Long Stimulus Poems
Long Stimulus Poems. Below are the most popular long Stimulus by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Stimulus poems by poem length and keyword.
We can’t go out so what to do?
How do we spend our time?
Imagination, racing thoughts
My brain on overtime.
There’s gardening, painting, DIY
Non urgent jobs to do,
They’re boring and predictable,
I need stimulus, tried and true.
That lazy dog could do a bit,
He snores his life away
Maybe I could combine some things
And make him earn his pay.
The veg patch is so overgrown,
With weeds and grass and such,
It needs a plough to turn it all,
To dig is far too much.
I contemplate the problem,
Ideas are coming fast,
My engineering side comes forth
To help me in this task.
A rotary lawnmower
With motor burnt right out,
I’ll take off all the spinning bits
And modify throughout.
A blade made from a shovel,
That I found lying around,
I built a wooden structure
And fixed it facing down.
A harness formed by ropes,
Tied to doggies walking brace
Then fixed back to the plough
Would keep the mutt in place.
I could steer it by the handles
While the dog was harnessed in
Then turn the garden over,
Job done, that’s it, we’re in.
I put the dog’s brace on him
And he thought his luck was in.
It must be walkies he seemed to say
As he looked at me and grinned.
I led him to my work of art,
And he sniffed at it a bit,
Then he looked at me and shook his head,
Raised a leg and peed on it.
I tied the ropes to his dog brace
And I told him what to do,
But he sat down in front of it,
His labour he withdrew.
I cut a long and whippy stick,
And urged him to get on,
And when I smacked him on the back,
I thought my end had come.
He shot off like racing hound,
Yelping all the way,
The plough was going sideways,
Gouging on its way.
He headed for the rose bushes,
The wife’s most treasured bit,
Then smashed them down to matchsticks
In a horrendous, swathing hit.
I was yelling, he was yelping,
The noise was quite insane,
As he cut a huge wide furrow
In our lush lawn’s green terrain.
The plough got stuck fast suddenly,
The dog wrenched off his feet
And he landed, winded on the ground
Like a hundred yards athlete.
I dismantled the plough
And scattered the bits,
No more projects from my thinking cap,
As I surveyed the garden wreckage
Of my lockdown’s worst mishap.
My long-winding EcoTherapist began:
Dialectic Behavioral Therapy sees Stimulus/Response
both forward and backward in time,
to look for thoughts and feeling tipping points
toward more harmonic confluence,
resonant and requisite proportional behaviors
and imaginings
of what may be justly and non-violently discerned
for future reference.
Meanwhile,
Compassion Therapy looks within these same S/R behavioral events,
reconnecting "SuperEgo" role as eco-logical teacher,
to evolve and mentor our mutual invite cause,
to respond with equivalently effective compassion,
react with mindfulness of each Ego's holonic
cooperative
and ubiquitously coincidental Prime Relationship
with EcoTao-centered Reason, Intent, Wisdom,
word choice,
feeling,
optimally receiving LeftBrain's Natural Logic deductive principles
of Right-At-Home compassionate ecotherapeutic empathic/inductive
co-arising/co-gravitational orthopraxis.
Between collective manically competitive hysteria
and suicidal absorption toward depressive self-intent
Lies Tao's Wisdom Midway,
bicamerally balancing between
schizophrenic bipolar reiterative-compulsive self-absorption
with "Other"
into the godhead of Universal Intelligence,
and paranoid messages from Evil
that "Ego" is at grave risk
of both short- and long-term economic
and bi-0-logical bionic extinction,
in one paranoid mythic form or another.
Between these way-too-polypathic extremes
lies polyculturing compassion
for human natural systems
both within--YangEgo,
and without--YinEco.
Fair trade cost for ecotherapeutic outcomes
is the ecojustice we redemptively invest
give-forward, fore-give
within ourselves,
each Other,
and Solar Systemic Earth's regenerate destiny,
as teacher,
mutual listener,
and Beloved EcoPresence,
iconized in sacred DNA/RNA regenerative-Tao
4D revolving RealTime rich resonant
full-octave as double-gravitational wu-wei
MidWay balanced Tipping Point
bio-geo-ecosystemetric regenerative therapy
v. degenerative pathology
health and safety permacultural language,
or at least syntaxed ecological restraints
on the dipolar dynamic function of bicameral appositional
Win-LeftEgo = NotNot Lose-RightEco.
THE THIRD WORLD WEEPS FIRST
The other day I was perplexed so I pondered and reckoned
It occurred to me that the Third World always comes second
The other night I came to the conclusion that what’s really the worst
Is that the Industrial Nations always come first
Hey, it’s more important for Mr. Important to get his T-Bone steak
Then to look at youthful skin and bones that cause my heart to break
I hear all the pleas for donations from various organizations
But why would anyone collect money for other irrelevant nations?
