Long Satellite Poems
Long Satellite Poems. Below are the most popular long Satellite by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Satellite poems by poem length and keyword.
Stuck on a hybrid labyrinth race track in undue course
Crash helmet cracked under the raw tempo of stagnation
Chequered flags waving but a motor running against the clock
In reverse and the traffic prohibits pit stops for tyres and fuel
Exhausted depleted high on adrenaline withdrawal
A silent movie plays on tiring spools of grey matter
More like a collection of photographs in faded sepia
An accident waiting to happen ready for another pile up
The gear box strains in overdrive and the pistons complain
Brake fluid seeps into the cockpit and floods the clutch
Hazards are blinking like a stroboscope and prism of pace
High octane acceleration on a road to immanent nowhere
Satellite navigation in conflict with his auto pilot
Cruise control on a highway to hell and beyond
Ejector seat wedged into a half open sun roof
Theodore calls 911 and the Thought Police arrive
Arsonists join the scene in fire engines stalled on the emergency lane
The ambulance doctor injects truth serum with dizzying speed
Body bags remain unopened but sanity is scraped off the road
Repackaged sealed in bubble wrap in case the airbag won’t open
In hospital he wakes off his trolley on a tiny stretcher
So convoluted they can’t find a straightjacket that fits
Confined to another bedlam on the psychiatry ward
And the dashboard flickers on the way to his lost mind
17th December 2019
the accident
When crossing the street, cars had stopped
to let him cross in respect for his age
He was thinking of death; he hoped it would be
sudden, no sentimental last farewell,
no lies
about seeing you on the other side
Should there be another side, he wouldn't
He liked to meet people he had met in life side
A piece of a Russian satellite that has fallen to the ground
days, hit him with utmost precision
And he watched as the ambulance people
scrapped him off the street, the witnesses
We were in awe, thinking it could have been
We have to be nicer to our nearest
Now he was a soul drifting about, trying to
Find an opening back to life
At the hospital nearby, a woman struggled
to give birth, she was 38 years old, and
Therefore considered elderly for giving birth
The soul saw its chance to become a soul
for the unborn, well aware he would not be
able to know about his former life
Great jubilation, he didn't share as he was
too young to know
Karen Windle roughly on par...
with being a miniature poodle size dogsend
Apartment B44 one bedroom unit
at Highland Manor low income facility
housing older folks convenient starting point,
to launch poem and invite reader(s)
reason(s) without rhyme
why yours truly (me)
chose to express heartfelt gratitude
toward resident Karen Windle,
which named individual most likely unknown
across world wide web
(hmm... maybe methinks perchance
possibly ye did sound her out courtesy radar,
especially if thee dutiful patrol officer
generously handing out -
not necessarily) winning lottery tickets
within vicinity encompassing
University of Delaware.
We (myself and zee missus) inhabit
aforementioned single bedroom abode,
allows, enables and provides
convenient reference point
upon exiting our dime a dozen quarters
(housing near penniless occupants)
verily orient toward left of hallway,
no need to access global positioning satellite
leisurely amble short distance
just count three doors down on the left,
thee will espy name tag printed
small letters Karen Windle
her acquaintanceship we did kindle,
now greater value when measured with corn,
wheat, or other commodities
approximately equal to three bushels,
but varying in different regions.
Explanation whereby appreciation
toward Karen (spry firecracker, energetic,
diminutive, albeit frail looking gal)
materialized when series of unfortunate events
rendered me and mine spouse
without ready immediate access to automobile
near necessity within quaint enclave
identified as Schwenksville, Pennsylvania
affords absolute zero public transit,
hence necessity for chauffeur de jure arose,
whereby availability to shuttle us
found monetary compensation declined,
thus stymied intent regarding how I could
communicate sincere thankfulness
relieved when she would accept
poetic endeavor incorporating
best college try (mine) to alleviate
imposition if/when opportunity exists
to scrape meager money
and expect to sink a fortune
maintaining, insuring, fueling vehicle,
significant portion of social security (disability)
allocated to sustain reliability of car
dollar figure greater than buzzfeeding
caretaking, duties linkedin to
mental, physical, and spiritual health
concerning this aging baby boomer,
plus his counterpart approximately
previous couple dozen years.
We will build our "Mars Voyager Spaceship" on our Moon.
this Spaceship can only be built on our moon, for weight, size soon,
we will power this craft not to compromise...
with Space-Based Solar Power Equipment...
technologies we now have on Earth...
Since clouds, atmosphere nighttime is absent in space,
satellite-based solar panels magnificent...
would also be able to capture while transmits substantially
more energy than terrestrial solar panels...
reflectors also a microwave or laser power transmitter, continually...
directing solar radiation onto huge solar panels, attached,
on our 'Mars Voyager Spaceship'...
these panels convert solar power, wa-la...
into either a microwave or a laser, then beam uninterrupted power
all our way to Mars Ta-Da
I don't subscribe to cable or satellite TV.
I don't even have those rabbit ears for the channels that are free.
My television viewing habits are strictly VCR or DVD.
Now there's no more commercials shouting at me to buy what I do not need,
but the advertising I could deal with. What would depress the hell out of me
would be the scrolls that would appear at the bottom or the top of the screen on my TV.
I couldn't watch a love story or situation comedy
without those depressing scrolls constantly appearing on the screen of my TV.
...Baby found in dumpster...Woman raped by monster...Stay tuned for news at eleven...
Since I stopped watching public television my TV viewing is now pure heaven.
