Long Supposes Poems

Long Supposes Poems. Below are the most popular long Supposes by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Supposes poems by poem length and keyword.


Premium Member Love In a Nut-Shell

There has always been an inter-outer over-under tender balance of loveless socio-equations as they super fit the psychosocial sexe-endices in this modern garner of pluses/minuses/bytes and scribbles mostly incommunicado inexperience and parental impreciseness as to, "anything planned", which in tomb leaves us doth a deranged desperate captive of that all inbibed prisoner **** of nun conformist adventurerers and that really, that there are just too many organic integers making for really bad math.intuitations/attributes and all of the familio do's and don'ts that creep bastardy across the years to inculcate, interfere, incase all of the hoped, promised integrity of just 2 people in love?  with all that makes it their potential, not all of the hopeless, ne'r do wells, dead driven dud marriages that hoped to promulgate their failures onto the newbies totally unprepared, but willfully negative implicit on that new, and should be uninterrupted, all naked, seeing alter intense emoexplosive journeys to that wait waits, some supposes, everybody entices, everyone enthralls, quired questions, problem perplexes, initiates initiated, complexes complete, duty deforms, eerily exacts a viscous value, on properties promised a forever coexistance, but not at the expense of selfish selfness; can it be to an us award of a faceoff fervent fever, that WE, can coincide an opposite internal presence that allows us to be a universal component undeluded, underived, unpolluted by the natural wonders that are our genetic cohesions, so they can further their total promise to lead a connected life of copious love, desire and plentitudes of us-ness, disavowing all else in a socioinvasive parental wake of them vs us in all things blood/emo crass cursive? Leave them, the future lovers of us alone, let it flow and keep your, non orgasmic, loveless failures to yourself, old/tainted people of relations, lovers of social inhibitions it plays to an ill-at-ease, stubborn Igor-ignocompliance. Yes, we had Summer Love/Woodstock, but then we grew to be livestock, waiting for the senior-socioseniorslaughter pill mill. You must have some small, tinder, macromolecule of what it was to be standing in the bliss of universal underware; a long time ago in a universe far, far, away. Shhhhhhhhhhhhhhh! the neighbors.


Long Hair Music

His freak flag is still out there flying; He never has put it down;
Hope for peace and power to the people; will stay with him; as long as He’s around.

People make remarks about it; and act like they don’t care;
 But he bets some wish it was; those days of flowers and flowing hair.

Everybody’s joining up; with the popular opinions;
And persecuting those who chose; not to live in there dominion.

Is this the new reality; if you wear it you can own it;
Or is reality only that which is; convenient for the moment?

Today He pulled his music out; and played some old time tunes;
Savoy Brown, Electric Flag and the dark side of the moon.

Now here we are with newer days; and we still can’t ban the bomb;
How long before the words “we trust in God” from money will be gone?

Oh yeah He trusts; He trust that Standard oil still pays no taxes;
And when put to the forefront most of us; will claim that all’s well when they ask us.

Then again somebody could wind up dead; stranger things have happened you know.
John's dead so is Bobby, Martin too; and all the witness at the grassy knoll.

Need attention, hell yes; He’s looking for anyone who really is paying attention;
And not too busy living out life’s negative contentions.

Black power, women rule, east side, west side; but we the people; grow pale
  We’re living in a type of matrix telling us not to pass go but go straight to jail.

Oh your pardon, you’ve never been behind bars; bars don’t make the prison you see;
If you take a closer look; you might notice your choices really aren’t that free
.
Tell him the answer to this; why are we always making people do things our way;
Does this country really try to liberate; or just make a junior U.S.A.?

I’ll tell you what he thinks; we’re to busy trying to survive to bother with injustices;
He thinks that’s how the bureaucrats want it; and he supposes that’s just how it is.

What are you going to do cry; that don’t help; Get violent, that’s not a good deal;
There isn’t anything to do as far as he can see; so give it a break just keep it real.

We the people aren’t happening anymore; that just isn’t nice thing to face now is it?
Who knows, move to Canada maybe; as far as him hoping though; that He’ll never quit
Form: Couplet

Premium Member Both Sides For Me

The look of pity on the saleswoman's face said it all
my paint spattered clothing, however the jeans fit
just didn't have that panache, chic pizazz, tongue hanging
inspiration for desire a young woman out to have.

