Long Pants Poems
Long Pants Poems. Below are the most popular long Pants by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Pants poems by poem length and keyword.
There is too much fear in the world these days,
Fear of the unknown, scared in soo many ways!
Phobias of spiders, mice, rats and bats,
Are you frightend of nothing? Why are you scared of that?
Scared of oppression? And the way they use aggression?
Are they messing with your head, using psychic suggestion?
Wrestling with your doubts will only lead to fear,
Always looking into shadows.. scared that something's always near.
You're winding yourself up! There's no reason to be scared,
But it's never as it seems.. so you'd better be prepared.
Because if you're feeling fear, it could be.. you're not ready,
With your trembling legs, and butterflies in your belly.
It's not so strange, that lots of people fear pain,
Being boiled alive, with needles stuck into your brain,
You've got to be careful, I'm afraid to say,
Be quick to make your mind up, to fight or run away.
Would you fill your pants, with a gun to your head?
Now, that's REAL fear.. you could be dead, enougth said!
Some could find your nerves and make you scream for weeks,
They can teach you about pain and how it reaches new peaks.
But the ones like that.. are fearful too,
Of justice, revenge, and the human rights crew.
They should be scared! I wanna see their faces white,
'Cause they even kidnap kids and slip away into the night!
Now I'll get swept away, as it floods from me,
See, some of these emotions, are as deep as the sea,
Some wanna get a gun, and hunt these sick suckers,
And get them on their knees and say PRAY MOTHERF%%%%%!
See this is the crux.. this is the bottom line,
If they catch you doing that, then it's you that's doing time,
It's never black & white, it's not easy to see..
There are so many fears, it's all part of being free.
Are you scared of the dark, because that's how it began?
Are you scared that it links you to the earliest man?
Who had to hunt to eat, had to kill to stay alive,
And did what they had to, so this race could all survive.
The things to be scared of are the things inside,
You can struggle and fight, but you can never run or hide,
So walk down the street with your head held high,
And face down fear.. because we're ALL gonna die!
But the opposite of fear though.. is to be brave,
Who knows how many lives you could save.
The futures unknown, and we all face change,
It is all just a part of being free-range.
The Old Lady In The Shoe
November 22, 2013 at 5:57pm
Dedicated to all my children around the world;
The big and small of it.
Some appreciate the little
things that encourages
them to do big stuff.
Some won't say anything,
because they never
get enough.
N'ary a second thought they give.
Some think they are entitled to it
and know not of reciprocation.
Some think that they should always
be the center of your attention.
Some children you can
doat on, and give them
all you've got.
Then there are
those to who will never
reach out to offer invitation.
Never lend a helping hand
To execute your plans,
It's selfishness
that guides them
because they love you not.
Some children want to be heard
others just wanna be seen
but the unappreciative child
won't amount to a hill of beans.
Some children need a little push
while others need a shove
mothers can never tell a child
Which one who best she loves
When mothers see these attitudes
She knows which child
will pass life's test.
Some play in the corner
day-dreaming all alone
Some children keep
lots of company;While
others have one friend
that is all his own.
The one you devote
your time to
may not be the child
that does his best.
Some children need you more-
Some children need you less.
But the child that won't say
" thank you" mom....
and never listen to advice
is the ones that breaks
a mothers heart,and
discounts her sacrifice.
Some children need a little push
while others need a shove.
Some need a swift
kick in the pants
or maybe a wake up call;
Others just need
a little coddling:
But never does a child
deserve no love all
Just remember the old lady
who lived in the shoe..
She had so many children...
They said "she didn't
know what to do."
Mothers learn your child,
try to give each what he needs
The one that appreciates
their mother is...
more likely to succeed.
footnote : original version
There was an old woman who lived in a shoe.She had so many children, she didn't know what to do;She gave them some broth without any bread;Then whipped them all soundly and put them to bed.
Earlier version:
There was an old woman Who lived in a shoe,She had so many children,And loved them all, too.She said, "Thank you Lord Jesus,For sending them bread."Then kissed them all gladly and sent them to bed.
