Long Urban Poems
Long Urban Poems. Below are the most popular long Urban by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Urban poems by poem length and keyword.
Listen to the rain. It sings. It whispers.
Listen to the rain. It heals. It covers.
I lay in the grass. Thinking. Wondering. The rain falling, splashing on my cold pail skin. Splashing on my hair. Dancing on my dress.
It's falling all around me. Covering me. Protecting me. My body. My heart. My soul.
Healing the wounds. Covering the scars.
I close my eyes and feel it's cold touch. Drop by drop. Sinking in my skin.
I listen to it fall. I listen to it whisper. I listen to it sing. I listen to the wind. Blowing screeching. Screaming. Pounding the rain against my body. Against the grass. I lesten to the thunder roll. Roar. Growl. I listen to the lightning crack and slash the dark sky.
I'm thinking. Wondering. Hoping. Hurting.
I'm thinking about you. Wondering about you. Hoping for you. Hurting for you.
I miss you. I need you.
The pain is unbarable. I can't stand to be away from ou. I can't stand not feeling your touch. I can't stand not hearing yur voice.
So I lay in the grass. I listen to the rain sing. I listen to it whisper.
I let it heal me. I let it cover me. I let it cover the scars.
I listen to the rain. It hides my tears. Washes them away. The wind carries waya my worries. My doubts. The thunder hides my cries. My sobs.
But the lightning brings you. Brings images of you. Brings memories of you.
I can't help but smile. I hold you dream catcher and tags tight against my chest. I hold our picture.
Another crash, another stike. I get you for one more night.
The sky gets darker and darker. More and more memories of you flash through my mind.
The rain grows harder, the lightning grows longer.
In the grass I lay, smiling, soaked. Clutching our picture. Clutching your tags. Clutching your dream catcher. The last memories with you.
I will meet you again. I will see you again. I will be in you arms again.
We will make it.
The wind dies down and the rain slows. The thunderstops, so does the lightning show. My show of you is over.
Sad once again I lay in the grass. Listening to the rain sing. Listen to the rain whisper.
I look at our picture. A tear escapes my eye.
I miss you. I wish I could be in our arms again. I wish you could hold me. I miss being with you. I miss hearing you.
Another tear added to my growing fear. My growing saddness.
Another tear for you. I miss you. I need you.
As two, hearts dance the embrace of a fire,
plucking your heartstings as a lyre
Distrust, lies, eclipses love's satellite true- natal
loon, into a suicide hot air balloon ride!
Moves aside bend of light, chooses,
side, of a dark malignant side of moon !
In the twilight hour blues,
where passions softly stir,
emotions start to blur, turn sour,
painting pleasure in the night maw to devour two
In the depths of the night, a solitary light wound
casts a shadows upon the heart,
where darkness slowly seeps through
With every stolen kiss, a crescendo of desire,
a symphony of emotions that sets souls afire
Strings of anticipation strum
in rhythmic delight tuned to
caressing secrets, where fantasies abide, nude
Signs, who, hides moons of the truest kind!
O a tale apart
Moves side winds, breath of the dark arts,
to align into hearts maligned
arms folded in death to make with
as a stolen kiss ignites a flame,
like a symphony, our hearts fall prey to again
be betwixt in the game
With every stolen kiss, a crescendo of desires,
hollows,
a symphony of emotions that sets
souls adrift from the shallows
In passions dance in the shadows,
at Night, where secrets cannot hide their gallows
from the ghouls that preside in it's marrow
In a tale ripped apart...
every 'plete of your heart
Strings of anticipation strum in
rhythmic delight tune
turns to the knife of sacrificial rite
In the twilight raimant so blue, where passions fly,
the jolly roger of motley fools,
selling the fine line
sailing the live mines
Embracing the darkness' essence,
a tale yet for reason
harmonies of ecstasy reaching
a breathtaking peak of reasoning
Oh, the cadence of desire, intoxicating and divine,
as crescendos rise and fall, our spirits intertwine
a symphony of emotions, wild and misconstrued,
leaving souls aflame, forever marked,
for death do you sever
apart partaking your
passions dance in the shadows,
at Night, where secrets cannot hide to
desires lever toggle with every touch, new,
every sight of slight or bruise
Urban decay of a dream,
dream theater of a tragedy
playing looped scene
In the Twilight raimant so blue
With every beat of your heart
Moves side winds, choose, sides,
with a dark maligned tune
There is, in the Los Angeles area, a well-known brand of milk, called Alta Dena. Near also,
is the city named Alta Dena, and my grandson lives there. I asked him if he had seen the dairy there, and he told me that it does not exist. I then asked him if he had seen herds of milk cattle there and he said that he had not, and doubted that there were any. Of course I wondered why the milk had such a name, and jokingly asked him to look for at least one cow in the city, since it was well built-up, and there were no obvious open pastures at all. I told him that we could only conclude that it this had to b a very famous and rare cow that could supply all the milk needed by a large urban dairy, and thus must be insured, protected from the idle public, and secreted in some private home where she would not be disturbed. The whole story and speculation grew into a riotous family "search" for this wondrous animal. I, of course, ask my grandson each week when I see him, for a progress report on the search. Finally, I have decided to turn it into a poem:
A Search Continues
Something very hush-hush is going on
and Alta Dena folk aren't going to tell.
