Long Policy Poems
Long Policy Poems. Below are the most popular long Policy by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Policy poems by poem length and keyword.
Thank You President Trump
Leadership by President Trump
(And then some)
Put America at the forefront
In combating the Coronavirus
With decisive response and measures
To ensure the safety of the American people.
Though some feel as if guinea pigs
And question whether over reaction
It had to be done
To prevent the spread
Of the viral toxin.
Resuscitating the old
With infusion of new
To revive an antiquated system
In germ warfare infection.
America will come out the better
A global leader
In preparedness and first respondence
To combat future pandemics
Man-made or natural
With preemptive action.
Give credit
Where credit is due;
The calamity contained
And disaster thwarted.
***
Note:
The Coronavirus (Covid-19) is an infectious flu like disease. It spreads through contact with an infected person when they cough or sneeze, or when a person touches a surface or object that has the virus on it, and then they touch their eyes, nose, or mouth.
The outbreak began in Wuhan China, surfacing in a seafood and poultry market in late 2019. The first confirmed case in the United States was in the state of Washington, January 20, 2020, involving a 35-year-old man who had travelled to Wuhan, China and returned. The first recorded death in the U.S.A. was on February 29, 2020.
On January 31, 2020, President Trump declared a public health emergency and issued a travel ban barring entry into the U.S.A. of most foreign nationals who travelled to China within the past 14 days. Other measures included mass testing, social distancing, a stay home policy, shutdown of large crowd gatherings, restaurants and bars, etc. and large scale disinfecting.
Both bacterial and viral infections are caused by microbes. Bacteria are single-cell creatures that can reproduce on their own.
Viruses, on the other hand, are smaller than the smallest bacteria and have a protein coat and a core of genetic material (DNA or RNA). Unlike bacteria, viruses cannot survive without a host and reproduce by attaching themselves to other cells and are known as ‘parasitic.’ Viruses are packaged RNA or DNA who make copies of themselves by hijacking the machinery of cells to replicate themselves.
Most bacteria are harmless, but those that cause infections are called ‘pathogenic bacteria.’ Viruses in most cases are harmful.
In youthful exuberance I become a culture bandit
Well exposed, but never really learning.
Modernity taking a toll as Papa and Ante chased the goods
For my sake they said... No mistakes... deed was good
Nanny TV with her bright inviting light
My imagination on wide escapades around the world
And farther altering my personality by giving me languages, dress codes, and even an accent.
So I stole, other cultures infused, fitting in everywhere or so I thought.
And Yet
In all my juvenile delinquency I could never, tell an adult to his face you are wrong
Revering old age; what is that, where is that from?
In my Success in Corporate with policy of first names and no regard for age but ability and brain
I could never bring myself to say Pat.
Aunty Pat can you please email the document to me
Wait, what? Am I not her boss.
So I stole…. Other cultures infused, fitting in everywhere, Or so I thought.
Drawn to the immaculate white of that gown
Instinctively I top it off with a colorful Kente Scarf?
The height I can rock in these 6 inch heels
but how Royal the Ahenema slippers makes me feel
This perfect perfect pony will do well with…. no not pearls or sapphire;
Animal bone necklace and earrings
Oh how perfect my manicure will be accessorized with these….no not diamonds
Bamboo bangles
I will wear the jeans, But only with that tank top with Adinkra symbols
So I stole… other cultures infused, fitting in everywhere… or so I thought.
My true culture grasping at my core
As I gasped, when that little boy called his father’s friend Larry
When He picked the carrot stick with his left hand from the bowl serving the community I died
Though it didn’t make sense because as a right handed person I would say my left hand is as clean as dried
I smiled brightly when that couple spoke Twi, while we waited for the A- train on the subway
My Culturally biased heart coveting a conversation
So I stole, Other cultures infused, fitting in everywhere
A cultural bandit … infused with other cultures… blending in well, or so I thought.
Without need of Affirmation, I have Ghanaian blood flowing through my veins
I know the voice of my people, the beautiful colour
Of the soul that makes a Ghanaian.
In the mother land or not. Ghana comes with us.
