Long Slime Poems
Long Slime Poems. Below are the most popular long Slime by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Slime poems by poem length and keyword.
I am what drives anxiety's climb,
stalking darkness, I'm shrouded in shadow.
I was born in primordial slime,
and the more I'm fed, the more I grow,
morphing into terror over time.
I'm what makes you shiver in the dark:
that icy chill that runs up your spine.
I'm the teeth in the jaws of a shark,
and no aura is darker than mine:
a sullied shadow, empty and stark.
I'm the phantom that lurks in the night;
razing hairs on the back of your neck.
I paralyze with a crippling fright
that makes people pause and double-check;
instinctive feelings of fight or flight.
I'm a sound that can summon a tear
with a creak; heard walking up the stairs.
And panic joins me when I appear,
for I am the boogeyman who scares
people of all ages; I am fear.
Glenn Hughes's "City of Crime", from the film Dragnet, shows us what happens when a municipality goes astray. The city - Los Angeles. This story, which is also true, depicts another town which has lost its way. You know it by the name "Gotham". The names have not been changed, to protect nobody.
Oh, how I love my home, good ol’ Gotham City!
It’s just enough grimy and just the right gritty.
It has Batman, the greatest crusader against crime.
I wouldn’t leave this cesspool, nope, not anytime.
But lately, Batman is gaining the upper hand.
Time for the sleazebags and criminals to expand.
The Dark Knight has no sense of humor when he works.
His face never changes when he beats up the jerks.
The Joker finds humor in any situation -
Laughing his head off at some sick deviation.
He said he’d grow into a comic, and they laughed.
They’re not laughing now, as he practices his craft.
The Riddler gives our brains some things to consider.
He’s a laughing puzzle and conundrum transmitter.
He asked us “what does a liar do when he’s dead?”
“He lies still” is what he eventually said.
The deformed Penguin’s mother threw him in the river.
He’d grow up in the sewers, but he would forgive her.
The creep learned a lot in that revolting world of slop -
He owns the mayor and police to the very last cop.
Where do the city’s lawyers come down in this mess?
They can’t get these dirtballs and clowns to confess.
To pin a rap, they should plug away undeterred,
But they’re off in the Poconos looking for a bird.
Add a new weirdo to this corruption and slime,
To tip the balance to the purveyors of crime.
Batman, meet the man who speaks only in rhyme.
The Rhymer makes your face look like it just ate a lime.
Bragg's just an ass, a poor leftist stooge
Bought for in full by the Soros machine,
Why target me when he knows he will lose
His obvious intentions malicious and mean.
As to that Stormy, a vixen indeed,
She's now named me ‘Tiny’ can't clearly be true,
Her one claim to fame fueled by greed
The day I first met her is the day I now rue.
But let them come on these little red ants,
For they fail to see that if their venom may sting
Their incredible ravings and irascible rants
Provide the real juice to make my fans sing.
In chorus the cry my name in support
The Trump flags unfurled throughout this great land,
Denouncing the wrongs of my reign cut so short,
Making it known where each of them stand.
I've said it before but I'll say it again,
They stole what was mine for the very last time,
But this go around I'll make it quite plain
Whatever they throw will fade just like slime.
Peter Perkins loved tasty pumpkin, in pies, in puddings and etcetera;
Which filled their house with tempting smells, so said his wife, Elena.
Beloved Elena was a splendid cook, to which fond Peter could attest,
With hand over his crimson heart, like rouge sun dyeing in the west.
The Perkins had a bouncy pet rabbit; and they called him 'Scamper,'
Like pretty, fall leaves forever flying, in hues red, purple and amber.
Frigid days had turned fragrant, and the friendly friends came calling,
And flirtatious, warm breezes flitted, over emerald fields, sprawling.
Finite, foggy dawn had vanished, when flattering rays flooded noon;
And fave, forever family came for visits, at the onset of mellow June.
They lived in the house of sweetness, and of delicious desserts, daily,
In the times of sun glazed windows, looking out on pretty, pink daisy.
Twilight, sapphire skies glorified stars, on their scenic, sunset street;
And they took daily scent strolls, to smile at fine people they'd meet.
Nonnegligent nature was naturally beautiful, when neighbors visited,
In noiseless, green hours of dulcet notes, and pink robin, uninhibited.
'Slime' lily's long tresses were curling, awaiting silvery drops of rain;
As 'true blood' roses lay wounded, and 'spiral' aloe soothed their pain.
Peter and Elena were planning a trip abroad, their fare already paid;
When Peter suddenly reinjured his kinee, ruining the plans they made!
As the doctor advised only limited walking, a trip was unwise for him;
But, he couldn't keep Elena from her dream, based on a fateful whim!
Their tickets were nonrefundable, and he would miss his wife dearly;
But Elena would have a wonderful time, as pretty, fall leaves do, yearly.
Elena bought a curio pumpkin house. Its rosy panes seemed to smile;
And placed inside her small photo, to stay close, across distant miles.
Whenever Peter gazed at his gift, it brought smiles, rather than sighs;
Like the last gasp of vermilion sunset, afore the silver, moonlight prize!
'Peter, Peter pumpkin eater,
Had a wife but couldn't keep her;
He put her in a pumpkin shell
And there he kept her very well.'
I have this awful feeling that the universe is changing its shape, and the earth is going to increase the human race, the Meteorites are sailing through the sky, and the earth is racing in a different time to honor a period that has already died.
It’s hard to set the world in motion when three-quarter of our planet is sinking beneath the deck and the sun is moving closer to the earth to suck up the moisture and heats up the land, a piece of paradise is falling from your hand.
I wonder what they will find up there when the universe has so much to share, the moon is full too soon and flowers are blooming under the crescent moon, the temperature is rising, and the earth is blazing, and the ocean level is rising.
A strange wind from the East is passing through the sky packed with nitrogen and it will make you die, it has come too close to the earth and mingling with the elements that is made up of dirt, it is stuck behind the mountains, and it will stay there until the earth changed its form.
Oh what wonders lies in those tiny sockets with imaginary strings floating in the air as they parachute and float inconspicuously in the atmosphere. They are holding the universe together and they make our lives better. I can see the valves opening and closing and the air pressure slowly releasing and the mugs dancing and bouncing in space.
The air above me is mixed with grime, the air around me is laden with slime, the deposits from the sea and the spaceship debris fell right in front of me but mercy was right onetime to rescue me. The mission to the moon will return to earth sometime before noon, position someone at the gate to measure the temperature before it burst in flame. The air around me is polluted.
Just when I think I've seen it
All throughout this land
They went and upped the anti
On the classic can of Spam
Those with the higher power
The ones that run the show
The Spam men of the hour
In a bunker buried way down low
Have added different flavors
To this meat of mystery
From Teriyaki to Tocino
That's bacon to those who don't speak Philippine
They heat it up with Jalapeno
Helps to liven up the slime
Those bunker boys as they're fondly known
Have really out done themselves this time
Aloha from Hawaii?
Imagine Spam in a Hula skirt
As they pull out the Leis and go all the way
Adding pineapple to those Spam burps
Exciting rumors have it
They're in talks with Oreo
There's no place in this universe
That a good slice of spam won't go
The only thing they need to work on
Is the dipping in the milk
They have yet to solve the problem
Of the massive oil spill
Yes they've taken what the rest of us
Never thought could be improved
Just goes to show what ingenuity
And a touch of crazy genius can do
Waters rise, engulf the land and other ruses
we devise to block their flow, to stem the tides.
Anxious, we are left to ride the waves
on fragile barques bereft of sails.
Such flimsy arks (mere barrel staves
and baling wire) float up the sides
of great sea-risers like defiant snails
awash in slime. In time, seabrine looses
collective holds on congealed excuses
and in salt solution we dissolve.
To silver fishes we soon devolve
while worlds and stars, giants and dwarfs,
fade from mind like boats from wharfs.
And when to darker depths we dive,
will fishes miss us? Shall we survive
apart from sky, from air, from dry?
If at last we gasp and die
will crabs cavort? Can fishes cry?
Lovie Divine
I am His, He is mine,
His love in me excelling so sublime,
The age of grace, through Christ,
I’m now claimed as thine,
Forever truly Lovie Divine
Daughter of Jesus,
acquainted with tears,
Dreams and Visions calmed a young child’s
night terros and fears,
Angels for playmates in innocent years,
Will live for Him til He appears,
A young lady once strayed,
in confusing times,
Naked and lost, only to find,
Without His light in this dark world,
wondering blind,
But He delivered me from a path of slime.
Armed for battle,
a life of scars and tears,
Dimming visions in thr fog, sharpened ears,
Never known a deeper love than His so dear,
Amazing Grace, but righteous His judgement near.
For many, their whole lifetime,
they will spend,
They will search the world over,
from end to end,
To think that a soul will never find,
are the wistful sorrows of Lovie Divine
The graceful gift to bear His name,
His favor more than wealth and fame,
Awaiting bride, in redemption’s gown,
His rapturous shout on trumpet’s sound.
Upon my children, now let it be,
the blood of Christ our Trinity.
to know Him oh so personally,
The veil was rent, in victory.
My pen, His heart, to yours through mine,
His love by who I am defined,
I bare the name of Him,
Savior of all of mankind,
Joys for sorrows, Lovie Divine
At three, the garden writes itself in slime—
silver calligraphy across the flagstones
where I pace in my wool habit, sweating.
The moths are frantic priests
hurling their small bodies at the lamp’s false sun,
again, again, a liturgy of burning.
I used to call this Devil’s hour.
Now I know there is no Devil,
only the slug’s blind pull toward rot,
the cartography of appetite
mapped in mucus on the path
where saints once walked to Matins.
The hostas are being eaten.
Something is always eating.
I watch a moth singe its wing-dust on the bulb—
that powdery baptism, useless—
and drop stunned to the stones
where a slug begins its pilgrimage across the corpse.
This is the only honest prayer:
mandibles working in darkness,
the chemical shimmer of a slug’s foot
seeking the soft meat of decay.
No one is listening. No one was ever listening.
The garden teaches me its single lesson—
matter consuming matter,
the world folding into itself
like hands at vespers, purposeless,
perfect. The moths know
what I am only learning:
light is not love. Light is just light,
and we are who burn for.
While traveling at warp speed on the Enterprise
Captain Kirk came across a pleasant surprise
He came upon the planet Poetron
Where the written word was spawned
So Scottie beamed him down
To see what he could find
The planet had a reddish brown
surface, and with letters it was mined
The captain stepped on a vowel
And immediately he started to rhyme
But as he began to spell
The letters turned into slime
And Kirk began to sink into a soupy grime
But Scottie managed to beam him up in time
And the captain became a poet in his prime
Uhuru seemed to like his poetic lines
But Spock was not so inclined
And Bones thought he had lost his mind
But everything turned out fine
Then at warp speed he headed off to adventures new
To a strange planet called Haiku
Joseph May
Theme: Kirk becomes a poet