Long Polled Poems
Long Polled Poems. Below are the most popular long Polled by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Polled poems by poem length and keyword.
Mosque cowed covenant I keep Putin off...
and withheld broadcasting
the following communication
tucked away these many years,
when president number forty five
donned, jump/kick started, and tweeted
thru his musky, albeit flabby mantle,
a rallying cry forewarning onset of Mag(m)a
bubbling, gurgling, lobbing, and spewing lava
against backdrop of his trumpeting vitriolic
political preservation, salvation,
and veneration, though with hold
ding temptation tomb mike -
(make) pence sieve lee clear,
the immoral majority mold
toot hoods, (those bajillion
Americans unanimously polled)
did want me to broadcast, communicate,
and declare, sans incendiary fold
drawl (folderol) feigning migrant accent,
(no matter I'm getting older than Methuselah),
nonetheless Ivana trumpet from Taj Mahal
straight to Mar-A-Lago) all told,
plus thank Republicans
(past or present), who extolled,
an invisible grandiose fire walled
barricade (donning, enclosing,
and fortifying) against Carl mauled
din lookalike hackers,
despite one sporting "FAKE"
hook nosed, hunchbacked
adorned, donned with (Turin) shawled,
shrouded, and disguised vagrant, indigent,
double chinned agent - bald
(except for being bewigged),
viz flowing locks of "FAKE" gold
in toe with Amazon heavily funded
unbridled trailing retinue
chanting appellation Matthew
Scott Harris alias Oswald),
no matter said faux
renegade twittering lobbyists
to flock (like lemmings) within his fold,
and will laughably petrify
any vigilantes dead cold,
what with his bugs
bunny eyed (What's up Doc)
intent reader rabbit stare,
that doth playfully scold
any Bare Ladies scantily
linkedin, NOT nsync
with netiquette politesse mold
gobbledygook communication, (asper
my pork chopped message
higglety pigglety divulged)
obeying tacit gold
din rule to hoodwink public, nonetheless
lemme exemplify, how I plan to hold
world web electronically hostage
by secret Ransomware sold,
thru dark wide whirled web
cryptocurrency bitcoin blockchain trolled
under auspices, sans
omnipotent NON GMO
gluten free CRISPR rolled
oat sized INTEL nanobots,
no bigger than mold
spores heavily monitoring
meant to fortify electronic threads
woven into a virtual tapestry
likened to Dickensian chain e-mail
intent to foment pandemonium
at expense to captcha totalitarianism,
whereby democracy imperiled.
“Deep, deep, deep. Listen and hear our faint gait.
Sanitation, fluorescent lights, and a PC pillow for smother.
Agree! Agree! Atone! Suck it in and suff-o-cate.
White-ness. Black. Ev’ry creed, faith, and color. Listen to Nanny State and call her your mother.”
A wilting flower and grass that’s mowed
Are ever learning why the wilt and why the harm
Innovation, creativity, and where Americana once flowed
Abandoned by the Deep as “fly over” and robbed and made empty the house and the farm
Nude, nude hush in the cellar and the hand can’t hold the gavel
“Trade with China, take arms to China. In Syria sustain the war.
Rude, rude, rude! Abuse of power and a ban on travel.”
Rightful tariffs to the farmers and the market still tends to soar
“Bully the one we call a bully or brute.
A triggered, flying milkshake will save a safe space.
‘You get out and make a crowd!’ You fight! You punch! -- You loot!
And if you see his son about, spit in his face and invade the place.”
Knowledge of good and evil, and the tree from which it sprang
Covet, covet, corrupt in Kiev; greed was found a-Bidden
An Arkansas mansion mem’ry and sight on the oval did haunt and did pang
An outsider, and drainage of septic forbidden
“The farmers don’t want handouts or charity.”
But past year’s labor sets this year’s price
And The Salt of the Earth today will have clarity
The cream off the barrel of tariffs is their due, and the tycoon’s not calling it “nice”
“I’ll still call you a hater. You deplorable vulture!
Because the map in November robbed us our due!”
It’s not 'the other' we hate; it’s your stainless-steal culture
You polled the what, -- (here a hint and a Midwestern clue)
you owned the what, but Deep, my dear, you forgot about us and left sour the Who.
Warm, warm, yellow warm incandescent nourishes
Blue, blue, sterile, starving, hopeless erie --essence
Nanny off the hitch and hands uncuffed --a dirt road gives and flourishes
With the death of equity and the light of equality. And the tapestry shall dawn irid--escence
The long bulb dies along the edges and fringes
Clinical, global culture to the bin
The gate has fallen off its rusted hinges
And the incandescent will win.
Severely withdrawn as a doggone lad...
I wanted someone to hear me shout for help
as recently recalled
when yours truly a little barking whelp.
