Long Tubing Poems
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Author's note: This is an epic length poem that will have to be split into parts and will be serialized in successive posts.
Part 2
act three
in the third act delirious
the laws of physics etc.
he coughs his lungs out
in wheezing jets
internal combustion is internal combustion
his bed of wheels begins to roll
first one wheel then the others
cough cough cough
his wheels roll the length of
NEURO WARD 4's corridor
to the NEURO elevator
and its NEURO music
by now familiar to you
as that song in the head
cough cough cough
3 2 1 doors open out
upon the concrete parking lot
out to Lucille the Oldsmobile
they recognize one another
why no one knows
this is an orphan's tale
composed with the licensed use
of Orphan Guild secrets
raised on the back seat
suckled by giant oranges
weaned on foot long hot dogs
at the nation's roadside
Musella my injection!
act four
in the 4th phantom of the opera
the tank hits empty
his lungs flat and black
as a piece of big rig recap
in desperation piles bricks on seat
heaves bricks back onto concrete
salutes au revoir to the mirror's horizon
and rolls onward
propelled by what is equal
what is opposite
according to St. Newton
the law of the motor
what goes in must come out
seriously Lucille rolls
upon the concrete gridway
steering herself autonomously
everything left to chance
we now know any nightmare
propelled by what is equal and opposite
will roll through the divider
and off the bed-road
Musella vacuums up the glass
and sorts out the tubing
our fugitive lays low by his radio
signal up full
awaiting the footsteps
and stethoscope of Tex Amphora
the archaeologist cowboy surgeon
took my case in a bar stool wager
betting on flesh made perfect
the fool the angel
5 minute intermission
they taught me how to act
onstage I mean in stages
strangers said I'd grow out of it
friends said I'm gonna die from it
there comes a time in a youth's youth
when he discovers
that the machinery on the interstate
can play the sound of skidding wheels
on a Steinway
so
a much needed musical interlude then
acto sexto
From "Engine of Didactic Beauty" available on Amazon
http://tinyurl.com/nhfk6dr
Artist Portfolio: http://walteralter.site11.com/
This is a true story- no names have been changed to protect the idiot........
Nb- * - a car bonnet is a hood in the United states.
** - censored.
On my way back from the pub
(since real ale is my passion)
slowly wending my way home
in a wibbly-wobbly fashion
in the road sat something small-
I almost passed it by,
camouflaged in darkness
by a cloudy moonless sky.
I could tell it was a Hedgehog
simply by it's silhouette,
and if it didn't move real soon
would get squashed flat, I'll bet.
Just then a hundred yards away
a pair of lights appeared
heading our way at a pace
exactly as I'd feared.
Instinct kicked in, and out I leapt
to the middle of the road
waving my arms frantically as
I switched to 'Hero' mode.
He hit the brakes just feet away
and wound his window down
"get out the way, you Prat!" he yelled
but I just pointed down, and said
"Hedgehog!!" (which he couldn't see,
his bonnet* was in the way),
"Just hang on while I shift it, mate"
was all that I could say.
So, bending down to rescue it
still sat between my feet
my heart sank as I focussed in
then finally missed a beat.
The Hedgehog I had risked my life
to save it by removing
was, in fact, from off a washing machine
a piece of rubber tubing.
Not wishing too look foolish
I just hid it with my sleeves
and slowly walked off to the kerb,
the car began to leave.
Angrily into the air I kicked the pipe before me,
a big mistake- in his rear view mirror
the car driver he saw me,
and hit the brakes, then jumped out yelling
( I remember, although quite plastered)
"That's cruelty to an animal! Come here, you heartless person** !
In hot pursuit back up the road
he came- the chase was on,
I wasn't going to hang about, in seconds I was gone,
vaulting over garden walls and dodging through the gates
then out of breath I hid myself, till he had gone, I'd wait.
Mud splattered with my trousers torn I reached home, panic over,
the ordeal I'd just been through was a great way to get sober.
So next time wildlife is in peril, maybe I won't hurry,
I'll carry on and stagger home-
let Mother Nature worry.
This is for Andrea D. who asked for my Cow Gas poems. I have at least one more to
post. Look for California Cows. Mike
Cow Gas
I’m putting my cows all on Beano
With the veggies they eat – oh the gas
Eight hundred plus liters of methane
Each day through each cow does pass
Either that or get funnels and tubing
To capture the gas when it comes
And convert my gas guzzling auto
So on methane alone will it run
If cows can do it, why can’t I
A tube, a tank, and by and by
I’ll generate enough to fry
A burger on my grill
While it won’t get me very far
Were my gas used to run a car
The world would label me a star
For doing what I will
But if everyone would do their part
To capture each and every fart
That through your system did depart
Global Warming would be a chill
Mdailey
Researchers say the slow digestive system of cows makes them a producer of
methane, a potent greenhouse gas that gets far less public attention than carbon
dioxide in efforts to fight global warming. When we got the first results, we were
surprised. Thirty per cent of Argentina's (total greenhouse) emissions could be
generated by cows,' said Guillermo Berra, a researcher at the National Institute of
Agricultural Technology. Berra said the researchers 'never thought' a cow weighing
550 kg (1,210 lb) could produce 800 to 1,000 litres (28 to 35 cubic feet) of emissions
each day. Greenhouse gases are widely blamed for causing global warming.
Methane, researchers say, is 23 times more potent than carbon dioxide in trapping
heat in the atmosphere.
We can probably do the same with the typical human male. It would be no less
complicated and probably no more uncomfortable than a colostomy bag. And while
the typical male may not generate enough gas to run an auto, it should be enough
to run a gas grill on the weekends. Think of the savings and the contribution you
would be making to the war on global warming. As you all know, girls do not pass
gas (or so they tell me) so only the male species would be able to contribute in this
manner.
Is space-time a fabric that stretches and strains,
like a grass harp ruffling across the great plains,
when the force of a huge body in motion
makes waves akin to the billowing ocean?
LIGO’s antennae have finally disclosed
those waves gravitational Einstein proposed
that travel along with the swiftness of light
and can’t be obstructed in their spatial flight.
A faint fleeting whoop is the sound that was heard,
resembling the chirp of a faraway bird.
So the Nobel winner, with brilliant foresight
a century past, was again proven right!
In Einstein encomium much overdue,
we praise and applaud what he already knew
from his relativity theory acclaimed,
that pillar of physics for which he is famed.
The presence of mass as a part of his theme
makes space and time curve, in that elegant scheme.
And this is indeed how gravity functions,
not as a force, but as cosmic conjunctions.
Two black holes colliding, a billion light-years
removed, gave a sign that brought triumphant cheers
from the LIGO team, with a soft rising tone
making Einstein’s ineffable notion known.
The project cost umpteen millions of dollars.
Astronomers seemed the leeriest scholars
and felt the investment would be a big waste,
not trusting the models on which it was based.
Miles of steel tubing in L-shaped position
of vacant chambers were used in the mission
for gauging expansions and fluctuations,
with an outcome exceeding expectations.
The breakthrough implies that stargazers can peer
not just with the eye but moreover may hear
stellar storms bending space and changing time’s flow
in colossal activities to and fro.
Yes ripples in space-time were validated,
as Einstein had long ago calculated.
Researchers gave credit to LIGO, although
he is probably saying, “I told you so!”
~ Harley White
* * * * * * * * *
One of the articles that inspired the poem was “Gravitational Waves: What Their Discovery Means for Science and Humanity”
http://www.space.com/31922-gravitational-waves-detection-what-it-means.html#sthash.pFxWYwlQ.dpuf
If you’ve been to north New York,
or the western side of Vermont,
you might’ve head of a sea monster,
the vast Lake Champlain is his haunt.
The locals all call him ‘Champy,’
not to dissimilar to Loch Ness,
many folks claim they have seen Champ
rising up from the chilly depths.
Now I once thought Champy was
just a bit of local folklore,
until the day when my friend Pat
invited me down to the shore.