Have You Tried My Slushie? By
Briar Rabbit
I don’t know if it brings the boys to the
yard
I’d want some time to myself
I think..
I think of angel dust
while
liberty belles call my name
cement and concrete as I leave the shrink
i am bowed down some
staring at my shoes
as I walk to my stop
I take PM dawn pills
For Purples edge,
Irony, I know
It’s bubble and burble
And bubble and grape flavor in my mouth
Chewy fat chunk of life’s worth
Like Nicki sticks to a wad
I chew it
It’s imprinted
Yummy and pink bubbles
Imprinted on the wrapper
Wrapper
Rapper
I like smoking
Smoking
Puro
Cheap menthol lights
The Inhale and the burn of the
Humo
In my nose
On the top and to the sides of my lungs
Smoking
Puro
I’ve become a Whiz Kid @ this
And I learned to become
a cowboy kid cigarette
aficionado
I watch my toes
Shoe gaze
Blow some smoke
Through my mouth and my nose
And then I breathe
I am a
Smoke Tamer
It’s purple-blue, tinged grey
Curls in form only real Wizards
Can create – Dragons, Curly cues,
and ring after ring after ring
When I’ve had my high , I pinch my cherry
Roll it between my fingers and test the
edge
Of this proto-promethean glory
Index to thumb
My butt at ease
And my feet alive
I pet a bug
Or an ambitious spider
Cupping my hands I put her back
in the bush. Apologizing
after letting her explore my fingertips
my hands, my wrist, my arm
to my elbow and then I let her know, no
gently
I cry a little inside when i do, because
she’s
curious and seeking comfort in some
shade
like I do.
Our feelings I think are
mutual
I am still..
Sticking with Fabolous
My slushie named orange and blue
Half to three quarters gone
I’m sippin it and three a party in
My pants, no ********, a wow in my
Mouth, and a brain freeze.
The brain freeze gives me a *****
Seriously.
I’m serious.
I cross my legs, lift up my hood
Arrange two rings and a cross
Pick at the crud under
My nails, maybe I should
Pull down my shades
Arrange my pant legs
Again.
Slurp my slushie.
Brain freeze and I’m turned on
again
I blush and pull down my hood
I’m still sitting at the bus shelter
I light another one,
My smoking curls,
Curling
curly-curly
curly ques..
MY smoke curls
MY smoke curls
Before my fallen wings I plead
Let me carry out this deed
Find a love in desperate need
Of a white knight on a steed
I already have a girl in mind
Are souls have met forever bind
Lost in chaos, torn in time
She is my melody for this rhyme
If you let me lover her now
I'll go into the lights shroud
Commiting no unspoken vows
Salvaging a princess leaving proud
In her unrest she might die
I feel compelled to save a life
There is no reason or a why
She can't be happy as a wife
A guarding angel I am to her
Send me to your beautiful earth
To enter a chance for rebirth
I am the remedy for this curse
I am speaking to the grim reaper
I need a miracle before I sleep sir
Letting you chase me creeper
Into the darkness ever deeper
Permit me to adjust my sails
Select a crew that never fails
Live through all the grails
Have a romance found in fairy tales
(her)He must be big and strong
Massive shoulders to carry on
The work that's hard and long
To keep me safe and right the wrong
I am sad to be like this
Crying moping and drawing a fist
To the sky, screaming a list
Of my problems little priss
Out of the shadows he came
Bearing white, massive the same
Hushing me to comfort and explain
His business here, also his name
(Angel)My name is Micheal a worrior man
Here to change your coarse of plan
Bestow upon you an awakening fan
That keeps alive with a tan
Escape with me out of this place
Hurry, run, lets make haste
You'll remain dignified and chaste
Where no one can hurt your darling face
We could live somewhere exotic
Live the dream with love erotic
Just be us, excluding the chaotic
To decline is said to be idiotic
Grab an extra shirt and pants
We'll leave right now, expose this chance
To take hold of something with a glance
Of humanity with a slight reminisce
(girl)Alright, we can go
Somewhere warm minus the snow
Sleeping by the fires glow
Seeing more than we know
Somewhere I can where a dress
Running wild without the stress
Enjoy having emotional sex
With a man big in the chest!
