Long Spray can Poems
Long Spray can Poems. Below are the most popular long Spray can by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Spray can poems by poem length and keyword.
This is a tale of love so rare the kind both lost and found,
A story too big to keep inside or even on the ground.
As I traveled the road on my way to work one day,
I read a sign that I saw, to see what it had to say.
On the overpass was left the sweetest note that could ever be,
Someone had painted “I love Marv” for all the world to see.
It was a message too big and real for on a tree to carve,
And I thought that this must be some great guy this lucky guy named Marv.
To evoke such a passionate message to be left on an overpass,
He must be quite a guy and now it seemed he’d gotten quite a lass.
Her unmatched love has caused her now to risk both life and limb,
To dangle the edge while tempting fate to leave this note for him.
Such loving dedication is in this world too seldom seen,
But it is what we are all searching for in this land of broken dreams.
There was something new a few days later when I traveled across this road,
I saw there was a change to the sign and to the message that it told.
It seems that overnight the V in Marv had somehow grown a tail,
Now a Y was there in its place and could be seen from the trail.
The sign it seemed was now dedicated to a lovely girl named Mary,
Marv’s love for her displayed, I hoped, would never need to vary.
It was a great thing and it warmed my heart when I thought of their plan,
To honor each other and dedicate their love by using a store bought spray paint can.
And even though this lucky Marv had only made one mark,
His love was real and could be measured as coming from his heart.
And I’d hoped for them that their love was a long and lasting bet,
This single dash Romeo and his spray can totting Juliet.
But it seems that Marv’s efforts weren’t fulfilling for his one true Mary,
A single swipe from him just wasn’t enough for her wavering love to carry.
Soon after there appeared a change to what the sign had to say,
The Y had grown a leg to the right and it was now turned into a K.
It seems that Mary’s love of Marv must have only been a lark,
For now her heart was given to some other guy named Mark.
Poor Marv, I thought, his heart must have shattered just like glass,
But that’s what you get when your love is displayed upon an overpass.
Nothing important happened today,
according to an omission
in the local newspaper Metro page
The death of my best friend ... my husband,
this sad story of injustice was missing
Such a horrible ghetto tragedy
wasn’t worth one drop of black ink
A bucket of widow tears,
and a heavy casket of stolen years
ain’t much to write about
Their light compassion darkly color my thoughts
The coroner said specifically more,
though the jargon was impersonal and technical:
Six bullets ... cranial hemorrhage,
two collapsed lungs ... four broken ribs
And a beautiful face unrecognizable
from a brutal beating
My loving spouse was last seen getting stopped
by two police squad cars
Handcuffed and whisked away,
my beloved took a cold visit to the morgue
later that day
Nothing out of the ordinary happened
is what the police arrest report said:
Belligerent attitude ... refused to eat his food,
got violent when questioned ... didn’t follow any of the rules
The dry report clinically concluded:
Suspect resisted in the interrogation room,
and reached for an officer’s weapon
Fear for a lawman’s life
obviously was priority number one
Deadly force was justified, so they say
But, what about the beatings before the discharge of the gun?
Oh, all of the accused officers
got a medal pinned on their professional life
The judge tossed the lawsuit out ... said it was simply
the vengeful rantings of a grief-stricken wife
My meek, mild-mannered man
was slanderously portrayed
as a drug addict who went berserk
Truth be told with a graffiti spray can;
pure honesty sackcloth arrayed,
he died going on his way to work
Nothing too important happened today,
just another ghetto funeral parade
Nothing that important happened today;
truth got covered up and buried,
as the arbiters of justice looked the other way
Nothing too important happened today,
only black shrouded pain on public display
Mental distress note to self:
My personal tragedy occurred on a Wednesday
We war with impunity
And weaponise such things as the
beauty of flowers
And all for what ?
