Long Soundproof Poems
Long Soundproof Poems. Below are the most popular long Soundproof by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Soundproof poems by poem length and keyword.
since becoming housed here since this year
july first two thousand and seventeen,
tubby more precise where
with thee missus, amidst bucolic environs,
(one could don underwear
Schwenksville, Pennsylvania
trees abundant with leaves of grass spare
zip cone: one nine four seven three,
this resident doth not find *****
disproportionate amount of time,
he spends never to overhear
the mostly soundproof walls
inside apartment b44 assigned midyear,
one bedroom living social space
gives ample opportunity to assess linear
ratcheting asper elderly folks inch along
chronological space/time continuum
fragile as jasperware
many experience diminution
of vital sensory organs, and oft time cannot hear
even without television blasting away,
no doubt harboring anticipatory anxiey sans,
grim reaper's unannounced visit they fear
their non verbal body language
(when aye espy and stride-rite past,
an old lady or man riding shot gun
securely strapped in wheel chair,
shuffling back where buffalo used to roam,
or trudging to common all purpose gathering place)
speaks volumes analogous to a frightened deer
when caught blindsided
within bright lights of an automobile 'ere
unsure which way to go, and dashing out in the thick
of evening rush hour traffic,
lacking notion, the figurative coast not clear
subsequently doe ting bucks killed, where birds of prey
thence loftily circle gracefully
gliding within upper atmospheric air
page number two:
upon scrutinizing what doth appear
as a hollowed out existence induces me to de clear
to maximize utilizing each precious moment 'ere
before each major metaphorical cog and gear
frankly zaps, this dude looks like a lady,
cuz ah ma longish bedraggled hydrogen peroxide tinted hair
me haint give a rats ass
what rumor mongers relish, and behind me back jeer
Since old people lack for purposefulness tis unlike to leer
that one day (fast as snap of fingers), lack of being ambulatory t'will be near
and upon limitation in physical functionality, aye aim to app pear
motivated to partake of mental exercises just sitting on me rear.
Here is my dreamiest, dream job.
I will get to drive a fire truck and use the sirens - all the way to work and back. The gasoline will be paid for by my company.
There will be no committees, and no paperwork. No one will be required to do anything they do not want to do.
Everyone will be the boss of themselves. We will get to design our own luxurious offices. We decide what our work is.
The woman next to me is designing houses for people who do not have them. I am running a creative writing center slash art studio for pre-teens and full teenagers.
The woman who envisioned this company pays us what we decide we are worth. My best friend spends her day in an enormous greenhouse creating hybrids.
We eat a family style lunch and brainstorm our terrific ideas with each other. There is a lot of laughter, the walls exude joy. We want to stay late.
We have a hot tub, a swimming pool, daycare center, school, and arcade on the premises. The school is manned day and night, even weekends, so our children can go to school and learn geometry or psychiatry, or zoology at any age. All they have to do is talk to the teacher. They can go to school on Saturdays and all night! They love school because the curriculum is designed around their interests.
We can play whenever we want to play, swim whenever we want to swim, design whatever we want to design. Supplies are unlimited. Paper, pencils, coffee, fruit snacks, lunches, and suppers, are all free.
We design our day the way we feel it should go. My perfect career makes me feel respected, and is fulfilling in so many ways. My friends are here, and we help each other so often, they are my family; I am part of theirs also. We each have an apartment if we want to live here. It is soundproof so we can sleep at any time. Naps are encouraged. The perfect workplace. The only time we leave is to worship, because it is strongly encouraged to get away for one day and worship the deity and religion or non-religion of our choice.
What's new with me...Matthew?
Well for starters Nationwide
road service emergency
one man cutting crew
with battery charger in tow knew
exactly why no juice (think electricity),
his hunch found trunk light kept lit,
an innocent looking (to me or you)
lady's handbag accouterment,
fifty shades of blue
stuck out just enough did cue
automotive technician, who
witnessed yours truly flapping
imaginary wings (think) cuckoo
unwittingly, irretrievably, and
admirably lost me scant sanity true
"fake" news I trumpet as a gentile Jew...
Just in time for men
rhythmically singing, melodiously
acapella harmonizing huzzah olé
in white coats besotted and
bespattered with vegetable puree
to take me away
ho-ho hee-hee ha-haaa
hip...hip... hooray
to the funny farm yea,
where life beautiful every day
and skies fifty shades of gray...
Thus, the reason I type pell mell
(think hunt and peck),
an inner madness to quell,
while hermetically locked in padded cell
shut airtight like... a citadel
which soundproof environment hell
lava hot improvement versus dwell
ling with volcanic spouse, and well
equipped to nurture solitude, ah... nobody,
but me and Matty mattel
both of us undergoing re education
initiated courtesy crack atop
noggin tinnitus subsequently
experiencing ringing like liberty bell
afterwards undergoing gender reassignment
clearly yours truly exuded effeminate spell
not recognizing only muttering to himself
fancifully dolled up
as debutante mademoiselle,
and appearing sitting pretty I willingly tell.
Twas glorious occasion regarding
miracles of modern medicine to sing
namely routine engineered
sex change, bitty bing
bitty bang minus one
minor glitch really... nothing
but doggone veteran (aery) surgeon
pulled off bone huff eyed gracefully amazing
stunt at my expense unwittingly injecting
canine female hormonal secretions,
hence I find myself barking, ing
and strong desire burning
to frequent fire hydrants.
*****
A Martian from planet Mars,
He thought the earth was a star.
Then sets down on the moon.
explored until noon.
These earthlings are bazaar.
The Martian's name is Sir Peter.
Earthling, take me to your leader.
Earth? He points up, "See that light."
This green man is not too bright.
Helms a ship with an ohmmeter.
The top leaders of the moon.
Gathered in a soundproof room.
Silly man an ohmmeter!
We will install a GPS meter.
"Mars" launch time is at mid-noon.
Peter launched from "Moons" air base.
left the moon for outer space.
Captain's log entry reads:
Electric tops warp speed.
He's now head of "Aerospace."
Written 2/26/2021
*Ohmmeter- an instrument measuring electric.
verse 1- 7,7,6,6,7,
verse 2- 8,8,7,7,8,
verse 3- 7,7,7,7,7,
verse 4- 7.7.6,6,7
Syllable Counter.net
We will swallow hard this spit hanging in
our throats for the love of our eloping country.
We will soundproof our ears before the
immediate suffering of our honest stomachs.
These are our tracks decorated by thorns
and thorns of hurt and problematic troubles.
this was the vow made in the public ears never
to allow our land tear out again
those bleeding curfew of midnight howls.
Now, mercies at hand, love divided these lines
that father carved in part of protecting fate.
Look at the bruises on our faces weeping,
look at what the sun has done to us,
listen to the happy noise made by our
stomachs under the harsh cruel sun.
This is the hatred caused by those we looked
in their eyes yesterday and saw fear and love.
These are the substances that homed our
regional state of mind but they failed us!
If they failed us in the young day who knows
what the old night will do with our broken spirit?
No one knows the consequences here.
Are we doomed in the morning masses?
Are we really going to see the changes promised?
When will one Naira become one dollar?
When will the School children start collecting the
meals promised before the election?
When will the economy wear a new look?
Where are we going from here, home?
Who is the black cat in Aso rock, the masses?
Is the powerhouse still working because
our streets are in pain of darkness ?
What problem is craving it hands on us?
If breathing of my last wills stand there,
If professionally we failed heaven again.
then Mass bury we be for all the leaders.
we will gather all and bury them to ashes
because they are the Prime Ministers of
our weakness dangling in the air for all to see.
This is our passion planted up there on trees,
our homes are hurting the fears that govern us,
through this lane we will walk diligiently to this
that our country will stand firm and tall through you.
©John Chizoba Vincent
Cam'god
True workplace beauty resides not in grand corner offices
Or sleek designer furniture that impresses.
Nor is it found in trendy open floor plans,
Or state-of-the-art gadgets in employees' hands.
It doesn't dwell in fancy lobbies with marble floors,
Or in boardrooms behind imposing doors.
It's not confined to Silicon Valley's sprawling campuses,
Or Wall Street's towering glass fortresses.
For workplace beauty knows the craft of productivity,
And cares not for superficial creativity.
But...
Perhaps it blooms in a sun-lit, plant-filled space,
Where ideas flourish and stress has no place.
Perhaps it hums in collaborative zones,
Where teamwork thrives and innovation is sown.
Perhaps you'll find it in quiet focus nooks,
Where deep work happens, away from overlooked.
Perhaps it dances in flexible seating arrangements,
Adapting to tasks with swift rearrangements.
Or...
Perhaps it sparkles in a well-stocked break room,
Where casual chats dispel work-day gloom.
Perhaps it glows in ergonomic design,
Where comfort and health perfectly align.
Perhaps it sings in spaces that inspire,
With art and colour to light creative fire.
Perhaps it whispers in soundproof pods,
Where concentration nods.
For...
It is the flow that comes from a well-designed space,
The productivity that quickens work's pace.
It is the balance of function and form,
That makes coming to work the happy norm.
It is the synergy of team and place,
The innovation that thrives in this space.
It is the well-being that permeates the air,
When employees know their company cares.
So...
Make not the mistake of neglecting your space,
For the workplace, beauty sets the work-life pace.
It's beyond mere aesthetics or trendy design,
It's where purpose and people intertwine.
For "Workplace Beauty"...
Once embraced, it transforms the daily grind,
To a place where great work and joy are combined!
when the war was finally over they placed flowers
into the heated barrel of his battered cannon
gathered condolences and dropped poppies
upon unmarked graves and pompous shrines
he was a lucky one who escaped the inferno
scarred tired and weary of explosions in his mind
they pinned a few medals and ribbons onto his chest
held celebrations and parades and glowed in victory
lost in action and deprived of freedom many times
he never surrendered and followed mad orders
took a few lives for glory freedom and survival
now he was confined to a wheel chair of anger
a young veteran who gave all for his country
for insanity gods and industrial military complex
a shining example of the pursuit of delusion and greed
a hero hooked to the needle and food banks in return
youth spent at the frontline near hell’s entrance
a wife who divorced him while soldiering on
with kids ashamed of the cripple he was
he lingered on between hatred and pain
a bit late for brave conscientious objection
self-help books from charity to cover his wounds
the page of his life crumpled the dust jacket torn
he finished off where his innocent enemies had failed
a few comrades paid their respects from a distance
as there were no ramps for their mobility scooters
the priest’s words appeared hollow and out of order
but at least the coffin was soundproof and safe
08th July 2020
You feel lost
Away from your safe hands;
You feel so lonely,
You are the only company to your soul.
