Long Perp Poems
Long Perp Poems. Below are the most popular long Perp by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Perp poems by poem length and keyword.
(A bit of fun for Thomas W. Case - I think he lives in Iowa)
Hawkeye pride burns bright in Iowa City,
the place where Tennessee Williams learned to curse.
Iowa City hosts the 4th of July, Iowa speedway race, unique perhaps
because the cars have to stay behind a tractor for the first 199 laps.
How polite are the people in Iowa City? I saw a news report where a man was mugged,
traumatic? Sure, but the man still remembered to say “Thank you” before the perp bugged.
There are over twenty-six churches here, people can be a bit pious and obnoxiously reflective.
There’s a Hawkeye infestation in Iowa City because of the university, classified as ‘moderately selective.’
Geographically, Iowa’s where the rolling plains meet a limestone rise.*
Did I mention that the bars close at 2am? A travesty in any serious drinker’s eyes.
Some noted authors came from Iowa City, the locals are proud of that and own it.
Most were playwrights and novelists, luckily, few of them turned out to be poets.
* whatever that is
note...
We’re in Paris (Peter and I) at the Régis oyster bar. We just polished off a dozen oysters (each) and we ordered "Plateau de fruits de mer" (a seafood platter) and they’re taking forEVER to bring it. Peter’s reading a book. “Mind if I.. ?” he’d asked. I looked at the cover, which read, "Heavy Quark Physics." ick.
So I pulled out my iPad and Thomas W. Case - a poet far above my station had, once again, lavished my latest piece “Brilliant and Wonderful,” (which I seriously doubted). But it inspired me to pen this (while we waited) - his poet page says he’s from Iowa. (5 minutes research on Iowa and 5 minutes to write.)
Ooo! Here comes our platter - bye!
Make for the corner, Fresno-Whittier
(there’s neighborhoods a whole lot prettier):
it’s probably ten-ninety-six,
but don’t draw weapons – that’s a Nix.
The man before you’s not a “perp”,
so don’t come on like Wyatt Earp.
Latina (claims she’s J-Lo’s cousin)
talking nineteen to the dozen
says she almost bought the farm,
but totally (we think) unharmed.
Find the pale-blue shotgun shack:
he’s out front, and she’s out back.
Ten-zero, boys. Proceed with caution.
Blame’s not something we apportion.
They love each other – had a fight,
same as any couple might.
Bear in mind one simple thing:
no-one wants a Rodney King.
So, L.A.’s Finest, when you swoop,
he’s sitting on the streetside stoop,
and spouting incoherent crap,
samurai sword across his lap.
Don’t pay no mind to what he’s blurting –
the guy’s okay. He’s simply hurting.
Don’t see a spic from Zapopan,
look at him closely. See the man.
Don’t think, “one of the wetback horde”:
think what it took to make that sword.
Someone tempered, shaped, embossed it.
And Juan’s a man. He simply lost it.
He came up here in eighty-eight,
and settled in the Orange State.
Wielded wrenches, welded axes,
raised his kids and paid his taxes,
and now he’s slowly catching on:
there’s nothing else. His youth is gone.
He mops the floors at Taco Bell,
and Carmencita gives him hell.
He’d wail a horn, like Bobby Prewitt,
but doesn’t have the art to do it.
So let’s forget the “better than”.
Go easy, fellas. See the man.
Scared
by Odin Roark
Fear saved the fly
The spider wept
Fear kept men alive
While Napalm paved the way
Fear keeps the 1% insulated
Handlers and mental bodyguards
At their beckon call
The mongrel on Manhattan’s frozen streets
Knows well the virtue of fear
Yet
Never will we see our species
Handle being scared like an animal
Where the lesser evolution will defend
We the sentient superiors will think only offense
How beautiful
How heart wrenching0
The defense elephants
Rhinos
Big cats
Exert to protect only that
Which is their province
Their instinctual responsibility
Wanting not to harm the perp
But only to ward off the aggression
Escape to safer surroundings.
Why does man feel he must instigate aggression
To justify his superiority?
Why do we continue our behavior
Moving science
Technology
Mind set
Ever closer to android resolve?
Might we be so complacently satisfied
We ignore the advances of AI?
Are we really so consumed with the media clap trap
We’re becoming more and more ignorant of information
Vet proof stats that tell us
Wake up
And yet
To sit in a quiet attic
Observe the simple
Yet perfectly designed survival
Instinct of the spider
Is to become aware
It’s all about living in harmony
Not acrimony
Wait patient spider
What you need for another day of survival
Is but waiting
Love nature
Or perish
Dear Shari Todd – written July 29, 2015
While rifling thru outdated writing,
which virtual thumbing
wrought non deadly chancre “FAKE” blister
(long thee envy o' this wordy mister
a reference to mine youngest sister
prior tuff fall lout dynamic
emotional frenzied analogous
rapacious seditious tempestuous twister)
Tis hospitality of yar behalf
to league gal lee
tender our lovely daughter
begat in part by meself,
whose punctured psyche doth chaff
at mine severe prepubescent short comings,
which trajectory of teen years,
a downward line on spiro (Agnew) graph
which deprivations well nigh
finds a civil war raging
against one half of ma being
(Oh Henry), a Harris son,
who these days genuinely
tries his Level best
at lighter side of life to laugh
comedy of errors, boot
haunting visions visit Twelfth Night
figuratively brow beat
like an unseen dis staff.
glad that Shana (thee darling daughter
afflicted with cognitive development
entailing homebased intervention) wince
she blossomed into
a beautiful young lady,
now under Dunning aegis (bonanza) since
emotionally stable, and quiet
on western (Bend,
Oregon) front, rinse
sing with yar incredible credit karma,
her existence Quince
sud dental (juiced teething),
living with papa,
would mount to a travesty,
sham, mockery...if superficial
only perp pull reigning “FAKE” Prince
likely to barrel within
outward bound mince
meted MainLiners along here
built “mini mansion” homes
NOT bedecked with chintz
at 724 west railroad avenue
(previous address of this bummer)
anyway, should ill fate befall
like an overstuffed blintz
if this king Lear Rick Hill
wannabe meets fatal doom,
thy "mother abby" would
get panic stricken (rue...
