Long Ultimatum Poems
Long Ultimatum Poems. Below are the most popular long Ultimatum by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Ultimatum poems by poem length and keyword.
(Mimic the song..."If I Only Had A Brain" by the Scarecrow from The Wizard of Oz)
I could be so independent
So lavish and resplendent
Just a player in the game
I would wield mighty powers
And be mesmerized for hours
If I only knew my name
Oh nothing's getting clearer
This stranger in the mirror
Every day it's just the same
I don't think I'm Richard Nixon
It's my brain that needs a fixin'
If I only knew my name
I must have washed up on the shore
I'm not in Kansas anymore
Tell me who am I to blame
Am I a winner or a loser
Am I sober or a boozer
If I only knew my name
Who's my father and my mother
Have I sister and a brother
To remember is the aim
Was I born just an orphan
Or was I metamorphin'
If I only knew my name
Were there starlets I was meetin'
Or did I take a beatin'
A sad history or fame
Did I grow up in the gutter
Only eating peanut butter
If I only knew my name
It would be an inspiration
If I got an invitation
By the Queen or Royal Dame
All my senses would be tinglin'
When they crowned me King of England
If I only knew my name
Would I do it all for spite
Is it wrong or is it right
Let me tell you it's a shame
Do I love 'em or I hate 'em
Is that my one ultimatum
If I only knew my name
I would wave my country's banners
And practice proper manners
Not to do so is so lame
I would call no gal a heifer
Or a guy a mother effer
If I only knew my name
Am I a true brainiac
Or a total maniac
This confusion I must tame
I may need some absolution
In a mental institution
If I only knew my name
From the summer through the fall
I kept trying to recall
But the memory never came
Am I coming am I going
There's just no way of knowing
If I only knew my name
When I stand I'm dizzy still
There has got to be a pill
Guess I may go down in flame
This must be some strange disease
Won't somebody help me please
If I only knew my name
Well I feel so out of place
I want to join the human race
So now I'm here to stake my claim
And I'm hopin' and believin'
That one day this fog is leavin'
If I only knew my name
Almost as natural as when the wind blew
Almost as close when I am to feel
Against a nakedness beneath if I knew
For a reason remains when striped is to be real
In a world when I haven’t the place
I live therein forgetting myself too soon
Of dreams to be an ever to forever chase
Haven’t I the life in dire need of fortunes?
However today... some self I have come to find
Some self to once again once more realize
A rediscovering perhaps evermore left behind
Yet a discovery as slowly as surely... dies
And as true as my form had since begin
I try to understand the need for an entrapment
Yet to find no result for an ultimatum to mean
And bearing untrue will I secure my retirement
Today... I felt the wind blew
Closer then I would like to feel
Blowing away a self I knew
And once more shall I begin as real
Death of a Virgin
I lost my virginity...to another woman, like myself. I am a Lesbian.
I cracked my knuckles as the prosecutor began to beam away from me.
I am a virgin whore.
Those thoughts continue to trickle down my mind. My husband was open.
He was an imaginary person in the about of a dream. My thoughts run rampant.
There is no time for folly; no time for clearance. My heart is sinking...and then...
I embrace her wet lips and begin to devour her bosom.
Her love was as strong as it was unwavering: the perfect vestal virgin suicide.
Like making love to a man but better, but not a dog, and yet, but not a ravenous
beast either...
I feel content here writing these words: the presuming words, presumptuous. As in,
pre-SUME. As in Virgin suicide. As in. Perfect harmony. As in, Virgin prostitution.
My walls are filled with love-making. I feel the cold warming up into splinters and it
nips into each pasture like a dew of a dawn of a reindeer or a doe nipping at wintery
trees into the solstice after Springtime had just arrived.
The battering cold was predatorial, and masculine, as the artificial rod from which I was
thinking simmered down into her and made her moan, fiercely.
I lick the remains like the jaws of a lioness after it kills its prey, constantly tasting its blood.
Its womb was worse, a virgin woman's, and I, its paternal partner.
