Long Their Poems
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August 2025
Dalton Ogletree
“Have Faith”
You better always have faith
And get your facts straight
In this giant rat race
If you sit around, you’ll be in bad shape
If you never try, don’t be surprised you got last place
Everyday I was getting half baked
It all became a cash waste
That left a bad taste
I had to hide my hand behind a masked face
Need a choppa with a beam for all these damn snakes
So many fools on a constant cat chase
Sad how easily these chaps break
More fast than dropping a glass plate
Too many are sweeter than a fast break
Softies always hiding behind a brass gate
At times we all catch a bad break
Even if that’s fate
Turn the tides in this life that moves at a fast pace
In such a vast space
Even if to the party you’re a tad late
Still unaware of all the secret handshakes
As well as things hidden behind yellow and black tape
With effort it’ll click as it begins to cast shape
Be careful, some never give as they stuff their fat face
There will be blood, sweat, tears and backaches
As the past states
Life gives and takes
At some point the dam breaks
Spilling across the land and at lakes
This world captivates
Even if you can’t relate
You better always have faith!
It’s a firework holiday,
so let’s light up the night,
wave the stars and stripes,
eat barbecue and drink bud light.
We’ll celebrate the liberties
that SCOTUS says we’ve still got
It appears they’ve all been bought
and before their terms are over
they’ll resurrect Dred Scott.
Watermelon, hot wings
we’ve even added new things,
like smash & grab lootings
and frequent random shootings.
Some Republicans want to break away
to form a less perfect union
can you form a successful nation
based on the politics of illusion?
There used to be parades
I’m told, that featured local
things, like fire fighting brigades
I guess we’re just to fractured now,
to sashay in such displays.
I bet those were the days.
.
.
Webster: Sashay = proudly walk in confident display
“Alas for those who die with their songs still inside them.”
---- Oliver Wendell Holmes
Soul means nothing
until we understand the language of crying.
The voice of the soul
is you breaking through yourself,
it’s an emotional keening
from the core, from the essence.
In music the notes are the means
but the music itself is - soul.
‘Proverbs’ define soul
as the flame of God,
the flame is not the fire, the heat
it awakens is the soul.
The flame is restless and ever seeking
alone it is unexpressed
soul is its expression.
Natural objects have form and substance,
their particular texture and patina is the soul
of that object.
Soul is very telling, and it is never false to itself
and so it must cry
until the inner becomes the nature of the outer,
then we may point to the heart
and speak the word ‘soul’
knowing that our truth is now wordless.
A single bulldozer
Wandered away from the herd of globalization
And wanted only to enter an amusement park.
The bulldozer hugged the neighborhood children
And played with them without fear.
It had left its metal behind outside the park
And gladly removed its heavy chains.
It shut off its noise
And ran as lightly as the quickest among them,
Searching for their mother among the children.
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ the flower?
In May, when ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦
¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦
The purple petals, ¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦
Made ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ their beauty ¦¦¦¦
¦¦¦¦ might ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦
¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ the sages ask ¦¦¦¦ why
This charm is wasted on ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦
¦¦¦¦ them, ¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦
¦¦¦¦ Beauty is its own ¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ being:
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦
I never thought to ask, ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦
But, in my simple ignorance, ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦
The ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ Power that brought me there brought you.
(Blackout of The Rhodora by Ralph Waldo Emerson)
Soldier
They march as one as a unit
With discipline they stand lucid
Into battle, they are ready
On a narrow path feel their furry
As bullets fly by
In combat they are brave in the sky
With courage in green they protect
For we will never forget
War is upon us all
All four branches in the military stand tall
In the desert there is difficulty
On the front lines it is bloody
With honor they protect with their lives
Silver in hand is sharp like a knife
For they are so far away from home
We acknowledge the sacrifices you made, you are not alone
Camouflage painted in green and black
We thank our soldiers for coming back
While the plains fly high in the sky
Our military troops fight, we will never say good by
A lonely road is unforgiven
As Americans, we will lift your burdens
In closing I write this letter for you
In testimony I can’t thank you enough for what you do
Our enemies drew first blood
With Amo and guns, we’ve all had enough
To all those who have fallen hard
We give back with honor a purple heart.
It has been a long journey under the sun
Lay down the violence for it is done
She was sixteen and dressed to the likings of fashion
a beautiful loose top was her choice of today's passion
as she mounted the bus she got stares from the guys
and teasing looks, but none of them ever met her eyes
yapping away in Italian thinking she looked a bit french
they thought her cute, and some thought her a wench
"poor girl" they said, "went down town, got pregnant"
"and now she wears that top to hide the baby tenant "
they laughed as they poked each other and guffawed
gesturing like little ruffians and talking way too loud
but to their surprise she turned to them and smiled,
she was an Italian hot blooded girl, to put it mild...
when she spoke in Italian they gaped and shut up
"cretino, stupido, imbecile" well I guess its my stop !
guess your having fun at my expense, hey boys
then she flirtatiously smiled, and left with poise
they sat there dumfounded with faces slightly pinked
as she stepped off the bus she turned, then winked.
July 24, 2021
ps this is a true story by the way, slightly changed but true
never assume someone doesn't understand a language ..
My identical twin and I have little in common, yet we have this one thing.
In order to start cleaning we have to watch Hoarders, a TV show with zing.
It shows women whose houses are cluttered with debris, garbage and poop.
It makes us want to clean, weirdly enough, until we contract the croup.
We watch it in April, when others are opening their windows for air.
I challenge you to watch it, but must warn you, for it is only fair….
You might retch and vomit, you might get sickly and turn green.
As for my sister and I, this horrible show makes us finally want to clean.
I start with a bit of sorting, but then get tired and start tossing away.
My husband runs in screeching “wait a second! Hey! Hey!”
“Those are our taxes, your W-2’s and other stuff we need!”
I do not care, my throwing-away self is now moving with speed.
Don’t just throw things away willy-nilly, he says, bringing back junk.
Stuff he has found in sixteen bags of garbage, all covered with gunk.
My spring cleaning would be so much easier if he would run away.
With the mustached lady from the circus, for what I now pray.
It is your fault this place is a mess, I say, mean as a snake.
He rolls his eyes and cuts himself a piece of chocolate cake.
I see this and stop cleaning, now hungrier than I thought I could be.
I add some ice cream too, and sit down to watch Hoarders on TV.
Sometimes recently they come
The monsters who we can’t out run
The ones given orders to care
That spirit that isn't humbly there
The ones given responsibility
That often comes with notability
The ones they chose and given trust
For the ones that froze with minds of dust
Without a way to defend themselves
Victims thoughts within them yell
The screams that are never heard
Coming from the ones who crimes occures
Professionals with their High Degrees
Leaders in ties given as kings
With soldiers that are often thrust
Into the battles with weapons that rust
Committees and Boards that guard the duties
But never are responsible truely
Locked doors and bars that hide the truth
The crimes of negligence kept with in use
The ethics and codes to the public are swollen
While freedom from suffering left beholding
Eventually discovery comes around
But without attention it doesn’t make a sound
What does it really means
to the mentally incapable
The intelligence of the world
That they cannot see as stable
And are we victims of ignorance or sin
What is that something
That moves us within
Have we chosen silence
Or fought with the cause
Used responsibility changed into laws
Given to duty that righteousness demands
Take up responsibility when ever we can
Sixty-five million years B.C.
No human being around to see
Near total extinction: a catastrophe
Heaven knows when the next one will be
Astronomer Bob, didn't expect to see
Speeding on its lethal trajectory
NASA insist it shall pass safely by
Lowlife reporter exposes that lie
Three days remain to atone for our sin
Many men turn to beer, whisky or gin
Mothers on knees beseeching the sky
Clutching their children they openly cry
Two days remain to face our worst dreads
And ponder the lack of atomic warheads
Some say a couple of well focused hits
Our nemesis shattered to vaporised bits
One day remains to reflect on humanity
Many enact hedonistic insanity
Others pen memoirs hand written at speed
Futile indulgence for no man to read
And lo is the sky ignited ablaze
Searing the vision of man’s final gaze
Impact tremendous but count not the dead
For it simply flattened my grandfather’s shed