Long Sidetrack Poems
Long Sidetrack Poems. Below are the most popular long Sidetrack by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Sidetrack poems by poem length and keyword.
*Image of Hellboy II: The Golden Army by Wallpaper Flare.
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The Gret of Regret, Soliloquy
I remember, but naught too well, the first time of Hellboy, an earthy creature, a-must-be, heaven would naught have created a being such as he, and after all, he's naught an "it", oh no, for he thinks -- methinks, much too straight-forwardly and on his feet to boot. Move before they do and always get to the upper hand of things, seems to be his John Madden playbook of the '70s. Why bother with logic and reason when Hellboy is dealing with fragile minds bent on world conquest.
The Golden Army, the Hellboy movie I've seen some years ago when my kids, were kids -- and I being the eldest. Vagueness plagues me to no end, but the inkling gist was a brother and sister duo, but sadly, naught so much so, for sister played her own brother and teamed with Hellboy instead. The telltale sign envisioned in the frat's eyes, being the wherewithal, their Ides of March to be -- in arrears, of betrayal. To be undone by the one, by the very one.
Life can be fleeting but we came to know that honor fleets faster. Though the appearance of its angle for the perspective of the movie was considered simply as a sidetrack sorta thing, yet in and of itself, became the films main attraction, piquing interest within the audiences already situated in full enjoyment of the twist, and how it will all play out in that, edge-of-the-seat moment. Alas, ambiguity wins at the end, for death did occur, but whose? Naught Hellboy, I'm certain of that!
2022 January 28
*2nd Place*
Mignolaverse
~~Robert James Liguori: Judged 2022 January 31
N.orth E.ast W.est S.outh
In the North the news brays
There’s no equality
And adds to the fray
Staged hostility
In the East they mouth
There’s new racial frictions
Plus they, in West and South
Peddle hostile fictions
Don’t look to the NEWS
Look to the North, East, West, and South
In the North of somewhere
Tangled stories are told
Purposely to ensnare
Minds of both young and old
They serve up in the East
Slick partialities
Dishing a hollow feast
Though we crave realities
While the news is devoured
By human sheep with zest
A new division’s powered
To sidetrack those out West
These lies pass word of mouth
Are echoed on the news
Not to North, East, West, and South
Until most agree with their views
Don’t look to the NEWS
Look to the North, East, West, and South
What’s new is not their news
What’s new is coming forth
It’s to see through their ruse
That is not pointed North
What’s news is our decision
Whether it comes from the East
Not a corporate vision
Used solely to fleece
Us, with their practiced stealth
Used to deplete our nest
So look out for your wealth
That won’t vanish in the West
Make sure the news is vouched
Obtained from checked sources
And try books from the South
Or take some logic courses
Look North, East, West, and South
For what is really news
And don’t let into your house
The tricks they always use
North, East, West, and South will
Provide us with the clues
To always live where peace will
Be the only news we choose
Don’t look to the NEWS
Look to the North, East, West, and South
The origins of light born through the dark velvet,
Linger in the outer stratospheres of air.
Reaching out to the cosmic bodies connecting,
Pure sources of energy.
Expanding with the birth of every living creature,
Exhale with the breaths of the sky.
The collision of mindless mass;
Sidetrack them on to an enlightened path.
For this journey will not be reached overnight,
Even light-years take time to travel
Although light is quicker then sound.
When it reached my heart is unknown,
It was hidden many times I searched the 4 chambers.
Locked away in the abyss from light,
Darkness; where it was found.
A bright light keeps all amused in this matrix,
For the ones who proclaim they speak the truth;
Won’t tell you the truth that they are speaking lies.
Leave you lost in the city of light,
With your mind locked on the beauty &
Materials of the ones suppose to have made it big.
For even though the Bentleys and Mansions
Seems to hold they spot in false happiness secured.
We are not privileged to see behind closed doors.
They say what's done in darkness will come to light,
Even though those that live in the light,
Will return to the true source of darkness.
Only to find out darkness is where the creation begin.
For in the beginning God said let their be light,
Even though for the conscious mass,
Light was present all the time.
For the light is what you make it,
But darkness is the origin of life itself.
Pennilessness disallows me
luxury tubby globe trekker
hence, my imagination
takes me random places minus
the hassles of
any rubber necker
gawkers always staring
at major or minor
crash test dummy
vehicular accident,
(now strictly, squarely,
and specifically,
for poetic license purposes
of this reasonably
rhyming adversity
I dreamt up, while
driving Miss Daisy, this
"FAKE" serious, albeit
totally tubularly
fictitious ho...
ho...humvee wrecker
involving holiday passengers
seated in luxury
of double decker
self driving bus,
which collided with a sleigh
carelessly manned by Santa Clause
(though no animals i.e. reindeer
harmed in the writing
of this video script)
donned in his
New England Patriot
Scottish Tartan checker,
thus the aforementioned,
non fatal narrow brush you
need rest assured, sans
make believe death - whew
fortunately miraculously,
and unbelievably true
lee delivered angels
intervened clear
out of the blue
mainly conjured from
me matt chew,
hoping ye dear reader enjoy
what I figuratively drew
merely to distract thee
dearly especial fan
to sidetrack vital tasks and brew
up a mug of warm
spirits from a moo moo
kosher bovine amazingly
able to understand Hebrew.