(Micheal)You have made the right choice
I admire your sweet tone of voice
The way you walk and your poise
This is our moment relax, rejoice!
To this day I do enclose
A vacation that I propose
You could wear little clothes
Pushing away all your foes.
Crushing and deystroying all your demons!
My grandparents lived on farms – both sides of my family.
My mother’s parents and my father’s parents.
Overalls and button down shirts with pockets
Work boots for grandpas
Except my single grandpa did get dressed up fancy
For Saturday night dancing with his girlfriend.
He smelled wonderful too, wore a lariat with a turquoise stone
Shined his shoes as if he was going to church
My maternal grandmother was the only one I knew.
She wore a navy dress with large white polka dots
When we had weddings or funerals, and low heel shoes
The rest of the time I remember her wearing aprons over dresses
My mother was the first woman I saw who wore pants.
She preferred them to dresses, and took to polyester in a big way.
Remember the pantsuits of the seventies? I swear she invented those.
Matching tunics with wide legged pants.
My father wore plaid shirts or camouflage jackets
Unless he was going to work; then he wore a dark suit.
He was a salesman with a skinny tie.
He always looked crisp and clean; mom used starch on his clothes.
My style was wide bell bottom blue jeans that we called hip huggers.
When I was younger, and tops that looked maternity in the seventies.
This was the real style which horrified me in 1974, as I had to wear these blousy tops two years in a row
because I had a baby at twenty and twenty-one.
My new style is comfort. I am sixty-eight. I wear tennis shoes.
Elastic waists, soft clothes that are not tight, I love feeling free.
My husband is the same way – comfort clothes, elastic waists.
We like eating tasty foods; no blue jeans for us now.
We have three children. They dress according to their lives.
One has six children, but she dresses fancy and so do they.
Another has no children, she’s a professional. She dresses in suits.
Third child alternates between casual and fancy; working mom of three.
Our grandchildren are eclectic fashion displayers also.
Super controlled grandchildren wear traditional clothing,
Approved by mom or they do not leave the house.
The ones who are wild like our middle daughter have pink and blue hair.
I see dresses that are too short - the same as I wore in middle school.
I see pants that are too tight on boys, like we saw in the eighties.
I see boots not as cute as Nancy Sinatras or or go-go-boots.
Masks are the new fashion statement for the younger generation sadly.
ONE100eight
ONE100eight
CharlaXFabels
www.three
SUN TRAN history
Passenger Pigeons carry messages to people entrenched at
www.wwone/ditched in doughboy britches wearing Army boots of wool
August 3, 1914 special free edition of the BerlinTageblatt announces "The War
with France” The Kaiser rolled away and fell from Germany the world is saved
they proclaim the war is over 1918
His hat was very black and ebon his vest hung down in back front was cut in
western sling style his hair was off white gray an old gunslinger out of old
Tucson days. He took a transfer out of his pants pocket and tried to slide it in the
bus to make it work but the driver had turned it off to see his face light up he had
been caught for this was the very first bus. NO the driver said simply with a smile
that will not work and left it at that and up to him he did not frown but added the
dollar paid the money for the fare the first time not again his bogus attempt at a
free ride had failed. He took his transfer paid he learned his western lesson
there the driver being kind and understanding could have been demanding that
he leave the bus and March 24, 2008 has come the carrier pigeons are taking
messages to www.wwtwo.com the war is over Hitler dead go home and live
without a gun without a dread. She simply simpered she opened up her bag a
purse no doubt without a dime or dollar amount inside her friend paid for hisself
one dollar kept the transfer in his hand she kept repeating to herself for all the
crowd to understand eye left the wallet with the money in it at home the wallet MY
wallet is NOT in this bag it has been left at home the man he seemed astonied
when she said in certain tones did you get a pass for me NO he said don't you
remember my pass and your pass is both in your wallet left at home the driver
moaned a bit but let her be she let them ride he said eye gave to you my pass to
keep for me she said so sad MY WALLET is NOT in this bag it is left behind at
home IT'S EVERYTHING the carrier pigeon flew with messages to the troop in
the trenchment ditch at www.worldwarthree.com/apocolypse
The message simply said
we airmailed
every missle
that we have
to hit the enemy
the world is over now
do not try to do anything
just pray
we are all going to see
JESUS
NOW
TODAY
Page 7
We’ll build a wooden structure
With planks torn from our ships
And place it by their gates
Then we wait for the eclipse
Now I know you all have questions
About how I know these things
But I’ve studied all religions
Foreign Nations, Queens and Kings
Some kingdoms honor Bears
Some worship cats and eagles
Some lions, tigers, bears, “Oh My”
