Long Sullies Poems
Long Sullies Poems. Below are the most popular long Sullies by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Sullies poems by poem length and keyword.
Cut open pomegranate Christmas lights aril
Syrup drips erupt bitter volcano alluvium ooze
Blackberry gall sullies crust creamy caramel
Chroma pervades pavlova cracks in lilac hues
North Pole prepared sugar sack, sans limit
Blizzard whip season removes several months
Egg fragile igloo glitters in shell smash grit
Featherboa snow stiletto cabaret flamboyance
Santa avalanches resume a ruby ice unity
Investing in fuel for rocket launching research
Sleigh's sky laughs at axle trapped gravity
Astronauts unconcious core to raunch dessert
13th March
Thirsty for Departure
indescribable,
untranscribable ~
imbibable, your exotic, quixotic perfume
spiraled me into a quandary
of dirty laundry, penance,
no superintendents in attendance
I come from ragged boys, no poise,
just noise ~ a quiver of quavers,
no saviors of silence,
but if some sap sullies our sister
we'll flatten him
you come from platinum
a blessed nest of nuance,
a quay of kindness,
finesse, fineness ~
savvy sophistication, subtlety
a quaint saint I ain't
then poise met noise
you became my bible;
undeniable, heavy sighable,
unclassifiable ~
indescribable
Written 12 Feb 2021
The best artists are outlaws
Vandalizing our sanctity,
Our sanctimonious freight trains,
Our parsimonious neglect.
The best artists are culprits
Chiseling our school desks,
Scraping our bathroom stalls,
Doodling our notebooks.
Graffiti spray paints the struggle,
Scribbling defaces the pretense,
Defilement arrests the complacent,
Disfigurement sullies the platitude.
Defacers embody the dialectic,
The opposition to conformity,
The betrayal of uniformity,
The rebellion against authority.
The best artists are pariahs,
Trashing our temples,
Tossing out our moneychangers,
Driving out our shysters.
Once upon a time holly loosely based
upon a true story
There was a man who shall be called
Lord Mountbatten / Battenberg
A true Hero in every sense of the word
Or so we all we're and have been told
1 part German somewhat British like
his father before him
Who now looking back upon reflection
truth now be eventually able to be told
The fact's don't seem to bare out
what we were in fact told to believe
and make of him
Because what he in fact seemed to
be was this
A man who rose to the lofty position
of Admiral despite the fact he crashed
3 ship's and cost countless lives
Who ingratiated himself through any
means into the grace's of the upper
echolocation of royalty and polite
society in order to service his agenda
Who resided over partition which the
losses and aftermath are still being
counted till today
Orchestrated the introduction and
marriage of his nephew Phillip to
Queen Elizabeth
And dropped his lifelong childhood
friend the King in waiting for his
brother when he abdicated
In retrospect not fit to even be granted
so much as an audience in or with
such company in fact sullies their good
name and reputation
Unlike a man who through his deed's and
actions saved 2 million plus lives and
shortened the war by breaking the Enigma
code
Who unlike him was not repaid with
numerous honours and titles bestowed
on him in recognition of his contribution
But instead was chemically castrated
berated and worst of all suffered the
indignation of being hidden and wiped
from history altogether
At least now it's finally left up for prosperity
and history to decide with all the facts placed
clearly clarified on display
Who is fit to be called a Hero King
in all but Reginal name
As Sol sulks in an obstructive place,
flakes of alabaster mask His face.
And like a wailing banshee's dreadful moan,
howling winds bring a chill to the bone.
Falling temps take the fun out of play,
as blustery winds blow hard all day.
And depression sullies falling snow;
hinting Winter will never let go.
Snow blankets all in a white duvet,
color is absent from Nature's cache.
And as geese flee this barren landscape,
creatures hunker down; they can't escape.
Salt and slush coat the city like clay
in dull hues of melancholy grey.
And skyscrapers anchor clouds of mist;
stifling airflow, as flurries persist.
Spiraling thoughts let sadness take hold;
driven by merciless months of cold.
For city folks recall winters past;
dampening hopes this weather won't last.
A quagmire is a soft, murky bog that shakes
or yields underfoot.
In other words, a swamp,
that is imbued with sticky mud:
where progress is slow,
for it's easy to get stuck.
A quagmire is also a synonym
for an unpleasant, constrictive situation;
which is not easy to escape from.
Look around; we are stuck
in a swamp of greed and hate,
a quagmire of our own making.
Bigotry is a by-product of manufactured fear,
as the blood of innocents sullies our souls.
And we are sinking into conformity;
stuck in the quicksand of complacency.
The hope of change is strictly rationed to the masses,
while tightly controlled by a few.
We are born as a cog in a system
designed to extract individualism,
and replace it with compliance.
Thereby keeping us stuck within the very gears,
that are grinding us down.
We need to drain that political swamp,
even though its alligators are always on patrol.