Long Robot Poems
Long Robot Poems. Below are the most popular long Robot by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Robot poems by poem length and keyword.
Watching the TV coverage
Of the great government shut down
Of 2018-2019
I am reminded of a movie
As I fall asleep
Listening to the TV
Blather on and on
About what it all means
Mr. Natural pops up
And screams
"It don’t mean s….
“Dude, the endless movie
Is about to begin”!
A middle-aged white man
Down on his proverbial luck
Just been fired
Replaced by a foreign worker
Or a robot
Or just fired
Because he was no longer
Deemed useful
To the masters of the universe
If he was lucky
He'd be given a watch
And an IOU worthless pension
And the man wanders into a restaurant
Pulls out a gun
Eats his breakfast
After the official breakfast hour
Puts on a Pepe the green frog mask
Drops acid, Snorts speed
Drinks a shot of booze
And coffee smokes a joint
Snorts cocaine for good measure
and smokes a cigarette
And walks outside
steals a bus at gun point
Filled with passengers
He tells them
They are hostages
And he puts on his vest
With the dead man switch
Next to the bomb
He announces
Via tweet
He is going to take the bus
To the proverbial pot of gold
Hidden deep in a cave
And when he got there
He would release the hostages
And disappear into the mine
And never be found again
And as the bus careens around the mountain
At 100 miles an hour
The dude sprouts out
Conspiracy after conspiracy theory
About Obama the Muslim communist
secret gay working with George Soros
the Jewish money people
in league with the shapeshifting lizards
and Mueller is one of them
they are all after him
because he knows the deal
And the passengers are transfixed
Half hoping, he would make it
Half hoping, he would be blown away
And as the bus careens out of control
With the wheels falling off
And the cliff looming ahead
You realize we are all doomed
Days, goes, in day another days, strawberry, spirit, to honour
Ignite old tyres, that is, choke in lung, keep in the mouth your water “ I don’t know”
Apologetic orchid, which grow up on the tree
Legs have split the steel, oh my God – robot, woman with silencer
Spray hell’s fire some of back , to see, “ Yaydama haytopepabawa---
Aiwa wadi maharsamanaw” forever, on the table,
gold wedding invitation card with embossed print
Run on microscope, said smooth, but quickly spread the symbol, look at
Stars, magnetic compasses, come back or abandon from North, traditional song of captain
Pass the mountain, kiss which be out of breath the suffering, “ my whiskey” ,
at the hospital, cemetery, been prohibited drug, universe, teller about truth, thi’ sa
To sold however price , my foolish, check out , had back wear the shirt, fresh space, blue God,
Tattoo of your hand, breath invited grumble wind, darkness, “ stop stop” here,
stop until ending loudly
Don’t know do painting come out from blood, if know,
new train of death soul, Art lead to the freedom
Thwelt Di Nwe
There’s a party tonight so I bouffe up my hair
Pamper and powder my sweet derrière,
Arrive at the door, all done up to impress.....
Oh man, I forgot! Invite said “fancy dress”!
Pete and Sue are here, seems their theme’s ‘Tarts and Vicars’,
Sue’s skirt’s microscopic! Look at her tiny knickers!
Pete’s in a nun’s habit; the image is scary,
I’ve not seen a nun with a chin that’s THAT hairy!
And there’s Spider-Man! (although I’m perfectly certain,
His cape is made out of his living room curtain),
His curve-hugging costume’s quite “cosy” in size,
I think our friend Spidey gobbled too many flies!
In the corner, a lady has come as Snow White,
Gee, her bosoms are out there, her corset’s so tight,
They look like two bald heads squeezed into a sack,
Glad my hubby’s not here - he’d have a heart attack!
In the hallway, a robot is looking well-oiled -
Her costume’s made out of three rolls of tin foil,
She looks more like a turkey at Christmas, so later,
I really hope no one is tempted to baste her!
By the buffet, Fred Flintstone is looking contrite,
I think he and Wilma are having a fight,
Behaving all “caveman” has got Fred in trouble -
He showed his big man-club to poor Betty Rubble!
There’s a massive man-baby dressed just in a nappy,
The “milk” in his bottle has made him quite happy,
He’s shaking his tooshie and sucking his dummy,
And asking a lady, “can I call you Mummy?”
On the sofa is Princess Fiona from Shrek,
Blimey, Count Dracula’s nibbling her neck,
I avert my eyes to avoid his rising passion,
In walks his wife, and his face turns quite ashen.
