Long Scores Poems
Long Scores Poems. Below are the most popular long Scores by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Scores poems by poem length and keyword.
What is this world really about?
I can listen to the President and still not understand a word out of his mouth,
Is he for the American people or is he only in office to institute wars,
He captured Saddam so I guess for his father he has settled all the scores.
But look at our nation right now; we’re still suffering from poverty,
Why not show our kids in the ghettos something else wonderful to see,
Let’s do away with the crimes and take the guns off the streets,
This would be my main topic for when the President and I come to meet!
“Dear Sir, how are you doing my name is Curtis and I’m a tax paying citizen,”
It seems like you’re glorifying your capture of Saddam but this war we didn’t win,
We have soldiers in Iraq dying for absolutely no reason,
And if they abandon your Father’s war you’ll hold them for treason!
Saddam was said to possess weapons of mass destruction,
I think an impeachment is call for before you lead us into corruption,
In 2005 I think Florida’s voting poles shouldn’t be mention,
And by the end of 2005 voting, George Bush Jr. should be awaiting his pension!
I have spoken about one of the problems in our society so I should assail another,
This cry for awareness goes out to my fellow black brothers,
We are caught up in Babylon’s system with all our material items,
Sean John puts out hundred dollars sweat suits and we’ll rush out to buy them.
Big Tymers wear these icy chains and we label them as stars,
While young black men sees this as truly living while locked up behind bars,
We have been brainwash and told that this was the way to be living,
I don’t believe in those views because my state of mind is to be giving.
I was born into this world with a little weak mind,
It was easily corrupted that it directed me to a short period of crime,
But a wise man came into my life and showed me the right way,
He’s in Heaven now but I still bout my head to him every night when I pray!
In time of dismay I know he’ll always be by my side,
And I thank you again Tennyson for teaching me to keep my pride,
At the beginning of this poem I asked, “What is this world really about?”
So everyone take a look at yourselves and tell me who’s the real sell out?
“Even in a world of weeds a Rose can still be form”
Form:
What formerly got celebrated as adventitious age of exploration...
1492 unleashed, jump/
kick started, and downloaded
a bittorrent götterdämmerung
spelling genocide of indigenous peoples
occupying Turtle Island,
now surviving tribes
just a shell of their former grandeur.
At present Columbus day
linkedin with high dudgeon
courtesy scattered remnants
of once proud nations
occupying contiguous United States
plus calling Alaska and Hawaii
their happy hunting grounds,
enshrine actual or mythologized
spectacular pièce de résistance
instances when counting coup.
I recollect needing to know
scores of years ago
when a student attending grade schools
within Lower Providence District
as an important bit of information
contributing to (white washed) history
of western civilization
(and never forgot)
recalling the names Nina, Pinta,
and Santa Maria associated
with heroic measures undertaken
by Cristóbal Colón,
(but also been referred to,
by himself and others, as Christoual,
Christovam, Christofferus de Colombo,
and even Xpoual de Colón)
five hundred and thirty years ago,
who purportedly "discovered"
the Americas, when in
fact native occupants of the land
already dwelled upon
the then island paradises.
He/him and subsequent swashbuckling
gung-ho high spirited men
set sail across expanse of ocean(s)
exhibiting eager intent to claim
untrammeled storied quintessentially
opulently magnificent kingdoms
intoxicating greedy Europeans.
Blatant exploitation inexorably nudged
courtesy trickery vis a vis hook and crook
to grab good & plenty treats
forcibly wrested by violence
sabotaging the delicate webbed wide world
constituting millenniums of heavenly bliss,
where marauders wantonly ransacked
indeed lacking absolute zero selflessness
forcing diverse autochthonous nations
to acquiesce and surrender
ancestral grounds to aggressive, coercive
and offensive Europeans hell bent
to populate occupied territory
commandeering, humiliating, manhandling,
poisoning, subdividing, triangulating
every square inch
encompassing fruitful grand home
of rightful heirs to stolen
near boundless tracts
eventually hashtagging uncharted
pristine green acres
spanning from sea to shining sea
becoming commercial real estate
falsely claiming a haven
housing home of the free
land of the brave.
