Long Texting Poems
Long Texting Poems. Below are the most popular long Texting by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Texting poems by poem length and keyword.
Just saw a fancy new jalopy go by
At least that's what we used to call 'em
Guess the ad men would surely cringe
Jalopy wouldn't cut it for them!
With all of today's sexy new cars
Jalopy is a blast from the past
The pace of life was much slower then
Less frantic and surely not as fast!
Any of you remember “rumble seats”?
Wonder why they called them so
1939 was the last time we saw them
Gone with those silent movie shows!
But the reality is there's no going back
We're stuck in this frantic new world
One which no longer has time for niceties
My mind's in a tizzy and a whirl!
I take solace in knowing in coming years
Today's technology and texting
Will be just as passe as the old jalopy
The future will be even more perplexing!
?Just saw a fancy new jalopy go by
?Traveled back to another time and place
Enjoyed the much simpler things in life
At a slower and less frantic pace!
© Jack Ellison 2013
In his mid-30s but still a boy
Given $14.50 an hour and 12 hour shifts
Six days a week
His driver’s license confiscated
For five slung beers over a night long ago
Cost him $10,000
Contributed to the system
Of judges bailiffs lawyers and Presidents
All residents
Of the lakes and new mansions up north on weekends
Five years it will take him
To pay them for his sin.
Out here on the way to work
There are no buses
So the boy joins a line of third world refugees
Walking an hour and a half a day
Each way
Through the sweat of summer
And the snow of winter
From Greatdale Apartments
To the soda pop company’s bottling plant
He limps down the shoulder of King’s Road
Texting a screen scream to his desperate dad
“I can’t do this anymore!”
This
The only demand the son can manage
While Escalades
Roar by him
Side mirrors whisking within inches of his elbows
The thought of the American Dream
Or even the idea of a violent union revolution
Pouring out of him
Like his 10 cent returns
After work at the Party Store.
Long tennis matches stretch on and on for love of deuce,
While endless freight trains mercifully end with a little red caboose.
Domestic snits could be shortened dramatically with a fruit juice truce,
Though kids keep on playing 'Super Elite 4' when they might be watching
'The Adventures of Rocky and Bullwinkle the Moose.'
Some highly-paid accountants play with their clients' numbers, fast and loose,
As weight-loss specialists do patients' expanding waistlines fail to reduce.
More and more often gynecologists must early labor unexpectedly induce,
So that a healthy, social-media-acceptable baby be rapidly produced.
Romantic poets with winsome words do their audiences seduce,
Since philosophers do airtight, logical conclusions no longer deduce.
Injun squaws are still known to carry their young ones in a papoose.
Whereas a hanging by a noose is a custom quite understandably out of use.
And, of course, the current Oval Office Occupant continues to rule the roost
By tweeting, texting, and twittering a refuse-storm gallopingly profuse.
Which all leads to the inevitable, inescaple, perhaps irrefutable con-cluse
That some people will and others won't throw up their hands, saying
"What's the Use?!"
She’s up at dawn binoculars raised
Surveying lawns like crimes unfazed
A rogue petunia out of line
She files a claim by 8:09
A car she doesn’t recognize
Becomes a case she must analyze
Stolen she mutters pacing slow
She’s texting the board before they know
If someone grills past quiet time
She drafts a message crisp and primed
Attachments timestamps photos too
Her self-proclaimed duty through and through
She’s judge and jury of the street
A self-appointed rules elite
No porch too cluttered hedge too tall
No harmless fun too small to stall
The neighbors begrudgingly grit their teeth
When she reports a wreath beneath
The approved specs for seasonal décor
They’ve learned to keep an eye on their door
Not a board member but eager to enforce
She guards the HOA’s covenant with a nosy force
A watchdog? Maybe A pest? Perhaps
Forever wasting her days setting petty traps
It's another Saturday night
ending this week
as started
alone again.
I came here
almost two years ago
to my retirement hermitage
but oddly,
and often uncomfortably,
shared with my hurt kids,
mental and physical illness
adopted and then adapted;
an asylum for the perpetually incontinent.
Cars pass by.
Sometimes a loud motorcycle
or two or three or four
or even more
here on the southern boundary
of a county seat
in a State
where rural counties
have been disenfranchised
of political purpose.
Our largest employers
are two tribally owned casinos.
One across the Thames River
flowing past our backyard retreat.
Our second largest income producer
may be the County Courthouse
where attorneys and police
collude to extort voluntary donations
from poor young adults
red and yellow,
black and white,
guilty of speeding
and texting
and smoking medicine
without a license
in Great White Father's sight.
I have been listening and watching
for what this half acre is.
We are not as rural as I had hoped,
with State highway 12 too near my front yard,
but this place is also not urban
or suburban.
What it is not,
whom we are not,
seems more clearly articulated
than any positive definition,
refining our becoming quiet place,
alone together,
shunned by healthier neighbors.
It's another lonely ending
anticipating yet another not new beginning
tomorrows stretching out alone
long retiring shadows
on this southern edge
of a Connecticut County Seat
without apparent purpose
or co-defining meaning.
v. 1 Worthless like an iPhone that isn’t activated…
Texting is so overrated…lately, I’ve felt jaded…
I’m the dirty laundry in your bedroom
I suck up the dirt from the carpet and the gloom
Does…torture…me…
Ch. : The technology bond – I flee
I’ve tried and tried and I’m tired of being me
I’ve lied and lied to myself countless times, can’t you see?
I am strong, I have a technology bond…
I do belong, I’m introvert and extrovert mixed in one…I’m fond
Of me…
Of me…
Of you…
Of you too…
V. 2 Writing is a gift from God Most High
Reading Proverbs and Psalms of plenty
I cry aloud to Him and He listens, but why…….?
