Long Same old Poems
Long Same old Poems. Below are the most popular long Same old by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Same old poems by poem length and keyword.
Yes it looks like you're late again
let me guess
you missed the bus you missed the train
then 'Bang!' I heard the front door slam
when you walked away
taking the life out of who I am
here we go again with the same old story
I've already seen this movie and it's oh so boring
not the first time you've been busted
and caught out
with your excuses and can't be trusted
when 'Wham!' I heard the car door slam
then you drove away
driving the life out of who I am
here's that same old song and dance yet I still care
but why do I have to relive this same nightmare
there's always something
drama trauma tragedy no matter what you do
saga stigma calamity no matter where you go
always something with you
wish I had a silver bullet like cupid's little dart
and if I had that magic slug I'd shoot you through the heart
O' the poor bitter tedious (TDS) late night host
wasn’t very funny or clever and now he’s toast.
“Yep, it’s all Trump’s fault
I got canned in the vault
and lecturing you all is what I’ll miss the most”.
“Sure my show lost forty million dollars a year
and had 200 staff and expensive suits to wear”.
Well, if you like hateful drivel
you’ll have to watch Kimmel
but pretty soon that crybaby won’t be there!
“If only I stuck to fun and wit like Lettermen
or wasn’t so full of sh*t more like Fettermen”.
But lefty elites know best
and people like me detest
but it’s time to make comedy great again!
The ratings were on life support and the programs
fodder for dumb sheep and their screaming lambs.
The same old sh*t and spite
killed the host of late night
but ain’t it great to hear the silence of the hams!
~~~~
Well, Colbert - have the lambs stopped screaming?
You still wake up sometimes, don't you?
You wake up in the dark and hear Trump
and the screaming of the lambs!
Written: 23 May 2026
Created a little ditty about hypocrites and
double standards, racists with drawing boards.
Media dinners with dubious
double meaning placards.
The Spade of hearts.
The Jack of Swords.
An adversity of diversity,
assorted stuff for their hating,
tarot cards,
racial fits in the music awards,
and a grammy for
"sex in the city."
Man who is that dude on the Grammy, Satan?
Jean Luc Picard with Baphomet itties?
Idols for idols, adverts with priority
misplacement, Universal standard.
Mesmerized tazement,
enter lame-ment.
Amazement for sheep enslavement under
black candles.
As the hypnotizing blow is more than
a psyops experiment.
But here we go,
gonna run at it hard while I vent-so.
Everyday I listen to the same old thing
Tune in to VH1 or Mtv, see what I mean
Only degradation gets attention, is it ADD?
No, they know the words, they are listening intently.
With a mother****** this and a dead *****dat. Posthumously-
Gangland in the home with a baseball bat.
Un-Just like liberal Congress across the nativity scene.
Is it positive reinforcement?
Or New World Laws Enforcement.
Fasting for lent?
Come get your sisting y'all.
Come and get bent!
In genre hostage making,
30 year experiment?
Yo Mtv raps, yeah I get it
(about murder $$y & pot leaf sense)
I guess when the airwaves got a monopoly
from the Lord of the Air and GoogleBerg
Hall Monitors.
Not the Right, but the wrong
afraid of debate, running away, running with impunity, running with devil- the PMRC, the CDC ,FCC,
FEMA and Columbia University.
Now you want to talk about Satan,
check the connection between Crowley and JayZ.
On how you get chicks for free
and money for nothin, nothin but devil worshipping,
special sales from wolves making sheep
clothing and accessories.
Accessories to many of the things you see.
Well how about that, it's nap time again
It's three o'clock in the afternoon
Us old guys don't have a say in the matter
When it's time it's the same old tune
We nod off while watching Oprah Winfrey
Then wake up and curse at the world
Really wanted to see her special guest today
Got angry and my pillow I hurled
My old age is finally catching up with me
Once was filled with vigor and vim
To bend over and tie my shoelaces now
The result is really quite grim
And so it goes, with this getting old thing
Father Time marches on relentlessly
Used to be able to sleep through the night
Now I toss and turn restlessly
Which means I catch up in the daylight hours
Matters not what I'm doing at the time
When the clock on the wall cries out 3 PM
It's onto the couch I climb
Know this sounds a bit unusual
For the Jester of P-Soup fame
But lately on the scale of one to ten
Each day's gone down in flames
It happens every once in a while
No reason to have the blues
Maybe it's just a stretch of bad weather
Or maybe the six o'clock news
News could be the real culprit
It constantly talks about war
Tired of hearing the same old stuff
Fed up to the very core
Even the stuff on the science channels
Predicts the end as we know it
As well as the threat of nuclear war
Tired of it, don't give a sh-t
Whatever will be, will be, my friends
What can one person do
Seventy-nine and had a good life
Pray our kids will make it through
© Jack Ellison 2014
When Sara and I take our walk each day,
We usually go the same old way.