When come today we have to guard the statues and Cenotaph that commemorate our fallen heroes
Only for them to suffer in death the indignity of being treated with such contempt for the very same right's and freedom they gave their lives for
You student's
You self effacing intellects
You political prophet's
You protest
You gather
You march
Underneath your slogan or banner
in righteous indignation of your cause
Such bravery
Such charity
Such courage
Such sacrifice
Once more into the breech
the rallying cry to those
with spray can in hand to vandalize
under the cover of dark with face hidden behind a bandana
I doubt their is anything you would be willing to lay
your life down for apart from maybe your computer and internet access
So next time you log on do yourself a favour and research
your family history and see if any of your family members
lost there lives and think there but for the grace of god go i
These statues and monuments are not supposed to justify or glorify war the complete opposite in fact they are
to remind us of the futility and human cost
but most importantly of all the cause Millions of people
deemed worthy dying for
I wonder if year's to come
how you will be viewed by history
Will people gather to commemorate you
build a statue in your honour
be you remembered by a bank holiday
Or will you hopefully end up instead being a
footnote in a museum
Entitled
When you don't understand your history
And talk before you listen
You run before you can walk
Little Peep Boo
gonna give a ghost face
sneak peek preview
And the Casper Whine burgs
ain’t gon like
the skeleton keyhole truth
We be thee former chain gang,
(y’all know us)
the Menace to Society butt pang
Yeah, klan bruh ... we got the lynch spirit
hanging broken limb tough
Steal it seems,
the Cottonmouth Man (with the head-cracking Cain)
ain’t beat us down enough
Spitting viper shade
is the err spray
that the head cracker love
Hissing hate, forged link made,
is the money play
When push comes to shove
Little Peep Boo
ain’t trying to
subliminally scare you
So take a commercial break,
if your moral bowels
have to drop a few
Just remember to press
the refresh button
When you spray the err
Steal it won’t
conscience clearly absolve you
of the awful things you shackled allowed
sphincter lips to enamel do do
That’s the hard truth of it —
Little spook me
is gonna freely grin spit
shine on some shuffling shoes
Let the sunset crimson reflection
of those mourning blue hues
fall on pale faces
that darkly spread bad news
Lizard skin boots,
wearing dandruff suits,
are croc dropping flaky truth
Spitting viper shade
is the err spray
making follycle souls uncouth
Little Peep Boo
ain’t sunburn afraid to
nappy head bleating heart tell you:
There’s a rug on fire,
and it’s spreading to the roof
Seems the err spray can
of Medusa worms
just wasn’t self-explode proof
Once there was a really tall, jolly fisherman
Who had a slightly crooked nose, named Dan
Dan, the ever-Jolly fisherman came from Japan
And loved to show off his gigantic left hand
that helped him play the cymbals in a jazz band
He played cymbals better then anyone in the land
And though Dan didn’t have a long attention span
He thought up good ideas quick as a laser scan
Working one day on his new worm smelling spray can
He yelled, “Holy Fish Fry” I need fish for my brand
then suddenly he thought of a crazy, zany plan
He would crash his cymbals, Oh! So loud and grand
And all the fishes would jump right into his frying pan
But these little fishes knew how to do the cancan
And instead swung over the pan just like Tarzan
The fishes then sailed away on their green catamaran
Our Jolly fisherman was sad, so wrapped up in an afghan
Then ate his way through a whole pie of toasted pecan
After which the Jolly fisherman did then demand
Fishing with cymbals would forever be on a ban
So away he went to the beach with his entire clan
To lay on his fishnet towel all snug in the hot seaside sand
Telling jokes about fishing while he worked on his tan
He laughed and laughed, because he’s Dan, the Jolly Fisherman
9-1-2022
A Jolly Fisherman Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Julia Ward
Monorhyme style of rhyme
Don’t get caught up with the madness
Stay anti, so you don’t have to deal with sadness
Politicians make us victims of the system
Trick us to love them, that’s why I don’t hear them or listen
There always hating on our history
Buy a spray can and go decorate your history
If you’ve never shopped or brought anything with pennies, you don’t know about struggle
People think life’s a joke, until they get into trouble
Do what you gotta do, hustle and juggle
Don’t play with people’s lives like a pack of cards
Live on the str8 and narrow, don’t wanna end up behind bars
Brother’s out here will buy a belt which cost a bill
Knowing that they gotta pay the gas and light bill
Realizing that their broke, I’d rather pay £10 for one and have £90 in my pocket
Had enough money left to buy Air Forces, I’m thankful I coped It
All now I don’t know how people still brag and floss
I’d rather stay low key, bag up the success and be my own boss
Be careful what you sell, make sure it’s not your soul
Don’t get gassed by the lime light, have your spirit and stay in control
I’d rather have a ghetto romance with a humble hunny
Then pick up an upper class girl just for the money
I’m tryna find the best way to seize the day
Carpe diem, translate the ting to ease my pain.
