Long Shrink back Poems
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When you look at cancel culture,
and what it has become today,
you can’t help but look back and think
it didn’t use to be this way.
Free speech was once more respected,
people allowed to say their peace,
half the lefties who want us gone
once said the people should speak free!
So why is it that they do this,
what has made them seek to repress?
There’s several reasons, each worthy
of examination, redress.
The politicians are simple,
they see it as a useful tool
to rid themselves of annoying
people who think the pols are fools.
Like all the tyrants of the past
they love making souls ‘disappear,’
and any thing that helps them out
they will indulge in with great cheer.
their kind has always been this way,
The founders knew that pols were sh-t,
but they can’t use tools unless we
let the jerks get away with it.
And we know that the corporate types
just go along to get along,
fearing so much to get bad press
they don’t care if their acts are wrong.
So in bed with the government
they’ll cower and do as they’re told,
so afraid of losing money
that they don’t dare anything bold.
They think twitter is the real world,
and shrink back from shrieking harpies,
afraid that if they don’t play ball
they’ll lose out on the ESG.
Ignoring the big audience
that is waiting for them out there,
openly calling us bad names
to convince the crazies ‘they care.’
Then there’s the weak majority
who never grew out of high school,
they bit their tongue and say the words
out of fear they might not look ‘cool.’
That they would appear out-of-place
from what the news preaches to them,
fearing what other people think,
scared that they might lose all their friends.
These people don’t cancel themselves,
they just try to keep their heads down,
but when someone’s life is ruined
these types are nowhere to be found.
They do not bother to speak out
even when they think it’s wrong,
they rationalize the evil,
because in truth, they’re not that strong.
willing to give up all their rights,
then go make excuses for that,
they’re feeding the alligator
hoping that in will eat them last...
CONCLUDES IN PART II.
It was a century ago
when Joe Gibbs’ rode the water’s flow,
driving logs through the river’s waves,
a young man only twenty years,
fast with a pick-pole, had no fear,
and never had they seen a man more brave.
At night he did joke with the guys,
in drunken song his voice did cry,
the river-driver’s all liked him,
he could make the devil himself grin,
was on his second season out
when a jam snagged the river proud,
the boss cried out, quite clear and loud,
“Now who will clear this snag?”
Young Joe leapt up and raised his hand,
said, “Boss, I’ll do it! I’m your man,”
out through the jumble he did leap.
He found the lynch-pin half submerged,
the log was jammed, and broadly turned,
and what was holding it up Young Joe did seek,
a rock poked up where no one saw,
it held the log like fearsome jaws,
it was just beneath the surface
and quite an easy thing to miss,
he stepped on it and gave a heave,
the log jam suddenly swept free,
and dragged young Joe away swiftly,
the men knew things looked bad.
They searched the shore for any trace,
nut none would ever see Joe’s face,
and his body was never found.
The preacher’s came and said their prayers,
the men had no time to despair,
logs were moving, and men before had drowned.
The days went by, and folks forgot,
then one looked at the submerged rock,
he saw a blue figured floating,
just above the stone and waving.
It appeared on the windy days,
when boats were tossed amongst the waves,
from that rock Joe warned them away,
to the cheers of boaters glad.
Then more logs came down next year,
the drivers would shrink back in fear
when they saw the ghost of their lost friend;
but Joe would motion to the sides,
then men would see, their logs divide,
and they would all pass safely in the end.
Joe would vanish when they were past,
to him the men would raise a glass,
and thank God for their lucky charm,
a ghost who steered men from real harm.
As years went by the legend spread,
and countless stories filled out heads,
or rivermen alive, not dead,
and all thanks to this lad.
CONCLUDES IN PART II.
It doesn't interest me what you do for a living, I want to know what you ache for, and if you
dare to dream of meeting your heart's longing.
It doesn't interest me how old you are, I want to know if you will risk looking a fool for love,
for your dream, for the adventure of being alive.
It doesn't interest me what planets are squaring your moon. I want to know if you have
touched the center of your own sorrow, if you have been opened by life's betrayals or have
become shriveled and closed from the fear of further pain. I want to know if you can sit with
pain, mine or your own, without moving to hide it or fade it or fix it.
I want to know if you can be with joy, mine or your own, if you can dance with wildness and
let the ecstasy fill you to the tips of your fingers and toes without cautioning us to be careful,
to be realistic, to remember the limitations to be human.
It doesn't interest me if the story you are telling me is true. I want to know if you can
disappoint another to be true to yourself: if you can bear the accusation of betrayal and not
betray your own soul, if you can be faithless and therefore be trustworthy.
I want to know if you can see beauty, even if it isin't pretty, every day, and if you can
source your own life from its presence.
I want to know if you can live with failure, yours and mine, and stand on the edge of a lake
and shout to the silver of the full moon, "Yes!"
It doesn't interest me to know where you live or how much money you have. I want to
know if you can get up, after the night of grief and despair, weary and bruised to the bone,
and do what needs to be done to feed the children.
It doesn't interest me who you know or how you came to be here. I want to know if you will
stand in the center of the fire with me and not shrink back.