Foxes, wolfs and beagles
Now, these Trojans have one fondness
It stands upon four feet
It feeds upon the grassy plains
And they ride it down their streets
We will build it long and sleek
With a tail tacked to its end
And ears, upon its oblong head
But, with one thing more to send
There, concealed inside its belly
Are those who lie in wait
For the beast to be drawn inside
The Trojan’s massive gates
Page 8
So until the sun starts rising
You men must now embark
And assemble the device
While working in the dark
The others on the beach
A distraction will devise
To keep your labor secret
From those Trojan’s prying eyes
Now off with you, behind that mound
I have a party to attend
It’s not often I can have some fun
At the same time to offend
( Troy 1184 BC, The Beach Party )
The Flames of passion darted up
Into the evening air
It made the glittering of sand
Seamed like stars were everywhere
The drums had reached a beat
That made the young men, have to dance
And I’m sure it made The Trojans
Lose control and wet their pants
Page 9
While young men danced on burning sands
Displaying sex appeal
The Greeks would pause and strike a pose
And flex their buns of steel
The Trojans on the wall
Filled with heighten passion soon
Turned their backs and dropped the drawers
Displaying many moons
It seemed as if, we played all night
Now its time to take our chances
Bring forth the horse, and by due course
We all took second glances
The carpenters that worked all night
Had never seen the beast
It was a horrible interpretation
That is to say the least
I should have choose an artist
Much more suited for the task
For instead of building a mighty horse
There stood a giant ass.
No time to make corrections for
The dawn was growing near
We must move without detection
And crawl in through its rear
To be continued...................
Clouds spiral down and curl around to touch me
—not those western drizzle shrouds
baring a soul of misery mizzle
...though I adore a good wallow in sorrow —no
these clouds come from yonder bluebird wilds
white cirrus wispy and whispery dance around me
I steal one to wear across my shoulders
like a platinum’s blonde’s faux stole
they come to me like papier-mâché angels —no no
that’s too cliché… and passé for I’m far beyond
the Godly touch of angels… hmm.. they come to me
like a lover —no too easy …like a heartbreak-er lover!
yah I’ll go with that and get a taboo tattoo of his name
anyway the clouds they find me where I stand
dissatisfied with being satisfied
the result of my cool cat face seduction
I wear a crimson bee balm boutonniere
display it on my plunging V lapel but
it attracts wasps instead of honey bees; I find
danger brings a secret pleasure to my displeasure
my leopard print pants (red sky colored)
stirs sir knight with his bridled gaze and walking stick
he watches my next move on the chessboard
tries to guess my breezy strategy
my hands behind my head legs crossed
maybe it’s a white crested ocean I'm floating on
—or wrestling with— either way
I’m here to play and paint a displeased scene
watercolors? they’re just transparent hues
applied to my white background
depending on the mood of my mood ring —but
when acrylics bleed it’s harder to see the scene
colors escape their space creating a slurry
of what is where where is when when is why
and why don’t know why ..what?! but I know how
blurry lines take on a life of their own
and shapes a new fate from ‘no gesso’ mistakes
I could switch my style to snarly tiger stripes today
and gladly take that horse-headed knight down
that wooden old guard has new orders
he’s suspicious of me scrutinizes me
but only half as much as I’m used to
his right hand on his monocle
—the other eye blind
just beyond the reach of his walking stick
I free my torso of its purple grapevine corset
uncinching my fake waisted form —I muse
if my time as a wastrel was wasted or invested
oh …the monocle is telescoping me again
I shimmy lose my butterfly wings
slap him as I flap them and fly away
it’s hard to know if I’m still beautiful
or if I’m just broken
—either way I embrace the rainy side of the rainbow
happily discontent
in order to get back to Eden to live on top of the world
there are a few things from God which need to be heard
here in America in the democratic land of milk and honey
African-Americans are disproportionate when it comes to power and money
our healthcare is poorer, our finances worse, few of us in seats of power
at the bottom of most demographic indicators and our circumstances diminish by the hour
the most unemployed, the most discriminated, the first to be laid-off or dismissed
more of us in jail, a lot of us illiterate, there are too many problems for me to list
fewer marketable skills, fewest high school diplomas and don't mention college degrees
African-American men in America need to take off their blinders and see
to those who stand behind stained-glass windows and look down on those who have less
you need to take your brothers back to Eden and put an end to all this mess
you might not comprehend their reality but you should attempt to understand
that as true servants of God you should help your fellow man
if you consider yourself to be a true disciple of Christ
what have you done to enrich someone else's life?