Why do I cry so much…missing sleep of beauty…
Recently, I’ve been ashamed of my existence
Right this instant, right this instant
I’m tired of discouraging me
I’m tired of you discouraging me,
Treating me like laundry on my carpet floor
Ch. : The technology bond – I flee
I’ve tried and tried and I’m tired of being me
I’ve lied and lied to myself countless times, can’t you see?
I am strong, I have a technology bond…
I do belong, I’m introvert and extrovert mixed in one…I’m fond
Of me…
Of me…
Of you…
Of you too…
v. 3 Get off your phone, look at me; I, alone, love you
A couple of minutes later, my mind is on a clean slate today
Conversations of so many I hear in this classroom
Gloom is my groom and I marry the wife of strife…
Never once felt by affection,
But felt on by rejection
But inflamed by rejection
The infliction of insanity fires up my skull
Can’t you see? Can’t you see my sorrowful soul?
Ch. : The technology bond – I flee
I’ve tried and tried and I’m tired of being me
I’ve lied and lied to myself countless times, can’t you see?
I am strong, I have a technology bond…
I do belong, I’m introvert and extrovert mixed in one…I’m fond
Of me…
Of me…
Of you…
Of you too…
The technology bond – I am set free
I’ve tried and tried and I’m tired of being me
I’ve lied and lied to myself countless times, can’t you see?
I am strong, I have a technology bond…
I do belong, I’m introvert and extrovert mixed in one…I’m fond
Of me…
Of me…
Of you…
Of you too…
I’m connected to you
And you are connected to me
Haven’t you got the clue
That you belong to me?
Shame embraced me bitterly…
But, fame will hug me spontaneously…
Why…..why…..must it be so hard??
Would that I had antlers
to woo the docile doe
lock in mock battle
of tree bark as foe.
Perhaps fine tail feathers
to spread in an arc
dance without castanets
from dawn until dark,
A wondrous scent
to slowly unfurl
sweet scented pheromones
to make her hair curl.
Maybe a chatter,
a click or a roar
to lead the sweet vixen
straight to my door.
Alas, being human
with opposable thumbs
I gaze at the screen
go droolingly dumb
fumble with texting,
tweets, and hash tags
fearful these beauties
might just be….. old hags.
John G. Lawless
11/22/2015
Did you see the way Debbie was winking at me last night.
That wasn’t winking, her eyes were rolling in disgust.
No, it was definitely come on eyes.
My God, you got arrested at the altar for bigamy, why the hell would she come on to you.
I didn’t realise I was married, I mean, who the hell thinks a guy dressed as Elvis and a Marlon Monroe lookalike could possibly marry you.
Two months in prison wasn’t enough for you.
I actually learned quite a lot in prison, do you know the prison governess let me work under her.
Tell me you didn’t propose to her.
Of course, I didn’t, though I wouldn’t have minded, she does live in a lovely big house.
How do you know she lives in a big house.
That’s where I served my sentence, it was a sort of house arrest.
I honestly can’t believe what I’m hearing, I mean, how the hell do you do it, do women just feel sorry you.
I’ve got a big heart. So, if you don’t mind texting Debbie and asking her for a date on my behalf.
No problem, actually can’t wait to get the reply. Here goes. Oh, and here’s the reply. ‘’Tell that lying cheating bastard I wouldn’t go out with him if he was the last man on earth.’’ I think that speaks volumes, don’t you.
Fantastic.
What’s fantastic.
So you didn’t see the hidden meaning in that text.
My God, do you know I actually commit people like you, you are utterly delusional.
Text her back and ask her if she wants rage sex.
You are stark raving mad, I really should have you locked up for your own safety.
A Thousand pounds say I’m right, Mr smart Psychiatrist.
A thousand pounds, right, you’re on. Here goes, again. Okay you’ve got twenty minutes to get to her house before the rage wears off.
Fantastic, oh if you don’t mind putting that money into my account, one will need it for the champagne and oysters to get our strength back for the night session.
I am going down to my office, and I’m going to pull every diploma off the wall and smash them to bits. I am then going to commit myself into the mental asylum, cos I just don’t know what the hell happened there.
Back in the day
Teachers did not go to the bathroom
Until lunch
or after school
There was no texting
No phone calls to the office
Asking for a teacher bathroom break
Back in the day we pretended that teachers never went to the bathroom
Now teachers carry cell phones.
One teacher texts “can someone give me a bathroom break” about every six minutes.
The answer is NO. If you teach, you do not go to the bathroom until lunch.
Train your bladder woman!
Back in the day teacher did not carry cell phones
They did not play music all day
And they kept the lights on in the classroom, so children could see.
I wish we could go back to ‘back in the day’.
If you are into time wasting,
Sooner or later you will find yourself flicking,
Although in the in the early days of TV there were reasons for stopping,
As there were programs that were quite exciting,
Enough, to quell the urge to take up flicking,
As a means of time wasting,
Then the number of channels started increasing,
With their content becoming more and more boring,
And flicking carrying on into the morning.
Then we got to learn computing,
Which meant more time wasting,
And more choices and places to enjoy flicking.
But it was not until someone started blogging,
And people could make a living,
Out of bragging about their following,
That flicking,
Won the the ultimate prize for time wasting,
And our intelligence really started deteriorating,
As we are now texting,
Messages about TV Programs, on computers, we have been watching,
And blogs we have been streaming,
All without an ending,
Because we have resorted to flicking,
The ultimate form of time wasting,
That I only see increasing.