The car dealer took one look at me, led me to the far
corner of the lot, showed me the used hot rods
the beater four doors, the budget cutters like I'd rode
but I wanted glossy black, silver hood ornament, brand new.

Paint is supposed to sit on top of your nails, but underneath
is advantageous when compared to oil, to muck, to dirty guts
so I was a step on the ladder of the working man, 
I could even afford to buy hose, which I still don't wear.

There's something to be said for the over glasses, safety 
glasses look, white paper coat, something comical 
one supposes, but the purple overalls worn for skiing
which suddenly I could afford, made me my nephews joke.

At times I waited for a date who preferred the bar
called and said maybe later, because passion rumbled
between us when we kissed but I didn't want a flit,
disease, broken promise, I wanted to be embraced

Cozy now, body motion are promises and content
passion is beyond me, the bar on the patio in back
the hand I always hold a missing app that answers
more lonely than any mistaken wish that he'd be the one.

Stars, too, I climbed to them in my dream, climbed
the Space Needle and found my self with no safety net
I always avoided those climbs the dreams more nightmare
even though I do what I am told, to reach, to soar.

Sometimes now I wear black on gold dresses which fit
to the nth inch, so I can barely sit, hold champagne
to watch golden bubbles float against the elegant
white linen against starry night event, that's rich, success.

Dump it gladly for a romp on the beach, the missing
something like threads through a woven maze,
like an angel's hope. When I dump it all and seek
there's grace lying on the shores between the rocks

a pooled place where deer come to lick minerals,
boulders come unglued and sail down river
and think, maybe I could do that. Maybe I could
unglue all the expectations and rearrange the world.
Form: Quatrain

Victuals

Victuals
Walking through the jungle, your liking or disliking,
Does not care greenish, pours for all,
Whether you like green or not, it doesn’t care.
You are in its capital; eyes should bear the victuals,
Publicity does not mind, how you became leader,
Your virtues or fall, is not the matter of fallacy to hearer,
Preachers know, what are saleable in the day,
In night they also, wait for the hay.
As swelling River does not care, whatever it comes in its way,
If you contact learn to move slowly or heavily,
River does not care, you like moving or not, it is feature,
Not findings of great teacher, it is absolutely nature.
You like or not, who damn cares, in a serpentine way,
Many curves are facts, bumping or jumping, you need manage,
But listen, opening ear-holes, if you are driving,
Your fates run being present.
You can think, because you have brain, perceive too,
But if children are, they tend to play,
You like it not, who cares, all know, children do play.
But, you fury at, if big shows the play,
Corpse, lie, dead sure no one will care,
All leave the way, through though he will not pay,
Because taxes are for alive, dead can fly 
Freedom is not there, where care is.
Sleep can testify, freedom for horror.
Don’t wish, days and nights are, care for terror,
Always tend to sleep, nature does not bias,
Remain in the gulley, sun can not burn,
The shadow of home shelters, you from turn,
Desert know the panic of, merciless uniformity,
Poor deer if see mirage, supposes running wakes of water,
Dying for desire is rudeness foolish or wise,
Better to find solitude, rather than wish to have,
Poor creatures are within, boundaries of elements,
Ocean, space, sky untouched, earth is warming.
Leave the mission of moon easy for mars,
You have to deliver, peace for alive.
Conference can sell, fresh product of veil. 
Jokes aren’t real, which was never, have you tried once?
Better keep quiet, fetter is far to you, victuals can’t harm.


( All whines are poetics only, not intended to any sect.)
Form: Concrete

Rising Sun

We are left in the field, forced to labor the land.
Not one tool in hand shall feel wrath.
Yet the vines should fear presence.
We were lead to this point where darkness found.
The morning dew looked as if caught by surprise.
The steps leading to the potato patch, did not even lead to that.

We try to grasp an understanding, although I will not stand under anything given.
For bushels of fruit laced with serpents, seems like deja vu;
Blankets with chicken pox.
We was left in the field forced to labor the land.
Maybe cause my skin is dark instead of light skin.

We ponder in sleep what this supposes to mean.
We strive to move forward, although they push us back.
The willing will rise but what if they meet opposition.
Will they shrink under the skin, or stand boldly in the wind.

I read in between the lines, only noticing                                                                      
The only thing that is left is the lines without the n.
I am trapped in the belly of the beast,                                                                      
Called land of the free but we're taxed for everything.
How to escape this matrix, is the only way out is death.

