimneys much easier and the leaner they are the
better they share full of joy in the globalised feast of winter communion
Detached they are from ‘wrongful’ beliefs and so much happier for their distant
faithful relation to Christmas plus they are used to half naked toil with
loin cloths draped in native design and fig-leafed in the wider scheme of migrant
extortion minimum wage wasted on them but they might get some
tips from little children on other sides of divides if those can catch them in glee
But then there are milk ‘Ho Ho Beer’ and biscuits by the fireplace laced with
incense and Prozac not licensed for young ones maybe but the booze as willing
sign of cross-culturalization is surely inclusive and a Peace offering sponsored by
‘Alcohol Without Borders’ while the odd trace of Ritalin keeps ordered control
Santa is not really burnt out but neo-liberal delegation is the vogue of the month
and post traumatic stress drones and hoovers on his sick note nevertheless
as his bonuses and shares float on Panamanian waters and now he needs a lungi
as well instead of the red coat extra large without doubt as he burps in the sand
The Bangladeshis meanwhile chirp in silent frost bitten nights but at least there
are soot and ashes no sunburn sometimes carrots with broom sticks thereafter
almost a year of ‘social’ benefits homely rest recuperation free time for Mohamed
They scrub brush and sand their dehydrated skins by the Ganges until they come
to accept the ‘Terms of their Trade’ bow to diversity’s splendour and discern what
is dirt and what their skin colour and it’s the latter that keeps them employed
28th November 2016
Branches frosted in ice
Wonderland magic waiting in awe to thaw
Pink blossoms ready to surpass hibernation
Spring in their timeless steps
Candle wax waned
The Little Drummer boy back in his box
Wrapped in kind tinsel for resurrection
Illumination darkened
Nutcrackers remain
Shells of Christmas foreshadow and abandoned
Reality calls for beating another lonely retreat
Granny back at the nursing home
Outsourced happiness
Spoon fed dribbles ooze onto parched kerchiefs
The turnings of life confined to a wheel chair
Business fast as usual
Reindeers on holiday
Santa's temporary visa faded and expired
An immigrant nurse from foreign shores
Gives love and caresses
Crossroads once more
New Year is dawning to the spin of the earth
The token Jesus nailed and forgotten leaves
A silhouette on the wall
Another chance wasted
Forgotten resolve scripted in blood and in vain
Soldiers will march again for irreverent fortune
Guns frosted in ice
27th December 2019
In the beginning
When humanity began to walk
The Creator would come down
Just to talk
...with man
Time passed
And possibilities began to arise
Everything permissible
Except that one, where man dies
...alone
Well, it happened
And really, not that bad, it seemed
Man lived and had children
Without a Creator who intervened
...incessantly
Murder is learned
And it surfaced with brothers
Toil, pain and suffering
For shamed mothers
...of sons
The Flood came
A new beginning for a clean slate
But if experience is a teacher
Habit had an open gate
...to the heart
Man decided to be god
Unity helped them build a tower
A pyramid with an altar atop
So that man could have power
....to destroy
The more man roamed
And saw the difference of choice
Submission seemed ignorant
When the silence vibrated with voice
...to hold
Love happens freely
There shouldn't be one "right" way
Sodom and Gomorrah erupted
With the insanity of making HOLY ANGELS man's prey
...for sex
We want a king! They cried
And The Creator provided, yet again
No one liked the sacrificial system
And HIS obsession with sin
...the SIN
...................of WOman
.............................................He should be over it by now.
Even when THAT king failed
Many others followed, leadership sealed
GOD can NOT be our king
Because that position is currently filled
...with man
Religion and Politics gathered
In a governing system, like a pyramid on dry land
Man grew comfortable in position and power
That made them oblivious to the shifting sand
....of natural disaster
So solid is the foundation
In this time of civilized man
That those who claim HIS name
Have no NEED to reach for HIS hand
...anymore
Six long days have passed
And man has finally arrived at the top
Humanity understands LOVE conquers fear
And no weapon can ever stop
...a CHILD OF GOD
GOD RESISTS
......................THE PROUD
..........................................even if they are CHILDREN OF GOD
Written by Trudy Schrader on 03/17/2020
Mary had a little lamb
She roasted it with mint
She didn’t want to do it
But sadly she was skint
The shepherdessing job she had
Had been outsourced it seems
A shepherding consortium
Had shattered Mary’s’ dreams
The company contracted
To administer the flock
Were highly recommended
As solid as a rock
So Mary’s job had gone for good
It didn’t make much sense
One little lamb one jar of jam
Her only recompense
Insomnia, a side effect
Now kept her from her sleep
She tried all kinds of remedies
Except for counting sheep
So, taking to the bottle
Her body old and tired
Off into oblivion
She finally expired
Form:
"Got any rivers you think are un crossable?
Got any mountains you cannot tunnel through?
God can do what no other power can do".
The lyrics to a song by John Wesley, a great revivalist
and accomplished song writer, speak to the practical SIDES
of our everyday LIVES and remind us that we are not ALONE.
Though at TIMES driven by stormy winds, and far we have ROAMED,
Our strong faith REMINDS us that we have not reached our HOME.
Figuratively, we all have crossed rivers once thought IMPOSSABLE
and tunneled through gigantic mountains once deemed UNTHINKABLE.
How many times have we completed missions and asked, "Did I do THAT?" Or what about the times you climbed mountains taller than Mount ARARAT?
Do you remember the time your job was OUTSOURCED to India, or 10 years ago when you went through a horrible DIVORCE? Although it hurt you to the CORE and left you bruised, SOUR, and SORE, you overcame all of that and MORE, because you were blessed with God's POWER which did for you, as Mr. Wesley said, 'what no other power could do'.
072520PSCtest, In Honor Of John Wesley, Kim Rodrigues