Long Saccharin Poems
Long Saccharin Poems. Below are the most popular long Saccharin by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Saccharin poems by poem length and keyword.
These tyrants of men with fat belly eyes Infect our dreams.
Soulless sorcerers of threadbare promises.
Who masterfully manipulated the hopes
Of a disappointed people,
And we the demented fools believed,
Believed with all our hearts,
That they can turn our dusty tracks into roads.
Of shiny gold.
And soon beneath a cool winter's sky
A flock of black coated demigods will land and will grow fat and hungry,
as they try to swallow the world,
Their hidden hatred, faces within faces.
And we the blinkered fools cursed with forgetfulness,
Who are deaf to things we should know,
Lap their words up like sugary cream.
They'll make us giants again,
And we the superior idiots can sit and watch our enemies burn,
And only the treacherous will mourn,
We'll cheer and sing and guzzle gallons of freedom beer,
Nobody cares if the world is illusion, a facade for the gullible
And soon they'll be no truth but post truth,
Delivered by nasty little spirit men,
Who will cleanse the soul of history.
To make us believe that ignorance
And brutality diluted in a bath of bitter words,
Can restore the improbable dream of
A suburban utopia
We the trudging mass will accept,
As we always accept such things,
Warmed by a PR smile and saccharin sweetness of snake oil charm ,
And they will reduce us to dollar counters
Counting greasy money into greasy tills
And the fat will get fatter hiding their delight,
Behind sneering eyes,
And the only rest for a working man will be
The graveyard's soil
After a lifetime of Infinite toil,
Their victory is assured.
In this unknown world of knowledge hilly,
You came as a Mozart in disguise dolly
To teach all teachers how to teach fully;
Benefitted though sad – not meeting daily.
Daily meeting not possible, gave a pulley
Of google drive and we see, hear our folly.
Giving a chocolate, taking note of us, O Alley.
A corollary we get makes us gorgeous frilly
No obfuscatory with him: sometimes chilly,
Times cold, but a hunky-dory, a true deli.
An accurate hortatory for English holy,
Teaching precise pronunciation alley
To improve us from state utter nugatory.
Encouraging, gave chances to all my folly;
Novel, pioneering, predicatory. Never did dally.
Blessed to have such a trainer as lovely lily
Had been an orator, excellent energetic filly.
Marwadi University is blessed with hilly –
The persons so high, so intelligent, O Molly!
Wish to have such a guide in my life daily
So that saccharin be added to life’s chili
And lethargy, fatigue, lassitude goes dully.
Let it be Surat or Morbi or Rajkot or Delhi
Dhanajay, Viral and Brij sir be with me fully.
To Be Unrealized
by Odin Roark
By whose standards
you might ask.
The standard for the conscious,
the persons who regardless of career aspiration,
relationship passion,
past guilt baggage,
know that job,
partners,
acclaim,
power,
and celebrity,
are but controlling remnants
of an upbringing and the continued quest
of media brainwashing to score a rating coup d'état.
Void of true sentient identity,
immersed instead in the ubiquitous coating
of saccharin-infused cream on top delusions,
fantasies glamorize the duped,
the ignorant…
Believe it or not…
Mass populous wants more from life,
even though they continue to be self-exiled
in the “grovel syndrome” of survival.
Listen…
The cries of those who care,
Blast forth “Oh, for Christ sake, wake up!”
The answer?
Only a fool would offer a universal solution.
But…
Perhaps a nudge in the right direction
might be the revelatory awakening to thinking…
you know, that gift we are infused with,
the non-aggressive weapon seldom employed,
the empowerment to stop being controlled by others,
while you truly take the initiative to
set your own standards,
acquire your own answers,
exorcise some exhaustive introspection,
and a modicum of study into behavioral history.
Many would argue…
To be unrealized
is the individual’s own fault.
No one else’s.
Who of consciousness would disagree?
Within the shadows of darkened lanes and alleys,
There i dwell hidden from sight ,sounds and smell,
Humankind knows me not walk away as if they are shot,
My eyes see what goes on kicking a homeless man to death,
Name calling those who dare to live as they want to,
Just because differences seem to matter escape the mould,
To be weird and odd is a choice to be made and told,
Judgements follow like a phantom unseen but bold.
I witness them all selfrighteous and self entitled
As if money raises them up above the crowd to the clouds,
Thinking that their god in whom they follow and read about,
Blesses them with riches untold feeling saved they ignore,
All the teachings of Jesus told love your neighbour and enemies,
At the door unconditionaly love the poor and needy ,
But being in wealth and always looking for more makes them greedy.
Happy to serve the pound and dollar above the words of Jesus,
Do not add or take away else life will be forfeit to us,
Pray and light candles at the altar of deceit and hate ,
Forgive us today but tomorrow we kill and dissipate.
Pray to be seen as holy upright and great,
Wear designer clothes eat food from golden plate,
Strut in the street travel in a fancy car shows success,
Look at me they shout gods blessed me but made you humble.
Meek but not weak folks will inherit the earth and life,
But contradictions abound by the score,
Questions discouraged to perpetuate more,
Encourage the deceit and discourage strife,
Within the sanitised club by name of church,
As those who attend siting in polished pews,
Smile and nod with approval at the words,
Saccharin sweet for the gathered parishoners,
Not truly believing the pastors sermon scourge.
From the shadows i watch and record all
Trying hard to save them from the fall,
From grace and eternal fire,
Raising anger and inflated ire,
Retreating deeper in to dark embrace,
Hiding knowlege and my face.
Andrew Mcintyre. 25/03/2024. (c).
Clumsily tripping, over our own feet
Sometimes, minds aren't meant to meet
perhaps we're off just a micro beat
thoughts obscured, behind glass covered in sleet
Sure there are those, who wish to exploit
but really in the end, what's the point?
