Long Ratchet Poems
Long Ratchet Poems. Below are the most popular long Ratchet by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Ratchet poems by poem length and keyword.
With a middle name as "Flag this Scapegoat,"
I best not be surprised bullied from cutthroat
villains (supposedly kind hearted facilitators/
moderators, sans Facebook administrators, but
woe whiz me hyperbole 4 lite dramatic affect),
mine psyche stung, when months after months
no incidents of lamentable discrimination did
I experience until...early this last week in Feb.
rue weary - BAM, many poems dispatched to
various and sundry Facebook poetry groups in
das scrim min hit lee suddenly generated host
till lit tee (within me every fiber and sinew) re-
guarding justifiable explanation necessitating
why (albeit vaguely worded electronic message),
yours truly did not comply with stipulations,
when no objectionable outburst could be linked
in with contents mainly implicating myself as
this doubting Thomas (foolhardy fella) rarely
loosed, lobbed, launched brickbats against no
one within madding crowd, hence exert at tent
heaven esse, when choosing my words, a shock
sparked anger upon a deluge of unexpected (the
equivalent of slap on the face) without warning
to address any unacceptable issue, which ready
corrections this mindful scribe would attend, no
questions asked, then methought an opportunity
presented itself to express displeasure, whether
warm reception ala royal carpet treatment took
place even if I brought a ratty old Scottish mat),
thus the mere exercise to expunge pent up anger
(electronically) automatically, excellently, and
immediately reduced agitation, an opportunity
to modify my behavior since pathetic unhealthy
modus operandi earlier during mein kampf, the
necessity to free emotions as a youngster beak
came internalized, whereat cumulative instances
when browbeaten, effectively - indiscriminately
needled, taunted, et cetera found me to swallow
indignities against mine person to communicate
without resorting to violent threat, which would
ratchet up a minor fracas into a major altercation.
My horse's haunches sway,
Saunter up hillocks and down a valley path,
Above a ridge off and on: a village where some people fish,
Phosphorescent flotsam washed ashore.
Green embers breathe as if through shriveled lungs.
Wax in contrast to the gloaming dark that's coming on.
Shrubbery shadows lengthen, enlarging blacknesses.
Crickets ratchet down their temperatures.
The earth cools in wan mirage.
Time lapsed, the stars make
A slow, quiet carousel of lights.
It circles far above us disengaged.
Wings of crows scoop pools of air,
Then dive down open maws
On tiny, furred crawlers shocked stock still.
Crows chalk their caws across the night.
A copse will grow into a stand of oaks.
The vintage children like to climb.
Gnarled limbs reminding them of fiction sailing ships.
Hand over fist to where the topmost rigging is.
For now, people and trees are bottled tiny on a shelf.
At dry dock like some whittled models are.
Until the oak is christened keel and frame
And of agers live lives and make their livelihoods at sea. (9/18/22)
One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest
The apparent insanity of inmates
and prisoners
and addicts, conspiracy theorists and paranoids,
does not prove,
nor necessarily even suggest,
the keepers are not also self-entitled nuts
with unhealthy powers,
narcissistic self-serving authorities,
delegated detached responsibilities
primally loyal to ratchet race competitions.
Passion Story
When you are crucified, naked, poor
and occupied by RomanRed yangish powerful voices
and Loser commodity values,
unhealthy fought and sold colonizing authorities,
irresponsible fury-power occupiers,
violators of healthy green peace objectives
applicable to any sanctuary
with humane organic embodied rituals and behaviors
yet still WinLose divine punishing evolution-machine minded,
then we have all become historic asylum invited
to purge messianic homeless egos
perpetually hanging on HolonicSpirit's centering Earth-cross,
rather than remain comparatively imprisoned by traumas
to the disassociating left or right cross of hopelessness.
Health History Story
A. Earth was born, still, flat, without form and ZeroCentric void.
B. S/he remains newborn and young,
springing organic life
WinWin preferential solidarity with all EarthTribe,
inmate prey and predative keepers.
C. S/he still grows mature healthy Heavenly summer sun
over nurturing MotherEarth,
sacred/secular health/wealth care conjoined.
