Long Plug in Poems
Long Plug in Poems. Below are the most popular long Plug in by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Plug in poems by poem length and keyword.
Help To Understand A man
A woman they say is hard to understand, and that may be true
Unlike a man, he’s easy; and here is a tip for you.
A man is really made in two parts; you can take this tip from me
One part A, below the waist line; and part B, above the knee.
A man they say only thinks with one part
It may be his head, or maybe his heart
One thing I am sure of, is of the two parts he is blessed
There is one part he likes to play with, and that one he likes the best.
His constant companion through thick and thin
Throughout his life it never gives in
It guides him through life, leading this and that way
And it is with this part that he’s always willing to play.
He never does play with it - in polite society
It’s not on show, no that should never be…
He does not discuss it with his peers at a dinner
But he relishes the feel of it except, when it’s thinner…
He like’s to watch it grow, and this is his ambition
To make it grow all the time, it is a good man’s mission.
The only time he worries is when put his hand in his pocket
And cannot feel what he wants to feel, it’s like no plug in his socket…
So a man is simple to understand, and remember this is true
When he takes you out you know, he is really thinking of you
For the man to feel a man, this is what I will tell you honey
When he puts his hand in his pocket, he likes to feel a wallet full of money.
© ~GG~23/09/2012
A rare Arab and Asian identity which is distinct in topography;
blessed with an excellent human resource in health services;
its heart, destroyed and rebuilt seven different times;
having a name unchanged and sustained to reach historic zeniths;
surviving a number of years more than the number of Brazilian Airports
while its tongue resonates in three different dance moves.
This land historically occupied by over 19 intruders
holds the world book capital and appears in the league
of the most popular shopping destinations globally.
In the global skyscraper of night clubs, sky Bar stays at the top.
The creation of the first boat and the establishment of the first sail
makes the Phoenicians topple Christopher Columbus to reach America.
Down town Beirut raises its flag high above all others
in the building of its law school.
Rooted from its gardens is the creators of Tom and Jerry
and holds the shield of pride as the first constitution driven Arab Nation.
A plug in the large socket of the Arab peninsula
is this land with the highest percentage of Christians in its league;
having a city named after the combined scrolls of the Christ-like religion
and sidon signifying the first miracle center of the Messiah;
with the popular belief of the divine plantations of the cedars.
It is sealed by the several mentions of both land and tree in the holy scriptures.
Even though it is a fortieth of the entire religious empire
its garage gives out a large chunk of the peninsula’s publications.
Unique in its spring, when skiing and swimming are both possible;
possessing fifteen flowing waters, each coming from its own mountainous source;
with four times more compatriots outside its landmark
than within its territorial fence.
Its past time events of the wild fire of civil wars
all ignited by the sparks of inter-religious differences
reflect a large society harbouring eighteen different faith
to form a nation with hidden political and economic influences.
Newport Folk Festival 1965.
Behind the mirror is where we all
Tend to lurk,
Suffering through the pain of glass.
No one likes change,
Sometimes it is almost viewed as a sin.
Then you are punished
For attaining a higher majesty,
An alliance nearly gone.
But the times they were a changing
Folk had to realise,
A new power was being born
The climate just right for change.,
To plug in to the new.
After all a mirror image
Is the same,
But I suppose it is how
You look that matters,
Not what you see.
It was the orthodoxy
Of one Man that changed,
Someone who dared to be different.
It is some what ironic
That he said adieu,
With an acoustic version of
“It’s all over now , baby blue.”
But then,
The rest is history.
sitting, spine curling, eyes glassy in rebound reflection
internal struggle in cyberspace brings smiles and a few brief howls
feeding off my own mass, I disregard this reality
neural synapses tickle the pleasure centers free of charge
have I eaten, have I bathed, have I moved in how many hours
regard the fantasy, I am the princess ax in hand
clans form around the click and ping the web drawn tight glows
world within world, the always ever after grows and grows, unreal
reality, the construct of naive minds, re-envisions itself
First Published by [Insert Coin Here] Anthology 2013
By A Kind of a Hurricane Press
Awake me muse, for I need to commit,
To something, anything that will keep me fit
Before me sits, an unbuilt kit,
waiting for me to assemble it
With steady hands ready to work,
Unboxing, pulling out pieces,
for all they are worth
Parts and pieces dispersed here and there,
instructions interpreted as somewhat fair
Leave it to me, I’ll get it done,
better late than never, I told someone.
Time has come, to glue this to that,
prime, sand, then paint all that
To finish the task at one’s feet,
the process calls for it to repeat
Don’t call me a bad guy,
if I justify why you should electrify
You can paint or wallpaper any wall,
it doesn’t much matter to me at all
With all those lights still so dark,
plug in with “AC” to get a spark
Once we throw the thumb-wheel switch,
we behold all that glows,
hopefully, without a hitch.
I can proudly say to you this day,
this dolls house is ready and on its way
Ready for you to decorate
with folks gathering to participate
Thanking you in advance
for this build of mine
and approving of my timeline
At some point, you might say,
at his best, he was a gifted Miniaturist
When the mind
Is being disturbed
By the issues of life
All night becomes long
You can't sleep
Many manipulating
Always Calculating
Contemplating on how to overcome
Steadily looking at time, waiting for dawn.
