Long Passports Poems
Long Passports Poems. Below are the most popular long Passports by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Passports poems by poem length and keyword.
Coffee Stains
David J Walker
Those stains on the carpet
are from coffee
Split last Tuesday
Left because it is right
In the form of some
Unknow unnamed continent
Explorers are looking for
But will never find unless
They look beneath my desk
Or
Shaped like clouds that
Could be horses galloping
From Northeast to Southwest
But the meteorologist
Never look up and are
Never seen
on a computer screen
with naked European models
or
they are aliens
crossing our galactic borders
without passports
here to eat humans who
have grown fat and tender
and complacent and stupid
in sad and comical ways
and tinder for their
stellular campfires
or
it is a coffee swamp
filled with bacteria
that will eventually dry
but never die
needing only hydration
to revive its life
of evolution
or
you will come in and
see a coffee stain
you will spray it
and it will nearly
completely
disappear
into the fabric
saying
“When did this happen?
Where you just going to leave it?”
My wedding ring I would bring.
Not because you mean a thing.
I was my mother's.
My PC means a lot to me.
It contains all my history.
Hundreds of photos.
My home file is number three.
Passports, births and bills.
Along with my will.
Clothes are not my thing,
but some I best bring.
For the long haul.
Without my accordion I'd be sad.
A gift from my Dad.
Now dead twenty years.
My purse of course.
It's gonna be tough
without any cash.
My mobile to reassure
my kith and kin.
To me, no harm done.
Seven Things You Would Save If Your House Was On Fire Poetry Contest for
Caren Krutsinger' contest.
26/02/2019
They’re not coming here to nurse us
Because of the approaching Brexit day
But it doesn’t really matter because
There’s no money for treatment anyway.
After buying planes for the carrier
And replacing the Trident deterrent,
That’s a great big whack
Of our taxes spent:
Then there’s repairs to Buck House,
Cash for our own dear Queen,
Westminster Palace renovated
To smarten the Parliamentary scene,
Tax cuts and perks
For the very wealthy,
Just no money left
For the poor and unhealthy.
If they were patriotic
They would understand why
It’s in the National interest
They just crawl off to die.
So long as we’ve enough
To provide a Servant class
We really don’t need
A a larger proletarian mass.
Large profits coming
From our new railway track
And with Brexit looming nearer
We’ll soon have our Country back.
We can look forward
To a future bright and new
With our nice passports
Coloured nicely Tory blue.
The possibilities are intriguing
When we go our own way
Great Britain once again
All Hail Brexit Day.
If prosperity is slow to come
There’s no need to wait
Our little offshore island
Can become fifty first state,
With a capital renamed Trumpton,
Farage as the puppet head
Not God Save The Queen
Just Stars And Stripes instead.
Pull up the drawbridge
Turn the clock back to zero
Fiddle while Rome burns
With our modern Tory Neros