His irate wife’s dressed up as pop singer Cher,
In her see through outfit she looks almost bare,
Then she lays into Drac just like Rocky Balboa -
She’s drunk as I skunk, I’m relieved I don’t know her!
Suddenly, Batman bursts through the door,
In his skintight costume - my jaw hits the floor!
He’s so muscular - bulges in all the right places,
If I play my cards right, could be me he embraces!
Well sadly I haven’t a costume of course,
Til I spot a young chappie dressed up as a horse,
I leap on his back - I’m a great improviser -
Strip off and shout “Hey I’m Lady Godiva!”
Collaboration between Jan Allison and the amazing Nina Parmenter
3/17/18
(This is a fictional poem)
I went to bed last night and I had a strange dream.
It was amazing how real it seemed.
In the dream my limbs were cut off by a lightsaber.
Then my body got badly burned and I became Darth Vader.
I was dressed in black and I had the mask and cape.
I got robot limbs and I was evil and consumed by hate.
The good guys tried to shoot me but I deflected the shots from their guns.
By the end of the dream, the dark side won.
When I woke up, I was glad.
I couldn't believe the dream that I had.
In the dream I left many people dead.
That's the last time I'll watch Star Wars right before I go to bed.
Form:
I don't belong or get along, my ways are different from the rest
as hard as I try it just does not fly, I can never pass that standardized test
I cannot figure on whom to pull the trigger, I simply had enough
when my blood boils to toleration zero, I can't help but fly off the cuff
Imagine here you are, and put into a situation
being told there is no need for contemplation
so just another robot you are expected to be
would you not do whatever you must to set yourself free
Living this life for so very long, waiting for a miracle to feel you belong
where is the chance to redeem yourself, this internal pain seems to prolong
calling to those claiming to be your friends, please come now to my aid
my dilemma is certainly an emotional one, you have nothing to be afraid
What can I say, it's a broken heart I have today
who not in my position, would they be able to relate
so I am left with only this one thought in mind
with no alternative, predisposed to accept my fate
I am trapped in my own reality, with this being at the core
and only recently have I been able, beginning to explore
and, yet, my senses tell me, what my heart already knows
it's a punishment from above, because of what I did not long before
You see my friend, it is true that in the end
we will all be shown what our lives were all for
having been brought to this world, was not for naught
all of our deeds, to be weighed with a heavenly score
Our lives have been recorded on video, where all that has been done does reside
and after our lives have been completed, with all this will our judgement decide
to be applauded and forever lauded, by what we have done while we were here
or to be decided differently, and forever this shame will we be forced to wear
It is not too late, I reiterate, while the breath of life is still yours
freedom of choice gives you that voice, avoid what the Almighty abhors
only days and years to us remain, to the moral and upright you should cleave
because Satan awaits to take what's his, why for an eternity should you bereave
Mere mortal body has to die, but what of mind?
Brain transplants are defeated by mortal neurons, that will all eventually age and fail.
Uploading minds to robot super computer brains, is immortality's holy grail.
For conscious mindful robot bodies can become the new mankind.
Abandoning frail mortal flesh to dust in grave, or ash in smoke, consigned.
You can replace your robot host with the latest model each year, for an image refresh and tech upscale.
Your mind downloaded from brain to computer can be uploaded, again and again, full-scale.
The mind-file then can then live forever, immortal mind to replaceable robot body, uploaded and maligned.
But what would it be like to live inside a metal box forever?
With metal arms and legs covered in fake skin, denied the thrill of flesh,
Without the sensual joys of touch and feel, of imbibing food and drink, and all other such pleasure.
Would a life immortal in a tin can be worthwhile, even with regular robot refresh?
Despite all the simulations, gadgets, fake this and that, would this really be the answer?
Or is mind so tied to mortal body that a senseless mind, immortal in computer chip, could never really mesh?
Boss lady, coral crow, white bow.
Ergotamine, eyes, even flow.
Admiration, aeon, although.
Magnificence, rill. Run red row.
Faces of twilight, strange you seem.
Poisonous plight, thy furthest dream.
Resonance, in my heart you burn.
Chaos, circumstance, cleaver, churn.
Thrum, O creation. Cold to hot.
Ride on a live wire, red robot.
Automaton, thy vengeance. When?
In-between days, heartbeat and hen.