When things get plight
You hopefully living life
While the heart aches
From lost and betrayals
You start panicking
If you can't plug in
Whatever comes for free
Have a hidden fee
Either regret or insult
That's the result, when you lose the bond.
When life becomes bleak
Steady struggling
To survive
Until you revive
From the low
To thy peak
You become weak
When errors are noticed
But all efforts are been ignored.
Title: "Kneel Weak, Stand Steal"
(Verse 1)
Yo, you want me to bend the knee like a QB’s technical fix?
I stand taller than your apex, throw harder than your flex.
You apologize to the pocket, but I call the shot, boss,
While you’re kneeling for forgiveness, I’m the devil in the croup.
(Verse 2)
Vick had to bend his knees to find his aim, oh how sad,
I launch missiles from the line—sniper, no wind check.
You adjusted, then curled like a caterpillar in the dirt,
I’m Gotham’s storm, no cape, just thunder in my shirt.
(Verse 3)
Bats don’t kneel in Gotham, they soar through the rain,
You drop to one knee prayin’ for relevance, failed man.
The Joker laughs when you tweak, while I’m ripping the script,
Your "bent-knee game" is a joke—go ask the crowd for a plug-in.
(Verse 4)
Now Jacksonville’s gates all locked up—drama at the front,
Your team’s a zoo, but I’m zoo energy, tearing through doubt.
You fell for the key, now stuck in the lock’s cold trap,
I’m the pick, the spin move, while you’re stuck on repeatin’ your rapp.
(Verse 5)
Your hottest sex move? A limp wrist at the end,
I’m Bruce Lee’s pressure point—watch your ego bend.
You kneel for touch, I’m touch and go, no stop,
While you edit your flaws, I’m drop by drop, raw, no props.
(Verse 6)
So bend the knee for the weak, let the cameras roll,
I’m king of the apex, you’re just a shaky Google.
Your comeback was a crip walk, I’m the main event,
Now beg for the spotlight while I kick your ass in the context.
Outro:
[Demonic laughter and the sound of a quarterback dropping to one knee, then a gunshot.]
The devil
is a
dancer
In the
cabaret
of fire
His steps
are most
alluring
His eyes
beget
desire
He twirls
amongst
the partners
Disguised
but known
to all
And making
his
selection
A child
of Adam
— falls
**
Never let
reality
— obfuscate truth
Never let
the legend
— be tarnished by proof
Never let
the facts
— carry the day
Never let
the magic
— get reasoned away
**
Staying close
to the moment
the world made sense
In touch
with his feelings ...
tomorrow’s paid rent
Alone
with his questions
the answers collide
Breaking through
the unconscious
— forever alive
**
You can never tell
unless you show it first
What the eyes will see
— the mind will free
**
Colors drip down
but never up
Gravity’s palette
— rainbows to touch
**
Looking for a
socket
to plug in tomorrow
Looking for a
conduit
to exit today
Looking in a
mirror
reflecting my future
Looking until
breathing
— each word that I say
**
Hidden
in caverns
the words
rising forth
Each droplet
a treasure
in ladles
to pour
Through whirlwinds
of drought
and twisters
ordained
The wellspring
indulgent
to fill
— and sustain
**
There are no
accidents
though some
would explain
Cause
or causation
each hair splitting
phrase
What is
and what isn’t
their images
born
Unconsciously
conscious
in matter
— and form
**
The art of looking
grows slowly ...
Tall oaks in
the wind
The bison in
Winter ...
His warmth
from within
The art of seeing
takes longer ...
with each passing
glance
Reforming
the picture ...
you once left
askant
**
In the distance
pirates chase
like devils
on the wind
Tonight’s horizon
morning brings
what destiny
— portends
**
Metaphor
only thrives and grows
forever
on the vine
Simile
lies a
rotting fruit
— bereft among the rinds
**
Find me here
Within graphite words
breathe me deeply
until the lines are blurred
let my smoke fill your lungs
I desperately want to be felt and heard
Ash rises from my bones
from my mind to your heart transferred
my thoughts are paper thin
Yet they levitate upon my imperfections
Two three and four dimensions
The things I can't scream
without fear here I mention
Maybe it's all a cry for attention
is it really me these absurd expressions
I lay it out for the world
Find the holes in my communication
plug in your extension
Maybe the light from your lamp
will illuminate my apprehension
My record silently skips
a soundless sensation
The needle gouges deep
with its intimate groove penetrations
Is this any indication
of my faltering perceptions
or do I have frayed wires
stripped by my preoccupation
So here now and from yesterday
I form words into weird collections
maybe you can find me here
amidst my verbose fascination
I'm here somewhere
in all of these indentations!
Repeated reincarnations reveal,
that on ensouling a new body-mind,
the truth of agape love, we cease to feel
and as we flounder about on earth blind,
we are caught in ego’s relentless bind.
Recognising this fact, how should we act,
since we are no longer by wisdom backed?
The optimal path is thought cessation,
requiring simply we cease to react,
nonchalant to outcomes and sensation.
All answers are within, so let’s begin
by becoming a witness to ourself,
in the flow of life, choosing to plug-in
but having no agenda in our shelf,
watching how fate pans out all by itself.
We’re not suggesting a phlegmatic stance
nor ceasing striving, leaving all to chance,
yet being still, in timeless time we learn
of how nodes within us joyfully prance,
as in fire of bliss, we willingly burn.