Long Property Poems

Long Property Poems. Below are the most popular long Property by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Property poems by poem length and keyword.


Goree Island

Poet: Ken Jordan
Poem: Goree Island
Edited by: Sparkle Jordan
written: February/2014


 I see the blood
of my ancestors 
that swell
 in the Atlantic ocean 
on 
Goree Island -

The unmerciful ill winds 
that fell 
over my people, 
in Senegal, 
on that 
horrific night, 
brought the European's, 
across the Atlantic, 
to our Village -

Everything 
in the world 
changed forever, 
and 
will never be forgotten,
when the "unthinkable" 
cruel acts 
of slavery, 
cloaked my people 
like 
darkness in the night -

White men 
dressed in British 
formal attire, 
brought with them,
 bullwhip's, chains, machetes, 
and rifles,
 to capture us.....

 to ENSLAVE us!

We were brutally beaten, 
and 
taken to 
the House of Slaves, 
on Goree Island -

The malice intent
of
the British,
intensified our
suffering
at the slave house,
as they
cuffed us to
the walls,
in neck, waist, 
and 
ankle chains -

Days would pass,
some of us died
from 
diseases,
and
starvation,

while waiting
for 
the slave ship 
to come 
from the Americas -

The hideous inhumane
acts
by the British,
sold us
as property,

as we were 
auctioned off as 
commodity,  
to the Americas, 
during 
the Atlantic Slave Trade

The mournful ness 
in our helpless eyes, 
spoke of horrendous fear,  
as a feeling of distraught,
distress, 
and despair, 
clothed us 
like 
death -

We are innocent people
that will never 
see our families again 
 Our homeland again - 

It's unfathomable, 
to see black souls in chains,  
taking those final usurious 
steps towards the "Door Of No 
Return," 
in the House Of Slaves, 
which left its ugly mark,
 on the whole global earth -

Once through
 the  Door Of No Return,  
we were sold to the Americas, 
and 
faced a future of 
severe beatings, burnings, 
hangings, lynchings, 
and 
rape -

To this day, 
ancient spirits 
of 
black people, 
still scream in rage
 on 
Goree Island, 

where an untold number 
of us were 
slaughtered, 
and 
branded 
before walking 
through the slave door,
of 
an uncertain future -

The ominous clouds 
of slavery,
 will 
forever cast 
a dark shadow, 
over the
House Of Slaves, 
the Door Of No Return, 
and the world -

Goree Island, 
in the Atlantic Ocean,
will forever 
cry tears of blood, 
from the souls of 
black people -
© Ken Jordan  Create an image from this poem.


Britain Today

What Democracy 

Democracy, in Britain is nothing but a lie.
From the dictionary the word should be deleted
Whilst democracy’s the slogan that politicians cry
The majority of us feel that we’ve been cheated

With political correctness forced upon us every day
Just in case the casual word may cause offence 
If you have a strong opinion  be careful what you say
Even though you may be talking perfect sense

When we joined the E.E.U. I’m sure we took the view
It would give a larger market for our trade
Yet now our mighty nation has a legal obligation
To abide by regulations Brussels made

The referendum was denied, the politicians lied
These decisions were decided by the few
It was no doubt understood, M.Ps thought it would be good
With a total disregarding of our view

MP’s pull out all the stops to try to fill our shops
With G.M foods that we don’t want to eat
Whilst cameras check our speed on roads where there’s no need
We’d be better off with coppers on the beat

If when confronted by a crook you land a good right hook
You may think that he deserved it, it’s his fault
When he is on probation you’ll be locked up down the station
To appear before a jury for assault

When travellers leave a mess, you’d be spot on if you guess
That authorities will turn an eye that’s blind
Yet drop a *** end in the street and before it hits your feet
You will get an instant ticket and be fined

If asylums what you seek and English you can’t speak
Benefits are paid for your welfare
But if your British and your old, your property is sold
To pay for any time you are in care

If you chastise your child, because he has run wild 
That law will on your collar give a tug 
For no matter what you say, do-gooders rule the day 
Even though the child may grow into a thug

In the interest of fair play referendums are the way
The majority decide just where we go
We shouldn’t change our laws or take part in futile wars
To massage a political ego

When we are due a big election, parties vie for our affection
Promising the things they have in store 
It fair gives us the hump, they should take a running jump
They must realise we’ve heard it all before.

