Long Poke at Poems
Long Poke at Poems. Below are the most popular long Poke at by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Poke at poems by poem length and keyword.
Like the famous Stonehenge across the pond
(where it is rumored that worshippers of Satan danced)
the Georgia Guidestones (though not proved to be
a place of Satanic rituals)
is cloaked, nonetheless, in the kind of eerie mystery
of Stonehenge.
Built in 1980 at the behest of an anonymous donor
calling himself, ironically, Mr. “Christian,”
the documents for Georgia’s Guidestones’ plans
were supposedly destroyed.
Its granite stones (including the capstone) number six,
a fact not too surprising
considering that Satanists enjoy
flaunting the obvious
in front of us (we the “vile” humans,
as they call us behind our backs),
for we are the nothing masses of sheep
at the bottom of their Illuminati pyramid.
A monument the Guidestones are said to be
to a “Post-Apocoloyptic World,”
and its stones are meant to withstand all catastrophes.
Engraved on it are ten commandments -
a poke at Christianity no doubt -
10 commandments meant for a world reduced
by 90% from what it is today.
How telling!
Its Ten Commandments, as they read,
do not seem too insidious,
but to the eyes of those with knowledge,
the intent of Luciferians
can be surmised.
Four ancient languages appear above
the momument’s Commandments,
something I find befitting
a monument to evil, for the devil
is older than the world.
I cannot deign to know with complete accuracy
Mr. “Christian’s” total purpose
by “gifting” us with this strange monument
that stands on barren land.
But like its twin Stonehedge
(which built 5,000 years ago, most likely
expected to stand forever too!)
the modern monolith in Georgia
will fall to ruin as did Stonehenge,
for Christ will not be mocked.
In a world ravaged by the evil that men do,
one day Mr. Christian’s monument to Lucifer
will be destroyed.
Nov. 21, 2021
for Joe Maverick's Georgehenge Stone Cold Minds Reflect Poetry Contest
We walk the same road every day
You walking one way and I another
We need rarely to ever speak when we pass
because we can read each other’s looks
What is never said speaks the loudest
We know what is there, and what is not
You poke at me and I play along
I get silent and make you wonder if I am mad
We play this wicked game but laugh under our breaths
But we do complement each other like the butterfly and flower
I have written these feelings down many times,
though, many times have I had to rewrite them.
I need not brag to any friends but keep quiet
about things that two hearts left unread.
(I inserted my own style in this crazy, yet cool composition I penned a while back on a Sunday! I hope you enjoy this somewhat new poem!)
Love
Will
Clear things up -
If only you would see it
Crystal
Clear right this instance
Sunday's nearing its end - my life
Welcomes Monday with open arms
Grazing on my own,
Hoping to find love somewhere safe
I fell in love with mystery
But, disappointment hunts me down
I'll be an animated clown
Though, deep down inside,
I feel the waves of emotion
Become friends with my state of mind
Gratitude will be
My friend
Odd questions poke at my brain
One thought asked:
What's
Love?
Form:
My father once told me, “Bedtime for Bonzo”
I break because I am the shattered mirror before you
Can’t you see that I am not an angel of the dawn?
My sorrowful soul needs happiness…not temporary madness
Trying to delete the pain in this heart of stone,
feeling like an emotional mess
It doesn’t matter what you say or do…
I ain’t gonna hate you…
Even if I’m on stage,
I still feel like the spotlight unveils the loneliness
It doesn’t matter if I’m sick with the love flu…
missing you out of the blue…
Shards of needles poke at my skin…
Feeling like a loser from deep within
I’m a champion in God’s eyes and that’s what matters most
I can’t help but boast –
Boast about how He helped me…
Figure out how to choose the right pathway of life for eternity
Trying to delete the pain in this heart of stone,
feeling like an emotional mess
It doesn’t matter what you say or do…
I ain’t gonna hate you…
Even if I’m on stage,
I still feel like the spotlight unveils the loneliness
It doesn’t matter if I’m sick with the love flu…
missing you out of the blue…
Shadows and candles surround us
Sorry, Lord, for the habit of cussing….fussing….
I feel like nothing when I should feel everything
I don't know about Archbishop Justin Timberlake,
He’s jazzing up the church,
Making Jesus controversial,
Leaving life in the lurch.
It’s fine to have excitement,
About any religious thing or assumption,
But when you poke at liberal creeds,
You’re with the discontentment presumption.
The liturgy does not gel with Sankey hymns,
Which parishioners should not be made to sing;
Fundamentalism is on the way out,
Of Christianity’s credibility wing.
It is emotionally abusive,
To atheistic in-house kids who want to aspire,
To tell of the insanities,
Such tunnel vision requires.