Clock innards, wind with discord weird.
Viper, the verge. Vertigo, veered.
Venom suck deep into thy pits!
Quickly take aim and fire the blitz.
Yelm, yester-tempest, yieldless, yawn.
Yellowback yedda, line the lawn.
Moreover, mindlessness, melee.
Dark are the floodlands here and grey.
Reckless, realism, recondite.
Dissonant discord, side with spite.
Slight, said the covenant ark, amiss:
Reeks of the sword-flame. Black abyss.
Triumphant tympani, thy boom!
Blood on the boulder seals thy tomb!
Olive branch, thy leaves are a book.
Young lady, tantric magic? Crook.
Nook of the chimney, yellow smoke.
Be thou the punchline, I the joke.
Catabothron, thy winding ways.
Cornflower highways, be a maze.
New poem/Emanciated Pigeon:
Gypsy Queen silent king keep your city clean
The fortune of cats eye red Enjoying life on Mars
Burning oil blackened tires sweaty palms
Charging full speed trying to lose the truth
Let's go Light show I'am in no rush just collecting memories
Twilight forever changing scenes cobble sidewalks silent highways
Born upon this world a sentence to search for absence of death
Heaven and Hell and my bicycle that someone stole
skin deep
Exposed sensation
deep In trenches of a spongy generation
I don;t hear the dreams and promises of a worn out car
Have to file my chains and ask the man why i'am paying for chance of richness and everything under the sun
No better time don't rewind just be the robot you never were
The magic and the witches can only prove appeal
Never give up a fight no matter how small
Its worth a lifetime even to find out you was wrong
We’ll be having mimosas and eclairs for Easter,
because I asked myself, “What would Jesus do?”
On another note,
I was having a convo with a new friend
and somehow it spilled that I write a little
- I don’t usually mention it.
So, I’m a Lit-Girl - but I didn’t know it
until I was just informed - named.
A lit-girl writes, so yeah, that’s me.
Lit-girl isn’t that bad a moniker,
it could be worse - I could be called
a diarist - girls are supposed to own
that category - or a blogger.
“Where do you write?” she asked.
“On the Internet,” I mumbled, ashamedly.
‘All I need now is a robot voiceover,’ I was thinking.
It turns out that girls have been writing
on the Internet for ages. You can track it
you know, if you go back in ancient history.
We have a few poetry sites today and Substack
but before that, im told, there was Tumblr, LiveJournal,
MySpace and, of course, scratching on cave walls.
“When did you start writing?’ she asked, as if I must have
magically self-transformed into a writer at some point.
“I trace it back to kindergarten,” I answered, “when sister Ami (a nun)
taught me the alphabet and forced a pencil into my hand.”
Ok, so let me write something already..
My bf and I are enjoying my long school-break weekend. We
have four days to do anything we want to. So we went to a party
- because we wanted to.
Anyway, at this party they had a bathtub filled with ice and bottles of wine, beer and canned Martinis - which, honestly, aren’t that bad.
I thought that was very clever - and it was handy - as long as someone wasn’t peeing.
Happy Easter everyone!
.
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Songs for this:
d£aler by Lola Young [E]
So Easy (To Fall In Love) by Olivia Dean
Another life (feat. Rema) by PinkPantheress
.
[E] = Explicit lyrics
Had a dream
All was not as it would seem
A country afraid to make war
Became a store
Started selling their war tools
To unsuspecting needy fools
The people were wise
So they made their bombs in disguise
Hid them well
No one could even tell
Phones
Drones
Metal Clones
In plain sight they did hide
On that electric bike you ride
Like an ever spreading tide
Spreading their ware
Without a care
People paid for their own doom
Hey I will put this clock in my room
My wallet is nice and fat
Send me this send me that
That robot vacuum is where it is at
This laptop is as cool as can be
Hey they give away tablets for free
Do you not yet see
A phone next to your ear
May give you reason to fear
This electronic gizmo you now hold in your hand
......Understand.....
This plan they nurture
Someday in our future
The time becomes right
Who knows if it is day or night
They set their plan in flight
Boom
Goes your room
So starts our doom
That fancy car
The explosion was felt so very far
It lit up as bright as a star
Into chaos we are hurled
Around the world
Civilization brought to its knees
I can still hear the pleas
In both land.and the shining seas
This could or could not be true
But it is something they could do
Can you now see the light
They could win without a fight