D. S/he co-emerges Northern revolutionary Yang/Yin bicameral,
bilateral healthstream co-arising poly-paths,
-phonics,
-cultures,
-nomial maps,
-meme messages,
-asylums for growing non-sectarian communal nutrition.
One Flew Into the Communion NestEgg
See "Health History Story" above
The apparent stillborn insanity of original patriarchal residents
need not predict
Yang/Yin co-redeeming caregivers
are not also ego- v eco-logical sanctuary sociopaths
sabotaging our own potential opportunities
for polypathic sacred communion passions.
Ego laying
and nesting
and active resting
and birthing
and raising
and lowering
back into EcoAsylum's non-sectarian EarthPeace nest.
Lil mama in a Q50 infinity
Known to handle drama
Pulls up any vicinity
know a broad in a Amg
we hit the drive through theater
And we blow on trees
I know a hottie in a Beamer
She fiends for the d
Trying to have my baby
in a swooped up m3
Another shorty in a Tesla
Always smoking gas
Pulls up just to charge up
We loving in the back
Now I’m in a jag
This chick loves to brag
Ratchet ass hell
She ain’t got no class
Mama in a v dub
Fly mamasita
Use to be my dealer
Now she on flea
Cruising in a cooper
I’m with a fine cougar
Taught me a couple lessons
I call her my tutor
Freaky ass shorty in a
Honda accord
Open 24 she use to take me to store
If you see me in a corvette
You know she a war vet
Every time she pulls up
She meets me at my door step
I’m in a nine eleven
Clutching on her thighs
Mashing like the dash board
She texting with her man
Big body hellcat
But shorty was petite
Lets me take the steering wheel
While she gets in fleek
Lifted I’m in a tundra
A dike mutha lover
She pulls on all the females
I’m with her in the summer
Passed, words confirmed, where do I turn
Wheels of confusion astride my time
Now knowing my tomorrow's being
As I await life's minutes in reflective remind
Awakening the next morning I'm graced by the sun
Absorbing it's warmth as I neglected before
This all means so much different than previous days
For this time I'm captured now knowing life's score
The key in the door starts my palms to speak
As the Warden confirms, hey' Fraser it's time
Turned, now returned, as I hear ratchet sounds
Walking such corridors hearing negative chimes
Cocky I say Hi, as I'm instructed to remain be
Hence their almighty be they sure inform me
Sitting you'll be amidst arched back becoming so proud
For you'll absorb said electrics throwing you aloud
Seconds to minutes as I stare from whom I've taken
Kaleidoscopic views now attract my visions aplenty
Internal droughts apprehend me as I walk cuffed
Now knowing my inept, soon deserved to be empty
I'm now counting the minutes as to where I'll demise
To all my all out there I've no favour for your cries.
8/5/2017
I've been collecting ear wax
Since the belly button lint dust fire went bad
I lost all my dignity in that fiasco
So ear wax is all that I have left
Believe you me, it's not easy
Coming up with another scheme
After burning the whole town down to the ground
To get a single soul to look or even listen to me
But that fateful day that I dug deep
And pulled a replica of the Eiffel Tower out of my ear
I knew that fame and fortune lay before me
My time had arrived, my time was here
Who should I call first over my artful discovery
The Post? The Enquirer? The Times?
No I would call The Museum Of Modern Art in NYC
For the Art World would soon be mine
I knew I had to ratchet it up a notch
One piece of ear wax art might be a fluke
So I got out my brush...the Q-tip
And removed a portrait of John Wayne AKA The Duke
Since I live in a hippie commune in the woods
Little furry creatures would always stop by
To gaze upon the artful process
Squirrels can be the best of critics...no lie!