The quickest way to see your life
Go on a downward spiral
Is doing something stupid and
Discerning it’s gone viral.
A young man lured a local cat
And when it came close by,
He grabbed that feline, flinging it
Way up into the sky.
He laughed and so did all his pals
But someone did record it
And as it traveled ‘round the globe,
Well, very few ignored it.
The perp will get his day in court
But doesn’t really get it.
He’d like to let the matter drop,
Yet nobody will let it.
Oh, by the way, the cat is fine;
He’s found a loving home.
The bully, though’s been vilified –
On tape and in this poem.
My Mom read the supermarket flyer
There was a sale on sparkling cider
I groaned when she said we must shop
When she starts, she'll never stop.
I pleaded, "Mom, in the study below
"We have sixty-three, I counted, I know
"Bottles cover half the floor
"It's hard to even open the door."
But determination was in her face
So I had to drive her to the marketplace
We cleaned out their cider without doubt
I carried four bags, staggered out.
I arranged the bottles on our floor
There was no room at all, not any more
Then she made dinner, and I went to sleep
While a burglar at our house did creep.
He jimmied the window lock, and climbed in
Fell over the bottles, made an awful din
I woke up to the sound of shattered glass
And an escaping thief, going fast.
So now I'm cleaning up soda on that floor
But I won't complain about Mom any more
She can shop for soda, and Angel Cake too
She can fumble coupons till the cashier turns blue.
The cops caught the perp, he smelled of cider
An international gang, the net got wider
All this helped Mom's ego inflate
My neighbors told Mom that she was great.
So all you who shop until you drop
You never know, you might help a cop.
And make a burglary plot flop.
lost words are wolves hunting
heat from the herd, raw desire
one day less alone
American prom night
youth-swept hair moussed down in place
cigarettes light, poof
there goes Mary's lamb
water pail swings from her jaw
blind to the boil ahead
it begins like a bath
soft as the sun's seduction
quiet as a rack
back window fogs up
fingers paint shapes on car's cave
condensing moments
it was kilning day
he, my substitute art teacher
ersatz guardian
photos of his kids
near the hearth of his grandma's
basement fireplace
I was a student
thirteen is an innocence
despite the heated clay
Sandro knew his kind,
let's call him Terry Carter
because that's his name
I was a self-admitted misanthrope
unwilling to lose or drop a case.
I often threw a rope-a-dope
just to win; I never lose face.
I worked the dark streets
for dark, and even darker, clients
while the cops walked their beats,
shadows showing giants.
As far as I was concerned,
they were all a bunch of losers.
They were bad; they’d get burned.
The lot were boozers or bruisers.
I had caught a difficult case
The man was stabbed and shot.
He deserved it; he was debase,
but the perp would be caught.
The lawyer was my client,
he was dirty; the worst he could get.
Damn, he was mighty defiant!
Still, I didn’t think he did it.
He had no motive, but also no alibi.
So why were the cops after him?
He was a jerk, but had no reason to lie.
But for him the outlook was grim.
I might have to pummel every john
on the streets to get to the truth.
It wasn’t unpleasing to use my brawn
and I was a hellava good sleuth.
I’d search every city block.
I’d find the filthy little perp.
I’d find the lowlife and knock
the truth out of the twisted twerp!
26 August 2022
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THE CROWN JEWELS
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Queen Xena, a squirrel, was a female hoarder beyond measure,
for her crown jewels she surely did treasure.
she hid them in the kingdom’s storage locker
along with the fact that she was a punk rocker
The keys and her reputation were safe, safeguarded by her personal dresser.
Then it came to pass, surely you’ll gasp!
Xena’s jewels were lost, away from her claw-like grasp.
“Oh what’s become of my jewels, I’m coming undone.
I’ll find the perpetrator and shoot him with my pea gun.”
“Who’s the perp?” You just had to ask.
Eyewitnesses said, “The thief wore a black mask, was ‘big clawed.
We seen him scampering about the forest and the royal quad.”
At police headquarters, they wrote their statements
Xena filed an insurance claim, believing in suspect’s escapement.
Later texted her friend, the masked racoon. “No one suspects us of insurance fraud.”
What We Should Learn From Dallas
By Franklin Price
7/8/2016
What we should learn from Dallas
And the tragedy we pan,
Policemen killed cold bloodedly
By a sicken minded man.
Took advantage of a protest,
Of killing elsewhere by police;
Despised black on white authority,
If cops are dead it has to cease.
As of now he was the only perp.
There was no larger plan.
He felt he had to do it;
To get rid of the man.
Get rid of perpetrators
Who happen to wear blue
Whose actions are above the law
Don't have to pay for what they do
He was past considering
that cops are also bad and good.
Most protect all people,
And are doing as they should.
They put their lives upon the line;
Each and every day they work.
The bad apples among them
Are statistically a quirk
The media and politicians
Take sides to drive along
The minority views of both sides;
This direction is so wrong.
Reporting, on these deeds
At best is very mixed
Not only deeds, but also reasons
Are what's wrong and must be fixed.