It doesn't interest me where or what or with whom you have studied. I want to know what
sustains you, from the inside, when all else falls away.
I want to know if you can be alone with yourself and if you truly like the company you keep
in the empty moments.
Form:
I want to know what you ache
for
And if you dare to dream of
meeting your heart’s longing
It doesn’t interest me how old
you are
I want to know if u'll risk
looking like a fool for love
For Ur dream, for the adventure
of being alive
It doesn’t interest me what
planets are squiring your moon
I want know if you have
touched
The centre of your own sorrow
If you have been opened by
life’s betrayals
Or have become shrivelled and
closed from fear of further pain
I want to know if you can sit
with pain
Mine or your own without
moving to hide it,
Fade it or fix it
I want to know if you can be
with joy
Mine or your own
If you can dance with the
wilderness
And let the ecstasy fill you to
the tips
Of your fingers and toes
Without cautioning me to be
careful
To be realistic
To remember the limitations of
being human
It doesn’t interest me if the
story you are telling me is
true
I want to know if you can
disappoint another to be true to
yourself
If you can bear the accusations
of betrayal
And not betray your own soul
If you can be faithless and
therefore trustworthy
I want to know if you can live
with failure
Yours and mine
And still stand on the edge of
the lake and shout Yes!!
It doesn’t interest me to know
where you live or how much
money you have
I want to know if you can get
up after a night of grief and
despair
Weary and bruised to the bone
And do what needs to be done
It doesn’t interest me who you
know
Or how you came to be here
I want to know if you’ll stand
In the canter of the fire with
me
And not shrink back
It doesn’t interest me where, or
what or whom you studied with
I want to know if you can
sustain yourself
What sustains you from the
inside when all else falls apart
I want to know if you can be
alone
With yourself
And if you can truly like the
company you keep in those
empty moments...
I
The form we take
In the shape of a life
From trumpet birth blasts
To the final shadow sighs
The faithful leap
From a Dayton hill
To silver supersonic flight
A mountain of yellowing
Paper words and work
Of worn shoes
Discarded styles
An inland lake of soapy water
A dark, cool mystery mine of sleep
A warehouse of frozen glimpses
Catalogued and filed
A hurricane of curses
Sneer-spital and hot tears
The back country
Mood changed
From bright desert
To dank moor
All and all wiped kitchen clean
A few dark drops and fingerprints
Remain of this victimless
Crime scene
II
Every valid morning
The escape committee
Meets in the yard
To talk about
Terms & conditions
Cooking up plans
Set to fail
Next week
We will turn
Into smoke
& float
Through the ventilation
Or maybe become
Water, no wait..
Tears
Yes tears
Used to seal
Weekly envelopes
Sent back home
III
No fuss
No movement
No heat
No perspiration
No credit
No charge
No shame
No refund
No record
No scar
No signal
No breeze
No traffic
No morning
No bed
No room
No sheets
No clothes
No water
No ceiling
No air
No doubt
No blinking
No past
No night
No sound
No return
IV
Something seen once
At the roadside
Shining like a lost jewel
Amid the rusted out
Beer cans
Greasy fast food wrappers
Could´ve been a
Lost crown
Or a busted hubcap
That was so long ago
But not forgotten
Like a comet
Coming back around
You should´ve stopped
But what would have
Happened
One less mystery
The world was
Expanding then
Outwards & out
Few of us notice
The point when it starts
To shrink back
The tide turning
At some atomic level
But it does
And here you are
On this life raft
So, so much ocean
And so little left
Of you
V
And suddenly
Some movement
Thinner than paper
The void
At first
Abstract & Foreign
Takes on some form
A voice you always knew
A blood voice
Begins it´s
Forever song
I'm not interested in how,
You make a living?
I want to know if you have nothing,
Are you still giving?
I want to know if you dare to dream of meeting
Your hearts longing?
I want to know in a crowd of strangers,
Can you sense your belonging?
I want to know if you will risk,
looking like a fool for love?
I want to know if your lover,
Is all you dreamed of?
I'm not interested in what planets,
Align with the moon?
I want to know if your OK dancing
To the beat of a different tune?
I want to know if you have touched
The center of your sorrow?
I want to know if you believe in the
Children of tomorrow?
I'm not interested if the story
You tell is true?
I want to know if all is lost
Can you still make do?
I want to know if you can see beauty,
If it's not pretty?
I want to know if you can help the youth out,
in the inner city?
I'm not interested in how
You came to be here?
I want to know your dreams
And the things you fear?
I want to know if you can stand in the fire
And not shrink back?
I want to know if you can finish,
When you're out of whack?
I'm not interested in when
Or where you went to school?
I want to know under pressure,
Can you keep your cool?
I want to know what sustains you on the
Inside when all else falls away?
I want to know if your still grateful,
When you've had a bad day?
I'm not interested in where you live
Or how much money you make?
I want to know if your OK with eating out
Of a can; instead of a T-Bone steak?
I want to know if you believe in blind faith
Or do you look before you leap?
I want to know if you can be alone with yourself
And truly like the company you keep?