How elaborate a thought this was. How to color a treat. To reconcile my ultimatum. Remaining
absonate, eternal.
as i reveal my secret,
you make Beauty Grow
i shake as you begin to see me
a New Love for me grows in
the clarity of your heart
as introverted as i usually am,
you begin to see me for the first
time within this period of ultimatum
a Renewed Permanence Inspires a
New Crystal Clear Foundation
the re-energized warmth of it all causes
our multiple exhalations to be deep....
influencing the return of the Essential
Jolliness
it is then that i pull out the BIG PRESENT
from my magic hat of imagination
i watch with bated breath as you
try to investigate my every look and
posture while excitedly ripping the paper
and the box at the same time
when you finally look down, i, with a
slight hint of emotion murmur Merry
Christmas, My Love
your reply....and later, your response....
is what makes Loving You all the more Worthwhile....
I’ve missed out on pub table conversations
the shocked laughter and gasps
The feeling of validation that they seem to get
from confessing
and every time I feel ashamed and childish
you stare back at me.
Hurt.
How they hark at what they deem to be your innocence
Shake their heads in disbelief
As if wearing white was a modern day crime
past the age of eighteen.
I lay at night, silk sheets holding one body
being watched by you
you say
But how I long to be held
Soft lips marking their territory on my neck
Patterns that look like battle scars
Souvenirs that confirm my maturity
But what’s to happen one December night
when your leash finally falls apart?
Me and another left alone in the purple palace
my childhood etched far away into the stars
What do I say when they ask to see my Kingdom?
All the possessions I haven’t taken
Will they take pity on my poverty? Lead the path away from home?
Or will they leave and you return
as before
reminding me that I am not deserving
at least not yet
I must remember the clock has no ultimatum
there’s no shame in not letting go
but that won’t stop me from feeling
eternally alone.
Memory houses soul asylum vestige...
where complex edifice once anchoring
venerated Glen Elm demesne once stood,
now nothing except vinyl city!
I recall breathtaking, expansive, incredible
numerous, tremblingly awe inspiring views
billion miles (slight exaggeration) heavenly
sights comfortably ensconced, while perched
high atop sadly long since demolished complex
edifice anchoring Glen Elm demesne – summer
mansion property captain Leiper (circa early
nineteen hundreds) more'n century ago once
encompassing hundred plus acres whittled to
approximately 2.42811 hectares upon purchase
February twenty eighth ninety sixty eight by
papa Boyce Brandon Harris, insync with help
courtesy paternal grandpa Aaron Harris, the
former who invested blood, sweat and tears,
when not yoked, tethered, obligated... to
incumbent duties consonant with assignments
linkedin, when gainfully employed as top notch
mechanical engineer at General Electric, he
slaved away gentrifying neglected fixer upper
(matter of fact single handedly reshingled roof)
that same exterior hideaway offering solace
against imprecation, ostracization, ultimatum...
damnation, humiliation, laceration, (albeit verbal
lashing against yours truly), when exhibiting no
motivation to work (courtesy thank debilitating,
immobilizing, paralyzing anxiety/panic attacks),
now though still plagued with same understood
as congenital (possibly in utero) malady, yes an
abominable, execrable, implacable..., nemesis
which unpleasant memories haunt me even to
this day, whereby nothing but utter failure cast
dark shadows analogous to edge of night oft
times accompanied with suicidal ideations,
whereat damned, continually bereft, abysmal
bereft legacy testimony marginally functioning
as the token "scapegoat" throughout twelve
torturous years yielding absolute zero aptitude
unable to comprehend, (I strongly suspect die
hug noses along high functioning autistic
spectrum - case in point youngest of two sweet
progeny (both daughters) afflicted with yepper
aforementioned cognitive learning disability,
she benefited social services since birth, and
can attest to much more positive academic,
and socialization endeavors well on her way
living clear and free empowered at twenty
orbitz round the earth.
Autumn ultimately unveils it all,
Basking in bold bohemian design,
Pastoral poets’ inspiration shrine -
Enlivens lavishly before the fall.