He had himself a fine speed boat,
soon enough we were on our way,
I expected a bit of fun
tubing and skiing on the lake.
But Pat had brought a big, thick rope,
and a bucket that truly reeked,
we motored to open water,
when Pat stopped the boat, and did speak:
“You know how I love my cryptids,
and that I saw Champy way back,
I have discovered, by hard research,
what the beast prefers for a snack.
“That bucket has rotted lampreys,
we’ll drag them by the boat as a lure,
once Champy gets the scent of them,
he’ll come up to our boat for sure!”
I though my friend was a mad-man,
as he set about his strange work,
we dragged a line for ten minutes,
then the whole boat began to jerk!
Pat slowed the boat down to a crawl,
and a Plesiosaur emerged!
One of the lampeys hid a hook,
the ancient beast loved unnerved.
“You need to drive the boat, my friend,”
said Pat as he undid the line,
then he leapt onto Chamy’s back!
Had the crazy fool lost his mind?!
The massive beast did try to dive,
but Pat just pooled back on the hook,
Champy abandoned thoughts of escape,
just one pull was all that it took!
Then Pat pulled the line to the right,
and great Champy began to swim.
I gunned the engine to follow,
but could barely keep up with him.
He drove Champ like a chariot,
gliding swiftly across the waves,
stunned boaters looked on as he went,
all too shocked to know what to say.
I drove, but in one hand I filmed,
recording this forever more,
because what could be more bad-ass
then saddling a damn Plesiosaur!
CONCLUDES IN PART II.
1.
Mom
kept the perch
we caught in a bucket.
And when we took them home
She would clean and place them
In our twenty gallon tank
Where they bobbed in stunned silence
Eyes watching for any white movement.
Nobody cared
when they committed fishicide
on their domesticated tank-mates.
Even the little beta fish
Who had survived our six day pilgrimage from Florida, to find Mecca
was a cool whip container.
2.
Whenever we had guests for dinner,
Mom swooned they
were the smartest fish she had ever seen.
She bestowed upon them names - Jed and Lucy
tapping at the glass
with one extended finger,
feeding them fish flakes,
like porpoises fed from the teeth of a trainer in Ocean World
“You can’t keep perch in a fish tank”
the guests would say,
but
they lived for two years
bobbing and staring
in the vacant tank space.
3.
One crisp winter morning
Jed finished his breakfast of gold fish flakes, took one
last gulp of slimy tank
water
then hurled
himself off of glass
walls.
It went
over and over,
so hard
I almost thought
the glass would crack.
4.
Lucy
sat quietly and watched
him.
She too died a few days later
like aged soulmates
who often cease
to be after their amor
dies.
When someone left the lid open,
she plunged
her blue green skin shimmered
as she laid
making fish O’s in the dry air..
I often wonder
if the air that morning
smelled
like an ice floe
to a better place
somewhere Jed waited
with our beta and our angel fish
a place of worms, kelp
and dragonflies.
4.
Mom
emptied the tank of the murky filtered water.
Rinsed the ultra neon yellow fish gravel,
and placed the fake plants on a sponge.
Separating air filter, from pump
from clear plastic tubing
and put to rest
in a brown cardboard box..
She did it without a word.
Here's another story about Granny
I think she's probably done it all
This was way back during prohibition
When they outlawed alcohol
See, my granny was a moonshiner
This is about her very first still
She had to make sure no revenuers
Came snoopin' around her hill
So she set up fifty-one booby traps
Now It wasn't nothing too bad
But anyone caught snoopin' around
Would probably wish they never had
See, my granny was like Davy Crockett
She killed a bear when she was only three
Well, a limb fell and hit him on the head
While Granny was climbing up a tree
Anyway, back to the moonshine still
Granny made that still all by herself
With some things she found in the yard
And copper tubing she found on the shelf
Now my granny didn't make ordinary shine
Hers was something a little more special
See, she didn't put it in old clay jugs
This took a different kind of vessel
Now, Granny's shine was known world wide
They came from everywhere
They're were even a few bald headed guys
That swore that it made them grow hair
Now my granny's secret recipe, was one of a kind
I could tell you, but you would probably disappear
So it's better that I keep this secret a secret
Cause my granny has some real good ears
Then late one night, a revenuer came
He was fixin' to take my granny to jail
Til he stepped in one of her booby traps
And started screaming about the horrible smell
See my granny had put some skunk pee
Inside one of those booby traps
And when they stepped on one of her triggers
It squirted it all over their laps
Well, prohibition finally ended
They called Granny the "Moonshine Queen"
That little old lady never got caught
And was the richest moonshiner I've ever seen
An old man and an old woman down an old river decided to float.