All cowdom secreted within its bovine lair
yet Bo would stare contentedly at us
with no incursive moo directed at the hellish
vine that she must eat, in lieu of meadow grass.
That ever-present cud must still
be masticated; yea, her celebrated udder
must be filled.
Yet none admit to having sighted her.
Beastiana though she be, no Altadenian
will dare so much as low on her behalf,
no bull, Eden-bound, is ready to exchange
his bold, testicular desire
to service mewling ruminants
who merely run away.
Nay, uncowed are they, though cowed they be,
and cowards not--and if you do not see
their wisdom, chalk it up to power,
Bo's mammary magnificence, so easily
in jeopardy before a single squeeze,
not of a nipple but a trigger
thus applied, and speeding out of sight.
Challenge, indeed, our quest to find
this noble and prolific queen
who dominates with graceful quietude
her milky empire slurping quite
without a care, lush liquid destined
not to slosh within her, rather
in those tumescent tummies
ever crying out for more.
Would I betray them for a share?
Of course. Away with those content
to sour the milk of human kindness
with deception. Let the search go on!
~
9904
9904
CharlaXFabels
Ninenintyfour
Autofixation
A Dialog Fabel
Mrs. Smithster: BOSS let me help you clean up your computor today the new
auto program disc is arrived in my snail mail box.
BOSS: OK just don't lose any of my contacts on the list the accounts are way too
important.
JUNE: to her self: an aside: GET HIM who does he THINK he is giving me that
guff so early in the mourning.
BOSS: Poor June is my secretary and eye love her like my sister but she is so
dense the bullits bounce off her like she is Superman, or wait no Supergirl
mabe.
Narrator Ed.Note: This is the twilight zoned for the next five minutiae you can not
understand anything but this fable you have been transported to the twilight
zone. This Lady Bosses Secretary one Mrs. June Smithster has been the
receiver of a program sent to her inside her snail mail marked as a FIXIT
program disc the entire story is now centered around what comes next let's
watch what happens…
Charlax the Narrator: June reached into the envelope slowly and opened the disc
cover reluctantly she was wondering now just where it had come from it was
compelling her to use it she could feel its message somewhere near her left toe
and the eye her left eye was twitching like a nervous wrecked her whole face was
letting go she had to she had to over and over like a ROBOT compulsion she
HAD to place the disc in the BOSSES computor NOW.
June: something is almost forcing me to use this new hardware it's an alien tech
rippoff of an image of the MOON it makes me want to dress up and wear my
cape out.
Charlax the Narrator: The Bosses Computor is slowly being eaten up by the disc
all the contacts on the every list are gone the moral of the CharlaXFabel number
9904 poor gentle reader ewe is never use a disc program to enable accounts not
meant to be edited by ewe. The computor is now gone the disc dropped to the
floor lets go back and see what happens now…
BOSS: walking in to his office to check on his computor and June Smithster: well
that is not funny did the android charlock pick up my computor for cleaning
again?
Charlax the Narrator: but there is only silence from the corner of the room where
June is laying down curled up in a ball of Supergirl costume her cape lay furled
around her like a hobo blanket cover…
I sing the praises of Sterilite
(even Mary Poppins would tout
a plug for said company she would spout
forcing playthings scattered helter skelter
retreating into their respective bins
analogous to a defeated army
beating a hasty retreat after a major rout
against all odds fighting off
the aggressive incursion
of a trumpeting lout,
which troops use weapon of choice
namely breath issuing "Kraut"
which in German, "Kraut"
primarily means herb
or the leaves and stem
of a plant, as opposed to the root,
also used in compound nouns
to refer to various cabbage products,
most notably Sauerkraut,
which is fermented white cabbage.