From generation to generation Ghana is us
Perfect Culture Chameleons
We fit right in
Ghana is our heritage.
In youthful exuberance I become a culture bandit
Well exposed, but never really learning.
Modernity taking a toll as Papa and Ante chased the goods
For my sake they said... No mistakes... deed was good
Nanny TV with her bright inviting light
My imagination on wide escapades around the world
And farther altering my personality by giving me languages, dress codes, and even an accent.
So I stole, other cultures infused, fitting in everywhere or so I thought.
And Yet
In all my juvenile delinquency I could never, tell an adult to his face you are wrong
Revering old age; what is that, where is that from?
In my Success in Corporate with policy of first names and no regard for age but ability and brain
I could never bring myself to say Pat.
Aunty Pat can you please email the document to me
Wait, what? Am I not her boss.
So I stole…. Other cultures infused, fitting in everywhere, Or so I thought.
Drawn to the immaculate white of that gown
Instinctively I top it off with a colorful Kente Scarf?
The height I can rock in these 6 inch heels
but how Royal the Ahenema slippers makes me feel
This perfect perfect pony will do well with…. no not pearls or sapphire;
Animal bone necklace and earrings
Oh how perfect my manicure will be accessorized with these….no not diamonds
Bamboo bangles
I will wear the jeans, But only with that tank top with Adinkra symbols
So I stole… other cultures infused, fitting in everywhere… or so I thought.
My true culture grasping at my core
As I gasped, when that little boy called his father’s friend Larry
When He picked the carrot stick with his left hand from the bowl serving the community I died
Though it didn’t make sense because as a right handed person I would say my left hand is as clean as dried
I smiled brightly when that couple spoke Twi, while we waited for the A- train on the subway
My Culturally biased heart coveting a conversation
So I stole, Other cultures infused, fitting in everywhere
A cultural bandit … infused with other cultures… blending in well, or so I thought.
Without need of Affirmation, I have Ghanaian blood flowing through my veins
I know the voice of my people, the beautiful colour
Of the soul that makes a Ghanaian.
In the mother land or not. Ghana comes with us.
From generation to generation Ghana is us
Perfect Culture Chameleons
We fit right in
Ghana is our heritage.
SPECIAL INTEREST
With the thought processes of the masses overwhelmed
By the heavy burden
Of no influence on policy
And with little scope for advancement
Up the greasy pole
Insurrection and rebellion abound
Catching the chattering classes off guard
Traducing a broke government is the new game
To incite discontent and to pander to
Front page democracy the new weapon
Of those whose frustrations
Know no bounds
Unions and lobbyist throw their
Handbags out their prams
Yet they provide no new income streams
For a government on its knees
The pension pot is the new not to
Be touched holy grail
Its reverence brings to the fore those
Who wish every proceeding generation
To pay for today’s profligacy
Money comes money goes
Often the government seems to have none
To spend it all on special interest
Is a very selfish goal
This new era of austerity is but long overdue
A curb on the excesses that let the selfish
Do as they would please to do
With society’s blank cheques
A welcome break for the taxpayer
The one who petulantly foots the bill
Those that want more may need to pay more
A progressive system is not unwarranted
Tax is but essential to fill the pot
Those that have but give not
A blot on an otherwise decent lot
How selfishly all sides do behave
They want but refuse to give
To be the one who wins all
Exceeds all other considerations
No compromise is considered best policy
To lobby
To influence
To fool
These are the goals of the one sided
Minstrels of the selfish school
Knocked from their little thrones they rise
They but skew interest towards their cause
An unfair system
Built like a house of cards
That flutters in the wind of change
Selfishness is but a wanton Unhealthy game
A grand state of decay is society
Where wants and expectations
Outgun reality
A government unwilling to be brave
Allows democracy to shiver and shake
A useless waste of a vote
A dismal disgrace
Society is but made up of parts
That only function if all contribute
And everyone gains
Grappling hands should be slapped
We must all enjoy what our hard work has begot
A delicate balancing act is government policy
Frustratingly it seldom meets its aims
For the unintended consequences
Forever drown the initial good
Not everyone sadly wants policy to do some good
Seek out what’s best for you
Always remembering it’s not
All about you
It is easy to forget that in the main we die only seven times more slowly than our dogs.