Which gave me the idea with all the left over ear wax
I sculptured a mini-amusement park with mini-arcades
And charged the woodland creatures nuts and berries
Which helped feed the hippies with whom I stay
It wasn't long after that I received the letter
Stating that art had a need for me
I've become known as The Andy Warhol of The Art World
With abstract ear wax being my specialty
Now I go to all the major "Who Does"
Where everybody knows my name
As I create masterpieces right before their eyes
Just don't hold it to close to the flame
Who would have ever thought that ear wax
Would be the perfect medium
To jet propel this Simpleton
To Art World stardom and beyond
A week woman cries and hollers fusses and skalks
That she has nobody
A weak woman will settle for any someone to caress
A physical bond then calling
That true love the weak woman burden
Strong she acts and carries on
Instead of finding her a man who's strong
One who serves God
One who's not perfect yet follows his heart
His hearts with Jesus
Jesus And God a weak woman will settle for anything and not
Not have any standards
A week woman with bond with her arms instead of her spirit and soul
Our minds intellect she does confess
Puts her in such a ratchet mess
a weak woman
Will fall falter falling down
A weak woman will stay underground
a weak woman
Shall fade away
Unless you repents and returns to the fray
You are God's daughter and you have standards
And yes you matter you are so stand up be strong
Being on high flight the wings of an eagle
Around your neck rise up honor your Father
For you are not a weak woman and you know your the daughter
A princess being this instant a strong Woman Of God Hallelujah
9/19/21
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr © 2021
A lass thus dressed half-brash with gown that touched
The edges of my seeing eye ablush.
This richer wine of green, bedeviled beast —
Yes, all her fault unraveled tongue, my speech.
An inch of time opened the myriad
Of seasons...the best of solar systems —
The creaking door alarming with her eyes.
Divine, this emerald city. I’m lost
Between her thighs (she knows not yet). Those eyes!
Oh lovely catlike eyes - the crescent gems
Beguile this slave. Her gown with chains of green.
Hark all! Look away men...her curls do hiss.
Like a seaman at siren’s call, there’s fear —
But no recall of land nor maiden’s face.
The ghostlike mist of Northern lights, her hem.
I’m stitched just right, a ratchet gear of knees.
12/7/2019
Green Dress Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Julia Ward
10 syllables each line
Most in Iambic Pentameter
Rather than crank up the heat...
and ratchet up global warming
like bubbling vegetable stew
with tsk... tsk... heard
courtesy Greta Thunberg,
who would utter "how dare you..."
I bundle with layers to stave off cold
energy efficiency drilled courtesy
me late mother conserving
nonrenewable resources she extolled
now ewe best heed following suggestion
wool worth 3d printing than wearing
a sheep doubled over
along dotted line to fold
cuz expending (fossil fuel)
leaving carbon footprint
would immediately being lectured
by ecology conscious eldest daughter,
(a University of Pennsylvania
biomedical engineering alumna)
who would mildly scold.
Myself and thee missus holed up
here within Highland Manor Apartments
(unit B44 in case you wanna drop me a line)
we're here moost every cold December day
sipping warm cup
of our favorite beverage
exotic coffee latte brew
suits this muttering pup
actually yours truly
a doggone ole
long haired pencil necked geezer.
He can be found moost any given warm Green Day
shuffling along boulevard of broken dreams
overhead skies colored rosy gunmetal gray
occasional huff fro zen cloud slashing solar ray
heating inside cozy nook,
though outside temperature brisk,
nevertheless for winter quite balmy
while I sit here heavily clad,
hence yours truly quite toasty within
perfect weather for wedding,
especially one hashtagged December/May.
After dusk i.e. established misnomer known as sunset
occurs 4:36 Post Meridiem heavens quickly turn jet
black today - Thursday, December 10, 2020 (EST)
whereby darkness lulls one into sleepiness, I bet
dollars to donuts impossible mission
to keep eyelids opened, particularly if sleep debt
necessary to pay the sandman,
who knows maybe you gotta get get
comfortably numb vis a vis temporarily unconscious
state, whereby dreaming of a white Christmas
analogous to eventual Elysian Fields,
where divine creator
conjuring Nirvana and/or
a place called Willoughby
if a believer, said Almighty eventually met.
The mean temperature for January two thousand and six (thus far)
noticeably above the norm for this time of year
prognosticators foretell various forecasts per this third planet from the star
which inhabitants upon Mother Earth burden of responsibility must bear
billions of people wanton pollutants ratchet up barometric millibar
dialing up greenhouse effect, which serious scenario scientists fear
correlation from profligate offal ways traced from freed genie in the jar
no longer stretch of imagination affects mankind did sear
since day of reckoning whence Prometheus set stage for war
pitting mankind against Gaia messages we fail to hear.