We’ve got our own problems here to reflect and repair
So forget those hungry mothers whose breasts have no milk to share
Simply make sure Mr. Important is comfy with Tammy his assistant on a plush leather chair
And Mrs. Important knows about Tammy and finds this whole exercise in selfishness quite unfair
Well fair it ain’t and I can tell you why in ways by the score
Because no matter how our economic stimulus is all Americans want is more
More of what Mr. Moore has more of him then him and one lovely daughter
But does anyone realize that billions of people on this planet are drinking stagnant and parasitic
water?***
So this may only be conjecture but I heard some gentleman saying something
Something about he bought his wife a flawless six carat diamond ring
S**t, sell that ring and feed……. House…… and clothes billions of people and let them praise the
rich
Or instead purchase a new Ferrari, Lamborghini or Excalibur for your dyed platinum blonde
b***h
©2011.…..Phreepoetree
If you have the time and the inclination to do so….Google “Water Charity,” and see how
profoundly easily you can change one person’s life for a very long time…..Peace
out…..Phreepoetree
P.S HOW MANY EIGHT YEAR OLDS YOU THINK AIN’T HEARD THE NAME FOR A FEMALE DOG
BEFORE AND SOME EIGHT YEAR OLD KID PROBABLY DROPS THE “F” BOMB EVERY HOUR ON
THE HOUR…..AND I CAN’T even TYPE THE WORD B***h, AND PRECISELY HOW MANY YOUNG
CHILDREN, WHEN GRANTED ACCESS TO ANY WEB SITE ANYTIME AND ANYWHERE WOULD
COME TO POETRYSOUP TO LOOK AT OUR WORLD ALTERING WORDS ~free cee!~ now kids…
get off poetry soup and GO BACK TO PLAYING MARIO BROTHERS.
Second, third, fourth... stimulus check(s)...
ah... the stuff a dream come true would be made!
Such would constitute,
the closest phenomena
approximating winning the lottery
cuz yours truly never blessed
winning sizable, nor
minuscule amount of money
beset with one after another setback
token scapegoat (no kidding),
plus puny size linkedin
with spindle shank legs
always bullied and
derided as laughingstock.
Whether rich or dirt poor...
since being young unemployed adult
(yupper, poverty mine bane and,
red badge of courage) the end result...
thus, aye cannot imagine state of euphoria
(yea right Matthew Scott), so just halt
such fantastical thinking,
before being totally shushed up,
nevertheless such luck
would invariably catapult
me into doing a sommersault,
pulling my weak back,
(I got a week back) out in the process,
how mine lovely bones would exult
similarly and/or hypothetically
if lottery numbers I chose matched,
more likely greater chance me getting struck
while inside courtesy lightning bolt,
or got automatically generated did score
winning ticket - suddenly this dolt,
would find himself mobbed by strangers
worse case scenario lured
by paranormal and/or occult,
perhaps stunned with
tranquilizing gun subsequently kidnapped
courtesy sinister satanic cult
comprised of rainbow goblins
trumpeting moral turpitude,
hence words of wisdom
occurred best not to insult.
When awakened hours, days, weeks later
parents (if still living at home)
would spring into action
renting out my former bedroom
to another heavily tattooed and pierced
long haired pencil necked geek
sporting dreadlocks
the late Bob Marley would envy
if still alive.
Castles in the air
suckers' poor me,
thought cha might care
to dangle false promises
and deliberately ensnare
buzzfeeding gussied up
glittering essentially bupkis
that doth blindingly glare
finding meek geezer passively submitting
theme of mein kampf -
never ask for grandeur,
which outcome would interfere
with grist crafting poems.
So, Ms. Librarian I’m telling you, half glasses on a string of pearls from the dollar
store THE THIRD WORLD WEEPS FIRST
The other day I was perplexed so I pondered and reckoned
It occurred to me that the Third World always comes second
The other night I came to the conclusion that what’s really the worst
Is that the Industrial Nations always come first
Hey, it’s more important for Mr. Important to get his T-Bone steak
Then to look at youthful skin and bones that cause my heart to break
I hear all the pleas for donations from some organizations
But why would anyone collect money for other irrelevant nations?