Jim Harrison (1937 - 2016) - The Road Home
First Bobo, a cocker spaniel,
I remember only from pictures.
He ran way before we moved
to Canada when I was four.
Second Kizzie, a cockapoo, Mom got
when the family moved to Texas.
I only saw her on holidays and such
as I stayed in Canada. She lived
long and was with the folks when they
retired to British Columbia and was
into her teens before they put her down.
Third Sadie, 3/4 Newfie - 1/4 Bernese,
a big black dog, with a big appetite
for apples from a special tree and
the socks our daughter, a toddler
cast off around the house.
I still chuckle remembering
the scattered remnants lining
the farm lane that spring.
She was over ten, and in pain
when we put her down.
Her ashes remain in an urn in the garage.
Fourth Rizzo, a fencejump cross of
Gordon Setter and Belgian Shepherd,
my wife and daughter got him from
a friend, while I was off on a canoe trip.
A headstrong dog who would take off after
a scent or car to return when he pleased.
On leash, he'd almost pull you off your feet.
With age, he grew territorial and
after the third biting incident, I took
him to the vet to be put down.
But she gave him to an older lady
with a fenced yard who put thirty
pounds on him and he lived to
fourteen or fifteen.
Fifth Hailey, who was five when
we got her from the shelter.
A Border Collie - Shepherd cross
and definitely our daughter's dog.
She'd bounce foxlike through the fields
and on evening beach walks, loved
to fetch sticks we'd toss into the waves.
She was over fifteen and failing when
we put her down, days before
our daughter's wedding.
No urn this time.
Sixth Xena, a Shepherd-Collie cross
and beyond doubt a princess
but more sweetheart than warrior.
She has the canine equivalent
of ADD and a bark first policy
when something new appears
and will retrieve sticks or balls
until your arm falls off .
At over eight, she's running strong.
Seventh, Sam, a mostly Shepherd mix,
she's our most 'rescue' rescue dog,
smart, loyal and obedient
a wantobe lap dog with a feral streak.
She responds in kind to aggressive
dogs and we muzzle her on walks.
Now five she'll be with us for a
good while to continue the tally.
It begins at home
even closer: it begins "I"nside
I have forgiven failures, failing in faith, inside me
Have you? Until you do, it is almost too hard
To forgive your imperfect parent, and therefore Father-in-Heaven
Lest it seems, I speak ordinary, old, old-fashioned sermon or speech
"Remember Mandela, South Africa, TRC? I was there!"
While billions only speak it, I have to live it
I did not want to; Mandela (OUR BELOVED MADIBA) made it policy
In the bad old South Africa, poisoned by a white Minority, 300 years
Still wanting NOT to share anything today; but we must for ourselves
And for Jesus (or for Mandela, or for Gandhi: both graced South Africa)
Yes, I have grown to love Forgiveness and Reconciliation in my heart
There it must begin, or it cannot come out into this bloody world
From the blood pump inside you, pure Jesus lineage can overflow
Once the mind and heart come into agreement, concord, one accord
(That's what happened at the Pentecost that birthed Christ's Church -
When the disciples, dreading death after Jesus's Crucifixion, locked doors
In the Upper Room, in Jerusalem, tarrying still: Fire in Holy Spirit fell!)
The Holy Spirit tells me to love like Jesus and Mother Theresa (now Saint)
Love till it hurts (and once hurt like that, NOTHING will ever hurt you & me)
I forgive because I see the forgiveness of Jesus (What does it mean? Sins?)