I can never comply with fastidious hygiene
Try as thee most persuasive person might,
he/him, she/her,
they, them... can never wean
yours truly always objected
being told when to bathe/shower
particularly when puberty
found yours truly a tween
and my mother (deceased eighteen
plus years - sess her bowl),
she exerted authority
and told her "take a bath,
or no supper"
analogous to a queen,
strict disciplinarian to boot
who wedded her king
(my late father) at age nineteen
the latter (day saint) quite keen
nevertheless both experienced
love towards each other
and tricked out their progeny
(myself included) with halloween
getup, I vaguely recall Amelie Beth
(their eldest daughter -
older sister of mine)
donned as an angel
lighting up night sky, an empyrean
permanent heavenly fixture
popular through Byzantine
epoch, which blinded
her brother (me),
cuz yours truly, the devil in disguise.
Here I sit scores of decades
now edging closer to the edge of night,
and approaching those twilight years
remembering protesting vehemently
(way past the bewitching hour)
not wanting to wash myself
in the tub (water frigid cold), I write
how mother dearest,
whose presence I wanted to smite
this puny progeny
grappling as a neophyte
whose Lilliputian stature
(when a prepubescent)
a over five feet in height
who when constantly
teased courtesy bullies
ran back to ma mommy
whose son totally affright.
If employed in social services field, why
the above might justifiably
smack of insubordination
hashtagging me as Pigpen thereby
wharf fare prompting me
to cleanse myself diving off a Quai
in an effort for Peanuts gallery
to accept yours truly well nigh
but unfortunately
getting mistakenly captured
as a prisoner of war
forced by Japanese to construct
two parallel bridges spanning
the river Kwai
as part of Burma Railway,
also called the Death Railway,
for the many lives
lost in its construction,
but my daring do,
(and boyish good looks)
found yours truly
whisked away to the island of Hawaii,
where hula dancers
choreographed, entranced, and finessed
their seductive routines
a native lass smitten courtesy
one wily word wizard
whose courage bucked up
after munching powder milk biscuits
taken as mistress
helped beget our daughter,
who became apple of mine eye.
Johnny Cash gives it away for free,
John K says he would like to be Prez.
Richard Nixon will run against him,
so the republican party says.
Lamar Cox gets 44th KO,
‘The Stilt’ scores 58 in one game.
In high school Heater’s 135,
gives him claim to some basketball fame.
Presley says goodbye to the Army,
and is back on the recording scene.
X-15 sets a new record height,
‘Sit-in’ becomes protesting’s new thing.
Queen ‘Liz says they’re the ‘House of Windsor,’
“Unsinkable Moly Brown” goes down.
The first Playboy Club hits Chicago,
Ebbit Field is knocked down to the ground.
A 9.6 quake in Morocco,
takes more than 15000 poor souls.
Another sends Hawaii a wave,
kills over 17000 more.
Cardinals move to Saint Louie,
Chicago White Sox wear their new threads.
Oversized mitt designed for catchers,
will keep their hands from turning all red.
USSR says they’ll stop testing,
Krushchev bangs on the desk with his shoe.
Lasers will light up the science world,
France now has an Atomic bomb too.
Satellites can now track the weather,
the court says ‘Lady Chatterley’s Lover’ okay.
Civil Rights bill passes the senate,
new birth control pills are here to stay.
‘We shall overcome’ is new anthem,
but not at the riots in Jacksonville.
MLK gets jailed in Atlanta,
while preaching for equality still.
Senate investigates “Payola,
Alan Freed’s one of the 9 accused.
Meanwhile over in Comensky Park,
their new exploding scoreboard debuts.
Americans pay high earnings tax,
John K and Nixon go for the throat.
They debate 4 times on our TV,
before Kennedy gets the most votes.
Say hello to Aretha Franklin,
Chubby Checker has us in a twist.
Huckleberry Hound wins an Emmy,
Cassius Clay is the best with his fists.
A jet hits 2000 MPH,
California cops say UFO.
The atomic reactor is born,
Flintstone’s is the next hit cartoon show.
Lee, Richard and Maurice Petty go,
against each other in the same race.
Richard beats his brother and daddy,
which gives racing world a new face.
Paul and Best kicked out of Germany,
we are not really sure what they did.
Clarabelle speaks in her final show,
simply voices the words, “Goodbye Kids”.
The world’s moving faster and higher,
technology seems to have no cap.
Back in Wakenda, at 3 years old,
I’m still taking an afternoon nap.