Written over two years ago
Enough to make one swear and curse
Really hard to credit but
Unbelievably things have got worse
JAY TOWNSEND JOHNSON HENRY AKA JOY Y JONES THIS IDENTITY THIEF BEGAN STEALING MY IDENTITY AFTER HER TWISTED AFFAIR WITH MY ABUSIVE EX HUSBAND AND PETER GARGANO THE ABUSE ESCALATED AFTER THIS IDENTITY THEFT ARRIVED WITH HER JAMAICAN GUNMAN TO END MY LIFE HOME INVASIONS THREATS I FINALLY SUFFERED A TRAUMATIC BRAIN INJURY FROM A CAR BOMB IGNITING IN MY FACE THIS WAS WHEN SHE REALLY BECAME OBSESSED WITH MY MARRAIGE COMMITING HOME INVASIONS RIPPING MARRAIGE CERTIFICATES SHOT RECORDS PASSPORTS OBITUARIES OF DECEASED LOVED ONES I FINALLY DIVORCED MY ABUSIVE EX HUSBAND AND REMARRIED TO MY SURPRISE MY STALKER BEGAN HOME INVASIONS AGAIN IT WASN'T LONG BEFORE SHE BEGAN ACTUALLY FALSIFYING MARRIAGE CERTIFICATES OF A DECEASED WOMAN FROM THE CATHOLIC CHURCH IN ORDER TO DINE WITH PETER GARGANO WITH THE KNIGHTS OF COLUMBUS AN UNHOLY HORROR UPON DECEASED CATHOLICS MY FAMILY SURVIVED HER IDENTITY THEFT FALSIFYING DOCUMENTS J2 ACN HELPING ILLEGAL IMMIGRANTS TO RECIEVE ILLEGAL CITIZENSHIP WORK VISA SCHOOL VISA IN AMERICA BY FALSIFYING MARRIAGE CERTIFICATES OF DECEASED PERSONS ITS TRULY HORRIFYING GETTING MARRIED IN THE CATHOLIC CHURCH THIS FRAUD AGAINST THE DECEASED RIGHT NEXT DOOR THE OFFICE OF IMMIGRATION WHERE THE FALSIFIED DOCUMENTS CAN BE FAXED THROUGH AMSCOT TOOTSIE ROLL DRIVES PERSONS OF POWER SELLING MARRAIGE CERTIFICATES OF THE DECEASED TO JAMAICAN IMMIGRANTS MEXICAN IMMIGRANTS TOTAL DISREGARD TO ACTUAL DEATH CERTIFICATES SADLY MANY OTHER NATIONALITIES IMMIGRANTS BUYING SELLING TRADING CATHOLIC MARRAIGE CERTIFICATES OF THE DECEASED OBITUARIES I FEEL TRULY BLESSED MY HUSBAND AND I DECLINED TO EVEN BE MARRIED IN THE CATHOLIC CHURCH WE CHOSE TRUTH JUSTICE AND PEACE IN THE COURT HOUSE PROTECTED FROM IDENTITY FRAUD AT THE CHURCH WHERE GARGANO CONTROLLED COMPLETE WRATH FAKING HIS DEATH HACKING INTO OBITUARIES I APPLAUD TRUMP ON THIS ISSUE MY FAMILY SURVIVED SEVERE IDENTITY FROM FROM JAMAICAN MEXICAN IMMIGRANTS
GOD BLESS AMERICA
To visit the Gulf of America,
In case you get the notion,
You might fly over what’s now called
The Mar-a-Lago Ocean.
Be sure to click your seatbelt,
For when using this portation,
(The “trans” has been removed)
You’ll pass a bright red once-great nation.
Get your brand-new passports ready
For the agents are quite brusque
And you might just get deported
To a planet now named Musk.
What once was Mars is filled with
Crowds of migrants (oh, such noise!),
Lining up to use the bathrooms
Clearly labeled Girls or Boys.
There’s a huge arena filled with
Those with polio or mumps,
For there are no more vaccines,
Which Junior argued were for chumps.
While back on earth, the military
(Minus gays and gals)
Is patrolling Mar-a-Gaza,
Filled with Donald’s kiss-ass pals.
And in Congress, the Republicans,
With joyfulness, cavort,
Knowing that, no matter what,
They’ll have the backing of the Court.
For those of us remaining,
We can mutually mope
Or reclaim the Gulf of Mexico,
With just a thread of hope.