LOVE may begin in sin; but it flies with eagle wings, near the SON, forgiven
We reconcile with the Parent Above; who is really everywhere, doctrines do
not tell us all, only a start: God loved and offered reconciliation, but Truth
Demands we confess: I was a dirty, dastardly sinner, until He washed me
In the pure, precious blood of a Perfect Man, High-Priest after Melchizadek
So, dear brother and sister, I do not list sins to make you mad
That is only to assure YOU the Jesus way: Confess, Receive Grace, Live Free
TRC in RSA: TRUTH and Reconciliation (& Commission Under Archbishop Tutu)
Said anyone, white or black, who confessed their murders and sins
Would not be taken to court; only one was (Wouter Basson)
A whole nation forgave the white Minority under Mandela's mighty mandate
To Love and forgive like Jesus, for BIGGER things: like saving a country
From the kind of civil wars that rage on and on, fed by hate, all about US
False promises and bold faced lies
From leaders we call men,
Too foolish, vain and unwise
It’s the election blues again.
Feign to believe the web they weave
With patient ears we listen,
Future balanced if they achieve
From deceitful eyes teeth glisten.
In principle, fate is our blame
Yet in our selfish pride,
Our judgment shadows woeful shame
Behind scapegoats fail to hide.
Ballot fiends they all may be
Watching poll numbers, plus or minus three,
What will their victory bring to me
After January twenty-three.
Subsidized youth sports, gun control
Child care dollars galore,
A policy a day, and truth be told
Campaign gifts are a chore.
What matters East-West-South ‘n North
Is that we get it right,
While opponents bicker back and forth
By cable, bus or flight.
Success depends on unity
Without it we’re a wreck,
While one side suffers mutiny
The Grits give Tories heck.
The separatist Bloc` says “Let us go”
Demanding sovereign freedom,
White margarine and one-tongued-signs
Does Canada really need them.
The answer is, quite simply, oui`
We cannot tear apart,
Instead, honor all with dignity
And make a brand new start.
While men debate with pointed fingers
On issues big or small,
Our neighbor’s fear of terror lingers
With plans to build a wall.
Five billion they shall not relinquish
While bring East to peace,
Infernal war fires ne’r extinguish
Diplomacy for lease.
Denying partnership in war
To Iraq we didn’t go,
And up in space where eagles soar
Again we said “Oh no”.
Canada is not the States
Their future is not ours,
While Bush comments on us, berates
His future quickly sours.
When we look back upon these days
In golden years of life,
Will mirrored lakes obscure with haze
Too thick for sharpened knife.
Or does the future hold great treasure
For Canadians, one and all,
With strength and courage beyond measure
Winter, Spring, Summer and Fall.
Like years before, each voter chooses
With hopes and dreams of change and glory,
But in the end there’s winners and losers
Different writer, same old story.
Scott Goldsberry
December 30, 2005
The Life we now live seems but a deceitful drain
Rules abound that keep us all in chains
When will our saviour show us
We are in his favour
Blessed are the rich for they can afford the price rises
Essentials are so far out of reach for us already on our knees
We constantly pray
For what we gravely need
Blessed are the police for they can do as they please
They trample us in their lustful hate of society
Despite claiming to be our big brother
Blessed are the artful for they will dodge anything
And pay an unfair share of taxes
By buying government policy
Blessed are the bankers for they have ruined the day
Lending to us who could not control our spending
But now have to face reality
Blessed are the politicians for they always know what not to say
And lie at election time so convincingly
That we foolishly believe their comedy
Blessed are the immigrants
For they at first appear foolhardy
Working long hours for less money
Till they realise they have rights like everybody
Blessed are the celebrities
For they have distracted us well
From the day to day hell in which we dwell
Blessed are the peaceful for they are useful after a riot
And can calm some but only for a short while
Till the government causes a decline in the economy
Blessed are the rioters for they know the value of greed
And covet an unpaid for flat screen TV
That was too overpriced if bought legitimately
Blessed are the gangs for they rule the streets
And act like feral cats
Till they end up six feet under
Blessed are the silly for they believe the news
And have a forgetful countenance
And will always blame somebody
Blessed are the over-spender
Who keep the internet in boom
Even though it’s unaffordable credit card spending
That will cause future misery
Blessed are the middle classes for they take all the school places
And the jobs and all the cream
And anything they can carry
Blessed are the reporters
For they know how to fan the flames of discontent
With their distilled forgetful hate
That shows gross prejudices
Blessed are the simple folks who the world passes by so quickly
And who seem so unfairly happy
Long may they remain cloaked in insanity
And finally blessed are the people for they will rise up eventually
Another day
When despair can’t be held at bay
1.
