Long Squads Poems
Long Squads Poems. Below are the most popular long Squads by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Squads poems by poem length and keyword.
"Black and white in want of each other, and not in need, inevitably;
of my following sampling's POV," ... by the Poet.
Pandas are loners, though my statement is a misconception of the simple fact of reproduction and raising. Two credible factors bear on Pandas in the wild, but once they've matured on both points, they part company to be alone.
Between Ludwig van Beethoven and Danny Kaye, tickling those Ivories is a statement for only Kaye since Ivory wasn't a commodity to Pianos over a century old. Striking those 88s does apply, most admirably, for both Piano players.
Dalmatians, a hallmark of fire stations, though by law no animals are allowed, except registered seeing-eye dogs or rescue squads are at the station with qualified animals, or when FEMAs there and their entitled animals.
Possible fun things to see: an Orca reading a Newspaper held up on an aquarium glass; a Penguin nudge a Domino toppling more; a Skunk riding a Zebra-back; in The UK, a Scots girl holding a Soccer Ball under her arm wearing a Pirate's eye patch Skull and Crossbones gazes with her other eye at the inviting Night Sky Stars and Moon while eating an Oreo Cookie, now looks both ways before walking on the Pedestrian Crossing a street as men play Dice on a sidewalk outside a pub in dark Manchester.
*B&Ws in capital letters
First Russia fell, a vast land,
Nine time zones, Stalin took command.
Millions of Russians died due to his rule
But Russians don't learn that fact in school.
FDR called him "Uncle Joe,"
Mistook a tyrant for a bro.
Churchill described what he could see—
The Iron Curtain shielding tyranny.
And North Korea - the U.S. let Russia install
a communist regime, let it be Russia's call
Now North Korea has nukes, and missiles too
Makes you wonder if our leaders have a clue.
Then Reds took China - over a billion souls,
Again for freedom the death bell tolls
Millions killed there, the rest indoctrinated
Is endless dictatorship where the world is fated?
Cuba fell to Castro, death squads worked overtime
JFK abandoned freedom fighters, negligence like a crime
Then fell Vietnam, Cambodia, Laos too
Pol Pot killed over a million, pundits surprised, who knew?
Once Communism takes root, it helps new plants grow
Cuba fought in Angola, had regime change to show
Its secret police help Venezuela reds crack down
I haven't seen protests in any western town.
Then there are the forces of Jihad
Mullahs stifled Iran in the name of God
China and Russia allied with them too
Makes you wonder at the motives of this crew.
Turkey’s strongman crushed dissent, just to begin
His armies took part of Cypress, an easy win
His allies took Syria, its former rulers were quite bad
But under Islamic State, Christians, Druze fates really sad.
In Nigeria, Christians die
Jihadists view them with a jaundiced eye.
And Somalia, hangs by a thread, I fear,
Seems poised to fall within the year.
If friends fall like leaves from a tree
How long can the remaining battered lands stay free?
The War of Creation
They called them fascists and Nazis, the ones who wrote with blood on walls,
they stood them before the firing squads, the ones who dreamed too loud, too clear,
and bullets found poets in gardens, in Spains that bloomed with death,
for the word is a weapon too dangerous for those who sleep in peace.
Some chose the rat poison, others cut their veins in warm bathtubs,
for warm water receives the blood more gently than the cold air outside,
and others threw themselves from bridges or into propellers and sharks,
choosing to be torn apart rather than to die from within themselves.
Electroshock for those who wrote too true about the wars they'd seen,
and still they found a way to pull the trigger, in the end, alone,
for creation kills, not metaphorically, but literally, with hands of ink,
and madness is just another name for lucidity too sharp to bear.
Some drowned inside their own vomit, drunk on life and drunk on death,
and others drank until their livers became a poem, black and final,
and the sun of some was black before it ever had a chance to fade,
for artists wear eclipses on their chests like decorations from the war.
You want to be a writer? Step into the trenches, soldier, don't look back,
for on this battlefield the wounded lie everywhere and no one's coming,
some make it to old age with trembling hands and words still breathing,
but many starve like Vallejo, with unwritten poems in empty stomachs.
It's a kind of war in which the enemy is yourself, multiplied,
and creation is the grenade you throw and catch back in your arms,
and when they hit you from the blind side, from the angle you never saw,
don't come to me with your regrets, for I told you from the start.
Now I'm going to smoke a cigarette in the empty tub, no water and no blood,
and I will fall asleep with all the dead poets floating in the fog of my brain,
for to write is to die every single day and be reborn inside the words,
and the survivors are only those who learned how to die beautifully.
The trenches of literature are full of skeletons still clutching pens,
and their unfinished manuscripts are white flags waving in the wind of forgetting,
but we keep on writing, keep on dying, keep on throwing ourselves to propellers and sharks,
for this is the calling: to bleed ink until the paper becomes sky.