AFTER NUMEROUS CALLS DESPERATE PLEASE FEDERAL BUREAU OF INVESTIGATIONS MY IDENTITY THIEVES SETTLED INTO MY LIFE LIKE GIANT COCKROACHES CHEWING FEASTING ON MEDICAL DOCUMENTS PAYMENTS INFORMATIONS SOCIAL SECURITY INFORMATIONS FROM TAMPA GENERAL HOSPITAL SYSTEMS MEGELLAN HEALTHCARE HCA INCLUDING TRI CARE FBI HAS BEEN CONTACTED EACH TIME MY STALKERS GAINED ACCESS TO OUR PERSONAL INFORMATION LETTERS POURED IN HERE'S WHAT WE DO WE ARE WRITING YOU TO ALERT YOU THAT YOUR PERSONAL INFORMATION HAS BEEN EXPOSED YOU'RE INVOLVED IN A CLASS ACTION SETTLEMENT YOU CAN LOCK YOUR CREDIT WE OFFER CREDIT MONITORING THEN THE SPAM CALLS HACKERS USING YOUR INFORMATION TO CIRCULATED ROBO CALLS SPOOF PHONE NUMBERS UNDER YOUR NAME DEBUTING ALL YOUR HACKERS IDENTITY THIEVES WHO HAVE LITERALLY BUILT A CAREER ON STEALING YOUR IDENTITY AFTER SEVERAL DATA BREACHES MY HUSBAND AND I ARE BLESSED ESPECIALLY SINCE MY ABUSIVE EX HUSBAND RALLY A FLEET OF JAMAICAN STRIPPERS HIDING OUT IN AMERICAN YES UNDER MY IDENTITY SINCE THAT DIRE PLEA TO THE FBI 2003 HELP HELP SOMEONES BREAKING IN MY HOME SEARCHING FOR PASSPORTS OBITUARIES DEATH BIRTH MARRIAGE I FEARED FOR MY SAFETY SUFFERING TRAUMATIC BRAIN INJURY THE THIEVES WERE ACTUALLY EMBEZZLING FUNDS FROM MY TRAUMATIC BRAIN INJURY CLAIM FLEEING TO JAMAICAN CANADA AND MIDWEST WHEN THEY FINALLY REALIZED I REMARRIED THEY LATCHED ON TO MY HUSBAND TERRORISING US WITH HOME INVASIONS DEADLY GAME OF DOMESTIC IDENTITY TERRORISTS ITS HORRID BEING A DISABLED PERSON HAVING A CRIMINAL GROUP HACK INTO YOUR HEALTHCARE YOUR PERSONAL INFORMATION YOUR LIVELY HOOD HAVING TWO STROKES I WAS HELPLESS AT THE MERCY OF MY WONDERFUL HUSBAND JESUS CHRIST MY IDENTITY THIEVES ARE SEATED WITH MY ABUSIVE EX HUSBANDS ITS VERY TRAUMATIC THIS CRIMINAL GROUP FORMED SEVERE HATRED FOR ME AFTER BEING EXPPSED TO MY IDENTITY AS A CONFIDENTIAL HUMAN SOURCE I WAS INTIMIDATED BULLIED BY HOME INVASIONS DEATH THREATS ATTEMPTS ON MY LIFE SLANDERED TODAY I FEEL BLESSED MY HUSBAND AND I ARE ALL ARMY STRONG HAND IN HAND TRULY BLESSED WE SURVIVED THIS IDENTITY THEFT TERRORISTS CRIMINAL GROUP SEVERE DATA BREACH UPON OUR FAMILY DURING CHRONIC ILLNESS COMPLETE HARDSHIP GOD BLESS THE FEDERAL BUREAU OF INVESTIGATION FOR REACHING OUT TO COMBAT THIS HORRID DATA BREACH UPON US GOD BLESS THE FEDERAL BUREAU OF INVESTIGATION AND GOD BLESS AMERICA
Every day we’re making memories…we’re out in the world having fun…
and every day, if I am lucky, I write a few lines about one…
But with our suitcases and passports packed…and armed with Google translator
For the next 10 days we’ll be making so many memories…
I’ll have to write abut them later.
We are celebrating Ava’s graduation
Making memories in London, England then Paris, France…
and when it comes to writing abut them…this is the first time I’ve had the chance…
When it comes to our itinerary…our son Bryan has sole authorship.
Counting Deborah, me, Bryan, Ali, Ava,
Damien, Trista and our great-granddaughter-to-be
there will be four generations of our family on this trip.
It’s a trip we’ve been looking forward to for a long time
one we know, in our hearts we’ll never forget…
Okay, there’s a good chance our great-granddaughter might not remember
because she’s riding along inside Trista…and hasn’t been born yet.
But a trip filled with family, fun and happiness (studies have fund this to be true)
when experienced by the mother-to be will be felt by her baby too.
This first poem finds us traveling on different airplanes…
We’ll be meeting Bryan, Ali and Ava in London
then Trista, Damien and our great-granddaughter in France…
And as we’re flying we’re hoping we packed enough essentials
like socks and underwear and pants.
If you don’t hear from me every day…no need to worry or be wary
blame it on London or Paris or Bryan’s itinerary.
And know we are doing our best to have fun…to play, eat, drink, sing and dance…
to help Ava make a host of memories in London
then Ava and our great-grand daughter even more memories in France.
Four generation of our family…celebrating where we are, where we’re going
and where we came from….
on a family trip that if we’re lucky will be remembered for generations to come
Being one of the volunteers for medical mission,
It feels good for my dedicated service in action,
No need to cross on borders just to help other people,
They are just in the corner to ask medicine for a cure.