Come by the Sword, Die by the Sword
They stood in ranks a thousand long
High upon the hill
The Roman legion, fierce and strong
With sword and lance and bill
The Briton hoards below them stare
With wild fanatic eyes
They jeer the foe and beg them dare
With anger and despise
Come and fight you cowardly foe
Come and meet your fate
We’ll cut you down, row by row
Send you to heavens gate
With scoff and scorn the Romans yawn
What empty threats you speak
We’ll rip you limb from limb this morn
You’re scrawny, thin and weak
Down below, laughter roars
Your bellies, we will slice
We’ll lay you dead, in your scores
Come prove your men not mice
We will arrive and make you pay
For indolence and taunt
You will eat every word you say
When they come back to haunt
It’s easy up on high to gloat
But everybody knows
It’s our intent to cut each throat
And leave you for the crows
But when we make our move towards
There’ll be no shy nor rests
We’ll plunge our sharp and bloody swords
Deep in those ragbag chests
Think of your girlfriends, mothers, wives
For them there’ll be no gains
Will be, as we, cut short their lives
When we spill out your brains
For one last time you’ll see the sky
Cause you’re not leaving whole
When heathen head is raised up high
On legion victory pole
Gasp deep upon your final breath
Invader of our land
Your destiny this day is death
By rude and brutish hand
With sword and lance and bill
All break into their stride
With voices booming still
Blood fills the wide divide
, , , , ,
, , , , ,
, , , , ,
, , , , ,
, , , , ,
, , , , ,
, , , , ,
, , , , ,
, , , , ,
, , , , ,
, , , , ,
, , , , ,
, , , , ,
, , , , ,
, , , , ,
, , , , ,
March forward to today
Though forces re-arranged
And ask them in what way
Anything has changed
My grandfather Hymie
spent his entire life at sea
his thick calloused hands
and ruddy complexion re
enforced non verbal body language
voluminous tomes as testimony
to countless years
(spilling into decades)
exposed to salty spittled
spumed raw elements que
sin art finest artisanal blended, crafted,
dredged by mother nature pre
pared within each trough and crest only
for thy fiercely weatherbeaten nee,
tough as rawhide, leathery,
chafed skin to me
not surprising, since
this mariner born, bred and near lee
schooled within
briny deep ever since knee
high (or so he claimed truth
to swirling rumor), jovialy
pleased that his purportedly
learnin' myth writ tik ne'r included
NEVER settn' foot in formal classroom,
his knowledge icy
anecdotes aced, surpassed,
and trounced that of what he
referred to as grenadier landlubbers
green behind the ears – glee
fully jabbing with his
unsheathed scabbard play flea
actually downplaying any exploits,
that didst educate him, prith ee
teaching him survival skills asper
getn' taut via eddy fied tests frequently de
siding a life or death outcome,
yet our Dickensian mutual friend
shared exploits while
he dressed not in tatters,
but self made clothes from cree
chores comfortable furs, and though
a striking appearance cut, ne'r
did this ole codger (fit as a fiddle
with tall slender build),
said middle aged man appeared quite be
coming. An aura, charisma, dogma
amazingly graced stalwart, gestalt,
deportment aie
found added an air of charming debonair,
esteeming flair, genteel heir
which tasked guessing years old,
aye presumed him to exit the uterine lair
at least a few score tours round oblate sphere
as aspect of youthfulness played across his eyes
one colored green like a spring day in the country,
the other jetblue sans burnin'
four pearl jam oyster cult year.
ah...them tha many decades past
since the merchant
from Neptune to mast
to nether world, though his parting seems
like it hapt last
year, noot nay twas scores o' full moons ago,
that grim reaper came swift and fast.
Dope boundary rope tropes…fans hopes..Ollie copes..thick skin…will find the strength within…ignores the din…as Pope unleashes that boyish grin..
Can hear Freddie and David…ddddd..Under Pressure…well..hard to measure the pleasure of the Pope’s treasure…papacy legacy pride..stops the slide..trumps the prodigy..got a ton to shun outgun..dumps the Bethell puns..rested and bested..still in at stumps.. after Stokes plumps for tried and tested..
Nasty ploys from the seedier media boys…that gambit or slight..of weedier..needier skittish rabbit in the floodlight habit..but such poise..delights despite the noise.. fights the red hot slingshot Jasprit highlights...that iconic.. chronic.. metronomic…never laconic..halcyon harbinger..joy bringer..humdinger swinger gunslinger....
