Long Slang Poems
Long Slang Poems. Below are the most popular long Slang by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Slang poems by poem length and keyword.
Language breathes. Dictionaries opened their doors to thousands: petrichor finally named, gigil crossing oceans from Tagalog hearts, morto carrying Irish embarrassment across continents. Each word a technofossil in reverse and not debris but seed. Where analog crumbles into digital decay, new phonemes sprout from chat windows and kitchen tables, from Glasgow to Manila, Waterford to Johannesburg.
After warm rain falls
petrichor naming something
we always had known
The mouse jiggler hums on desks where we WFH, pretending presence while bed rotting through Sundays, doom-scrolling until brain fog sets in. A chatbot asks if I'm still there. Ghost kitchens feed nobody's neighbourhood. We've made words for our hollow industriousness, our productive stillness, our illuminated solitude, each term a hard pass at something we cannot quite refuse.
Screen glow at midnight
even the AI wonders
if we're still awake
But listen: teenagers shout skibidi at nothing and everything, absolutely delulu with joy, their rizz and aura untranslatable to us, perfect in their imperfection. A girl shows her butter skin lewk and someone says she ate and left no crumbs, bet. In Dublin, they're morto over spice bags; in Kuala Lumpur, tapau your nasi lemak with kaya on the side. The mouth remembers before the dictionary does. Alamak, how we've been speaking new languages all along.
Grandmother's recipe
lumpia rolls carrying words
the page can't hold yet
Perhaps this is the burnt toast theory of linguistics: what seems lost makes room for what must come. The broligarchy names itself. Gen Alpha coins snackable for their fractured attention, honest about their inheritance. Climavores choose with conscience; we practice eco-minimalism like prayer. Generative AI makes prose while we make slang, both of us biohacking meaning from the ruins of the old world, both of us marvelling that anything grows at all.
Sharp-sharp, we greet
this shoogly train of language
hold on, enjoy ride
"Lizzie Borden took an ax
And gave her mother forty whacks.
When she saw what she had done
She gave her father forty-one."
Whoever wrote this jump-rope song
About Lizzie Borden got it wrong.
Though she did give her stepmom ax whacks aplenty,
By the coroner's count there were no more than twenty.
Then before anyone could scold her or scoff,
Lizzie took her little hatchet,
And whacked her daddy off.
And how many love taps sent Papa to heaven?
The doc thought maybe ten,
No, better make that eleven.
What made Lizzie do it,
What caused her to snap?
Was she simply fed up with her family's crap?
Was stepmother's embrace somewhat less than maternal,
And her dad's fond caress somewhat more than paternal?
Then, of course, there's her sister who saved her from grief
When she helped her burn evidence,
And then on the witness stand raised her right hand
And very politely lied through her teeth.
The inquest was heated,
Everyone testified,
And though she changed hers often,
Liz was well-alibied.
All through the trial she sat calm and unmoved
And was finally acquitted, her guilt never proved.
Now all these years later her legend lives on,
Of the usual suspects she's still number one.
When I read about Lizzie I have often opined,
If she had been musically,
As well as murderously, inclined,
I wonder if Miz Liz would still be so well-known
If her "axe"* had been a saxophone.
*Slang musical term for an instrument such as a saxophone or guitar.
Harvard’s a black hole, info wise.
So, let’s see.. what’s going on? What’s in the news?
Anything? Anything?
Hot take..
Not to be spicy and negative,
but sometimes i’m too much myself.
Too comfortable, open and vocal.
I can be opinionated.
Who knows who’s listening?
It could be anyone.
“That’s not red, it’s carmine,” I blirt.
There’s a rise and rush of feelings around the table.
FAQs drop, I get treated.
“God, get up and get at me,” I replied, with an unnerving poise.
People love a scene.
Happy 4th of July to Yankees everywhere!
.
.
Only a Fool Would Say That by Ivy
Lovely Day by Elizabeth Mitchell
L'Anamour by Ivy
.
slang:
FAQ = told the facts
Treated = attacked
He landed in Oz feeling clever and bright..
Till someone said, “Gday?” he nodded like right.
They said, “Grab a stubby and meet by the ute..”
And he realised quickly… it's a way they commute.
They said, “Chuck your thongs on, we’re heading to the beach..”
Which sounded quite shocking as a figure of speech.
But thongs, not underwear, sat on their feet…
He learned Aussie language is tricky and neat.
“Bring a plate,” they told him, so off he did roam..
With an empty white plate that he brought from his home.
But everyone else had a salad or cake..
Turns out it meant food.. what a rookie mistake.
A bloke said, “No worries..” which seemed pretty kind..
Though sometimes it means that they absolutely mind.
And “yeah, nah” means no.. while “nah, yeah” means yes
It’s funny down under these aussies are the best..
Someone yelled “Shotgun!” and ran to the car..
He thought there’d be danger or trouble afar.
But no one was worried or ready to fight..
They just wanted the front seat on the drive tonight.