We’ve got our own problems to reflect and repair
So forget those hungry mothers whose breasts have no milk to share
Simply make sure he’s comfy with Tammy his assistant on a plush leather chair
Mrs. Important knows about Tammy and finds this whole exercise in selfishness quite fair
Well fair it ain’t and I can tell you why in ways by the score
Because no matter how our economic stimulus is all Americans want is more
More of what Mr. Moore has more of him then him and one lovely daughter
But does anyone realize that billions of people on this planet are drinking stagnant and parasitic
water?***
So this may only be conjecture but I heard some gentleman saying something
Something about he bought his wife a flawless six carat diamond ring
S**t, sell that ring and feed, house, and clothes billions of people not named Jones and you
won’t have to keep up with the rich
Or instead purchase a new Ferrari, Lamborghini or Excalibur for your b***h
©2011.…..Phreepoetree
If you have the time and the inclination to do so….Google “Water Charity,” and see how
profoundly easily you can change one person’s life for a very long time…..Peace out….or
in…..~free cee!~
PRECISELY HOW MANY YOUNG CHILDREN, WHEN GRANTED ACCESS TO ANY WEB SITE
ANYTIME ANYWHERE THEY WOULD COME TO POETRYSOUP TO LOOK AT A profane WORD
~free cee!~ used today….SORRY, BUT GO BACK TO PLAYING MARIO BROTHERS.
Répéter Depuis le Début
The Pink Studio, by Henri Matisse, 1911.
Perception fuses like melted rose quartz,
fuses on the lens of Matisse’s puzzled eyes
like the naiveté of childhood returned to age.
Melted images rose in two dimensions,
rose in repetition, mothering the pieces.
Quartz, genteel rosé, shown in transcendence,
fuses on the lens of Matisse’s puzzled eyes
on naysayers & followers, his morphosis reigns.
The stimulus silent, light’s effect returned, burned
lens now open to the madness of pattern, pieces
of left brain obliterated; right reinforced; art,
Matisse’s obsession oozed from his pores
puzzled synapses explored and explored,
eyes dry as a bone, from sleepless nights, sigh.
Like the naiveté of childhood returned to age,
the Madonna appears, or the muse Aphrodite reborn,
naiveté sexless tasted clean, pure, purged in white.
Of the patterns outside, he’d reproduce those within
childhood wide-eyed he approached & there he
returned again & again paying homage to the core,
to reiterate images in pieces of two dimensions
age left the left brain obliterated – reinforced the right.
Melted images rose in two dimensions.
Images, giving meaning to negative space,
rose ground beneath the pestle of repetition
in loops, sockets, knobs, holes, tabs, slots & keys
two halves male-female, left-right, up-down
dimensions all an idiocracy depicted his fright,
rose in repetition, mothering pieces,
in loops, sockets, knobs, holes, tabs, slots & keys
repetition reiterated, quartz ground beneath the pestle
mothering the pieces of two dimensions,
pieces of puzzles conjoining parts triangularly staged.
Quartz, genteel rosé, shown in transcendence.
Genteel, childlike, Matisse adored illumination, art
rose with repetition, a mothering of the pieces,
shown in the dance, in stance, in transfigured delight,
in loops, sockets, knobs, holes, tabs, slots & keys,
transcendence an illusion, of optics, of light.
First Published in Ekphrastic: writing and art on art and writing 2016
Mother taught me her proverbs to ring like a bell in the chapel of my brain
Better days are coming – angels filling the sky with joyous refrain
The darkest hour is here before dawn – I am in drought looking for rain
Mother look again – can’t you see how black I am, charcoal until the fire comes
What hour could ever get darker than my vicissitudes? The strain
On my race is too much, my prophecy speaks too from ancient drums
Kindling my skin to be the fire next time
The hunchback makes the bell to chime.
I left my mother’s house long ago – fast on my feet, her dawn is too slow
Rolling stones gather no moss I know, but better to roll than never to go
Among the tent villages, the new gardens where contrary Mary grows
Children with dead dreams, and no stimulus in the plan to pray
Pilate washed his hands, and from the blood drops come our woes
Tommy can sing all he wants, there is no supper on the table today.
A hungry man is an angry man, mother dear
Dark clouds bring rain, lightning brings fear.
Patient man rides jackass – and what then, my behind broken in the pass
Jackass consumes fuel too – can I in the moonshine gather my grass?
No sun is left for hay. Blackness is a glass house, I throw no stones
Can’t keep a still tongue still, so Congress has no wise heads
Robbing the poor to give the rich – and false philosophy sure condones
Capitalist kingdoms void of compassion, robotic, static dreads
Grinding patience like broken glass
Into the workers self effacing ass.
Mother said if she knew my friends she could tell the world who I am
I write my poems in green pastures, but don’t play me for a lamb
Scratch my back and I will scratch yours, what goes around comes around
So nothing fell from Dives table now nothing comes up to him
As long as I am black there is no dawn to come, the fallow ground
Is not just a sluggard’s will – he wants doors of opportunity opened to him
Sitting in the night watching the black sky
Grows blacker before the thunder of his eye.