You are hurting deep down on the inside
And you have to comfort yourself.
You have waited for long,
And the helper seems to be late.
You feel betrayed by the earth
Like the earth itself is about to turn against you,
To rip you of the flesh made from it's soils;
That you may be left lifeless like a tomb
In your desert of bones that have no future!
You have cried to God,
But it seems like heaven is soundproof
And that God doesn't hear your scared voice calling for his rescue.
You have waited on the promises but it is coming to forever,
And whatever aid is being sent seems to arrive never!
You want to give up
For there is no more life in this life you bear;
No one is stopping you,
Perhaps they feel it is the perfect decision you have made.
But your innerman keeps haunting you
To give life another try,
Reminds you that you never are alone;
For you are a child of God;
And this is testimony enough to make you be thankful.
I know you will change later,
And when that time comes,
Remember that for every trial,
You must kneel down and pray!
The battle isn't yours to fight but the Lord's.
Don't forget to remember that for every victory you attain,
You have to sinng with joy,praises to the LORD your God;
Atleast, acknowledge him for bringing you this far.
In all situations in and around you,
Always turn to God and pray,
Believing and trusting in his grace and mighty power.
And as you wait for your prayer request to be answered,
Wait in the Lord your God; rooting all your trust in him!
God will never disappoint anyone who has faith in him,
You and I know no one he has let down,
Stop giving excuses and give yourself wholly to your maker!
It was snowing, and in the middle of a great big storm… as…
Another storm raged on, inside our dear, sweet little Dragon,
His penguins so care free, were now chasing after, you see…
The great Dragon Country Western Singer and Star, ‘Drago’!
Yep, they wanted autographs from that OTHER musical Guy!
Dressed up in country attire, as they two-stepped, down the hall.
So Dragon put on his cowboy boots and hat, and other fine stuff…
And caterwauled, in competition! Low and behold, surprising us all!
We fell, begged, & prayed for Dragon, to stop, what he was a doing.
He thought he was, grander than grand, for us to be bowing and cooing.
In truth, we were merely, passing out, from traumatic exhaustion!
As he stopped we tackled him, to the ground, which was the only option.
He was so happy; to have such devoted fans, swarm over him, instead!
He was rushed into a sound proof room, to record for YouTube, we said.
In mercy to all, we turned off the sound, so he unknowingly, lip-synced.
Yep, to Drago’s song! Low and behold! He got 50 million hits, I am told.
With so much acclaim, for the video! Royalties roared in, so we decided.
To rent a big bus, to take us, next summer, to see our new friend Drago!
So beware, there’s still time, to get out of town! This truly is, a warning.
I impart, and if he tries to sing again, have a soundproof room a waiting!
And between you two, in a music video, you and Drago will be set for life!
Don’t forget, the penguins, want to dance, in the video with their idols.
Isn’t it amazing, how stories can unfold, to quiet, the WORST of storms?
But Beware, two Dragons, bring bigger storms, than one alone can form!
Written 2-28-2015
3 January 2012
For a friend in need who felt no one could understand him...
I dreamt I was falling
Through black clouds and lightning
The wind tunnels swirling
I don’t know what to do.
Awake now, I look around
I’m lying helpless on the ground
No one around for me to be found
This is must be the sad zoo.
Do you know the sad zoo?
This is the sad zoo…
…This zoo moves.
My life appears normal,
The daily hum-drum routine draws on and on.
Yet, still I feel as if it’s not me doing it.
I am here, in the sad zoo.
I can see me eating, working, sleeping, living,
But from behind the glass of my enclosure.
This is my cage. It is a mirror, but I can see through it.
I watch me like others watch me – nothing unusual or special here.
Yet I’m trapped in the sad zoo.
The sad zoo, which moves so I can follow me around,
Trapped behind this invisible barrier,
So thin you tell me it’s easy to break through…
…but I can’t.
But who cares? Why do I matter?
Too many questions…
Why is this zoo empty?
How did I get here? Is it my zoo?
How did I become so normal? I’m NOT normal! I’M DIFFERENT!
Hmm…. My cage is soundproof.
Even I didn’t hear me.
But I yelled, I know I did. Is my voice really so small?
This zoo has been dug deep into my core.
I can feel it, like a black hole inside of me that keeps getting bigger.
Bottomless, empty, blackness, a pit.
I’m alone in my head.
I’m hungry, but food has no taste.
I’m thirsty, but the water feels dry.
I have sight, but the colours are faded.
I am able, but I can’t make myself move.
This is the sad zoo.
I am in the sad zoo…
…Come visit me?