“Fair dinkum!” they cried when a story was told..
Which sounded like something quite ancient and old.
And calling someone “mate” seems friendly and sweet..
Unless it’s said slowly… then be quick on ya feet.
Someone said, “Onya!” with a grin ear to ear..
Which left him confused what had happened just here.
He'd opened a door and passed someone a beer..
Turns out “good on ya” means "nice one, my dear."
So now when he's chatting he gives it a crack..
With “reckon,” and “bogan,” and “chuck it out back.”
But one thing’s for certain in slang down this way..
You’ll need a translator by end of the day.
Let me rap to you about where I'm from.
Sidewalks are broken, weeds grow through the cracks.
The people that use them are like the sidewalks,
broken and bummed out.
They have handles like Turkey, Louie the Bum, Sand man.
No one's hip to their real names.
They all think they're righteous.
Me, they call me Kid, so don't be freaking out,
no one cares, it is what it is.
All we care about is the hustle.
The next minute, then the minute after.
So it goes.
This, is my school, I'm hip to it.
In these alleys, on these sidewalks,
where no one can tell if the garbage man came,
where rainbows are neon, books are painted words,
scrawled on concrete walls.
It's where you can get sliced for a joint,
and die for seeing what you shouldn't.
It's cool, don't sweat it.
It's another realm man, so don't flip your wig.
No manicured grass here, only advertisements for whiskey.
Are you hip to it, what I'm laying down.
Listen up my brother, cause I'll be bookin.
In this place, pain is a commodity,
sold by dealers and pimps.
Can you dig it.
I gotta split man, before the fuzz comes.
So hang loose, I gotta drop a dime,
to my connection.
Maybe I'll catch you on the flip side.
1960's slang
contest..Talk the Talk and Walk the Walk
“Go BANG!”
"Is that a gun in your pocket?"
She said
"Careful, I recommend
you need to be undercover,
and soon, call it Espionage M
You’re so disjointed
It's exasperating
but endearing"
He said
"Danger is Your Middle Name
You’ve been decoded!"
She said
"But rest easy, so far
not defrocked
We need you triggering
pistols, and playing
Russian Roulette
and Shuttle Cock -
it will assist me
if your outcome is
alive not dead"
He said
"Dear Badminton,
Is that the same as
being decrypted in bed?
Of course, if you prefer,
we could -
tread water naked
with sharks instead"
She said
"I love it when you
split hairs over slang
Special Agent,
leave the Latin for Corsica,
Confessions remain
secrets left unsaid -
Let’s go vesper
riding full monty
with the high priests of
soliloquy instead...
By the way, you failed to
answer my question -
Is that a gun in your pocket?"
She said
He said
"Come here and pull
the trigger, it’s a
lethal weapon
consider it a
suave kind of
special Agent thing...
Your mission, dearest Cabin Fever"
he pushed the envelope towards her,
"should you so wish to proceed here…."
"Go BANG!"
She said
(LadyLabyrinth / 2020)
"Go Bang" / PNAU
https://youtu.be/PIn4SCgeHsw
"Chameleon / PNAU
https://youtu.be/s2pp_ZAk6Uw
Lyrics:
"Chameleon" / PNA
https://genius.com/Pnau-chameleon-lyrics
"Go Bang" / PNA
https://genius.com/Pnau-go-bang-lyrics
RED CLOVE OIL
ON YOUR DUNGEREE'S
I KNOW WHAT YOU TRYNA DEW
GOING TO SADDLE
SIP FROM THE TROUGFF
WINNING FOR WHATEVER COST
YOU AH WHOREY HOSS!
FINDING MY WHEY BACK
...................................................................
CHOICES INVOLE
DECSION MAKING
OH FOR GOODNESS SAKE AND
THE MERITS OF MULTPE OPTIONS
THE DEGREE OF IT'S IMPORTANCE
BEST DECRIBED IN IT'S SIGNIFICANCES
THE ASSUMPTION OF RESPONSIBLITY
DEFINING PERFORMANCE STANDARDS
FIGURING OUT WHAT'S RIGHT
WHEN I'M WRONG
GOD KNOW'S I'M WRONG
HELP ME UNDERSTAND
WHY WOULD I SUPPORT SOMETHING
THAT UNDERMINES ME LOVING YOU
..................................................................
TELL ME WHERE YOU BEEN
TELL ME WHO BEEN DOIN' YOU
TELL ME IF THIS FOOL
THINK WE LOVERS
TELL ME
WHY DON'T YOU TELL ME
YOU DADDY SAY, YOU GRINDIN ON pHILLY
YO mOMMY SAY, BOY DON'T BE SILLY
yOUR BROTHA MY DOG,
LATELY WE AINT BEEN BARKIN
FOUND OUT FROM oLE GIRL SHE AND YOU BEEN TALKIN
SLANG FOR "F"IN
THEM HICKIES FROM OLE GIRL ON YO NECK
NAH- NO HELL NO
WE AINT GETTIN THAT KINDA PRESS
I DON'T WANNA BE PART OF THAT KINDA MESS
NOW YOU HOLLIN BOUT AH BABY
................................................................................