Who’s got a clue what to do…where it will land…understand what the Bumrah brand’s got planned…should be banned…can’t watch it from the hand..love watching it from the stand..tames games…fanned flames…big names castles manned..but the sparkle of another debacle shames and blames…panned and canned..
Doff your hat…scoff..from the off…Test cricket doesn’t get harder than that…time we beckoned..back when Goochie opined…Essex accent whined..reckoned like facing the World’s test best one end.. and tother Ilford second eleven..
It was a story of small standing tall demanding another dance at the Bumrah ball as the diddy men zen of Ollie and Ben gave us a chance and dodged.. not bodged by the Jasprit lance
Even the boom boom cherry riff couldn’t biff the Pontiff of who we are so fond…no what if..made merry with his tintin strawberry blonde quiff in this tiff did respond..
Golly gosh the another level devil..tabloid tosh of him getting Bethell bish bash boshed…losing the race.. will never forget Ollie’s jolly face…gleaming…day dreaming yet screaming to those scheming and memeing…fury at the jury…beaming…the adored Pope ruled..his grace.. Dueled with the ultimate pace ace…an up yours…century scores…our faith restores ..Ollie.. rightly put out…brightly glowed..showed us what he’s all about..loud..proud shout to the crowd who know nowt…want him out…made it clear..peers cheers he holds dear..my best at your behest ..so sincere.. I deserve my Test place and rest my case..! Hear Hear..
When I am looking at the end of the board, my world shrinks down to that one foot at the end of the board. My hands swing gently back and forth, and back again. My mind tries to focus letting all the noises from outside of it fade into the background. Because when is it truly ever quiet? The noise almost becomes something, calming, and normal, very reassuring.A song runs through my head keeping all the fragile bits of you together. Do the hurdle first. Is all I can think, do the hurdle then the dive. My arms swing forward once again, but this time you take my first step perfectly in time with the rhythm of my movement. I take a second step, covering ground, quickly, but not rushed. And then my third step, a powerful lunge that caries my other foot high as my arms rise to the celling I put all of my power into the final jump, landing squarely on the end of the board crouching down, letting my arms circle around, then reach towards the heights I wish to achieve and feeling the board spring me into the sky, where I hang suspended in time waiting the one precious second, letting myself reach my full height. Then I throw your arms down with the accumulated power and momentum that have been waiting for this very moment. I touch my toes as they touch the sky, the wind ruffles my already wet hair, and the feeling of flight has never been so close the world flashes past and I dimly realize that the celling has come around again, and it is time to extend. I am in full control as my body straightens and my toes point down to the water once again. This time though I am falling, not flying, yet it does not seem any worse. My arms stay close to my side and my body stays perfectly straight as my first toe touches the water, which then engulfs me. I sink slowly down staying straight, until my feet touch the bottom of the thirteen foot pool and I am once again pushing up towards the light. My head breaks the surface and it seems as if I catch up with time again. Somewhere an announcer is calling out the judges’ scores, but all I can notice in this bewildering moment is the smiles and congratulating high fives of the people I know the best, my team. I did it. I think, allowing a small moment of pride.I mingle and wait, counting the seconds, until I can fly again.
En-route Onikan Stadium
I had evaporated from
My abode in Samonda
Only to condense in Iwo road.
There I saw them begging
One barely leaves before
Another jumps on us
They were beggars of the Niger-Area.
Behold !an old haggard
Tattered looking woman,
Muttering some prayers
Only to her very self,
Cowries she needed.
Then comes another man
Clad in all white attire,
Making incantations through
His chimney-like look.
He shakes his head chanting
Some rehearsed -versed prayers
Meant for us passengers
In all, cowries he demanded.
Appears another blind man
With a kid directing his three legs
The first leg he points to pave way
For the other two legs
For he seeth no more
Cowries they needed too.
Two kids looking rumpled
Their mother tailing from afar
They are from a lake called Chad
The Chadian kids chanting,
Singing in aYoruba language
Their Yoruba pronunciation brings
Passenger’s teeth out impromptu.
Only then and there,
They got attention more
Cowries they had more than others.
More came till I lost count of them
For three scores of a minute
Beggars came begging for cowries ,
Poverty hovers round them
Wretchedness consume their look
Like a Vulture that is about
Being starved to death.
They are all indeed wretched of
The Earth on our own Earth.
The driver fired the engine
Still lost in my thought
About the begging beggars.
