Long Tycoons Poems
Long Tycoons Poems. Below are the most popular long Tycoons by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Tycoons poems by poem length and keyword.
When the poem became tears
As the ink drips,
I have become an emotional basket case.
My keyboard squeals, as the businessman's anxiety climbs
At the sound of the opening bells,
Tariff wars targeting the poor,
Evil Eyes merges with the Texas Tycoons
What is the poor trader's offense?
Going once, going twice,
To be poor is to be honest,
How can honesty be the best policy
Knowingly, a poor man can never win a war with a rich man
Going once, going twice no deal
Tariff wars targeting the poor:
“They fought with them, we feel the pain
Forget the old saying, you scratch my back
I scratch yours, what are the poor man's justifications
Tighten your podiums, ring your bells
And remember the words,
“They charge us, we charge them,
Why is the world upset?
Aggression, depression, and the will to survive
Inferior and permanent: listen to
Bob Marley's “War song we will always be in war”
Update of "A Litany in Time of Plague"
by Michael R. Burch
THE PLAGUE has come again
To darken lives of men
and women, girls and boys;
Death proves their bodies toys
Too frail to even cry.
I am sick, I must die.
Lord, have mercy on us!
Tycoons, what use is wealth?
You cannot buy good health!
Physicians cannot heal
Themselves, to Death must kneel.
Nuns’ prayers mount to the sky.
I am sick, I must die.
Lord, have mercy on us!
Beauty’s brightest flower?
Devoured in an hour.
Kings, Queens and Presidents
Are fearful residents
Of manors boarded high.
I am sick, I must die.
Lord, have mercy on us!
We have no means to save
Our children from the grave.
Though cure-alls line our shelves,
We cannot save ourselves.
"Come, come!" the sad bells cry.
I am sick, I must die.
Lord, have mercy on us!
I am reporting from Normandy,
where a cheese war has started
between two hospitality business tycoons,
for acquiring the ownership of a shipload
of Brie and Comembert soft and creamy cheese,
heavily consumed popularly in their two outlets,
Wine and Cheese Tavern and Charcuterue Shack.
As the cheese ship arrived,
the owners of these dining holes tried
to negotiate the price with the Captain, but failed,
for both the parties offered increasing competitive bids.
So, the indecisive Captain suggested
they fight out the possession issue
in the cheese war, going on now for two months,
and seems not to end, for no one is winning.
The eventual owner might be getting
a shipload of rotten French delicacy.
THE HIJACKER WHO WAS HIJACKED
The mission is the pursuit of Caicedo,
the race has been on since the January set-go,
keepin' the paparazzis tongue in closed bridle.
Call Liverpool Big Jax of the Jungle,
and Chelsea, Richie, with cash in bundle.
Hijacking isn't alien in the round leather game,
though the salty feeling of the victim isn't the same,
the aftermath stain is what the media will frame.
Swung-in to hijack 3 month labour of Chelsea,
the American Clearlake tycoons 're never at sea
as they hijacked Liverpool’s hijack attempt for Caicedo,
and Lavia to punish 'em & their transfer window.
Served hot by Chelsea, that makes it two hijacks,
breaking the heart of Liverpool the Big Jax.
The hijacked ends-up as the hijacker in a twinkler
as Chelsea hijacked the hijack of the hijacker.
VICK MANUEL POETRY
{VMP}
Form: Quatern/Rhymes
Copyright ©? August 14th, 2023.
Ah, sweet slumber of nip-laden dreams;
the milk of mother moon bestowed,
a blessed drink and lactose-free
to this mine humble, feline throat.
Running freely through outer space,
I touch upon thy blessed universe.
My home of emerald and lapis lace,
is where in I lay in furred repose.
Chasing neon rainbows in nebulae bright,
my dreams are filled with gold doubloons.
I’ll spend them on treats and nip-delight,
and chase away any greedy tycoons.
A feline black as obsidian night,
in a home filled with human love;
among the faeries and tree sprites,
mind flies just like the doves.