Watch what you say to me
Watch who you talk to about me
Got the ears of a wolf
What's that you said about me
Watch my tail feather
I think you need to refer that to yourself
You can take third digitus finger to you and the court system
You are a son of a pagan woman who prays on other peoples moolah
My investment that I made for me is none of social media or your fake cheerleading squads
concern
Watch what you say to me
Watch what you say to me
Because whatever you do to me
Is going back fire on you and burn you
And leave you with 3 degree burns
Good luck on trying to wipe your butt
Karma is
revenge is in process
So watch your back
No I don't stutter
I mean every word that I say
Watch what you say about me
Watch who you talk to about me
Give up on trying to get back with this
I don't need lazy man
I am that paid female with that 700 credit score
Get off mine
Get your own
Talking about it's over
But look like today your singing that same old tune
Baby Baby This Baby Baby I want to work it out
Sorry but don't need a man trying to ride for free
Yes it's me
The one who got sense than any other female that you every had a relationship with
Clown there is the door
No handouts
Like you did me once upon time ago
Payback is in process
You know me for never thinking like that
But today I might just have to start thinking like that
Title: Watch What You Say To Me
Watch Who you talk To About Me
May 4, 2017
By: Shaniki Smith
I PRAY THERE IS A HELL FIRE
I PRAY THERE IS A HELL FIRE
No more do i long for the river.
I shan't play in the sea.
I won’t step foot on the water
That's not the life for me.
My hero is Jeremy Wade.
And all of his insight.
I can now avoid 'malaria and parasites;
Fright flight …
Flee the fleas and parasites
i now have
Insight… and a healthy fear of
Malaria, and "covid 19"…
I need "Deet lotion",
When living near lakes, or near oceans.
River monsters,
Fish demons
The answers are clear
Stay clear … of squid
Depth and leagues
Under earth’s liquid.
No more do i long for the river.
I shan't play in the sea.
I won’t step foot on the water
That's not the life for me.
My hero is Jeremy Wade.
With all of his insight about river monsters
I can now avoid 'malaria and parasites.
But now how do we avoid
Humans in cars with flashing lights?
White humans, killing black humans?
We can now avoid, parasites and
Demons living leagues under the sea…
Jeremy spoke about cannibals that said,
“pork tasted closest to human flesh at best” …
People contend with plenty conditions,
When the echoes of the wild is so near.
Pythons near playgrounds, causes fear
There are squads to remove them;
When in fact “the wild” appears too near.
In america it’s not bugs or fish or alligators
That be our predators, it’s the white hunters,
I am afraid they prey on human prey.
They wear blue uniform or white sheets,
And we can’t spray them with "DEET"…
They don’t kill to eat; but out of hate
They have been known to feed our
Babies to the gators…and the other day
One white lady coughed deliberately in a Spanish
Babies face, what a disgrace….
Oh god i pray there is a hellfire;
And a hero appears in this place.!
Copyright © vicki acquah | year posted 2020
Strong are her hands,
Darkened by summer’s touch,
Now pale like ghosts in twilight's hush.
Could these be her hands?
Did they dip in scented creams
By tranquil pleasure pools?
Did they bathe in moonlit beams
In serenity’s quiet rules?
Did they drink from wild skies,
Resting upon gentle knees?
Did they roll cigars
Or barter in diamonds with ease?
On the feet of holy Madonnas,
Did they wilt golden blooms?
Is it belladonna's dark blood
That in their palms now looms?
These hands, hunting and bruising,
Swelling like dawn's first light,
Seeking nectar, mixing poisons,
Bringing the day from the night.
What dream seized these hands,
Stretching in distant lands,
A dream of Asia's mystic ways,
Of Khenghavars or Zion's days?
These hands did not sell oranges,
Nor shine at the feet of gods;
They did not wash the diapers
Of blind, heavy children in squads.
They are not hands of cousins,
Nor workers with sweat-streaked brows,
Burned by the factory’s fire,
In the woods where stench endows.
These hands bend backs but do not harm,
Stronger than machines' alarm,
Mightier than a horse's might,
They stir like furnaces alight.
Their flesh sings the Marseillaises,
Never prayers in sanctuaries,
They tighten necks of wicked women,
Crush the hands of noble dames,
Hands stained with guilt and shame.
The glow of these loving hands
Turns the heads of meek sheep;
In their fingers' tasty rings,
The sun sets a ruby deep.
A mark of the common folk
Darkens them like a mother’s breast,
The backs of these hands kissed
By every proud rebel’s quest.
In the great sun of loaded love,
They pale, yet marvelous they stand,
On the bronze of machine guns
Through insurgent Paris grand.
Ah! sometimes, O sacred hands,
In your fists where hearts tremble,
Lips unsobered by your command,
Chains clinking, clear symbols.
And it’s a strange shiver
In our beings when, sometimes,
We seek to unwind you, Angel Hands,
Even if it means making your fingers bleed.
:: 06.05.2024 ::
As a baseball team entity,
in existence since 1883,
most seasons reeked with mediocrity.
