Long Souped Poems
Long Souped Poems. Below are the most popular long Souped by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Souped poems by poem length and keyword.
I’m a new style hell's angel
I hate motor bykes
I tear up the town on my new
Souped up electric tryke
Burning up the pavements
Finding litter bins
Ands when no ones looking
Putting rubbish in.
I don’t wear dirty leather
It’s so hard on my skin
And I aways smear the best
Aftershave on my chin
And I don't go with women
That just aint my way
For to tell the truth
This angel's very gay.
I guess I’m just a rebel
Way ahead of the rest
But for a retiring chap
I think my way’s the best
I’ll never lead the pack
Never wear the full kit
But I can do their mending
And show them how to knit.
Times have changed but kids have not, always pushing against the rule.
Always trying to step over the line, every single day at the school.
It was once “Get to the office. Line up, then put your hands out in the air”.
Or, “You’re getting the paddle kid, now bend over the table or chair.”
And kids calmed down, pulled their socks up, and dared not complain.
Never let the folks know, no tears or sobs, no sign of physical pain.
But then we removed the capital, withdrew the leash, the leash to deter and curb.
Replaced it with Ritalin, medicated Meth, Adderall, and a souped up little herb.
So now the consequence is not a paddle, a belt, or six of the best.
It’s a medicated lobotomy like in “One Flew Over the Cuckoos Nest”.
Kids didn’t change their inquisitive nature, their desire to question and probe.
Society did, choosing instead, to just drug these young kids’ frontal lobe.
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Images grace the page like velvet over skin,
caressing the senses fine as red wine…
And we all take a sip of poetic lines,
connecting people from varied time frames,
while through heartfelt exchanges, the site
becomes a family that bridges rails of pain,
love, or anger . Oh how messages
fill our souped-up boxes with personal notes,
to express simple or complex views on a
glassy leaf of a screen.
Our need to relate deeply among so many
whose voices and faces are neither heard
nor seen , marks the thumbprint of friendship :
reaching out daily to light up
each others' moment, enduring someone’s brief
absence while affection blooms through a
warm nourishment of the soul, drinking
in the flavor brewed by the fusion of affinity
as soup-minstrels gather around
the circle’s bonfire… refreshed, enriched, re-affirmed.
a limning rush of sinister
fiery angry flames bent avast
analogous copse,
where every limb bough, bore full
roaring furnace hot blast
spewing weighty incendiary volcanic
magmatic eruption out classed
Krakatoa, no longer the benchmark,
sans most powerful trajectory arc
this latest supernatural phenomena poetic
pre sent dent trumpeting not don
shearing, slamming,
and stripping off tree bark
(most definitely paging the innocuous Clark
Kent, where like loess lain
during Pleistocene Epoch
rendered, manifested dark
kenning shroud likened
to world wide webbing em brace
where lava floes easily did
(like a poetic souped up Chevy)
out to chase innocent prey
smoothing over (akin to mason,
or gigantic glazier) clearly shining deface
of planet Earth with a smooth glassy like face
though starkly barren, bereft, bilked
every last trace of civilization
nonetheless exhibiting amazing grace
which global catastrophic event poo tin brake
fast upon ONE haughty, egoistic
arrogant *****Sapiens chief drake
particularly Reich king machine "FAKE"
superman usurping free reign crowning himself
totalitarian American tyrant,
bare ring his right arms
emulating gesticulation sans dictatorship
of the Proletariat make
pact with credo of Karl, Harpo,
Groucho, and Chico Marx,
where mortals DID NOT quake
especially empowered youths
asper grassroots action they did take.
Written to the tune of "Jingle Bells"
Here in Florida,
We don't get any snow,
We don't have sleighs to ride,
But we do have mistletoe!
For a little Christmas jaunt,
We'll drive 'round after dark,
To view the Christmas-lighted homes,
And displays at the park.
Ho! Ho! Ho!
He! He! He!
Christmas time is here.
Let's deck the halls and shop the malls,
To spread some Christmas cheer!
Ho! Ho! Ho!
He! He! He!
Christmas time is here.
Let's deck the halls and shop the malls,
To spread some Christmas cheer!
Driving through the rain,
In a souped up Cheverolet,
Traffic's moving slow,
But hey, that's A-okay.
Christmas carols blare,
From the Chevy's radio,
We're having fun singing along,
Making words up as we go!
Ho! Ho! Ho!
He! He! He!
Christmas time is here.
Let's deck the halls and shop the malls,
To spread some Christmas cheer!
Ho! Ho! Ho!
He! He! He!
Christmas time is here.
Let's deck the halls and shop the malls,
To spread some Christmas cheer!