Sinister snarling swindling scandalous scoundrels secretly slither shamelessly
Implicitly interrogated ‘bout innermost insidious illegitimate impertinences
Ghastly Grotesque grimacing gumption gorging gruesome gimmicky gossip
Netherworld’s nauseating narcissistic nefarious nature nibbling at naiveté
Obnoxious oppressors outrageously ostracizing offspring to oblivion
Facetiously fondling flip flutter floundering their frayed frazzled foibles
Tyrannical temperamental tempestuous tumultuous targeting tallying triviality
Haphazardly harnessing halfhearted heinous hypocritical homicidal hatred
Exploiting embezzling extricating explicit evil entangled ephemeral effrontery
Tetrad of treacherous tyrannical tycoons tackle tantamount transfigurations
Implicit intermittently incoherent infernal insanity idling illicit insidious insolences
Malicious misanthropic madmen monstrously manipulating mangling mercilessly
Erroneous euphemisms explicitly eclipsing evolving estranged etiquette’s eulogy
Staggering systematic spiritual stagnation symbolizing society’s sign of the times
AP: Honorable Mention 2020
Submitted on April 22, 2018 for contest SIGN OF THE TIMES sponsored by JOHN HAMILTON - RANKED 4TH
The Gilded Age by Mark Twain in his 1873 novel /The Gilded Age: A Tale of Today, which satirized the era's materialism and political corruption is just what this King has ordered in his Megabill —Poetess
There was economic prosperity,
tho unconscionable social inequality
as a few “robber barons” tycoons
amassed great fortunes,
whereas degradation inflicted dire poverty,
mass starvation from petty wages
and long suffered humiliation
spawned a widened path and following stages
Arising of labor movements,
for better rights and conditions
narrowing the gap ‘tween the CEO
and the working Joe
killed for organizing strikes
The Gilded Age was notorious
political corruption made glorious
influencing many politicians
dominating were the captains of industry
An era of the rise of patronage systems
and widespread bribery and kickbacks
eroding trust in the government
Lack of effective regulation
contributed monopolist’s chasm reign
solidifying rich/poor disparity
We’ve forgotten that era and are in the midst
of repeating the plunder
A royal signature enshrines greed now just as then,
making America for the privileged gilded again
His majesty has his victory lap
and with no room for a generation gap
he’ll sign the Big Beautiful Bill
On this Independence Day
A gilded new age awaits his will
Standing underneath the tree
Set and ready, just for me
Christmas morn held my surprise
Through my half shut, sleepy eyes
There I saw this massive stand
As my mama shook my hand
Leading me then to explore
Brand new county "General Store”
As the owner of this shop
More than just a “Mom and Pop”
I could stock and sell so much
Cans and pasta, beans and such
Register with money stacked
Coins and bills to be exact
Sat upon the counter stall
Customers were not so tall!
Props and shelves and goods galore
All set for tycoons of four
Too big for a box to fill
Perfect for a childhood thrill
With this memory in place
Mom said, “should’ve seen your face”
As she watched my spirits lift
For this perfect Christmas gift
Look around your surroundings,
which abnormal things do you see clearly?
People catching busses and trains,
or the unkept beggar asking for money?
It's the norm for the lonely one to desire
everything: a wife or someone to confide in and trust;
Have we found ours? Do we still search for that one?
Which prize will we pay to cover the cost?
Lucky are the sons of the powerful tycoons
who live in true comfort and waste huge fortunes
on pleasures such as fine wines and luxuries;
why does luck favors some, not those with dreams?
It's the norm for the lonely one to desire
everything: let him love, laugh, cry and drink wine!
Are we willing to end our pursuit and settle down?
If this is our real wish, we have earned our crown!
Wanderer of busy streets and empty allies,
those are the wrong places to look for any love;
none of them can promise joy, only delusions:
examine your conscience and truly give!
To tell or not to tell
that is the question.
If it is better
to take up arms
against tycoons
siphoning blood
from pension funds
or to endure
the wrath of numbers
set on arguing:
To thyself be true
two and two is four
without added
000,000,000,000
Santa Claus bonuses!
Ignoramus adding fives
subtracting nines
to cover up crimes.
Shredding numbers
into the trash
hiding cash,
Pulling number
out of the hat.
Three and three is nine?
Poor numbers
bare to the bones
as unequivocal in truth
as in lying
unlimited by culture
undiminished by time
universal and immortal
can’t be minced
sweetened or doubled
to camouflage a lie.
Ah, if words were like numbers!
Would I be a writer?
First Place Winner in Oliver Mckeithan Contest: The Bard's Birthday-4/28/25