Doctors who always there for the illegal immigrants,
Dedicate their time for the sake of the peasants,
Different nationalities living in a foreign country,
They needed love and care for they are lonely and weary.
Money can’t buy satisfaction and happiness,
Even if people called them the less fortunate,
Surviving in a far away land for a while,
Where in their native land, they are in exile.
Lack of material things they don’t have,
All they need is our unconditional love,
Life is still good living in place of poverty,
Seeking solace for our love and generosity.
Note:
Being one of the volunteer for medical mission for 2 years, I know how it feels to be isolated in a secluded place. Some of the illegal immigrants are in hiding because they came in the country of Thailand without any passports, they are afraid the authorities will catch them and send them to jail and send them back to their native land. Some of them living in the mountains where lack of waters that some children seldom take a bath that’s why some of them are sick. Another thing is lack of foods that it takes weeks for some people to go down to city to buy for their daily needs, in other words they are lack of basics necessities. As I observe during our medical mission every month in different places in Ratcharuburi initiated by Thai priest with Thai nurses, Filipino doctors, nurses and volunteers, Spanish doctor and some other nationalities, some of the children are malnourish, have skin problems, fever, flu, etc. They can’t go to the hospital because they are afraid the authorities will catch them and send them to jail, even if the doctors will recommend them to go to some hospitals, they will not going to have a check up because they don’t have money. I know it’s really hard for them to live like that but still I saw them with pure happiness in their heart laughing and smiling with us during our medical mission every month. All they need is our guidance, help, generosity and love. Let’s pray for them that they always overcome their struggles in life.
A welcome sight the lights ahead - like misty globules on ink black foam
The billboard elicits a sense of foreboding - Welcome to the Midnight Bazaar
A lack luster moon adds to the mystery – nervously I enter to ask my way home
A familiar song plays in the somewhere, the name eludes me - how bizarre
Somberly dressed people scurry past- eyes focused on illuminated screens
Refusing contact, shoving past rudely as I ask where this place would be
One of them in riddles tells me - this is home - the place to be it seems
I wonder if the scales of reality have tipped in favor of insanity
A stall arouses my curiosity and I look as a butcher of sorts places
Bleeding hearts getting desired effect - starts a pushing jostling frenzy
Uninterested in the clowns on stilts with their painted morbid faces
Children walk with sullen looks - expressionless eyes that fail to see
Crowds clamor to buy sea food - how absurd - especially as a smell of decay prevails
Fresh produce on sale with dyed color bleeding and truffles of mud is there something amiss
A man wanders around with passports on offer - Buy yourself a Life - his sign displays
Relief at last - a stall with books and maps – here is my escape from this tainted Abyss
This God forsaken place is not where I wish to stay
And I must strive to leave it before the light of day
An exorbitant sum I pay eager to escape his cloying breath, his black toothed smile
A commotion at the far end - some sort of bidding - curiously I venture courage giving me wings
A sign proclaims ‘Souls For Sale’- in rage I scream ‘you cannot sell souls - This is so Vile ‘
Dark soulless eyes in chalk white faces – Bore right through me – Look right through me
I run screaming, falling, clawing the map that shows all roads lead back to this Hell - I scream
Waking myself - knowing the name of that song still in my head - Shaking from this macabre dream
Footnote:
This was not meant to be a pretty poem. It exaggerates the state of a world that has seemingly lost its focus and empathy. Let's not let this happen
Take a bit of Dean Kontz, Stephen King and the unnatural things going on with food enhancements and you have the stage set for a macabre nightmare!
I step onto my departure from the dock
to embark on a voyage of the amygdala.
Here lies a treasure trove of motion.
The gangway moves slowly,
no suitcases or fare stubs,
only our passports—
those little books of identity
that grant us entry.
Then we all separate into the chambers
of the left and right atriums.
We check in at the front desk
like a queue of traffic.
Murmurs from fellow passengers drown out
the gratuities,
as our steward paces the hallway
with a duty-free smile.
At last, we reach the bridge,
suspended between the bow and stern.
All my ‘what ifs’ and ‘buts’
rising up and thrown overboard
like drifting flotsam.