For I will fight into my dying day, then I will go to hell and fight some more.
People never thought of us, as being black the giver of life.
They only stuck on the light I spread, so they can mix words up and serve it
To you backwards my friend.

Remember when you pray at night, we are waiting for you in the morning.
We stare through your windowpane.
We try to alleviate the pain; of the rain.
For us was in the beginning, along with the Asiatic black man.
As you see when you look at us, you staring at the melanin you see.
Just remember one thing without we, the earth would be bare.

This is the reason why birds salute, an educated black man,                                
For We are the twins of the Rising Sun.


One Bad Apple

"One Bad Apple"




Soft cool-aid breezed in
wielding her sharp peeler
skinning the first apple

Boss girl 
begins.

Stewed apples 
slowly eaten 
swallowed, taken in

One way out. 

Boss girl
begins. 


(LadyLabyrinth / 2020)
gvlm




"Raise Hell", Dorothy
https://youtu.be/cfKPobjPZSE






“She does not want the world
to tell her how to live her life. 
She does not want the world 
to put her into a category. 
She will smile even when 
not all is good with her. 
She will believe 
what should not be. 
And she will dream wild!
She is a bird. 
She just wants to fly 
in the wide blue sky!” 
Avijeet Das







“I am a strong girl
Someday I will win the world
Yes I will smile in the wrong time
I won't do what has to be done
Or what the world 
supposes me to have done
I will just do what I want
Drop out from crowd
Pretend to fall where I don't
Smile even when not all is good
Believe what should not be
Dream wild
Look observe and not harm
Coz I just live
Let me live
Don't put me in a category 
or a class
I am as light 
as a glass
This world 
this beautiful world
Oh how complex
has it been made by us
Just look at the bird
soaring in the blue sky
Does it even care
Does it even care?”
Suyasha Subedi 







"My muse is my daughter
My strength is hers
My muse is my mother
Her strength is mine
My muse are my sisters
My strength is theirs
My muse is my soul
Our strength is eternal"



















"I roared, I rampaged and I got bloody satisfaction".
Kill Bill

Excerpt, Script, Kill Bill 2
https://www.ivanachubbuck.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/02/Kill-Bill-2-Bill-Bride.pdf








artist/artwork: Rose Freymuth-Frazier
"One Bad Apple".
https://www.freymuth-frazier.com/

Permission To Hate You

I don’t know what happen that we ended this far
This far is our hearts so far apart
Apart from all there is no longer a room to enjoy your beam
And once upon a time your beam was my reason for my ecstasy
Thus I ask permission for me to hate you

I don’t know what it is that I did for me to deserve YOUR hate
Knowing very well that countless times I said we will fade
And now that it is a reality you look at me with disgust like it’s my fault
If that is the case then open the curtains so I can give you applause
Thus I request your permission for me to hate you

Your love and feeling was just like your hair and face FAKE
When every day you used a word that you know no meaning of “FATE”
And you go and actualize a rumor and you say I don’t have RESPECT
In actual fact you are the one that lacks respect for your moral ASPECT
Pity, I have no choice but to ask for permission to hate you

So much I can say because you blame me that we are now astray
I’m sorry I can’t take the blame because for you with my heart my dues are paid
So sorry you have no hold over me because you lost that freedom
All thanks to you, you have given me keys to my new kingdom
My house my rules, because I’m nothing like you and I’m a human,
Thus I will ask for permission to hate you

When all hope is lost you like to portray a saint
Saint… then I supposes it is a mistake
Simply because you are living on fake faith
And you are unable to maintain the grace
I aint no saint nor pretend, hence I ask for permission to hate you

None the less I will not hate you simply because I actually LOVE YOU
Something I think you still have a long way to learn about
I will not hate you because you hated the idea of us
But you was overwhelmed by control and loved the feeling of use
Well guess you got what you wanted and it is right by you
But in the end, for who you are, you don’t deserve my hate.

Premium Member Social Works and Passion Plays

Propriety
belongs to a
society
as dignity
sings my song strong
individuality

Both benign 
characteristics
earned right through
win/win wellness statistics
comparing
individualistic
flawed integrity
of Othering patristics.