This is Truth that to you, mortals is now speaking,
I’m the one that in the kernel of everything that exists resides,*
That no human has ever seen**, up to this very moment and
No one, I affirm will able be, eyes to set upon my
Divine essence!***
2.
I know, the vast majority of you believe to be with me, very
Well acquainted,
Some even declare that the best of my friends are and
Instead of me, they could do the talking
Even there are those who boast to be my associates and
The ultimate reality only them to know
Thus
Each one of them “his truth” declares according to his doctrine,
Fervently maintaining the veracity of his established principles,
The principles of his policy, his history, his religion, his morals
That with me, the Truth, I assure you, have very little in common.
3.
So, I the Truth, with many faces came to you be known
As different colors are always used to paint my visage,
Colors with hues of their opinions to better fit their purpose
According to the era they are living in, their reason and
Understanding
4.
If a day, I the Truth, among them decided just a walk take
Certain am I that no one of them, would able be, me to recognize
For the bigotry that is deep in their uninformed heart planted
Unable has made their eyes the supreme Truth to identify
5.
Enraged am I, of all those criminals who kill in my name,
Regardless of their color, creed, sex, ethnicity,
For even if a little bit they knew me, never would they
Commit a crime
For
I, the Truth next to God live. It’s from Him I draw my existence,
Impossible thus for me it is, divinity’s will to disobey
And commend someone to do something that is immoral
Because God is love*** and love, you should know my friends,
Never commits a crime!
© Demetrios Trifiatis
07 OCTOBER 2014
* There is nothing that we with certainty know because the truth is found in the depths of each thing!
Democritus, Greek philosopher, 5th century B.C., the father of the atomic theory
**No man has ever perceived the truth, neither anyone in the future will know it but only opinions of things we will have for the reality of things!
Xenophanes, Greek philosopher 6th century B.C.
***John, epist. First, verse 8. “He that loveth not knoweth not God; for God is love!
(Continued from Part 1)
Transparent figures walk at a flirtatious pace
On world-class runways, with no expression on their face
Parading styles you can't afford in your possession
They are the ghostly models of the latest, greatest FASHION.
A millisecond blink, a click, some weird noise,
A virtual reality for all the girls and boys, and men and women,
From X-Box to the Web, from Lasik to Radiology -
At work, at school, at home,
Invade the blinks of the mind-boggling TECHNOLOGY.
Hard sharpened teeth are clutching at my feet
"You won't go far! You have deadlines to meet!
Go back to work, we hunger for your check.
Oh no, we don't really care that you broke your back."
The swollen lips repeat "You have a chance!
And all you need is years of education,
The right color of skin, and perfect credit-pay-back evidence.
We'll hire you if you're that certain kind,
Then close the firm and move so far you'll never find."
More faulty words are slipping from the tongues
"Don't worry, our brand won't hurt your lungs.
Enjoy yourself! (*at your own cost)"
You think you're cool, when sadly you are lost.
The "sharpened, swollen, slipping" are after you and me
They are the widely-opened mouth of the ECONOMY
Enormous brains stroll through historic halls
Preparing campaigns, false promises, ready for the brawls.
Deciding wars, neglecting harsh critiques
They are the brains of brainless POLITICS
A large behind sits comfy in its chair
It "covers" all, at all times, everywhere.
From Maine, to Oregon, to most southern tip of Texas
Sit one-half IRS and the other TAXES.
A sagging belly and a double chin,
A pair of dark circles and a droopy skin,
Decide to make a move and Go For It!
It's time to freshen up and tighten up a bit.
As they arrive at their first appointment
They're quickly greeted by awaiting disappointment
"You want to look younger? feel better? No, No, No!
Read through your policy, you fools, we are the HMO!"
*
On this, my friends, I'll go to sleep
I'm tired, time for counting sheep.
Just one more thing I'd like to add,
Last words just pondered in my head
The moral of the story is,
That if you want to live with ease,
Through all commotions, bring your sense of HUMOR
Just so that you, yourself, don't turn into an ugly tumor.
1999
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