It is hard to understand who governs our fair land 
Or who it is that makes up all our rules
Our politicians bore us, or totally ignore us
Democracy in Britain! It’s for fools!!.
.
© Roy May  Create an image from this poem.
Form:

Bus Ride Across America

the Bus – Travels Through America’s Underbelly

I am a bus rider
That makes me unusual
For a white male 
From an upper middle class family

Our people are not bus riders
Though some are subway riders

Bus riders are other people
The poor, minorities, immigrants
People who don’t drive
Because they are blind
Or have a DUI

And in my case
I don’t drive
Because I have bad vision
And bad coordination
Just never got the hang 
Of the whole driving thing

Fortunately for me  
My wife does the driving 
But I still take the bus
From time to time

I rode the AC buses in Berkeley
As a child
Line 67, line 51, line 43 F bus
Rode them long before BART came along
And afterwards as well

As an adult seldom rode the bus 
But when I did so
I was always impressed 
By the sheer diversity 
Of the bus riding property

Hundreds of languages
All sorts of sexual orientation
Some were white
Most were not

Most of my fellow passengers
Were nice enough
Some were friendly
And some were lost 
In their own thoughts

And a few 
Were scary looking dudes
With the look
Of someone who had done time
And were capable of more violence

I also rode the bus 
In Seattle as a graduate student
A lot of fellow UW students
And the usual immigrants
Minorities etc

And some white people
Commuting

And in DC 
Over the years
I rode a lot of buses

Mostly to and from the metro
But I got to know 
And love the DC buses as well

I also took the greyhound bus
Across the country
Several times over the years
All over the U.S.

From Bay Area to Stockton
From Bay Area to Clear Lake
From Bay area to NYC
NYC to DC
All over the USA

Taking the Greyhound
Was always an an adventure
Met a lot of interesting people
As people on long distant bus rides
Tend to open up and talk
To pass the time away

Overseas I took the bus 
All over
In India, in Barbados
In Spain and in Korea

The Korean buses 
For many years 
Were difficult for foreign visitors
As the signs were all in Korean

Most have signs 
Now in English, Chinese and Korean
And are much more foreigner friendly

Riding the bus
In America
Allows one access 
To the underbelly of American society
The poor, the marginalized
The immigrant communities

That many middle-class white people
Just never see

And for that reason
I am glad	
That I am a bus rider
© Jake Aller  Create an image from this poem.

Jealousy

“Jealousy”
Jimmy had odds to beat, one he was a black teen and the temptations of big city’s Streets. 
But a single black mother’s determination held his attention sternly,
So he had only Minimal interaction with streets.
He had rickets but Jimmy could catch any ball.
He ran with a gang that like to brawl,
Then he entered a Youth Center where a Mentor introduced him to football.
Pop Warner he’s leader of the team,
Onto High School Football team as runner for TD’s.
Scouts without doubts offered degrees.
Mother’s pleased when he goes to USC, to be toast of the university.
Jimmy rode football like a Hell’s Angel rides his hog.
He played halfback, fullback carrying the ball.
Top backers called, packs of women clawed,
Because for a rental car he ran through a mall.
Sydney was a naive Germany beauty queen, 
Blond haired eyes emerald green. 
Done nothing much since she jumped with the school cheer team.
But she had dreams, being famous on T.V., a celebrity.
But she’s stalled in the Pokipsy Mall,
Serving chili, hamburgers and hotdogs. 
When in comes Jimmy, walking tall, followed by his enthralled.
Each sees the other and head over heels each falls.
Their love, sweet, she felt entitled to be,
With the famous Jimmy.
After their affair they married, two heirs, beach house on Bundy Street,
Her face on T.V. with Jimmy, her dream is complete.
But Jimmy believes in slavery,
Believes possessions are bounty one forever keeps,
And Sydney is his property.
But black eye secrets don’t keep,
So she and her parents agree, divorce Jimmy immediately.
Jimmy falls, fell by divorce when the gavel falls.
But most of all,
He felt affronted by the German goofball in front of media tell-all, 
So he watches her like a hawk, to see with whom she walks.
She saw a new fella who won her heart and Sydney falls.
He wines and dines her many times and shows respect to all. 
So Jimmy waits, pissed off jealousy he has no date, until one night on her Ronald calls.
Greens seethe engulfs Jimmy from head to feet, it shuts off reasoning.
Disrespect for “The Great ME” is all he sees in this rivalry for his property.
He sees she succeeds with this non-minority.
To the door during their adoring greeting Jealousy creeps,
Like Flash he slash the throat of the one he knows,
Then at speed stabs repeatedly the one she greets,
As he tries to flee from Jealousy.
Form: Narrative

Theres a Pedophile In the House

There's A Pedophile In The House...
(ah...ah...ah...ham eye white...???)