We're all merely visitors, in this joint
Trying our best, with words to annoint
Cloisterd in shadows, wanting to be found
glimmers of earlier selves, clowning around
When others laugh, why do our fears compound?
Downturned mouths, strangled crying sounds
Embarrassing moments, last an eternity
Sometimes I'm my very worst enemy
Thinking hidden messages, are meant for me
Is that what poetry is meant to be?
I let essential words, roll off my lips
Credentials have no taste, when I take deep sips
Preferring a message, from a page that drips
My mind unfocused, takes many trips
I like the power, of words intrinsic
Flavors and texture, is what I like to lick
If it's too saccharin and sweet it makes me sick
My pleasure comes, from words hot and thick
So you see, I too like to word explore
Words found, behind a cryptic door
I start upright, end up on the floor
Keep on reading, until I can't absorb anymore!
Written at the request of James Horn.
Response to his "to Come Back Again" Poem.
Thanks James, our interaction led to a poem of the day!
Form:
Topsy-turvy seems so
well, it seems so cute
relentlessly cute
saccharin cute.
Until and unless you're in it
and then, well then the
belly comes to regard
its place in you as
something less than
...certain.
Topsy-turvy, ugh
abounding now
injured this, and angry he
fractured that, and we less she
ugh
pitchforks are being sharpened
and eyes are narrowing
the hits keep coming
and then sooner than
we're ready, before we've
absorbed the first hits
they're covered
before we've recovered
ugh
and now Leonard has gone
and left us
(his poetry)
and now Leonard has gone
and left us
(his view)
and now and now.
And now
we're left with
only what Leonard
left.
You left too soon
I hadn't yet
learned how to
live up to your death.
Topsy-turvy
Unnerves me.
And my Buddhist rock
has turned to dust
and left us to just us.
Life like from a fish bowl, really!
Way ... encapsulated like above and behind, you know?
All those like gilded dado's of peachy-pink, gnarly puff, sweet aye?
All those awesome totally rad houses of
flannel-gray San Fran's Victorian Ladies, classic!
Life all sweet and wrapped in the ledges and overhangs, really!
Portcullis like totally frail, precious, half formed, clueless babes.
Really, half the town is like crazed!
Full of what-evers and dandy duds like newborns
each Lilliputian pop-up a sweet meat, smoked
stoked and toked inside their saccharin selves.
Life's a gay and grodie array of colorful buggers.
A,gag me with a spoon, side show of hard candy colored covers.
Really, like jujubes shaken from raspberry doors...
So take a chill pill, a coffee toffee, a licorice bit, a vanilla sucker
and get your most excellent self
with your killer looks and like surprisingly soft center
to sweet Ole San Francisco's scene.
*internal line rhyme [not end rhyme ;)]
** 1980's Cal i forn i a English
Contest: Talk Like That
Sponsor:Craig Cornish
Poet: Debbie Guzzi
At the sound of the gong you appear
to seek some welcome refreshment,
dear guests to be greeted right here
with a cuppa is our sincere intent.
There's a flask of filter coffee
and a pot of tea, a fresh brew,
there are also other infusions.
Now what shall I pour out for you?
You may choose decaf coffee or tea,
perhaps camomile or peppermint,
maybe some barley cup – gluten free,
green tea with lemon, mango or mint,
or green tea with jasmine accents,
'revitalising lemon with ginger',
'pure fennel – all natural ingredients',
or 'wild apple cinnamon with ginger'.
Earl Grey comes in various styles,
vanilla chai or rose lemonade
and assorted red bush bags in piles.
It depends on how you'd like it made.
Then I should mention liquorice too.
You could sample 'blackberry and nettle',
or into the garden just for you
I could fetch lemon balm plus the kettle.
We've 'red berries infusion caffeine free',
hot chocolate, horlicks or ovaltine –
but these need more preparation than tea.
Oh, there's a lonesome bag lost in this tin.
To whatever I've brewed for you
I could add sugar or saccharin,
maybe milk (or soya in lieu),
then lift out the bag or leave it in.
Next time you come over to stay
your preference I'll try to remember
but I suspect there'll be some dismay
with yet more choice than November.
Now I have come to the washing up,
that Yorkshire tea is still in the pot;
filter coffee I've poured not a cup,
so into the sink I'll empty the lot.
Remote area where there is no screen
Timidity rules alone trying to save skin.
Of all evils in the creation under discipline
Timidity – a curse – is like a Saccharin.
Sugary as tweet, booming as a violin
Wicked as a fox, ill-mannered as Bedouin;
Timidity sneaks secretly physique within
And remains there undisturbed and akin.
When obligatory duty or slog is seen
Sharpens us, whet us till found Lenin.
This makes us skinny, lanky and thin.
Living timid for me is no than a sin.
Hence precaution must be taken, O Kin!
Timidity, a severe knight, should not reign
Over us from beginning to let out jinn.
Sometimes we pay double extra
During inflation
Price rise in cooking oil
It has been a long time
We're eating waste oil
Increment in electric bills
Already suffering from
An extreme hot day
Price rise in cars
MCO lingers
We're unable to change cars
Price rise in household electrical appliances
Have to buy an expensive
All-purpose cooker
Price rise in worshipping supplies
Have to ask for God's forgiveness
Rise in bus fare
Pity the children
Free education but burdened transport fare
Price rise in chicken eggs
Have to use less tasty duck's eggs
Price rise in farm fresh drinks
All along no confidence
Price rise in beers
Not all the people's favourite
Price rise in sugar
Saccharin is already widely used
Price rise in bread and mee
Have to change to
Less tasty rice buns and meehoon
Besides inflation and tax increase
We do pay double extra
For people's carelessness
Ignorance
And greeds
All finally will result in
An eternal suffering