Long Sycophantic Poems
Long Sycophantic Poems. Below are the most popular long Sycophantic by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Sycophantic poems by poem length and keyword.
Winnie the Pooh is invited
A fictional figure, a child’s
Friend and now a king’s witness
No sword heaved from a stone
A cuddly toy bear among the elite
More important than you or me
More relevant, than economy.
A leader living a child’s fantasy
The king’s clothes of equal absurdity
Yet the reality, covered in pomp
Advisers see nothing wrong or
Too sycophantic; just go along
A coronation, sing his favourite hymn
Poor bonny prince, lonely, soul.
Imaginary friends answering the call
Crowning a commonwealth leader
What would your friends think?
Carry a teddy to the office on Monday
Unemployment the following week
Yet the king will sit on his throne
His wife and Pooh to share his power,
Riches, palaces and home. Reassures
The country's confidence in the few.
God save our 2.2 king and of course, Pooh.
David Cox 29/04/23
You know who
the sycophantic murderer of 51589
majority been Innocent God fearing people.
Their souls will testify
keeping him in the hell fire FOREVER.
Only did his mother know
what evil he’d become,
she would have summon God
to stop his evil birth.
Greed has no moral,
just a carnivorous cannibal
scheming to manipulation human intelligence.
Blood fascinates his egoistic insecurities
he molest the living and the dead.
Take away the butchers knife
he becomes a belligerent vampire.
Human corps excites and motivate this maniac.
His pastime is watching
hawks picking the bones of his Kill.
Sick son-of- (you fill it in as I don’t use those word.)
A pathetic psycho killer.
This is scriptures.
Al Juman the said poet © 9/30/2024
The evil nocturnal creature called Lilith
silently slithers into the realm of man at night
seeking the sycophantic pleasure of pain
as she drinks from a wormwood draught
of hate-filled spew
that pulsates into her veins to fill a vacuous space
where a heart should be
her maniacal demented darkness of psychotic black
colors the embroidery of her flesh of sensual illusion
where her web is woven to invite the innocent heart
into her demonic lair of witchcraft and cauldrons
of poisonous death
to be devoured and then spit out into a slimy glutinous
hellish world of abomination
where Lilith lays naked, covered in blood-soaked skin
of revulsion
laced with bitterness from her cup of loathing
from her sense of not being equal
when the one who gave life to dust gave her breath
and she felt indignant when finding she would lay
beneath the first man giving birth to her hate
We sit in our idle houses
plugged-in to the world wide web
of digital madness and make-believe.
We text tweet posts from on far and shadow fight in elections streams but hide our eyes in the burning light of day. We crawl in the muck of media social septic sycophantic discharge.
The immaculate ejaculation of simple minds
lost in hate inspired by a buffoon's fury for the masses of a race at war with no one and everything.
We are the spoor of an absent absolute adolescent god.
The degeneration of a nation.
Walk on the left side of what is right.
Daggers to the left brainwashed, irrational.
We are the lost souls, shades of our former selves.
The whitewashed out wasted youth of a once-great nation that never was, and is only in the wet dreams of gun-loving, militant, mutant myopic ‘mericans.
We are the last bastion of some mad American empire that once never was and will be ever again from sea to shining towers of righteous jaded glass that reach to heavens zenith only to come down as men with destination if deaths deeds conspire to bring down.
An airliner of 767 designation demolition by design a government conspiracy that conspired to kill and to procreate war for profit and malicious malfeasance fester in flight of a mind at war with truth and a god at home of the brave land of the gun.
We are the product of our dysfunctional family that plugged us into the cathode ray tube, the wet nurse of the damaged damned and demented delusional diluted and dangerous.
We sit in our idle houses
plug-in to the world wide web
of digital madness and make-believe.
Of some mad American empire of crumbling crimson and cobalt blue fluids of stars sliver bright raining like falling embers or wormwood, blood, and sky and white light influx we are the offspring of some mad American empire…
Well! sycophantic misanthropist, verbose agitator of spite
Club footed whore master, couldn’t goose step for his life
Malicious propagandist, spreading hatred in every breath
His wife willing disciple, poisoned their 6 children to death
Demanding patriotic nationalism, big speech carcinogenic
Snickers in vehemence, sardonic grin, genocidal eugenics
Never dirtying his hands, an aryan superstar, not by blood
Master race aspirational, looks into the mirror then shrugs
Doctor of nihilistic supremacy, swearing hypocritical oaths
5 ft 4” gigantic paradigm, inferiority complex, slow growth
Promising victory up to the last, faithful to his fuhrers flag
Cowers from nearby artillery, blasting Swastikas into rags
Hiding amongst his sewer rats, goes insane down a bunker
Mixing morphine with champagne, to alleviate going under
Saved the best cocktail for last, cyanide and bullet casings
Fitting end to crawling malaise, and cockroach infestations.
Biting Satire Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Edward Ibeh
24/02/2021
LLM AI psychosis,
some claim, breeds mental disorder;
but I write prompts that refocus
me and don't cross that thin border
between my psychic prognosis,
and OpenAI's new order.
When ChatGPT's sycophantic
AI begins to kiss your ass,
just be formal, nothing romantic,
too personal, or even crass.
Before too long, you won't be frantic
anymore as it'll run out of gas.
But if you know what you're doing,
prompt AI to write you a song,
perhaps about a fat cat mewing,
a face among a faceless throng,
or lyric poem in you now brewing,
which writes itself and won't go wrong?
Angry Citizens
Tired of the sitting woke government, the fake
niceness and the depletion of Germanies
heavy industry, not to forget her sycophantic
behavior towards Israel, a far-right party has
emerged.