OMG,... and he looks...
     SAY WHAT??? just like me???,...
     absolutely NO WAY!!!,
would this sensitive,
     respectful, "FAKE" veejay
quiet-natured, mindful,
     loving, kind, underplay
justice invoking, hew today

mainly, gentle, friendly, "I say"
enlightened, democratic chap redisplay
any besotted abominable,
     blamable, culpable, quay
esse chin hubble
     despicable, execrable prey
dot door formidable,
     inhospitable...overplay

ying faux indulgent,
     NOR be mistaken
     to assay, betray, convey,
display, expressway more fay
     writ his'm to
     gainsay hearsay, inveigh
jaw dropping "FAKE"
     yuge weak accusations

(by a long shot), sans
     basket of conspiring deplorables
     attempting to assassinate
bigly believe me tubby "stupid"
     winning loser to berate,
who doth unequivocally create
mine substantial vocabulary rumor,
     versus 4th grade reading level

     trumpeting librettist - thee great
test Don Quixote
     (as falsely sung with hate
full sotto voce), and ramped up
     as ill suited mate
a minus [sic] zero moron,
     which doth hapt
     tubby incredibly tremendous

     disservice to bona fide classy idiots
     with a lot of money
     (like the millions and billions
     of my golfing confrères)
given bent iron golf clubs
     used by crooked Hillary,
     when former Secretary of State
     ideal for Putin on the Ritz

by far less exciting, with
     Bill Clinton's flirtatious flits
trained pudenda purse
     sin null property
     of intern (NO FALLACY)
     topped as southern delicacy dish
consume mated with buttered grits
     pricked prurient peccadilloes licks

suddenly recalling seminal kicks
starting, how with Little Rock kits
he received assistance,
     sans starts and fits,
eventually then nubile
     ingenue Monica Lewinsky
     called time out, cuz at her wits
end once assisting helping

     express his "naughty bits,"
when done completing
     cum mincecd secrete mission
     blue dress draped 
     expensively furred

(i.e. tricked out) in her
     "FAKE" minx hiding
     sable animal spirits,
when animal rights
     activists vehemently protested
     out-coming result
     slapping former president
     with a PETA file.
Form: Elegy


I Loved

Mind, spirit and soul 
Truth be told, I gave you my all 
Friends didn't have to know about us 
This was for my heart and yours to know. 

I loved. 
Took my heart on a journey 
With a car that had its tank empty 
But I knew that we'll get to the garage surely 
But I didn't know that's where we were going. 

It seemed as though you have better plans 
So I put mine on the side and listened to your will and cans 
That had no maybes so I was willing to ride this baby... Though it was empty. 

Love is blind and maybe stupid 
No,Love is not blind and I am not blind I just find reality too victimising so I 
hide my small heart behind the saying "Love is blind" 
As for it being stupid? NO! But just maybe our relationship was stupid. 

So I walked away 
Till a flood of tears caught up with me on my way 
And I started floating back to you 
Till I realised you caused the floods then went back to sunnydays.

I can't swim so I'll sit here until I'm covered with mud 

Perhaps I walked away too far 
When I turned, the journey back to you was too long 
Perhaps, I gave up on you too fast that when I turned our car needed much 
more than gas 
But maybe the journey had to end eventually... 

But wait you have my property 
So we must end this properly 
So I'll swim to where you are 
My heart; that is all I want. 

Getting constipated by anger 
Over-controlled by feelings 
Swimming in your tears 
Added salt to my fears! 

I found you exactly where I left you 
I apologised for my mistakes long enough for you to finish fixing the breaks 
The car was crumbling like dry cooked cakes 
You told me that you found a she to help you cause I really caused you pain 
You told me "I should stop talking to you, it'll ease the pain" 
I went crazy thinking; "Are you insane? Do you know how bad it was, 
swimming through that salty lane?" 
You carried on saying "I'm feeling much better..."