When all the Earth's a bed & all the world's asleep,
When you dream of conquering the world,then shove away the thought & let the unheard alarm go beep, because obviously,big dreams require longer sleep,
When you dim your lights despite the birds chirping outside,
When you concur that sleeping beauty was a beauty obviously because of getting years of beauty sleep, you need it too..
But you refuse to give in,
Till the last receptor of ur brain percepts the last signal,
Till the last lash of your eye meets the eyelid,
Till the last words of the text start appearing hazy,
You won't give in..
Then,you're more than just a student,my friend..
You're much more..
You're the HEROINE of your life.
When all the forces in the universe act like a stimulus to put you to bed,
When the sunrays feel like a burden to your eyes ,& they feel heavy
When you can envisage the cozy embrace of your blanket during the cold,
And that's not all..when that pleasant romantic weather outside is not a reason enough for you to get out of your bed,
But you refuse to give in,
Till the scent of spring justt fails to tempt you,
Till your last temptation can be suppressed,
Till the vigour inside you is still alive,
You won't give in..
Then,you're more than just a student,my friend
You're much more..
You're the heroine of your life.
When the noises around don't matter,
When the constant parental nagging won't bother,
When you refuse all your friends urging you to party,because (let's face it)..people are temporary,sleep is permanent.
When it hurts because your sleep is in a relationship with everyone else but you,you feel jealous..
But you refuse to give in,
Till you're conscious enough to not fall into the toilet,
Till you can hold yourself a stabilised position,
Till you can convince yourself that coffee will help,although it doesn't..
You refuse to give in..
Then you're more than just a student,my friend
You're much more..
You're the heroine of your life.
THE ROAD LESS TRAVELED
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I took *
The one I wanted, because, I’m a strong person
Of course it goes without saying that my strength
Lies in the grace of God, and that is all well and fine,
But each has his individual path, because each
Is a unique person, a unique spirit following a unique
Spiritual journey, which starts with spirit,
And I was given loads of it by my mother.
It was all she could give me.
We were the poorest of the poor
In England in the days after World War Two
She was unwilling to see me pushed down
As she had been by circumstances.
She showed me how to overcome circumstances.
How to find a positive way of looking at each event
How to use events to the best advantage
She always told me I could do anything at all
If I only put my mind to the task
And she was right, and most of the stuff
I have put my mind to has been very successful
People will say well if you’re so able
Why has your path not made you rich
The question is as silly as the questioner
For not everyone is in search of riches
I have turned down high-paid jobs and
Contracts because they were
Not what I found interesting.
I have moved to several
Different countries to live and work,
Because I wanted a variety of stimulus
For my spiritual growth and strength.
And I am certain that spiritual life
Does not exist exclusively in churches,
But largely in doing the best you can for people,
And placing yourself second.
I have no idea if heaven exists
But if it is filled with the people who ask
Why are you not rich
I’m afraid it would not be the sort
Of stimulating place my spirit is seeking.
God keep me on the path which avoids
The people who ask such questions.
God keep me strong. He always has,
And that has made all the difference*
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .. . .
NOTE
*These two lines are from the Robet Frost poem The Road Less Traveled.
The more weapons there will be:
the more likely a crime will be committed using one;
the lower their SES (socio-economic status) will be;
the lower their intelligence level will be;
the more likely they are be mentally and emotionally incompetent;
the more likely they are to have a persecution complex;
excessive defense mechanisms, experience mass paranoia,
be mentally incompetent or imbalanced, be an increase in suicides;
the more likely a woman will be killed or injured;
the more likely accessories will increase weapons effectiveness and rapidity;
the more likely they will be automatic designed to commit mass murder with;
the more likely principles stated in the 2d amendment will be violated;
the more likely the victim and killer will be from the United States;
the more likely the killer will exhaust their supply of ammunition;
the more likely a weapon will be used in an altercation;
the more likely there will be an accidental gun death;
the more likely will be the absence of an effective weapons training program;
the more likely safety devices will not be present;
the more likely an accidental death will occur at home;
the more likely owners of weapons will encourage weapons safety programs;
the more likely no local files or background security checkups exist;
the more likely will be absence of cool down period for purchase of weapons;
the more likely will be an undocumented weapons sales;
the more likely will be increase in amount of money to support damages;
the more likely a potential murderer is to steal a weapon;
the more likely a weapon will not be used for self-defense;
the more likely a woman will be present in a domestic abuse situation;
the more likely increase in deaths will be created and caused by a weapon;
the more likely will be the absence of a successful permitting process;
the more likely will be the presence of a negative stimulus.
Trying to make up my mind regarding weapons.
Form: