Long Plebs Poems
Long Plebs Poems. Below are the most popular long Plebs by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Plebs poems by poem length and keyword.
Its arranged mr Trump..You are to win a second term.' The plebs recall your earlier
Presidency 'and less war.) Now you still need an edge.' An attempt will be made on
Your life.' But do not fear you will be ok.'
And you will gain the white house..
Thank you for your time today mr trump
See you in the white house.'
Brr brrr Hello..Yes inner sanctum secretary yes come to the main desk and
Request the golden envelope.' To access
Our location, five minutes elapse; Ring ring..Intercom request
Sir the agent is here.' Let him in a well dressed yet nondescript man comes in
Two imposing guards flanking the short
Hall waved him he approches a massive walnut desk , its all there said the secretary 2 million in large denomination bills, thank you sir.' You have a team still ready asked the secretary.? Yes ready to go..As expected
The target 'who i will not name' now has
Been informed an attempt will be made
Yet he will be ok..So i want your sniper
To touch his ear only.' This will ensure genuine shock.' And allay public doubt.'
I shall await your competent result.'
Goid day and good luck.'
They don’t understand! They seem to not care! They should be so grateful that we’re even there!
So what if we make mistakes here and there, now and again. So what if they die, so what if they cry! Inequality needs maintenance which we wholeheartedly try to defend!
The poor cannot be allowed to live like the rich. The poor have to pay for our yacht, our wine, our parties and then crawl in their ditch.
Politics is now a free cash machine. But only for the ‘privately educated’ if you know what I mean!
They’ll just have to suffer and take the blame. They’ll just have to live like Dickensian peasants all over again.
England is ruled by greed and greed is what we’re here to feed. They’ll spend the next twenty five years paying for our lies. But who cares, their lives are as worthless as flies.
Itchy Fingers?
I don’t mind dying in a nuclear war.
As long as it’s quick, not a lingering bore.
It’ll give the elite a chance to see the cloud.
Kill off the plebs in a crimson shroud.
I know their fingers are itching.
To press the oblivion button.
See what happens,
from Moscow to Sutton.
and all the places in between,
They’ll watch it from their bunkers.
All the beautiful people I mean.
The psychopaths who own us
And control our pointless lives.
We the workers who feather their hives.
So, press it Musk, Trump, Putin and all else
Hidden in your bunkers focusing on self.
Obliterate the world.
And the useless kind
You can do it to me.
I really don’t mind.
David Cox 27/02/24
Planned-Demic
No work, no play, even dogs don’t stray
And you can forget your paltry pay
Off to the supermarket by half past five
An early start might keep you alive
Buying things, you never bought before,
Hang on Madge, let’s get thirty more.
Lots of toilet rolls and tomato puree
A difficult time for a shopping spree
No need to fret we’re in it together
I bought a mask of pure black leather
No good for the virus but what the heck
I wear it all the time, keeps the wife in check
Everything’s good, but grannies in a tiz
She’s won’t go out, she’ll watch a quiz
With the political parties getting real excited
When all the plebs die, they’ll be delighted
OLD AND NEW 1 : CIRCUS
Giraffe on anxious heels
bought in Sandton, toddle
along with intense haste
a dream point unheard
lipstick smudges, mascara
leaks of AK47 dust she rifled
Bullfrog madly croaks
vying for a place in a stagnant
pool, scoffing brandied chocolate
pinched nerves, heart infested
throat on a tightrope
Is the net below safe ?
Doe dark-eyed, hips to sink
into, marbled beauty stuck
in corner stage believing that
the circle offered freedom, unable
to move for want of a thatched
roofed house, chrysanthemumed
Lions and lionesses rounded pillars
new regal maned performers
late for debate, entrance timed
for a precise shapely attack
on buck across the atrium who
practiced prances early morning
In the middle stood Pharaoh
with invisible crook and flail
a sleek panther serpent eyed
veils of disinterest, ears on end
at plebs in the arena, acts like
phantoms danced along a
smooth mental screen
Fidget they would on
maroon re-upholstered
benches over which not
even Bach could flow
mints popping pockets
On the horizon they
disappeared into an African
circus becoming marula trees
on our border
©GhairoDanielsPoetry1996
At the breakdown of ages man disappears and reappears
In the form of an easy-to-use scheme
Over the last half-century, man has been replaced
By technocratic ideas of what a man is
But the real man can no longer fit into these forms,
which have shrunk like old clothes.