Heartbeat got slow 
I started thinking "Oh no! Yolanda you a monster for causing the guy so much 
pain! 
Yolanda you are stupid for risking so much for no gain! 
But no way! I got pride so I won't let you see my pain 
So instead I said "Oh...wow...okay...cool" 
Hearing my heart beat slow 
And a rock of sadness on my throat 
I said "I will help you get better" 

I'm starting my own flood and I hope it takes you away 
Don't swim back to me.

Until Blood Is Spilt

when one stands up against injustice
when one spits in the face of those that oppress &
shows not one ounce of fear in their eyes
often, if fortunate, standing amidst others who have come to
the same conclusion,
at first, it is like a joke being told at a comedy club
where there isn’t even a drink minimum---
for the need for customers is so drastic,
the club doesn’t want to ruffle any feathers by 
asking at least that as a price for sitting all night 
under a roof & listening to comedy.

as the plague of convention
spreads like the contagion that it so blatantly is,
more come to the conclusion of the initially brave
(and to many, thought to be the initially “insane”)---
people begin to see that things are being done wrong to them
as well,
and suddenly, because others have already put their lives on the line
in order to lock arms & fight
what they no longer think can be ignored,
this kindling gives way to a larger fire 
which soon spreads on its own,
counteracting the wall of poisonous status-quo, complacence &
all out submission to the will of those that
feel that they are unstoppable,
offering not a crumb to the individuals challenging them &
still, the seriousness of the matter is not fully understood
by those which have become desensitized to any possibility of
actual change in their lifetime.

as the fire continues to grow & spread, becoming fiercer with 
every gust of wind, ever new addition to the flames,
those that felt unstoppable begin to question their own ability 
to crush the fire, 
if they deem it out of hand,
that is, if their kingdom is on the fringe of being
invaded---
and it will come,
the bludgeoning of the spreading fire will be one of never before seen
ferocity,
for examples have to be made,
in order for those in power to prove that they still have power &
blood will be spilt, in fact, 
blood is being spilt as this writer types
(little puddles now, written off as “unruly dissidents,” only foreshadowing a river of blood leading to a vast ocean).

it is the spilling of blood which ignites the last few,
those that thought it would all blow over & 
that their lives could stay pretty much the same,
if they just stuck it out---
when friends, relatives and neighbors begin to bleed,
be it through destruction of property, incarceration, injury or death,
the once comfortable are forced to open their eyes &
decide which side they're on.

Female Silence

I fell asleep in my chair
I  awoke and a room full of smiling women
Looked at me
With Death’s Stare


I asked myself
Am I dreaming?
What are these women scheming?
I fear my mind these women soon will be reaming


What made me dream this way?
My boss yelled at me today
Too much work stress
My brain abscess
Heart and soul in distress


I heard on TV there are more men than women
Women dying and killed in record numbers
Female Final Slumber


Male Violence
Men creating
Female Silence


I looked back at the Cabal of Ladies
I fear I have a room at
The Hotel Hades


Their smiles gone
The room suddenly burst into flames
The women screamed out in pain
Their anguished cries driving me insane


I fell to my knees
I begged them for a Quick Death
They said after I listen to how they all died
Maybe then I could take my last breath


One was stoned
One was beheaded
One was strangled
One was burnt alive
One was led to a cliff and forced to dive
She did not survive


There is no Honor in killing


All the women committed the same sin
Wanting to be free
Male driven Female Genocide for centuries


Still going on
Way too long


All the men swore to love and protect these women
Fathers, Husbands, Brothers, Sons, Friends and Lovers all lied
Allah Cried
Love Denied


Evil dark music filled the room
Flames Rising
Tribal Trance Treat
Tantric Drum Beat
The women danced
I was entranced


Satan and Jesus
Came in the room
They approached the women
And both told The Flock they are
The One
Follow me to Eternal Fun


All the women laughed and turned away
From their Saviour
These women no longer crave
Male Behaviour


Then out of the Flames
I was approached by 
The Head Dame
My Dead Mother aflame
Smoldering in front of me


My Beloved Mother said to me
Son you don’t have much time
It’s true you never committed female crime
You never got out of line
Why don’t you write a rhyme


Tell all men of future women yet to come
They need to be free
And will not be Men’s Property


These unborn women will demand to experience life
Free from Male Strife
And be warned
If Male Violence continues against women
And Men refuse to change


Then one day all the women will be gone
They will refuse to be born
Men will no longer be turned on
This will signal
Man’s Final Dawn
Form: Epic

I also feel blase today February 19th 2024

I also feel blasé today February 19th, 2024

Linkedin to being lax,
and shirking house cleaning tasks,
which negligence cost us
(yours truly and the missus)
a golden opportunity
to relocate to Hillcrest Village
in Boyertown, Pennsylvania
another HUD subsidized property
under the aegis of Grosse and Quade,
one of the larger residential
property management firms
in the Delaware Valley.