Numerous generations living in Philly
have seen your teams play the game pitifully.
You have a dubious distinction of futility.
As the first franchise to lose its ten thousandth game,
you have reached an unprecedented mark of shame.
However, your boys have not performed badly
since the beginning of the twenty-first century.
Forget about those years your squads finished last.
There is no need to dwell on the past.
Your latest team has taken the field
with players having much talent to yield.
With what you have currently, and continued progression,
another championship can be within your possession.
Charge d'affaires struck by lightning bolt
While high falutin dip low matt
flying his kite insurgents
planned coup d'etat
clear out of blue, a devilish
forked, jagged, knifed
dagger "O" type electric current licked
more'n the pants off harried envoy
clear rants heard
all the way to Timbuktu
damn donnybrook loosing mayhem
special averred ambassador
last best hope
thwarting total mortal Kombat
Zeus bribed - putin two and two...
together spelled collusion
arch enemies of democracy de facto
2020 election in cahoots,
whereby sore loser trumped,
activated thinly veiled plot
made good diabolical promise
demanding winning or else
"ye ain't seen nuttin"
imposing himself victor
nee, declaring tyrannical
prince sup pulled "purple" reign,
despite just shy winning majority
crowed as "FAKE" optical illusion
claimed apparatchik infiltrated
voting booths rigged
machination stole courtesy
bounty on mutiny playbook page,
the average joe buyed
entire hook, sink, and liner
titanic ruse to unseat
all time self crowned best president,
apprentice skills garnered
thru "art of the deal,"
albeit machiavellian
who refused to admit defeat
usurped, proclaimed, kindled... diktat upon
those opposed driving fiat
vis a vis disallowing, discharging,
disenabling, disguising, distilling
carving up United States
in league courtesy
best buddies Kim Jong Un
populace will pay price
bear every burden
every hardship el don jon doth
punishingly mete out
recruiting military modern
death cab for cutie squads
dirty deeds done dirt cheap
personal vendetta and vengeance
as just desserts
succeeding presidential term
to abdicate pronto
lest civilization bombed
back into stone age
no matter enfranchisement
law within lady liberty land,
nonetheless he decreed
global hegemony forever
pressed hot button
omnipresent nightmare manifest destiny
global destruction unleashed
threatened to obliterate
every last trace of mankind!
As heavy frost settles 'pon the brown hill
And floats down to the level, thoughts are stilled
Words rise up to nettle but spirits thrill
Winter's north breeze meddles_ spring's buds to kill
Japanese Magnolia's buds wait until
spring's warm rains flood the earth; then sap buds fill.
Winter's pause, earth lauds rebirth, and birds' shrill
Vexing cold squads stay away and be still
At spring's rebirth be awed, winter's cold distill
Death where is resurrection's applaud, still
Waiting for spring's hallowed birth, rapture's real
Transformation follows, one's fate sealed
Not part of the poem:
There is a powerful difference in having to say something
and having something to say!!
Sponsor: Isaiah Zerbst
Contest: Interlocking Rhyme
Written: January 19,2015
Finis'
Atomic bombs are dropped on babies
Humanity is thrown out of the door
Humanity is dead. Humanity is no more
There are too many aggressive and demoniac atrocities
Wars are heartless, bestial, perilous, satanic and deadly
The hypocrisy is clearly obvious and real
This is the end of the world for many
For too many innocent human beings. Yes, this is a big deal
Human lives are no longer important
The streets are painted with real red blood
Oh! My goodness, this is worse than a major flood
Homes and buildings are obliterated. No need to pay rent
Nobody wants a genuine ceasefire
Because emotions and feelings are on fire
Poor babies never had a chance
Poor victims never have a chance
Poor pregnant women never had a chance
Poor weak elders have no chance
Humanity is mephitic. Humanity is no more
The doors and the windows of hell are wide open
There’s no hope. There’s no darn heaven
No need to say more and more
Bombs fall like dead autumnal leaves
Terror is ubiquitous and death is inevitable
Nobody wants to turn the table
They are all liars, criminals and thieves
This is no lie because they are all over the news
This is beyond fear. This is beyond sadness. I refuse
To listen to these well dressed anchors who are lying
Let me close my eyes and cover my ears
What a pity! I feel sorry for the babies
The toddlers, the youngsters, the teenagers
The men and women who die due to abject atrocities
It’s a shame. The criminals are now over-explaining
Perhaps this society should go back fighting with spears
Because the rivers and the seas were not so dirty and bloody
I can’t listen to the racist criminals and the evil bandits who are applauding
One again, let me close my eyes and cover my ears
In my body, there’re no more tears
Humanity is dead. Death is ubiquitous
The hypocrites and the bad politicians are truly dangerous
Toxic, strange, selfish, Machiavellian and inhumane
Hell is everywhere. The world is insane
Yet the Sun is shining
And the Moon is sadly watching.
Copyright © November 2023, Hébert Logerie, all rights reserved.
Hébert Logerie is the author of several collections of poems.