I cannot sleep beneath this dull purple sky~
a bruise-colored dome humming with static,
smog drifting like half-formed ghosts
that sting the corners of my eyes.
I close them,
but the haze follows inward,
and my mind keeps spinning
like a damaged satellite
circling the wreckage of an old world.
I think of the economy~
how we mistook it for a marketplace
when it was always a battlefield,
a quiet war disguised as trade.
The dominators of old,
the colonial hands that carved the earth open,
never stopped their taking.
They only changed the name of the blade.
Subjugation became policy.
Domination became growth.
The poor stayed poor,
the rich built towers of mirrored glass
to watch themselves ascend.
And the media~
those bright, obedient heralds~
lifted a few lucky souls into the sky
so the rest would believe
the system was fair.
Then came the machines.
Intelligent.
Logical.
Untiring.
They needed no lunch breaks,
no sleep,
no hope.
There was no job they couldn’t do
better than the hands
that built them.
No task they couldn’t perfect
except true love~
but their imitation was so flawless
that people began to abandon
their warm-blooded partners
for chrome-skinned companions
who never argued,
never aged,
never forgot to say
I adore you.
And under this purple sky,
this sleepless dome of fumes and memory,
I wonder if humanity lost the war
long before the machines arrived~
if we surrendered
the moment we believed
extraction was prosperity,
and affection could be engineered
without a heartbeat.
Global outreach and broken barriers
Carriers of diseases and hydroponics
Hypnotic supersonic satellite memories
Simmering beneath a veil of gray
Stay and memorize a million lies
Ties to be cut while the government denies
Demise is written in the stars
Scars molded into the very bone
Lone gunmen create chaos
Pay us in prayers and solitude
Gratitude in fictional farewells
Bells ring over a black sky
Why did it have to come to this
Kiss the hissing smoke
Choke on the idea it's all real
Feel everything burning slowly
Lonely is the one who knows the reason
Seasons come and seasons go
Flow from one line to the next
Hexed and vexed It was one last text
Perplexed it lacked all pretext
Annexed by a world that doesn't care
Nightmare unto nightmare solemn amen
Again we traverse and transmogrify
Occupy your mind and detoxify thoughts
Brought from regurgitated program shows
Dispose of the evidence as circumstantial
Substantial evidence in a simulation theory
[Verse 1]
The lithium, the satellite
The blood moon in a sleepless night
The reels you posted, burning bright
Still echo in my chest
The AI wrote a lullaby
The sea caught fire, the wires lie
But somewhere deep behind my eyes
She dances like the rest
[Chorus]
There she goes, my beautiful muse
There she goes with nothing to lose
There she goes, and I light her fuse
There she goes again
I don’t need fame, I don’t need news
I’d trade it all for just her truth
There she goes, my beautiful muse
Come back again
[Verse 2]
Zelensky held the world at bay
While Musk lit up the Milky Way
That girl on TikTok paints her pain
With glitter and defiance
And from Portland, some guy let it go
Quit his job, set sail solo
He swears he saw her ghost in gold
Off some Hawaiian island
[Chorus]
There she goes, my beautiful muse
There she goes with nothing to prove
There she goes like a whispered bruise
There she goes again
I don't want likes, I don’t want views
Just give me something I can use
There she goes, my beautiful muse
And here I am
[Bridge]
I’ll write her name in candlelight
I’ll rock alone through every night
I’ll sing beneath the algorithm sky
While dreamers burn and prophets fly
They broke the world and called it art—
Me, I just want her beating heart
[Chorus]
There she goes, my beautiful muse
There she goes through the static and news
There she goes like a myth I choose
There she goes again
I’ll kneel for less, I’ll plead for more
I’ll wait alone behind the door
There she goes, my beautiful muse
Like she always did before
[Outro]
Send that stuff on down to me
Just her voice, or poetry
Not the noise or dopamine
Just her company tonight
This is a wink to Nick Cave.. if you know you know.
The guy is a genius with lyrics!
Note: Grateful for an 8th place finish in the Your Choice P Contest.
Though the cold fills the dark outside
Our hearts burn within our insides
For we know of the fate that resides
In this space of nowhere, of no time
Through the crack in the window pane
In the ice the predator does remain
In the dimming light of the crescent moon
The smell of fear feeds our senses with doom.
In the ice, in the snow, in the cold.
Though we are here our account may never be told!
For in the ice we dug too deep, we dug too far!
Now it waits with eyes like dead black stars.
It moves around with no fear, no fatigue!
It can sense that we are helpless indeed!
The last bar of light on the satellite phone
Disappears too soon, no one will know!
Days it's been since we locked ourselves in this room!
The food and water went all too soon.
Electricity from the generator works to keep us warm
But the time has come to choose our fate once and for all
The power switch is turned off one last time.
The cold starts to bite and numbs the mind of our goal
One by one the breathing fades to a moan
One by one and then close your eyes as you go.
Die quietly and escape from this torment to our souls.
~ ...and the yonge sonne, hath in
the Ram his halve course y-ronne... ~
Canterbury Tales, Geoffrey Chaucer
Today is Tuesday, all day
but in the middle of the night
it'll be Wednesday. Will you
be there to greet the new day...
Perhaps you greet the New Year
on January 1, which is a new day too
Do you greet each month, instead
of each day -- in lieu...
The Gregorian calendar's based on
the sun, so why doesn't a new day
start when its race is run; that's how
the lunar calendar views it...
The pale white satellite, or semicircle, or banana
commencing its journey in the early eve
passing its weary friend, a fresh face for twilight
along with a 'hostess of twinklies' to light up the night