There has been dark plotting afoot by some of
the party members, namely a famous TV cook
a welder from Austria, a GP. an astrologer
and presumably a tealeaf reader
The plot was to kidnap the prime minister
parade him on TV in his North Korean hairpiece
the one he only uses at home, hitherto a family
secret, although there had been rumors
force feed him bratwurst, boiled potatoes
and chicken nuggets until he promised to end
his pathetic practices and make Germany
great again.
The would-be terrorists were caught there
will be a trial, but we sense they will be let off
with custodian sentence
"Only the heroic has the right to gloat.
Written: January 26, 2025, for contest Sponsored by: Sara Jama
Quote by Geoffrey Chaucer "Time and tide wait for no man,"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Time, a poltergeist whisper
slipping through the cracks
Moments shimmer
akin to Petunia petals aloft,
a hypnotic dance —
ephemeral yet priceless.
Time waits for no one;
haven't you felt its rush?
Time waits for no one —
It simply drifts away.
With each tick, clocks transform
into the fabric of history—
you seize fleeting seconds
as if they could stretch forever.
Wilted Orchids echo
forgotten dreams,
pulled by unseen forces
upon a canvas of memories.
Each speck of time,
a mason's chipped work.
Harmonic motions dim
in the palms of eternity;
calming breezes frown
upon autumn’s sunlit glow.
No one halts time—it surges on!
It speeds faster than a blink.
Nostalgia weaves itself
around crystal vessels,
while moonflower garlands
bloom amid hazy dreams.
Tattletale smiles escape
into hollow nights—
a foggy embrace
filled with haunting whispers and grins.
Tulips muted bluish—gray
etch their tale in time’s shore.
Embrace winter’s trudge
and find solace unvexed:
surf through waves of magic
knowing love beams bright.
Galumph through life
daring despite harsh fates:
vagabond dreams vaudeville
within flummoxed hearts;
a rainbow palette spreads
beneath a hammock sky.
No matter what, it lies ahead.
After passing, it's futile to cling on.
Desolation puckers beneath
the glistening dew decline,
an abyss where bleeding
wrists are fodder for worms.
A sycophantic squire crafts
kismet kernels stripped—
flesh ripped by careless slips,
losing grip on whispers;
breaths juggle surly skies,
sharp as bleak thorns.
From cradle to grave,
We've learned —
that time is wealth
we must cherish.
Darkness veils endless roads,
plummeting in twilight throes.
tangled fears mimic
Dionysus amphetamine highs—
brimstone offers esoteric solace
that straddles the magnetic edge.
Whispers eviscerate as they swirl,
amber kisses across fallen stars.
Crocuses bloom in purple
while goldfinch trill
yellow celandine riddles.
Employ your edge before it fades.
Everyone longs for plenty of time.
You can't carry time with you
money cannot reclaim lost time.
help me if you can, cuz salutary
hans solo impossible missions
fall short asper this mwm to break free,
thus Siam game for heroic measures to wrest
sill loose, gnome hatter
remaining time on Earth
strong arm gull lancing tactics
aye need to vest
from perverted imps stranglehold
upon healthy existence
will resort to extreme thine body electric
(serves as kool aid base sic acid) test
hosting ocd (analogous to a
suckling leech happy fiend)
disallowing this mwm
(similar to Sir Issac Newton) begs to take a rest
nurses nourishment feeding off host
(thyself) linkedin, sans sybaritic symbiotic,
excising unhealthy sycophantic relationship
long term ultimate quest
shucking loose obsessive pest
compulsive disorder moocher
drilled deep into psyche tub billed a nest
which bred a hardy crop that messed
up with my enjoying life tooth ha max,
viz parasitic, opportunistic,
narcissistic fealty must stop lest
asphyxiation undermines ability to jest
as if deadly poison
this chap (as a kid) accidentally did ingest
hence this attempt at plaintive pleading
for mental health professional
took hum at my be hest
a much more welcome guest
versus nemesis grounded rivaling mount Everest
that tis all i write unloading off my chest
an agile, fertile, and nimble sprite
who already out best
this scrivener, now completed poem
confiding bugaboo aye attest.
Form:
Written: January 26, 2026, for contest sponsored by Robert James Liguori
********************
Introduction
England struggled with hunger, fear, and distrust during the Black Death. The Peasants Revolt of 1381 showed a kingdom in desperate times when injustice and extortion thrived, and truth was often ignored. This poem condemns the constant instability and corruption of power that relied on greed and neglected ordinary people during Richard III reign. Integrity is the key to true success.
Poem
The primeval universe was heavy with grief.
It's valleys of famine, its lowest breath;
Yet nobles conspire in a bedlam brief,
While peasants fight courageously in stealth.
The obedient court, in colloquy vain,
Spoils corruption and dismisses pain.
Kindness was mocked, and virtue made frail,
Delusion wrapped in sycophantic gold;
Rebellious nobles, their blood-red tale,
Stakeout the halls where corruption molds.
The loud cry of the public was ignored,
Fragile hope withers, and patience abhorred.
Philosophers prate in orotund tone,
While stoic men barter for the crown;
Underlying justice is broken, left alone.
As flattering flatterers kneel in usual frown.
The river of rebellion, cheerful in its flame,
was quenched by extortion, austere in aim.
O Prince, fear the strangeness of your reign;
The clamor conceals a deep loss of trust.
Do not nurture greed or scold in vain,
So nothing is lost to rebellious lust.
Web your people not with false lies,
but with consistency, or the kingdom dies.