Winter ultimatum trumps with chill swing -
Impetus frozen by a frigid muse -
Sublimating into slumbering blues,
Melting away under the spell of Spring.
Spring’s ultimate pizazz wafts in the air,
Awakening the passions of pristine -
Romance’s timid touch from hues of green,
Blush to blossom under Summer’s hot stare.
Summer struts with an ultimate demand -
Party for all disciples of the sun -
Sweet sweat of dog days in the languid run,
Til Autumn takes a precedented stand.
March 24, 2023
There’s civic unrest in Neasden
Which has become a mini hell
The vapours from all those camels
Has caused an awful fruity smell
The citizens are angry and are
Marching off to Westminster hall
Now the novelty has worn off
They’re blooming sick of it all
In spite of the good intentions
Of Lawrence and his crew
You can’t housetrain a camel
And the streets just smell of poo
It’s a simple ultimatum sent
To Tonee ol Georgie’s Vee Pee
Get them moved blooming sharpish
Or next election we’ll jolly well see
They’ve held a cabinet meeting
Old Two Jags came as well
To listen to those pleas
About their urban hell
They’ve reached an honourable
Compromise and Lawrence agreed
He can fulfil his patriotic duty
By going anywhere there is need
So if you are on the channel tunnel
And you think you’ve blown your mind
Because you could swear you’ve just
Seen a camel’s fat brown behind
It’s only Lawrence and his people
On security and safety patrol
Dedicated and dutiful
To the very soul
When a patriot’s a patriot
No task is too great
In the cause and the name
Of the safety of the state
And as Lawrence sometimes mutters
As he enters the tunnel to ride through it
For VeePee Tonee and Her Majesty
Somebody has got to do it
And back there in little Neasden
Things once more are going well
Thanks to the absence of those camels
And their gradually fading smell
TBC
The Gothic Candle Holder
She was abubble with much excitement.
It was only a few hours until
trick-or-treating. She couldn’t stay still.
Floating, spinning round like a dill
in the living room, made her feel a quite ill.
She parked onto the dark oak mantelshelf
of foliate decoration she was used to.
While she waited on the mantelshelf
feel sound, to
feel like herself, she went over her tricks.
She had more than two tricks.
One called “Pull My Candle”.
When a child did that, blood (to them, OOOHHH!)
spurted out into their eyeballs. Handle
that they couldn’t! 'OOOHHH!'
Some threatened, ‘I know KUNG FU!
Do you?'
The Gothic Candle Holder would laugh
and laugh
until the child, and their parents with no care,
slammed the door on her. They were so square!
‘Yes! Yes! Can’t wait a second now
to do that!’ she ejected, feeling better now.
But this Halloween she never
got to do her clever
scare. Her Gothic Candle Holder grandpa Neaps
gave her a very serious ultimatum: (heaps)
either balance for all of Halloween my heaps
of gold teacups or, move out for keeps.
She chose the first.
On the inside, she was raging! No Halloween trick-or-treating! She almost burst!
Trumpet the ethos of these wading warriors with the hollowed bones
of their panygeric prophets,resonating triumphant tones,
to forever honor,protect,& perpetuate the valor,virtue,& victory of this Holy Order,
the irridescent echo seeps from their Father's tombs,
for what extent shall I blaze myself and minions in the arrows path,
so to coddle an intangible hope made of a prayer's dope,
or in a mind where a prevailing vision roams,
nay, to avert that macbre nightmare of having my People's progeny becoming the pigmy
of a teething tyrant who condones the perversion of civilization's tomes,
a coalesced consciousness consummated by the last bastion
with a vigorous vigil on this Christmas Eve,
solemn and sacramental the emotion is which this of our hearts
the Almighty exhumes,
A dispatched soldier ploying as scout,remote, waiting ignorantly to be smote,
a far but not forgotten armored satellite being selfless,
his vanity enemy's threat consumes,
an unbridled but composed offensive of a triplicate terror delivered
by an indefatigable knight ,
an ultimatum presented simply but also strictly,
one at least his assault maroons,
J.A.B. - Part Four -