Turbo1904
An old scholar called Mi Balls Hung Lo
Wished he could put his gonads on show
His poor wife got quite mad
But his daughter said “Dad…
just remember to add a big bow”
By Jan Allison
Now Hung Lo was really Gung Ho.
He had his big bow now in tow.
The new goal he set
was somehow to get
little Mister Happy to grow.
By Dale Gregory Cozart
Dolly Parton said, "Hey there Hung Lo!"
"Why don't you appear on my show?"
"While we're on the air
we'll show our two pair,
It might make your wee Happy grow."
Dolly said to Lo on a dare:
"Would you show off your pair?
I'll show mine
They're very fine
but not all covered with hair!"
By Lim'rick flats aka John Wulf
Lil' Mister Happy wanted to grow
So he could become part of the show
But overshadowed a tad
by the two giant gonad
Now so sad is Mi Balls Hung Lo.
by John Gondolf
To cheer him up they took sad Mr. Hung lo
To a place for encouragement to grow
Down they did jut
A poem for each nut
Mr. happy stood up tall for the show
By Pat Adams
Just woke up to this gorgeous day
What joy, think I'll go out to play
In my skivvies I will
Oh what a thrill
Tiptoe through the tulips twittering away
By Jack Ellison (My Poetry Soup Brother)
When Mi balls hung lo joined the nomads
Something happened to his small gonads,
the further they would go
much bigger, they did grow,
So he now uses them as knee pads,
Due to drinking the milk of the Yak
his large gonads started to shrink back
the more milk he did drink
more his gonads did shrink
problem was they were turning jet black.
By Roy Pett
PLEASE SOUP MAIL ME YOUR POEM AND I WILL ADD IT TO THE COLLABORATION
10-04-17
You don’t have to pitch a tent
Nor build a house to stay
When thousands of us wander desperate
Without a home or place to rest,
You own a house with a magic door,
That opens at will without a key or latch.
Well protected from all wicked wight
Safe from all robbers, rowdies, and rodents
No evil spirits, vampires, or ghouls
Dare to disturb it at any rate
It is stronger than all structures extant
Built-in mortar, bricks, or rocks
You are the monarch of a larger empire.
Land and water are under your sway,
Free to enjoy the treasures of the sea,
And feast on the wonders of the land.
You are a companion to the ravenous shark,
Darting spectres through the azure dark
And also monsters that roam the deep
With their uncouth gambols and abrupt leap
You love strolling along the slimy strands
And dive down along with the laughing waves
You bury your eggs on the sandy shores
And guard your progeny from all snares
You are another name for alertness and caution
You make sure that all around is safe and secure,
Before you come out from your rocky shelter
And shrink back at once when dangers lurk
You carry on your back your home and shelter
Built so compact to guard you from all external threat
Oh! Turtle, we deem you blessed under your carapace
But perhaps you may have a different tale to narrate
For all that we see or seem to see
Aren’t they truths far removed from the truth?
Young Soul
Dear young soul who stole your smile that you go around stone faced like one who wears the weight of the world holding you down. Where is the joy that once filled you when you chose to incarnate yourself in a form of this melanin thin body and heart that aims to please everyone accept you but for every insult, rejection, disappointment fear insecurity, humiliation and tease; bars in the form of labels were encased around you rules and expectations were given to you where you slowly began to forget what it truly meant to be free. Your eyes were replaced with blurry vision so you have no sight of the greatness and potential you truly possess. Self-doubt and uncertainty slowly began to invade every crack and crevice of your being so you appear in the eyes of them as unsure of your self. Dear strong soul who silenced your voice that you believe what you have to say is of no importance that the mere sound of every word that comes forth from the core of your inner parts fades out in the distance scattered by the wind. That the opinions of others confrontational assertiveness causes you to hesitate shrink back and cringe. Young soul who mislead you that you feel like you have lost your way to finding fulfillment in every moment, who wrote the blueprint for the way you are suppose to live, who was there to give you direction through every path in life’s system requires you to navigate
I often shrink back and lose my faith,
God’s love with abandon I crave and chase,
I have moved mountains with just a glimmer of hope,
I have enslaved nations and to children sold dope,
I am the salt of the earth and a scourge of mankind,
I strive with all that I am to dwell in Christ’s mind,
I am caught up in fear and many of its lies,
I intercede against the enemy so that all might rise,
I reflect Christ perfectly and defame his name,
I have the courage of David and bare Judas’ shame,
I have betrayed and been loyal,
I am Battered and bruised, triumphant and royal,
I have victimized others and acted in malice,
With many afflicted I have shared his love’s chalice,
I am divine and depraved,
I am soiled and saved,
I am a Christian, caught up in hypocrisy’s web,
And many to the light of love I have led,
I am a Christian and when my fullness is revealed,
You will see the lame walk, and the afflicted healed,
I am a Christian and though I don’t look it now,
One day you will see me and your heart will scream loud,
That you have seen God incarnate in all of her glory,
That you have seen a solution to this life’s worry,
That you have seen the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost too,
I am a Christian, I love Jesus, and so can you,
And together we will fall and together rise high,
To embrace our blessed savior in the cosmic sky.