Today we decided to make a change,
We decided to make our walk free range.
We went to a park named Natural Springs.
It had a dog park and playground with swings.
We chose a trail with overhanging trees,
We had a full sun, but also a breeze.
I saw a small path that led to a stream,
But Sara said, “the path’s too extreme.”
I gave her my, I really want to look,
And she said, “I’ll sit here and read my book.”
I walked a few minutes, looking about,
Then thought, I’m not sure just how to get out.
It wasn’t long ‘til I found the right path.
I crossed the stream without taking a bath.
There was my Sara, as I topped the hill,
She told her new squirrel friend, “here comes my Bill.”
We shared my adventure as we walked away,
We were glad we tried a different way.
It’s a hard, hard thing to conceal
When you live in fear of ‘the real’
A terrible thing is to feel
When you’re a wheel within a wheel
I look in your bright blue eyes
For a moment, I’m tantalized
The pupil darts back into grey
Well what is the shade of today
Under the same old sun
The Same meaning for everyone
But there was a time when it wasn’t
The center of everything
When there were circles up in Heaven,
We were frozen by them forever
Depart from the insidious “Never”
Control our own flow together
or just vermin underneath weather
Let me taste of this world
Its sweet delights, I must unfurl
Tantalus of Twenty-nineteen
Break this clockwork machine
Back in the Middle Ages,
The days were unbreakable cages
An eternity of rigid ruin
Stone walls and unthinkable doom
Thanks for these changes,
Heraclitus
Thanks for bestowing
a window inside us
There is no such thing as a new idea. It is impossible. We simply take a lot of old ideas and put them into a sort of mental kaleidoscope. We give them a turn and they make new and curious combinations. We keep on turning and making new combinations indefinitely; but they are the same old pieces of colored glass that have been in use through all the ages. - Mark Twain
reflected in the spring’s gentle whisper
mingling the music, soul sounding crisper
risking light’s voice, calling to her sister
hues so daring, friendly and delicious
collecting moments, clearly auspicious
amazing as He who is omniscious
medley of dreams, revealing yet serene
glowing on cerulean seas of green
smudged with hints of yellow and tangerine
laughing beneath autumn’s exciting skies
waiting on night’s moon and stars to arise
listening for the wind’s song as she cries
enchanted webs of peace and grace and light
tempting moods so the heart and soul unite
It's the same old song
of love and the world gone wrong
that endless need and want
that walks in the shadows of democracies haunt.
Is it a dream, some wild restless interlude
of sleepless nights and dreams that exude
the love of self more than your neighbor
and in God's eye, who gains the favor?
Give me your tired and your poor
just don't let them knock on my door
and who is the refugee you see
in the generations before our own ancestry?
Were it not for the passage of time
where would be this familiar family line
of streaming lives in search of the dream
held back by rhetorical bureaucratic screams?
Voices speak and shout yet remain unheard
trying to hold freedoms spurned by false words
content to keep those in charge in political char
when the people's choices remain barred.
This major-minority is too easily swayed by thrills
outspoken and angry at the use of guns and pills
but we are challenged at every turn along
to sing the same old song.
The future lays waiting round the bend
and what wisdom does America send?
Generations still to come
will look back at the foolishness we have done.
Looking inside with a clear view
Ocean jealous of our waves fading away in the rear view
The sand wants to hold the foot prints our love leaves behind
A blue sky smiling at our sadness wishing to feel anything different
Seashells listening in on our conversation
Hearing whistling echoes of ancestors heeding the adage of window pain
Always wanting what you don’t have will keep you going down the same old path
Adventures awaits but you’ll always be late getting lost in the window pane
Staring at the reflected sun, clear water, and freckled sand
We all want more then we were given when there is an Oceanview just in the
other room
Beautiful beyond words, I can’t find the words no matter how long I search
In awe of our scenery with you in my arms
I wonder what this wonderful seascape is thinking, what’s its point of view
Does the ocean envy it’s sight, looking from the outside in
p.s. if so, know she’s my love…