After conversing with Amélie Beth
(yesterday February 26th, 2021)
yes, the same sibling diagnosed
with nodule on her right lung
chatted with said family member.
Her brother (yours truly), could not sleep
last night/early this morning
what would ewe expect
this rambunctious poet do... count sheep?
Okay... wool ye go ahead and lambaste me!?
Ordinarily counting backwards from one hundred
helps trigger rem memorable cycles
(never if ever rarely reaching zero -
cipher, nought, the big goose egg...)
usually does the magic, (albeit cheap trick)
constituting one garden variety supertramp,
who within blink of eyelash nods off to dreamland
succumbing and submerging into subconscious.
More so the latter half
(regarding unsainted) days
of mein kampf
lived more satisfactorily
meaning emotions shared
between yours truly
and family members.
Suddenly important for me
(at approximately 743.999 months
athwart planet Earth)
to finagle acknowledgement
constituting care and concern
regarding welfare of loved ones.
Rather, a necessity to unleash
pent up sentiments activating
"Damn the torpedoes,
full speed ahead!"
An injustice to myself
and deprivation to recipient, i.e. Amélie
(who accidentally, inadvertently,
and unwittingly triggered feelings
of grievousness, ire, joy... )
to act adamant and withhold
for whom the bell tolled
valuable unpleasant turmoil
or heavenly bliss within
mine psychological state
most therapists and/
or self actualized individual
would concur if polled
wisest, loveliest and healthiest
personal choice to share
lest internalized heart wrenching dilemma
compromise palpable mutual
(of Omaha) kith thing catharsis
freeing restrained pent up angst
kinship therapeutic as “Wild Kingdom,”
whereby respective psyche
constituting uber brotherly spirit
doth lyft among soundcloud
shutterflying amidst
imagined lilies of field
engendering region knolled
king dome united, extolled
and linkedin courtesy nirvana.
One can't help but a feeling
With all our country men a leaving...
...and more migrants lining up
at customs door...
Latest figures polled this year
57,000 plus have left...
...in pursuit of work as there is no more...
and the piper seems little to"no care"
One can't but help but a feeling...
...with our melting pot a changing...
...looming question as to who we are
working for...
...Capitalism on the brink?
Our taxes for unpaid benefits?
...and more rising unemployment is in store...
as our working class is dwindling...
...Is this piper swindling?
One can't but ask the question...
Once known the land of milk and honey...
SOE flushed...
no longer funny...
Suggest to tax the paper boy...
surplus review without joy...
SOE to pay off deficit...
or the accruing unpaid benefits...
...and the migrants keep on filling
an empty space...
I'm not racist lets be clear...
but common sense has reared it's head.
One can't but ask the question...
Robbing Peter, to pay Paul...
Where else I ask you in the world...
can one arrive into a country...
claim refugee status and get paid...
...Lets divert all this attention...
Blame the solo mothers on a benefit...
not a mention about the fathers who help create...
One can't help but ask the question...
To the piper I will mention...
This recession has created great divide...
but the lesson to be learnt lets not skirt
round with words...
You are playing with peoples families
and their lives...
For the people that were born here...
...are more confused and disgruntled...
For the Piper has gone global world wide...
We want peace and harmony...
the right to drive our country's' economy...
...out of debt, and pay our tax
to those in need...
Not a hand out to the lazy...
who are wading in the gravy...
This is what our country stands
for and much more...
One can't help but ask the question...
Have we forgotten what's important...
and who we're really working for...
For our country men are leaving...
Left us penniless and a grieving...
For this question begs an answer...
in the shallows of joy and laughter...
is our deficit knocking on our front door?
in a cozy office in the US,
maybe at langley, or
creech air force base,
north of vegas,
there is an officer watching video
feeds of suspected targets in
“afghanistan, pakistan, bosnia, serbia, iraq, yemen,
libya & somalia,”
just to name a few.
this officer is piloting
unmanned aerial vehicles,
which operate by remote control,
allowing her/him to suspend these
drones
(interestingly named
“mq-1 predators” & “mq-9 reapers”)
for 18 hours in the air,
hovering in a manner that no manned
aircraft can,
in what the CIA terms
“an unblinking stare,”
this supposedly allows the officer who is
waiting,
to select the most opportune time to fire its
hellfire missles,
therefore minimalizing the
collateral damage due to the precision of
the attack &
a successful elimination of a target is referred to
by the CIA as a
“bugsplat.”
this “secret” drone program,
initiated in 2004 by the CIA,
has allowed the US to kill 2,551 people
in their bugsplat derby---
think tanks
like the new america foundation
in washington say that
the majority of those killed have been
targeted militants,
yet when civilians were polled,
a suspiciously different story was revealed as
“only 16% believe that drones accurately
target militants.”
with 118 attacks last year in pakistan &
50 already in 2011,
mr. obama & co. are facing
questions of the ethical nature of drone attacks---
many feel that it is ok to use drones for surveillance,
but when they are used for attacks,
the killing of innocent civilians is not held accountable in the
same fashion as regular warfare,
concerning the military chain of command,
not to mention that the supposed “rules” of
war are violated
when the officer in their comfortable office
needs to take a piss,
knowing that in a few minutes,
said target will be out in the open and ready for a
precise, low-to-no-civilian-casualty bugsplat,
but,
instead of waiting,
they push the button & then get up to run to the
restroom,
coming back after lunch to see what damage has been
done---
just like they were at home playing call of duty.