Improperly colonizing
militarized monoculturing
choosing bitter
unbetter capitalizing

A worn down path
of ZeroSum assumptionizing
improper wealth baptizing baths
of undignified conclusions 
unholy rising

Directed by a demonic god
weak and/or promiscuous
slatternly sinful goddesses

Eating Earth's own children
when Her Consort's favorite book
calls for religious recipe looks
of meaty mighty
sacrificial ingredients, cooked

For at least comparatively improper
social climate change
and oppositionally degenerative
personal political
lack of win/win gain

Integral knowledge
of which comes first,
propriety of worshipping Earth's
sacred ecosystemic birth
or healthing dignity
of individual bursts
into enlightening constellations
and empowering corporations
and health wealthing cooperations
for polyculturing climax peace,
resonant rebirth.

Earth health and safety
already pre-supposes sensory 
dignified Mother propriety
v patriarchally improper memory
of a nationalistic society
rather bicamerally unbalancing
would-be patriots 
of universally viral health integrity

Of and for healing
win/lose ZeroSum fractured stealing
from win/win Futures holistic
not not ZeroZone revealing
appropriately integrative
double negative 
holy holistic co-relatives
of individuals socially sensitive
to EarthJust dignity reweaving
propriety redeeming
resonance restoring

Compassion's mind-invested work
and heart-infested
operatic passion play
singing through each reworked day
and nights of silent 
holy 
misty stay.

The Time Traveler

Time traveler of a different time..
Billions and billions of Universes and Galaxies..
Out of time
Out of space..

A galactic infusion
Our imaginations come alive
Our wildest dreams exposed..
Technology works as quickly as the speed of light
Way beyond our comprehension
One shall never comprehend the magnitude of that existence..
An existence of creation and creations of many universes
A magnitude of vastness..
Beyond light years away..

The Time Traveler appears..
A time traveler manifests different shapes
Different forms..
Need not travel through physical objects..
Need not travel with physical machines..

The Time Traveler appears..
A time traveler disappears..
Faster then the speed of light..
A blink of an eye away
Time travel through consciousness..
Instantaneously..
Inside and outside..
Through different fascinating realities..
Of which..
There are outer dimensional..
There are inter dimensional..
The forces are all with us..
We are all the forces..

The Time Traveler appears..
Time traveler chooses which reality applies..
Within a heartbeat away..
The time traveler had already reached the destination..

We suppose the time traveler is alien..
The time traveler supposes we are the aliens..
Uniqueness and differences apply..
Intrigued and curious we all are..
As we are deeply submerged in fascination..

From one alien to another alien..
Although we are human..
We are all living breathing living entities..
On the whole..

Although time is measured..
Time as we all know it..
Really isn't time at all..
Everything is occurring NOW...
We are all consciousness..

Premium Member World Poem

We are a MONEY-DRIVEN world,
The FUNCTION OF MONEY,
Is to purchase our HAPPINESS,
From the WHOLE UNIVERSE,
Of GOODS and SERVICES for sale.

Because we believe that happiness,
IS THE POINT and PURPOSE of LIFE,
We ORGANIZE ourselves, accordingly,
The way we spend our money,
Is the way we BUDGET our happiness.

Happiness, defined:
Begins with a CONCEPT of CARING for LIFE,
Demands an ACTION in support of our concept,
Supposes a SUCCESSFUL outcome,
Excludes LIFE-DENYING concepts.

When all the above are present:
Happiness is the BY-PRODUCT of our success,
And NOT the FULFILLMENT of our success,
Because you cannot seek happiness directly,
HAPPINESS FINDS YOU.

But as the by-product of our success,
And not the fulfillment of our success,
Can happiness be the PURPOSE OF LIFE,
Speaking of our SHARED purpose,
And not our INDIVIDUAL purpose?

No, but if not, what is?
The true PURPOSE OF LIFE,
Is to CARE FOR LIFE,
In a KIND, THOUGHTFUL, 
And COMPASSIONATE way.

Our REWARD is JOY,
Joy is GREATER than happiness,
Happiness is fleeting, joy is forever,
Happiness is like GETTING A GIFT,
Joy is like GIVING A GIFT.

Happiness is based on our SUCCESS,
Joy is based on our SHARED PURPOSE,
We can't include on a "to-do" list, "find happiness",
But everyone can write, "today, I will treat everybody",
"In a KIND, THOUGHTFUL, and COMPASSIONATE way."

Yes, society, and the world, have got it wrong,
Happiness is GREAT, but we should not forget,
While HAPPINESS is based on our SUCCESS,
JOY is the JOURNEY,
And the FRIENDS we make along the way.

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