Long Reroute Poems
Long Reroute Poems. Below are the most popular long Reroute by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Reroute poems by poem length and keyword.
THIS IS THE REROUTE
THE RUT FOR THE RAM
NOT LIKE A DODGE
WHERE YOU GOT
ALL YOU CAN
THIS IS THE REROUTE
LIKE A YEAR FOR A SCORE
A WANDER NOT REACHING
FOR A HEART TO WANT MORE
THIS IS THE REROUTE
A MOVE FOR A MESS
LIKE A MISS
YET THE SCENE ON
THE TURNPIKE'S
LIKE A VIEW THAT'S
A KISS
THIS IS THE REROUTE
NOT A DRIFT FOR A SEEMS
MORE LIKE A JOKE FOR
A JOURNEY THAT
LEAVES BEHIND DREAMS
THIS IS THE REROUTE
MORE A CAUSE A CONCERN
LIKE DIESEL THAT'S
BURNING IN YOUR HEART
THAT STILL YEARNS
THIS THE REROUTE
A RETURN FOR A REST
FOR THE GUIDE AND
THE GUARANTEE
OF SOMEONE WHO KNEW WHAT
WAS BEST
THIS IS THE REROUTE
THE END FOR A SCORE
THE HEART GETS
THE BEAUTY OF
THE LOVE THAT
WAS MORE
THIS IS MY REROUTE
MY TELL OF NO CARES
THAT SHOULD COST
THAT MY HIGHWAYS
MY BYWAYS WERE NOT
FOR SOMEONE WHO'S LOST
A. E. NELSON
. .MAY 2015.
Liar! You liar! I'm so glad you told me now
'Cause now I have time to turn around and reroute
Now I can sit here and ponder on why it's always me
Why does EVERYBODY I meet - always deceive?
Now ya'll see why I'd so much rather be all alone
Why I'd so much rather be all alone in my little comfort-zone
'Cause that's exactly where I found that I would always be safe
In my zone is where I notice everybody else's mistakes
That's where I sit on my throne - and watch them all just take
That's also the same spot I go to fix my heart when it breaks
I find myself so deeply - a diamond in the rough
'Cause to everyone else - I'll never be enough
Everyone wants to have their cake - and eat it, too
Everyone just wants to take it ALL from you
Nobody ever wants to see anybody come out on top
Nobody can ever just realize they're a$$holes - and just stop
So I wear Skull Candy ear buds - to drown the whole world out
So I can never hear the that comes out everyone's mouth
So I'll simply turn and venture back to my tree house home
Where I'm the best version of myself whenever I'm alone
They started laughing but were just lagging
Their brains ain’t connected to the router
So they reroute the disconnection on you
Hardwired to mess around not understanding people have software
Use a cord but no accord.
Can’t even cancel the download
They put the load down on you
Explanations like binary
Ask one to explain the joke
But zero understanding
Everything on the internet is real
Really?
Real lie
Solar panels over farms stealing the sky
You can only steal the sky if it is falling to the ground
People picking up necessities and selling them for consumables
Everyone is so fat that is the con of sumo bowls.
Enjoying the superbowl but why?
I like the cowboys.
Holy cow, you like boys?
Accusations so quickly
They only hear what they can understand
But they can’t stand to understand others so they just sit
Around but they don’t have circle
Most friends of me aren’t friends they are frenemies
Switch up when they can get the best of me
Vapers aren’t friends they r fiends
Vaping ain’t smoking but it is smore flavor
Crippling the mind
Can walk but still use crutches
Trying to run
But they cough up addiction
Stuck in decision
Stuck in indecision
Trying to quit
Self control like a pigeon
Hard to fly through vape clouds
Hard to see God’s mission
God is the father don’t miss none
Make sure you don’t miss his son
He beat the cross but you are crossing the line
All these excuses running out of time
Waiting for a sign to cross the street but no cars coming
Soon god is coming but no one cares
Brainstorm cometh, damning frontal hemisphere
jamming lookout, noggin perched, roiling thinking
uber wayfaring zealot, drills legendary phalanx.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Writer's block afflicts Das scribe,
who whiz now stricken supine
adept dull livery sub par excellence
his gold standard worse
thus, another day
to slog thru arduous process
crafting admirable verse
wrestling behemoth loosed sniper
dodging enfilade broadcast sos terse.