Moss Cowed Covenant I Keep Putin Off...
For preservation, salvation,
and veneration, though with hold
ding temptation two mike
pence sieve lee clear,
to immoral majority mold
toot hoods, (those bajillion
Americans unanimously polled)
did want me to broadcast, communicate,
and declare, sans mock cut up fold
drawl migrant accent,
(no matter I'm getting old),
nonetheless Ivana trumpet from Taj Mahal
straight to Mar-A-Lago) all told,
plus thank commensurate Republicans
(past or present), who extolled,
an invisible grandiose fire walled
barricade (donning, enclosing,
and fortifying) against Carl mauled
din lookalike hackers,
despite one sporting "FAKE"
hook nosed, hunchbacked
donned with torn (Turin) shawled,
shrouded, and disguised vagrant, indigent,
double chinned agent – bald
(except for being bewigged),
viz flowing locks of "FAKE" gold
in toe with Amazon heavily funded
unbridled trailing retinue
chanting appellation Matthew
Scott Harris alias Oswald),
no matter said faux
renegade twittering lobbyists
flock (like lemmings) within his fold,
and will happily, laughably parody
any vigilantes spot on cold,
what with his bugs
bunny eyed (What's up Doc)
intent reader rabbit stare,
that doth playfully scold
any Bare Ladies scantily
linkedin, NOT nsync
with netiquette politesse mold
dinned communication, (asper
my pork chopped message
higglety pigglety divulged)
obeying tacit gold
din rule to hoodwink public, nonetheless
lemme exemplify, how
Democrats plan to hold
world web hostage
by secret Ransomware sold,
thru dark web bitcoin blockchain trolled
to collude with "crooked Hillary"
under Ponzi scheme auspices doled
courtesy, sans spongebobsquarepants
omnipotent NON GMO
gluten CRISPR rolled
oat sized INTEL nanobots,
no bigger than mold
spores heavily scrutinizing,
policing, monitoring and
fortifying electronic Internet scaffold.
Inferiority Complex As A Kid And Adult!
I recall father, (now behold
at near ninety years old - maintains stronghold
on life, cuz born of sturdy mettle -
rumor claims bullion – ne'er did buckle nar fold
meaning bull + lion rolled
together and processed
April 9th, nineteen twenty nine),
fortune teller foretold
envious longevity, perhaps
just shy of eternity
older than anyone polled
occasionally got a bit
short tempered as patriarch
( ~6'2” ~ 200 lbs at prime)
over any five members of Harris household
with me, and timid, meek,
and fawning did scold,
and mother, (who passed away
after completing seventy plus orbits, all told,
sans November 13th, nineteen thirty five),
no matter both parents (more mom)
did abhor applying stronghold
tactics vis a vis corporal punishment,
though the late Harriet Harris, not so gold
din as totally carefree disciplinarian
confessed many moons ex post facto lost hold
of her appreciable tolerance,
than quickly crumbled like broken scaffold
after she spanked this monkey upon bony posterior
(an endearment, but NOT spanking
ever since mama did withhold
though kept pet name, which
ideally suited me as a little boy),
both her hands went limp and cold
apology immediately iterated,
cuz she felt mortified, and sold
reparation with self restraint
against further instances tubby brazenly bold
possibly contributed,
fostered, and inculcated mold
ding mine shy characteristic.
Me, this twangy nasal kid
(courtesy of split uvula we did
discover rather a speech pathologist
six grade minor congenital defect
i.e., submucous cleft palate), aforesaid
I experienced interminable
relentlessly psyche burning acrid
tormenting, teasing, and talking funny
this vulnerability compounded amid
my undersized and socially withdrawn demeanor
whereby every day akin getting scorched
by some "NON FAKE" ironclad grid!
analogous to expending precious Air Supply
embellishing, modifying, revising, et cetera
a poem crafted about fourteen months ago.
I take stock and revisit good ole days of yore
quite conscious undeclared state of war
prevails within body (Electric
Light Orchestra) of troubadour,
whereby creative juices did perforce pour
forth as if sung by one man koor;
now he haply seated at his Macbook Pro
today April 29th, 2022
accompanied with Christopher Robin,
Winnie the Pooh, and Eeyore.