12/4/2011
I was jet skiing on the wings of a jet stream
when I noticed the others floating along.
First a small robin, then an eagle and
finally a small red helicopter joined our little throng.
As we passed over the next country,
I recognized it as oriental beautiful Hong Kong.
What game were they playing in the park?
Was it the wonderful clever Mahjong?
Crazy jet stream suddenly pitched us in another direction,
and we were singing along.
To a new hip hop rap, joined by a super-terrific souped-up bike
and Mr. Lance Armstrong.
This is great he said, I have been counting on a
little well-needed airborne break all week long.
With the birds, and the helicopter, the bike,
and a world-famous athlete, what could go wrong?
We went fast and furiously back to the 50’s,
and we were grabbed by fierce looking King Kong.
A place we should never have gone back to,
which we realized quite keenly, in not very long.
There was soon a crowd gathering under the Empire State Building,
a real angry throng.
As we were thrown into the crowd at warp-like speed,
I wished I was back in beautiful Hong Kong.
~The Rhinoceros That Roared~
The Wrinkled skin of the Rhinoceros
Steel hard, no man can penetrate
The young buck on the tourist bus
Thought if he killed one, his lovers heart he could take.
He wanted to be a macho man...
But he was just a spoilt rich boy
He took his souped up jeep out there
He roared the engine of his favorite toy.
The horn of the Rhino he wanted to win
To give to the girl he loved, as a prize
It is supposed to be an aphrodisiac
But he was in for a great big surprise.
He faced the Rhino in his souped up jeep
The Rhino looked bored, if one can, so to speak…
Pedal to the metal, head on towards the horn
The wheels spun, the earth showered, the Rhino looked forlorn.
The jeep roared at the Rhino, who opened his mouth up wide
Just as the souped up idiot hit-and he drove on right inside
The Rhino swallowed and walked away with a jaunty gate
The girl he lost, he disappeared, for them it was to late…
Tales are told in whispered voice still through out the land
They tell of a Rhino who does strange things when his temper is fanned
His eyes flash, his feet spin, a horn beeps, and more
Just don’t get in front of him, because you can hear an engine roar…
©~GG~ 19/08/2012
As a kid, he climbed the highest trees
walked to the end of thin, jouncing branches
grinning, while those below him shook with fear
His teen years were taken up with his 'machine'
whose engine he souped up to play 'chicken'
racing to the edge of cliffs, rebel without a cause
In his 20's and 30's, he hit the casinos nightly
beating the house just often enough
to stay ahead of the payments on all four of his cars
At 50, he took up bungee jumping
entering tournaments, spending six months
in the hospital that year, two months in rehab
Turning 60, he refused to wear a mask
A matter of principle, he told me
His principles landed him in the hospital again
He went from ventilator to grave in four days
Pause in applause Poet you Write for a life
times Mind finding the blinding bliss of the Jest
yes Just, and for the fun. This and these. Poems.
Best of balloons tunes and cartoon cars in the sun
two red blue shoes to be seen in chacO.latte covered
blueGenes... Yes, Rod is the berry cherry flavor too,
savor kids, Shes a trekin' . Knot messin' with the
Apple.sauce Know.... the show goes on. AND on.
Engage! Minnie speaks in a java porcelain peak
of the mornings jargon a song long drawn in a cup
souped up of the day and a dawn. It's called fun.
Real.a.Tea. Have a Sum squeeks the java called Jo.
Lava Godiva.Cocao.nut too? With your lime Pooh?
"I was Just, making sure of you..."
"Number One... You have the bridge." Fly Write
our bird burning Sage of a ship.Friend. By night
I intend to return Planets burn for the knoW
so traveling I go now... to find the Monk...
Sublime in my rhyme I leave you be.Number One
on the bridge a Time to see Spock's on the Clock
and I'll be back... Terms to later are better then
fights in flights of bad weather.And so. Make it so!
Applause!.EnterPrise.PeAce is the Prize. Write!
AND put some sauce in them Apples!Two.(h)Our Zulu.
Form:
I'm Boss Hogg and Rosco keeps trying to eat my food.
It's been my dream to see Daisy Duke in the nude.
The Duke boys keep fighting me because I'm a crook.
If you do business with me, you're going to get took.
Lulu is my wife and she's even fatter than me.
I'm going to hire a hitman so that I can be free.
It really bothers me because Rosco is my brother-in-law.
I puked all over the floor because Lulu just took off her bra.
Rosco can't catch the Duke boys, the souped up General Lee causes him to fail.
I will see Daisy naked and I won't rest until those Duke boys are in jail!
(This poem was inspired by The Dukes of Hazzard TV show which is my 2nd favorite TV show.)