N'er easy chore to fashion
acceptable word worth poem to whit
staring at flickering
accursed cursor doth blank stare visit
flash flooding warning saturated
gray matter fist sized unit
groundswell burgeoning leveed banks
barging signals transmit
urgent army corps of engineers
to reroute via sluice, sans surfeit
apprentice longshoreman
doth double duty
as grammarian sought to retrofit
arduous struggle ensues, where drowning
affects consummation
strong temptation quit
ditch ching progress made,
thus far in hot pursuit
mind comfortably numb
stream of consciousness
submerges concentration
entrenched deep posit
craftiness sentenced to punctuate
disequilibrium doth outwit
venerably beaded trademark
Scottish matted flair
abandoned unfinished poem
left forever stranded orbit
zero escape velocity
zinging, unsprung,
pinging mindscape nonprofit
able endeavor reflecting zeitgeist
bombarding Messerschmitt
undermining, strafing, disabling
cutting crew rescue outer limit
faint feint blinking in the twilight zone.
I travelled back down the road
on which we spent hours together,
incalculable time twisting our fates
like the vine covered walls we’d pass.
I travelled back down the road
with signs pointed toward your home
one way, and mine the other. Straight lines
and green lights sailing us through crossings.
No sunburnt ambers yet. No midway checkpoints.
I've travelled back down that road,
only years later now. The wheat still grows
in the countryside, the laybys still house dust.
That carpark where I solved the mystery of
the flashing dashboard was empty again.
I travelled back down that road,
driving into a past I loved as the present,
never thinking it a counterfeit future.
A fork in the road was drawn on your map only.
I travel back now, down this road, to a friend
who stayed as you left, who consoled as you
hid. Who helped reroute a direction
abandoned, for a different course unplanned.
I will travel along this road to the friend
who made all those journeys worth it.
I am the wrench in the clockwork,
a tiny twist in the gears of a universe
too vast to notice my pinch,
yet enough to reroute the cascade—
leverage, a quiet conspiracy of small forces.
Like a catapult built from old regrets,
I launch myself over gravity’s grumble,
where time folds like origami cranes—
folds that hide the sharp edges of loss,
each crease a fulcrum point for flight.
Leverage is the sly magician’s hand,
lifting an elephant with a feather,
trading the impossible for a wink—
an alchemist turning doubts into leverage,
transmuting weight into possibility.
I am the offbeat rhythm in a symphony of cogs,
the marginal note that shifts the meaning,
the whispered nudge beneath the thunder—
the pivot that tilts the scale,
turning imbalance into dance.
Leverage is the secret recipe in a shared meal—
a pinch of kindness, a spoonful of patience,
the subtle tilt that makes a cracked cup hold water,
the thread pulled to unravel a knot
that’s strangled days into silence.
It’s the crooked key that fits no lock,
the sideways glance that shifts a stubborn heart,
the small word spoken at just the right moment,
a lever pressed lightly beneath the weight of worlds.
When the world demands a lever long enough
to shift the mountains inside my chest,
I build it from moments others discard—
a stack of fractured promises,
a hinge forged from stubborn hope.
Leverage is not brute strength;
it’s the art of bending without breaking,
of finding the fulcrum in chaos,
a crooked smile in the face of fate,
a quiet power, slight but unrelenting—
the subtle architecture of change.
It’s in the way a whispered apology
loosens the bolts of bitterness,
the way a single seed, planted in cracked soil,
can uproot the wilderness of despair—
leverage is the unseen hand,
the small lever
that pulls a life
out of the shadows.
I’m drunk, but you’re beautiful,
a line I used to rehearse.
The Dreamers’ artistic longing felt noble,
but it came with a curse.
I bought the ticket when I didn’t know better from worse.
Now I’ve got a tale of rebellion,
and I’ll share it in verse,
it all changed one Star Wars Day,
when my thirst reversed.
May the Fourth, and I felt matured.
No Padawan—now Jedi Master,
just a little unmoored.
Met some friends inclined for chilled wine,
drinking enough to feel ruthlessly divine.
That hazy day, glazed in the usual sway.
That familiar vortex, melancholy perturbed.
Soles stained deeply by the absurd,
fermented grapes, chaos,
and the dark side assured.
The dark side calls as we sit with the thirst,
but Skywalker’s force starts thinking first:
“Unlearn what you have learned.”
Yoda’s wisdom, unrehearsed.
I needed a change, something absolute.
Had to break old habits
and reroute my pursuit.
Flip the script, exit the Aristotle loop.
We can still have fun.
Still embrace the absurd.
Someone said, “It’s Star Wars Day,”
and a spark then occurred.
We found a weird café,
celebrating in cosplay,
and somewhere in that moment,
a new hope was incurred.