THEY SUNG THE WORDS " BUT SHE'S AH" &"MI NEXT" AND "GET IN LINE" DRAMDUM'S WHORE: OR THE cONCERTO'S OF WHORES( WHO'S MONGER STEPS IN)
CONCERTO34 AND DEFINED! "YOU BETTER NOT MAKE THIS ONE A NUMBER ONE SINGLE!"
Always Prepared
Ready
Freddy
The Untamed
Feral
Ferril
What’s in Frankie’s Pockets?
Frankie’s
hankies
Patriotic Guy
Yankee
Frankie
Of the highest Quality
Fraser’s
razors
Small Eater
Grazer
Frazer
The Warlock
Pagan
Fagin
The Brilliant One
Star Glow
Fargo
Something’s About to Happen to Him
Herald
Gerald
Poet
The bard
Gerard
The Mimic
Parrot
Garret
Who Needs Pudding and Pie
Georgie
Porgie
Good Grief!
Lordy,
Gordy!
Best Things in his Garden
Gerrett’s
carrots
The Stoic
Steely
Greeley
What People Always Say to Him
Really,
Greeley?
The Generous One
Sharin’
Garen
Thrill Seeker
Gnarly
Harley
So Angry
Snarly
Harley
Embittered
Soured
Howard
Not Brave at All
Coward
Howard
What’s in Henny’s pocket
Henny’s
Pennies
The Pest
Vermin
Herman
What Herman Gives Each Sunday
Herman’s
sermons
Why Can’t He Just Stay Home?
Roamer
Homer
Better Than Ice Cream
Sherbet
Herbert
Get Him Band-aids
Howie’s
Owies
Nonsensical
Phooey
Huey
Always Amazed
Wowie
Howie
The Overly Sentimental One
Gooey
Huey
Divine counsel marked by wise comment
Came from our Mom with love’s caring depth
Along cautions to which we obliged.
“First, do your best in every task’s breadth
Always enjoy chores midst sighs and ‘oomph’
With good success as fulfillment prompts.
Next, choose what’s right, discerning the false
Praying with faith to solve a problem
Like in crossing roads that are zigzag.
Then, be not stressed when you are anxious
Take care of your health against heart wounds
Laugh out loud, giving your soul sweet warmth.
Yes, talk to God; He knows your secret
His grace and power fill what’s empty
Turning awesome greatness from nothing.”
Oh, we thank our Mother* for her bulb
Lighting us to be useful engine
For blest roles in our functional worlds.
Proverbs 6:20 - My son, keep thy father's commandment, and forsake not the law of thy mother.
August 29, 2024
5th place, "MOTHER SAID with Refractory Rhymes" Poetry Writing Premiere Contest; Sponsored by Suzette Richards; judged on 9/15/2024
Refractory rhymes are those words that do not have a natural rhyming word without having to resort to foreign/absolute/slang words, slant rhyme or mosaic rhyme. The word ‘rhyme’ here is used in the strict sense, called a perfect rhyme, that the words are pronounced the same from the vowel of the main stressed syllable onwards. Words that rhyme in one accent or dialect may not rhyme in another.
Pop lock
Sandals with socks
Chrome glints
Rhythm don’t stop
The East might wake first
But the West owns the drop
We decide how the day ends
Slow burn on saltwater glass
Light folds into legend
As hours pass
Seattle rain hums through guitar strings
Portland hums strange with impossible things
LA mirrors shimmer with ambition’s glow
San Diego exhales
Calm
Steady
Slow
The Bay keeps talking in hustle and code
Tech rides the fog down a golden road
Pho steam curls by a muraled wall
Taco trucks preach flavor gospel to all
Grunge ghosts hum down alleyway seams
G funk rides out in low chrome gleams
We built peace signs into protest chants
Concrete remembers how the wind rants
Call it culture
Call it home
Call it flame
Every city a verse
Every block a name
Pretty women move like tidewater bright
Certain in their shine
Sure in their light
Men speak calm
But their minds run fast
Half rebel
Half calm
Built to last
Every accent a remix
Every street a beat
Soul food and sushi rolls
Uniquely meet
Dim sum with slang
Tacos with soul
Flavors blend in ways
That keep us whole
Professors surf before they teach
Students dream just out of reach
We learn from land that burns and heals
Salty ocean air covers what wildfire steals
Dreaming awake
Grounded yet high
Feet in the sand
Head in the sky
From Black Panthers
To beat poets’ hymns
From tech prophets
To Silicon code spins
We reinvent normal
Chill made art
Sunset speaks
Straight to the heart
We turn stillness into language
Fire into grace
We let rhythm breathe
At a West Coast pace
The East may rise first
In story and sign
But the West
Will always
Define the shine