Was his theme song to his life story
An old record...from present to history
A soundtrack
To any sidetrack...on his block
To his black...and back from his black
He knew the words
As though he had written them
He loved the melody...it composed him
As though he was the instrument
The best swing of his golf club...on the green!
His heart melted...it consumed him
And nothing mattered
Or even existed...for he was lost
He was overcome
By a force he couldn’t fathom
But that he couln't deny and he openly welcomed
It drove his soul to the highway and beyond
It abandoned his inhibitions
It stripped him off his pride
The excitement returned him to child
To innocence...to how he met my mother
Time stood still
Nothing existed...through the chorus
It posessed him utterly and completely
Only when he reached the climax
Did he think all this naive
But I saw his withdrawing tears
His raw menhood...his true blood
And for a song duration
We connected a generation
Father and son...through Dobie Gray
Happy Father’s Day
Ngoma Sr.
In a world of filled of hate
Love is not the enough
We need a clean slate
We need to keep the Black life Matters
Movement, going to make a change
We have given up on believing
The superior, then there is the inferior
The rich and then there is the poor
The celebrities and there is the followers
Then comes action, follow by reactions:
Politics and politicians: riots and bigots
Beam us up Scotty: beam then down Lucifer
Lord of the Darkness …….
forces of chaos on Earth and in the netherworld.
I read this morning that Kanye W
Is thanking the lord for his $68 million refund
Here I am thanking the lord this morning
Not to be gun down, by the drifters
Or the boom, boom nightly firecrackers
Or to be sidetrack by mad ass co-workers,
Only if peace would come sooner,
And haters would vanish…..
Like the children of Hamlet town
Who owes the piper , should the darn pied piper
What on her disgruntle to sidetrack my dear love-
When by all means all hers are the mainspring of my joy?
Her face; yea, hers, is the mellow effulgence of moon
That sweeps away malaise out of my face
Her smiles are the wellspring of my joy
That deluge me with utter merriment
Her voice is the musical warble of my day
That hum me melodies of comfort and solace
Now all her cascading tears; give them to me
They are the quencher I slurp for my emotional aridity
O ours is the entiwed souls tried-and-true
For all she gives I atone equally
Good and bad we stick like a cockle burr in a sheep's coat
In her galling dejection--when she is as weak as a clay pigeon,
My arms I stretch for her bulwark
And I relieve seeing her guffaw like a first swimmer duckling
Who lay her hassock when she topples?
Or where else on earth is the assuagement to her throes?
Donkeys are known for their sheer stubborness;
determination beyond compare.
I see three "saints" for donkeys, nonetheless -
Mary's transport to Bethlehem's square
and Balaam's unique donkey, quite rare.
Mary's donkey is not mentioned per se
in God’s Word, but I don’t think she walked.
Balaam’s donkey saw an angel guarding the way.
After two beatings, he sat down and balked;
and in self-defense that poor donkey talked.
Balaam had not seen the angel’s drawn sword
warning him not to return to Balak.
Now he was told to speak only God’s words.
And what of the donkey? now on a sidetrack -
I hope Balaam had some treats in his knapsack.
There IS one more donkey, I should mention,
the one who carried Christ to Jerusalem
near the end of His salvation mission.
The foal of a donkey, a colt bore Him
to His venue of death and human mayhem.
Here come old grandpa
He come movin' up slowly
He got, big-a-belly
He got, roley-poley
He got, hair...on his ears
He got to be a grandpa he lived so many years
He drink- no more, moonshine
He got, gout toeitus
He got, monkey back
He shoot, insulin
He say, I don't... remember you
One thing he should know is that he's one hundred and two
He lacks production
He got, two sets of dentures
He got, always sidetrack
He got, soup and crackers
He got, gout, down...on his feet
Sitting in his wheelchair he's got old-age disease
Does he remember, right now- he's one hundred and two
He can't use a toaster
He got, cold- needs a warming
He got, dementia
He lost, mojo filter
He say, one and one and one is four
Got to be dementia 'cause he can't add anymore
Does he remember, right now, he's one hundred and two
The world can sputter around us,
deject and confound us
topple us up one side and right down the other
but I'll still be me and you'll still be you.
The people we love can abhor us,
can coddle too much or ignore us
verbalize truths which would be best if kept hidden
but I'll always know the deep value in you.
Our bodies can start to waylay us
twist cripple, and scold us
turn chestnut hair grey and blond locks to sand
but I will still see the youth in you.
Our minds can confuse us
turn limp and sidetrack us
replay our old memories like black and white films
but I'll never forget the real image of you.
Death may betray us,
may break up and dismay us
take one of us first to the deepest of sleeps
but I'll be waiting one way or another, and I'm guessing, that you will be too.