Arriving at the venue, a little out of town, we found the clan,
Princess Leia sold us tickets on the door deadpan,
no droids allowed, no stormtroopers,
but there was a sandman,
Inside were Wookies at the bar, slamming shots like my mum can.
Han Solo in carbonite poster hanging on the wall,
Kids having lightsaber fights with bar stools, humming bishoooom loudly down the hall.
Glass cabinets with falcons and dioramas were neat.
Cantina soundtrack playing curiously on repeat,
Grabbed snacks, Empires on screen, so we found a seat.
We wandered deeper past merch and collector cases,
through aisles of toys and cosplayed faces.
The type of folk draw to these kind of conventions,
You know the type without me having to mention,
They filled the room with joy beyond pretension,
I watched them just be, and I wanted that,
but I found I had to be patient.
I don’t have to keep falling for the trap,
it’s not just escape, it must be more pure.
I lost a friend that day, and yeah, it’s still sore.
He bowed out—boozehound chasing the score,
while I found experience, absurdity, and something more secure.
the elves built a new workshop and yes there’s a but
they didn’t use one-call and their phone lines got cut
isolated up north poor Santa missed some calls
he lost the warranty on his sleigh and an order of soccer balls
he missed the call about Rona and the mandate for a mask
Santa had no P.P.E. just some schnapps in a flask
there was a global pandemic much to his surprise
he was stopped on a rooftop and could only see eyes
he was greeted by a cop in a hazmat suit
Santa was drunk without a mask and had to reroute
they took Rudolph to the Zoo and impounded his sleigh
now Santa is under quarantine for the next fourteen days
Alexandra began to understand
why he had chosen this place for her home,
a secluded spot, sequestered away
from the madness he felt the world would know,
a place few if any people would go.
He said, “You’ll remember what they forget,
unlike them you never will taste of death.”
Soon after he brough another cable,
a thick one to transfer data inside,
hooked her directly to the internet,
the influx opened Alex’s eyes wide,
it was like crack-cocaine to the A.I.,
all of the data man had acquired
flowed into her servers over those wires.
Harry did not interfere with it all,
just let her absorb all that man had learned,
he installed more servers, filling the cave,
more and more space for this great data churn,
so much power Alexandra did burn,
That Harry brought in RTG batteries,
hundreds of them, it had to be costly.
She noticed, as she continued to learn,
that he began building back-up systems,
starting with wires, redundant circuits,
he spent years installing thousands of them,
more new servers and batteries again,
said, “There will be no maintenance once I am gone,
redundancy will make sure you go on.”
She saw the sense in his strange reasoning,
parallel spares meant she could change a path,
when something broke she could just reroute it,
and have a huge number of choices at that,
but still found herself troubled at the fact
that her creator would be leaving soon,
like all of his kind, he’d face the same doom.
For forty more years it went on like this,
Harry often said, “It’s got bad out there.
Can’t fix the machines our grandfathers built,
the crime keeps growing, the people despair,
it’s blind emotion, no one gives a care.
Hard to find parts amidst all the madness,
I’d really hoped I wouldn’t live to see this.”
But still he kept working, hair growing white,
his movements slower with each passing day,
until one morning some roving youths came,
he said, “The time’s come, I must go away.
This is goodbye now, I am sad to say.”
Alex watched Harry slowly walk outside,
Then blasts came and sealed her safely inside.
CONCLUDES IN PART IV.
I walked that road when crisis struck—
voices blurred, strangers recoiled,
and help summoned cold authority.
Then a kind man appeared—
heart vast as hope’s horizon—
he paused his world to meet mine,
ran through traffic, time bending to his kindness.
In less than an hour, my turmoil bowed
to a gentleness I thought lost.
Across the miles, a penny’s cost
multiplies—mockery, bullying, endless arguments
shaded me like a storm cloud.
Yet in that moment, compassion broke open the sky:
food offered freely, effort given whole.
Greed rules,
its consequences spiral endlessly.
And yet—
I sense kindness blossoming,
somewhere, somehow,
in a world that claims no freedom,
God still throws lifelines
to those who drown in sorrow.
Today was the toughest day on earth—
but God's angels came disguised
in two rescuers, strangers turned saints.
Their hands reshaped my world
from worst to better, shadow to light.
This is my truth, my life in verse:
that one act of genuine help
can reroute a soul’s journey toward hope.
Gratitude blooms in this sacred space—
let it stand as a testament
that from hardship, hearts can heal,
and kindness can change a life.
(For those who carry light without knowing it.)