At the breakdown of ages, man is left to himself.
Politicians and their servants are becoming more paranoid,
Which isn’t surprising at all, and the common
Become even more apolitical than before.
At the breaking of the ages, there is a time of no time.
Reality postulates wars, destruction
and the breaking of ties for nothing,
But simply by virtue of political games,
Their uncontrollable inertia of enmity.
Enmity has no calculated cost, and no rational reason,
Proposed justifications only multiply sorrowful nonsense.
Politicians want admiration, no matter the context,
Common people want to be left alone
At least in the negative sense of peace
Criticise us all you want, just leave us alone
If we're so unteachable, then don't teach us,
Go teach your children instead, save your time
Don't adopt or foster us, for God's sake.
Take all your money, grab us with taxes, spend it as you like,
Run secret emissions if you don't have enough money.
Declare yourself champions of the universe
In all your favourite genres, fests, competitions.
Award yourselves whatever prizes you like,
Just don't impose for the zillionth time
Your legalised insanity to us plebs,
We're not your doctors or patients.
Complain to God, MP, GP, journalist, priest
About our impenetrable stupidity, just get off our backs.
Lock yourselves in some suitable metaphysics,
Tell in the school textbooks about you, the greats
About your heroic struggle for our freedom
In choosing a bank and an insurance company.
All power ends with aging and loss of meaning.
The survivors of your era
Will go by about their business looking at their phones
Past your pigeon pooped statues
And for the younger generation
You will be just a line they’ll be forced to remember
At the history exam, settled as if on purpose
For momentary forgetting right after passing.
We don’t like it when you talk back.
We’re in power, so we’ll have less of that.
Protest because of our lies and fascist policies.
Well, I don’t know if you plebs understand where the power is!
You see if you talk back it means you’re standing up to all our lies and our crap.
If you create a scene by standing up together, well that means that you could eventually control the power!!!
Because we’re Tories and we lie for a living. We just want you to keep on giving. So we’ll screw you hard and tax everything. We’ll make you plebs suffer with this ‘cost of living’
But if you stand up in mass and numbers. We’ll get really scared and hide in our fridges. Because the only thing that can stop the flow is the vehement look in your eyes when you plebs act in crowds. A general action will bring us to our knees because our billionaire backers will lose money.
Life is for the living,
Life is for the loving,
Love is for the giving,
We do live vicariously,
Don't take things too seriously,
Let's make extinction extinct,
How? Let's have a think!
Work and pray for Peace,
For plebs and critters we keep,
Let's preserve more habitats,
For wildlife and people chaps,
Exile brainwashing dictators,
Breed positive motivators,
Redirect capitalism,
Too much conflict over 'isms
Masks our real problems.
World makes too many munitions....
Create diverse solutions,
Too many mind pollutions,
Let's write some aphorisms,
Life is for the living,
Life is for the loving.
Oil jackpot
When coming home from the ship, his coastal town
was in an uproar from every window, people shouted
and banged pot pans together
People danced in the street, which was unheard of
young people shamelessly made love under oaks
so eagerly that trees that had been around forever
lost their leaves.
At home, his mother hollered, from the window
we are richer than the Americans, wealthier then
the Saudis.
His father said, no point going back to see if we can
Pakistanis and the Philippines for this.
People had forgotten the socialist state had a word
the money made in this bonanza was for future use
the currency was put in a fond, already rich could lend
money, from this fond and get richer.
For the plebs, there was little to gain and as seamen
the ship owners changed their flag and hired people for
a low-priced pay and no vacation
Goodbye Merchant navy, you served the nation well.
She always thought she was a cut above others
The most beautiful, the richest , the best
A self confidence unbearably arrogant and explosive
When with her, peoples patience were put to the test
Outer beauty, plastic enhancements, riches is all that mattered
She was insincere, rude and vain
Never gave or did for another
In her eyes other women were unattractive and plain
Committed to a lunch work meeting
At a restaurant by the sea
It was a beautiful sunny day
Being with work plebs is not where she wanted to be
Glammed up to the eyeballs
She reluctantly arrived
Disgusted at having to be even near the plebs
She went to have a cigarette outside
She could see the plebs through the window
Looking at them down her perfect nose
Hoping to be rid of these deadbeats soon
In their embarrassing low budget clothes
Her negative ,superior body language was obvious
As she stood outside full of false pride
When several seagulls flew above her and let rip
Raucous laughter heard from the plebs inside