They opted to glide on inner tubes instead of in a boat.
In an inner tube, they heard…stress and troubles will decrease…
So in their inner tubes…on that old river…they searched for inner peace…
They were the only two on the river save for some geese and two fishermen
and somewhere along the river..they found their tubing Zen.
As they floated with the current through the straights and around the turns
They found the river is a good teacher…and there’s a lot to learn.
In a world where much of the of land is taken…every mountain, plain and hill
no one owns the river…and no one ever will.
On the river there’s no hurry…even though over obstacles the water climbs
you know eventually you’ll get there…they call it river time.
As you float along the river…you tend to forget any problems you have had
because in the middle of the river it’s impossible to be sad.
As you watch the waves, the trees, the sun…the clouds in the sky above
you realize how the river can teach us about love.
There are times when the river drifts apart…having different paths to weather
but the river knows there will come a time when it all flows back together.
The river understands how each part is important…no matter how big or small
for she knows that in the end….she is one river after all.
The river is quite confident in all the beauty she creates
And she knows, if you happen on her…the wonders that await…
So if you happen to see an old man and woman…
floating on a river near some geese….
chances are,
if they’re on an inner tube…
they’ve found their inner peace..
I need to purge my blood of these shivers, smoke-filled bubbles burst in blood capillaries, an embolysym of you, an embolysym of truth. So much disease carried through an artificial vein.A wire mesh heart that surrounds the tissue, and cuts, and scrapes and tears the flesh thats pulsing there. My iron lung feed me unwell. A binge on sickness that I cannot take back. And with words settling back on the heels of my fingertips, Im ready to be ill. Emesis of b***s***, of treachery. Of indecency, of dishonesty, of facelessness, of cowardice. Will anyone ever read this and understand how a broken heart heals? The maliciousness of untrust and the misuse of of courtesy have eaten away at my regenerated liver. My borrowed kidney is rejected on the operating table and I am drained of all my poisoned blood. So give me a heart outside of my body, a big plasticine box with rubber tubing. And let my eyes see the you drain out of me and the blood of unknown angels be filtered in. I wanna watch every drop be filtered from my collapsing veins, I wanna deflate every organ inside and empty every nerve synapse of memory.I want a restart button and I want a renewable source of energy. I dont want your weak blood in me anymore. I dont needd your tiny bits of protein, your half-formed enzymes. I want anything else. An artificial sense of safety within my reach. So split me down the middle, no anesthesia, the scalpel working inch by bleeding inch. and seperate me from you.
SYMPHONY ORCHESTRA
There’s a player up there
stomach resting on his chair
blowing air
through at least a hundred feet of twisted golden tubing
and
A man putting oil on a slide
makes toothy talk aside
to a skinny tuba player (imagine a tuba player being skinny)
who takes the fat horn on his lap
Drummers four all stand
Testing skins and whatnot with their hands
The first selection using such collection?
NOISY indeed!
Then there are the winds
All in a row with chimneys on the end
sucking for dear life it would seem
the flutist (or is it flautist?) is a dream
Finally the violins
adjusting gadgets rooting with their chins
cellos (big violins) screw into the floor
basses (huge violins) as a rule sit astool
Here comes a fiddler late
must have had a heavy date
of all the nerve he turns and bows
then sits that’s more than law allows
for
Here comes the conductor with a stick!