If the sky truly felt for us it would grow old too
Such words I read, and thought
It does grow old, each day
The hours tick its youth away
Late autumn fades its light
Dressed drab in old lady greys and browns
Bent low, pressed and tired
Winter-wrinkled, puckered up in old man’s frown
Makes you wonder where he went, the fretful boy with rushing eyes
The summer girl with arms flung wide to hug the world
Look up and see the cocky ones pick fights
The chance crowds cluster around
Like riot police and demonstrators
The kind who mask their faces, hurl stones
We all know youth has its storms
And didn’t the sky have them too?
Whip us with the wind, pelt and lash
Be a hooligan, a punk, a vandal
Spray can of snow or rain, and cheeky grin between the clouds
Dawn’s soft and pinkish kiss
Peach flush on city walls
Young mother’s quiet gaze
She throws across her child’s sleepy face
And steady night of map lines, moon
To guide, to cast a blanket broad
Silver streams of lighthouse light
Like teachers, fathers, calmer now with duties and years
Sky grown sedate, less flashy in its spread
Just like us it seems
Of the same moods and seasons
And we like its dawns and dusks
Arrayed with a colorful spectrum that can camouflage
Imagine a butterfly’s life as it silently flutters in flight
Watching her solo or in a multi-pigmented entourage
Your eyes behold her until she disappears from sight
The sunlight reflected her clarity as a shooting star
Wings are so fragile that you dare not touch them
Only a handful of kaleidoscopic creatures match her
She’s brilliant as a stained-glass window or a diadem
The change from larva to butterfly happens as she hurls
A conversion was formed in secret, incredible to behold
She cannot soar until her magnificent new wings unfurl
As she seeks safe shelter from the fierce wind, so bold
Look at how the queen butterfly spreads her wingspan
For a moment, she became aware of her life expectancy
Not just a pretty face from God’s psychedelic spray can
She knows she has to mate with no concern for intimacy
This enchanting transformation gracefully embellishes the earth
An enchanting, delicate species that is admired for its confidence
An enchanted, transformed body yields shortly after giving birth
A gift that brings immense joy carries a rather sorrowful existence
It's going to be another hot Amarillo day, but as I emerge from my car, the morning is still only warm with a gentle breeze blowing. I quickly cross the frontage road and head down the packed earth path. In the distance, I can see my destination, ten Cadillacs with hoods buried and tails sticking out of the ground. The last time I had seen Cadillac Ranch the cars were shiny and recognizable. Now, they are merely metal shells with their insides worn away, spray painted a gallery of colors. Hoping to add my touch to these masterpieces, I am disappointed to find the cars are surrounded by a pool of soggy clay mud, sure to adhere me to the ground as securely as the cars if I step in it. So, grabbing a purple spray can, I add my initial to the alternative works of art on the packed dirt, a small part of myself left behind until man and the elements wear it away, too.
Cadillac garden
front ends planted...tails aloft
graffiti blossoms
6/29/18
for Mick Talbot's Haibun Poetry Contest
Batman and Robin leap through the smashed vault door.
Robin: " Holey moley, Batman, You were right! They're robbing the bank!"
Batman: " Right you are, Robin. What a fiendishly clever criminal prank!"
Holey Moley: " So you spotted me, Twin Tumors! I'm so tired of you two!"
HM:" As the mole turns black, so we'll beat you two... black and blue!"
R: " Batman, he's using his hairy blemish gun to trap us in welts!"
B: " Robin, Quick! Use the anti-mole spray can in your utility belt!"
R: " It's working! Batman! We've stopped every hairy growth cold!"
B: " Yes, Robin! Surrender, you fiend and drop the bills in your fold!"
HM: " You've made your re-marks for the last time ! That's certain!"
HM: " Get them, my big blemishes! Get these vermin or it's curtains!"
Wart, Scar, Scab, Corn, Stretch Mark and Birth Mark lunge at our heroes!
We fade out to Bat Music and the sounds of POW! OOOFF! BAM! and BOP!...
Tune in tomorrow . Same Bat Time. Same Bat Channel.