Although I am glad of his enthronement -
It lets evangelicalism out the bag,
I hope to return to a more liberal clergyman,
For the future church ‘mag’.
Fundamentalists won’t admit to the speeches,
Given to their kids who are silent prey;
It’s not fair to live in a society,
Which allows only the understood to convey.
Pluralism is the glasses by which we all see,
Humanism, atheism, religion, and irreligion too,
And the Archbishop is therefore acceptable,
As a beacon of what fundamentalists do.
Freedom of speech and expression,
For some, will only come when we know such acts,
Societal change comes simply from people,
Who’s concepts and ideas become assumed facts.
He was not that successful at decking Wonga,
Anglicans can't quite compete,
With open market transactions,
Which have seemed to withstand the heat.
I don't validate high-interest lenders,
But the church should stick to God,
It should be more into caring,
For the elderly, all on their tod.
About the Archbishop of Canterbury Justin Welby, UK
Helpless! I stare up at human children.
Their discovery of me has begun.
I, slow- moving in undergrowth
before I know it, am flipped
upside down.
I move my legs, desperate, they grip air
while, amusement of children
ripples like a brook,
Look they chuckle. “ He’s stuck”
And they poke at me and form
a ring of eyes, above.
I am desperate for kindness now
I retract my neck and limbs
quiet as death until
bored the children
seeing no movement, right me
again, I stumble on,
until a foot with toes poised to flip
is stopped by words
I prayed for
defensive, kind
“Let the poor thing go.”
I hide in the cool leaves before my last
desperate lurch, pond water surges
over me, I swim, my legs paddle.
The water lilies are beautiful
The Kings Craw
I’m sure sometime tomorrow, we’ll have our sad goodbye
now make your last attempt, to try and make us cry
once more a broken promise, lays shattered on the floor
another failed attempt, like so many times before
they poke at other poets, then retreat into their hole
why must they pour more vinegar, into our poetry bowl
venting on a blog is against this site’s decree
and now you’ve used a name, for everyone to see
a screen shot has been taken, for admin, I’ll send it in
but when you least expect it, till then I’ll store it in my bin
you need to read the rules, you’re not above the law
your spitting days are over, now let that stick into your craw
Bigger than bodacious,
higher TCH than contagious-
I poke at the smoke and make a cause to estrange this,
…toodle-to-do in my space ship!
I love how much I can remake this,
and bank the right to go out on a limb,
spill on the film,
make the gas on the ground increase its bliss,
run through the breeze and accept your diss,
though it is time to resist-
and look back at your breast...
Ask mother to draw me up a sign-
because like it or not you are on my line,
and my best friends,
and my bosses,
your eye’s doing crosses,
your cops pulling over bloggers!
Wait,
stop!
I said stop on a dime!
Pick one up and help pay for the blind!
We adore dances as long as they make man-shifts,
make shift-
endanger wigs,
throw out chicken strips,
and hopeless trips!
Play out banquettes, with not enough men to spank it!
Even though they're all over it,
callin' all out smurf!
And say **** anybody with my tip!
It's high in the mountain range-
and it see's you as strange!
Blame blame blame!
And then do it all again!
Go to the gym later and explain!
Ask why do young men have names?...
I haven't given them my change,
I am still alive,
I deserve to be played!
I am in turn to say hey, go away,
you little brother,
stayin' for a long time and then bein' like...mine!
Glass shattered-
the bottles melting
that green-eyed feeling overcoming-
but the cause of it was you.
You're wandering eyes neglect me
while you pretend to look away
but I see right through those pretty brown eyes
and you definitely don't want to stay
I'm that safety net-
to a person who's my world
and while you
poke at my eyes
laugh at my fits
I know your real girl
and she's not the person you've been with
for a year now coming up
instead i'm just a distraction
trying to become better than you've had
but you can't even see that
I'm psycho- that's all there is to it
but remember when i'm gone
and realize my worth
that you were really nothing-
but a lesson gone wrong
a lesson that was supposed to relieve the grief
a lesson of love gone wrong
I saunter and trot up and down my stairway—I’m wholly overwhelmed!
………..O__o………..
And yet another crew of questions poke at me while I scramble about in my mind:
“So, how did the move go, sir?”
“Did the moving procedure lead to a good or a bad direction?”
“Did yah get all of your materials, my dear boy!?”
“What kind of memories will you form in your new home?”
………..>__<………..
And yet another trash bag is pulled out from my cabinet!!
“I’ll have to dispose of you all!!!”
………..T__T………..
After a few moments of anger, I consider the last volunteering question with much guilt:
“Is it really time to flee?”
………..*sigh*………..
I nod up and down—that’s my answer to your plea!
Now will you let me be?
………..?^__^?………..