Since January thirteenth of this year
(two thousand and twenty two),
yours truly suddenly feels
long in the tooth, i.e. auld,
he whose decrepit body and
gnarled hands ice cold
senility and senescence doled
rigor mortis virtuous vice grip extolled
coronavirus (COVID-19) motherlode
courtesy geomorphology dynamism fold
analogous to discovered vein of mined gold
grim reaper with scythe doth silently infold
(in Old English, scythe spelled siðe)
ore yonder church bell knolled
anonymous beat nickles less,
dime a dozen, day late
and dollar short sexagenarian
dropped out of Culture Club
(any strong resemblance between said poet
whose Grateful Dead head lolled,
and once living person purely coincidental)
death and decay, I lichen to mold
meself finally nill and void nolde
of unwanted excessive fleshy flab
scant personal possessions outsold
to highest bidder polled.
Dead weatherbeaten and fatigued soul
with absolute zero regret
no longer being alive,
immortality impossible mission to connive,
especially when endurance and stamina
took kamikaze nose dive
formerly earthlinked buzzfeeding
desiccated honeycomb hive
in tandem with former anxiety riddled psyche
need no longer worry
his existence perfect example
how hardship did misthrive
death be not proud penultimate quest
since adolescence (think anorexia nervosa)
he did (unsuccessfully) strive.
Especially one courteously wrapped ably
anonymously gifted to
an aspiring gourmet Chef Boyardee
i.e. not surprisingly... revealing mystery
person none other than...
yepper namely me.
Moost anyone can show
off culinary karate chop
suey, whether schooled among
fishy creatures either
from black lagoon,
or privately tutored,
(this haint no canibal)
courtesy mythological Cyclop,
somewhat riotously,
quirkily and precariously,
when blindsided flop
which slapdash loco motion often
misconstrued for latest dance moves
characterizing boogie woogie
(touting Louis Armstrong talents
as token bugle boy), and/or hip hop.
Audible sigh of relief exhaled by
none other than Chaim Yankel,
whose tail feathers ruffled
linkedin to setback, which former
(malfunctioning microwave) did rankle.
No longer must
hungry tummies all told
eat food frozen and/or cold
leftovers formed into Rorschach,
neigh Horseshack habitat mold
more suitable as clay pigeons,
where strong arms
analogous to accordion fold
readied to take aim and fire
young trumpeting Olympian trained
contestants, albeit aghast at
proliferating firearms when polled
wantonly, indiscriminately, and blithely
taking precious innocent lives
worth more than fine spun gold.
Eve vent chilly this monseigneur
and his madam
(Church Lady) conceding faithful
to follow and acquiesce
and countenance flimflam
toward yours truly,
no matter a fake Imam
who offered up feast
Earth friendly biologically/
genetically modified, prepared
artificial intelligent algorithmically
programmed manufactured in Vietnam,
who cooked delectable
Soylent green eggs and ham.
Best not prepare
former entree in microwave
lest they explode instantly
killing home of the brave
necessitating, none other
than one lame rhymester at large
to end poem quickly senseless verse
in order for his hide to save.
timid, meek, and demure (effeminate) me,
essentially ruled the roost
regarding Harris household
sole son characterized vis a vis
presented passive resistant
outward nonestablishmentarian mold
worst case scenario
would witness Matthew Scott Harris
spending longevity old and feeble minded
at 324 Level Road
outliving parents, pets
(comprising inordinate
number of dust bunnies) and siblings
(an older and younger sister),
the latter whose globetrotting exploits I envied,
nevertheless outlived anyone polled
even Methuselah, where mein kampf
blissful, fanciful, nouveau poet
nearly long forgotten boyhood charade,
facade inlaid masquerade
crumbled like broken scaffold
attaining centenarian years old -
faintly maintaining umbilical stronghold
considerably surpassing mommy dearest,
born November 13th, nineteen thirty five,
yet moments before her passing
she barely audibly apologized
for occasions she did reprimand and scold
retaliated against grim reaper,
he whisked her diseased riddled body away
after completing seventy plus orbits, all told.
I experienced interminable
relentlessly psyche burning acrid
tormenting, teasing, and talking funny
bullying vulnerability compounded amid
courtesy of split uvula set me apart
alien as a Druid livingsocial
during latter half of twentieth
and first two decades of twenty first century
rather a speech pathologist
informed legal biological guardians
regarding Lancaster Cleft Palate Clinic
minor congenital defect when
attending sixth grade at
Henry Kline Boyer Elementary
i.e., submucous cleft palate, aforesaid
whereby every day akin getting scorched
by some "NON FAKE" ironclad grid
me, this twangy nasal kid
my undersized and socially
withdrawn demeanor contributing
to existence tumultuous and turbid.