who did you clothe? who did you feed?
who did you minister to in their time of need?
who did you mentor to on how to be a man?
who did you talk to or stretch out your hand?
there's a lot of work that needs to be done to get our brothers inspired
we need to help them build a relationship with God and do as Jesus aspired
in order to get back to Eden we need to start at the very beginning
with the basic instructions that God is recommending
to fellowship with your fellow man
to develop a trust opposite to slavery's plan
to communicate with positivity
to no longer promote negativity
to pull up your pants and walk like a man
to be productive and not destructive
to be supportive and not abortive
to act like someone's father and not like you're being bothered
to teach our brothers to put down the guns and take up the cross
so they will no longer act like thugs but to think like a boss
no longer will we be divided with jealous envy
now united as brothers under God's authority
getting back to Eden to be on top of the world
to living our lives according to God's Holy word
to get back to Eden and up from the basement of life
living on top of the world as brothers with our savior Jesus Christ
(following on figurative heals
sans, l'amour,
i.e.,and that bastard conception
of life, liberty, and the
pursuit by George - Marshall ling, Grant
ting, and Bing Frank.)
Expectant motherhood generates aurorean
sonogram x-ray zooms
bringing developed fetus
healthily shimmering viz,
quasi hologram seen
glowing halo, inducing
jubilant kickstarter lil bean,
administering capitalone
earthlinked joyful lyft,
natural pheromone readying cerulean
tommorrows, venerated ecstacy doth gleam
zinging bounteous
dizzying feelings hormones houseclean
jackanapes leviathon nestling
pinterestinly interocean
reaching terminus vista
xing zee birth canal mien
doctor readies Fallopian tube cutting
helping jiggle little nymphean
possibly ranking...
as future topnotch venerated Olympian
fast forward to joyful loving neuro
logically plain resplendent teen
knee weeny tiny
vaunted expanding zing
baby dripping Vasoline
like goo fully gesticulating
happy jolly newborn.
Which miracle whipped
purely by chance
given reason to the most orthodox
to sing and dance,
sans said singular biological
phenomenon does enhance
freshly minted parents,
or the mommas
and papas genetic
copy wrought grants
who already passed along
to a brood of offspring
gushing with excitement
akin to fire hydrants
spewing forth fountain head
treasuring such Kodak moment,
cuz such instance
and subsequent tender
wonderful blessed
Instamatic reverent cherished instants
will zip at greased lightening
via speeding hurled lance
sing remembrance of things past
during twilight years,
an eye blink those yesterdays,
when my troubles seemed so far away
and upon being centenarian,
doddering fogie gripping hold,
hugging intensely, indubitably decrying
how quickly of
decades long ex pants
didst elapse, when tendering
to a coliciky, finicky,
inscrutably lemony snickety offspring
wishing infant would grow up already,
now onset of autonomy
Das Agean sea sunned
father or mother
hood doth rants
at father time, he doth access
without a word an excel lent
power point demonstration
with near vertical line brevity
of how mortality slants.