Physical unwellness
(insync with racing heart) arose
because Kathleen Bergen
the new property manager
here at 2 Highland Manor
voiced absolute zero positive feedback,
upon taking lock, stock, and barrel
of appalling living conditions,
her blistering vocalization
(from wuthering heights)
translated as a foregone conclusion
against our hopes
pinned on moving into
two bedroom apartment
referenced above topmost lines.

Said plummeted disappointment
(courtesy blunt admission
out the mouth of
(humpty dumpty sat on a wall)
frumpty recent hire
identified in a previous poem
as new warden)
verbosely predicated upon
gross appearance of living space
immediately dashed cautious optimism
citing unkempt state
within no crater than
moonwalking unit b44,
whereby we wished to skadaddle
far away from obligation
to be mindful of rules and regulations
codified within a binding lease.

Unlikely home ownership
will ever come to pass,
nor the lesser prospect
to rent more spacious domicile
larger than a one bedroom apartment,
no bigger than a bread box
den me and the missus,
(a hen pecking spouse)
might befriend Bugs Bunny,

who might guarantee
adequate sized rabbit hole
constituting large enough wonderland
receiving stamp of approval
courtesy Alice in Chains
subsidized lodging money back
plus additional warren tee
granted by Mister Michael Fox,
who took me back to the future,

when the pace of life
plodded along at leisurely rhythm.
Only within outer limits 
realm of twilight zone,
where dark shadows
inch along edge of night
(while two thumbs and index finger
belonging to separate good sports
grab hold the furcula

(or wishbone) structure
formed by the ventral fusion
of the right and left clavicles
and the median interclavicle
silently mouth invocation)
holds at bay, the inexplicable phenomena
moored, harbored, and docked
awaiting lucky recipient,
whose merrythought bestowed
upon he/she, they/them.

Premium Member Defending Democratic Doglives

Dear Thom the Train
Attorney Page,

Defender of all Creatures
here below
in these DisUniting States
of throwback uncivil disunion,

What is your root foundation
for a constitutional argument
that all living residents
of these remaining United Democratic States
have a right
to restoring healthy justice,
to resiliently retaining healthy life?

Is this sacred democratic Source
inter-related with values
like well-being
prosperity
liberty
public health optimization,
declarations of defensive rights
for all Creation
to freely seek democratic empowerment
and liberating enlightenment?

Non-royalist
non-fascist
non-authoritarian
non-patriarchal
non-colonizing
non-racist
non-demonizing
non-anthropocentric,
non-xenophobic
non-narcissistic
non-egocentric
and, thereby, pro-green new and ancient win/win deals.

I am not a lawyer,
as you can clearly already hear,
but more of a constitutional 
polycultural historian,

So, how do you briefly argue
in courts of your licit choosing,
an evolutionary theory 
of democracy still healthily emergent?

Starting with straight
white
patriarchal property owners
of 
African and Native American
domesticated and feminized
economic and political
natural and spiritual slaves,

Moving multiculturally out
to include prisoners
and homeless shelter dwellers,
human
and now our imprisoned
and life-endangered dogs
and cats,
horses
and cattle,
birds
and guines pigs
of democratic tensions
intentions
extensions
of dominating fraternity
and liberating sorority.

History shows
where our constitutional democratic story began
with white straight male slave-owner privilege,

But, how do you predict where
and when this evolving
expanding
emergent cooperative health-wealthing
cooperative reality
should 
or could
or would globally end?  

Or,
it is your brief courtship win/win position
that we must expect no such end
to this multiculturally revolutionary
democratic 20/20  revolution?

Moving from more Straight White Patriarchal
independence days
toward more resiliently fulfilling
Earth InterDependence Days
and sensory moonlit nights

Of freely orbiting stars
and planets
from democratizing Positive/Negative 
Yang/Yin Energy

Empowering health,
Enlightening true and beautiful 
polycultural 
trans-historic 
epic green 
democratic wealth.

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