I looked through the windows
Only to find more beggars in Lagos
Cowries, they all needed.
Are we not all beggars in this land?
Begging for food , water, shelter ,air . . .
Killing ourselves for crumbs from their table
Even amidst plenty
They have made us empty
They are Gold- Diggers of our wealth.
For how long would we beg?
Can we ever stop begging?
Can we ever exist without begging?
Were we born to beg?
I said to myself “ No”.
We are not destined to beg
We are only made to beg
To suit their whims and caprices
But our desperation to get to the
Destination of our dream land
Lies with the destiny in our hands.
Alayande Stephen. T
February 11th, 2006
11.35am
A true life story.
On my way to Onikan stadium in Lagos
For NANS Zone D Convention .It all happened
Between Iwo Road and Lagos.
Form:
Copyright 2014 A.D., ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
By Thomas Lam Hsi Andress (TLH ANDRESS)
THE 'AUDACITY' OF DISCLOSURE!!!
Thomas Hsi
1 second ago
This VERY SONG is the VERY REASON that I KEEP HOPING that LOVE WILL ONE DAY...'MAYBE'...FIND ME...as 'SHE'...finds...ME! After I was 'DELIVERED' by 'URSULA'...on APRIL 23, 1959 A.D., as a 'LILY-WHITE' MALE CHILD, but raised as an 'ASIATIC,' though I would go on to BECOME A MENTAL AND PHYSICAL 'SUPER-MAN' in that I would accomplish so many 'AMAZING' things in my 55 year-lifetime ( 70 mph 'ACCELERATED-RUN,' 378 lbs. 'ONE-ARM' DUMBELL CURL, 878 lbs. 'ONE-HAND' DEADLIFT, over 300 'ORIGINAL or IMPROVED GOURMET-QUALITY' FOOD RECIPES, 'WORLD'S FINEST POET, POETIC LYRICIST, ATTORNEY (AVVO-DISTINGUISHED, 14 OF MY 26 MEMOS WOULD GO BEFORE THE UNITED STATES SUPREME COURT, WITH THE 'SUPER-MAJORITY' OF THE CASES BEING DECIDED ALONG THE LINES IN WHICH I HAD CONCLUDED), VALEDICTORIAN AT EVERY MAJOR UNIVERSITY AROUND THE WORLD (based on 'Test Scores' at the University of Southern California and the University of Hawaii), the 'WORLD'S HIGHEST LSAT-TEST SCORE,' the 'WORLD-VALEDICTORIAN' LAW-GRADUATE (as McGEORGE SCHOOL OF LAW was the 'MOST DIFFICULT CLASS EVER FOR THAT PARTICULAR YEAR,' 'ORIGINATOR' OF THE PUBLIC ADDRESS, PORTABLE, RADIO-DEVICE WHICH WOULD LEAD JAPAN TO DEVELOP THE MODERN KARAOKE-MACHINE, and lead SOUTH KOREA TO DEVELOP THE HIGH-DEFINITION TELEVISION, 'MELON-STYLE' DRINKS, the 'SOLELY-RESEARCHED, WRITTEN, EDITIED, COPIED, AND DISTRIBUTED' 5 and 1/2 PAGE COMPRESSED OUTLINE FOR DETERMINING WHAT A CONFORMING AND NON-CONFORMING RESALEABLE LOAN IS, along with a PROPOSAL FOR DAWN FINANCIAL, where the 'EQUITY-VALUE' OF AN OLDER-HAWAIIAN REAL PROPERTY INTEREST, could be REALIZED UPON BY RELEASING THE BUILT-UP 'EQUITY,' the development of a 'PROGRESSIVE-STYLE' BETTING SYSTEM at the WHEEL OF FORTUNE and ROULETTE TABLE (first used by Me at the MGM GRAND HOTEL & CASINO in RENO, NEVADA), 'DEVELOPER' OF THE 'FAST-OUTBOARD-MOTORBOAT,' with a 'SCOOP-VECTOR,' the 'MULTI-DIRECTIONAL SCOOP-VECTORING-SYSTEM,' the 'SWIVEL-WIND-FAN-SYSTEM' (with various 'FAN DESIGNS,' including the 'MULTI-DIRECTIONAL-OBLIQUEST-DESIGN,' a 'PROPOSED-DESIGN' for a SPACE-SHUTTLE which solves the 'O-RING' PROBLEM.