Additionally, "Kraut"
can be a derogatory slang term
for Germans, similar to how "Frogs"
used for the French,
according to The Guardian).
which accolades vocalized
on behalf of a company
whose sturdy products
helped transform the wife
from a potential candidate
of Hoarders buried alive
into a rival for the Odd Couple
neatnik character Felix Unger
though room for improvement
the spouse tries to abide
by the phrase
"a place for everything
and everything in its place"
an idiom that promotes
organization and orderliness,
where maximizing the space
afforded by a one bedroom apartment
here at Highland Manor
taught us the necessity
of maintaining an ever closer approximation
to becoming the reigning queen
of spic and span
affected by the mandates of management
(reinforced by dictates
of urban housing for low income
linkedin to yearly "violations")
toward instilling acquiring
"the model tenant award"
by regular inspections
which if I ruled the world
would include a month of free rent
as an extra incentive
leaving no room
for the likes of Oscar Madison,
which objective becoming
neat and tidy truth be told
finds me relishing living
according to the gospel
of several people offering
decluttering and organization methods
similar to Marie Kondo's KonMari approach,
focusing on simplifying and creating
a more joyful living space.
Some notable figures
include Gretchen Rubin,
known for her
"Outer Order, Inner Calm"
philosophy, and The Home Edit duo,
Clea Shearer and Joanna Teplin,
who emphasize visual organization.
Other methods, like Swedish Death Cleaning
and Peter Walsh's approach,
also offer alternative strategies
for decluttering and organizing one's home.
If it was not for¡¦
Beyonce Irreplaceable, I would not have put his bags out and told him he must
not know about me! Because if it was not¡¯t for Destiny¡¯s Child, I would not be
asking him was She the reason he start acting funny
He was telling me I was tripping and like Gucci Gucci I told him B.... I Might Be¡¦
Therefore, like Keyshia Cole I had to Let Him Go!
Every since I let him go¡¦like my inspiration You Couldn¡¯t Tell Me Nothing and I
was hitting the clubs Bottle Poppin¡¦Sh!t I was Remy Ma cuz I was FRESH 2
Death¡¦
Therefore, for him and my haters I told yal I was gon 2 bump like this¡¦
If you ever felt like this in the words of my Idol Keyshia, I¡¯m Just Like YOU¡¦.
Part 2
I am so glad that I found my Angel listening to Bobby V¡¦. I felt like Lil Wayne when
you told me I can be you judge¡¦So Nasty wit it!
Sometimes I feel like Alicia, I wish that we could be together more to cherish our
time and you can hug me as if You will never see me again...
In the words of Mary J, we will be Just fine, because you taught me you are just
like Mario and you are Crying out for me while listening to my heart
I am so glad that you CC all those other girls around town and You choose me 3
stacks¡¦.
So now, we can make love in the Mirror like Neyo¡¦If anything goes wrong we can
Make it like is was like Pretty Ricky.
In the end like Avant and Keke theirs nothing in the world I would not do for you
boy¡¦Good thing I listened to Lloyd and opened up my eyes and seen that you are
they One for me. Therefore, I am going to take Ciara¡¯s advice and Promise that
I will never ever hurt you¡¦because you are My Boo.
So I will flash my Promise Ring everywhere I go¡¦Damn I HATE THAT I LOVE YOU!
Part 3
Can you really Put it Down like T-Pain, and get it Poppin with our Nasty Grind¡¦
Just Say It! You are Addicted to Sex like Neyo¡¦
Just because you are such a Seduction¡¦.I Can¡¯t Leave you Alone¡¦
Like Plies I am happy to be yo Shawty¡¦even tho you told me once you put it down
I was gone be stuck¡¦
I am Sorry, so therefore you can put the Blame On Me...
As, Pretty Ricky would say I want you to Stay a little bit longer
Because I am going to Suffocate without you¡¦cuz, you know exactly How I like it
So go back and tell yo friends that you chick said hello cuz I know THEY KNOW¡¦.
¢¾ Mz.Liscious
12/18/2007
Form:
As I walk the dirty streets, I look into a crack head eyes,
as she look's up at with surprise.
Knowing I got what it takes to supply them dimes!
She has her high beam's on, and a crack pipe in her palms.
she has no time to speak, as she crosses the street.
I'm her pusher man!
That keeps the past, in the past.
She beg's me for a hit, with her cracked white lips. She say's she needs a dime,
for it's her last time, knowing it's lie just to get high.
As I smile in her face, with a look of disgrace, for I'm the pusher...
I know to never let the street's get to you.
I alway's know rule number two...Never smoke from your own supply!
Rule number ten,... All rule's apply!
I'm your pusher man...
All these other rules, from one thur nine, is for only real niggas that put in time!
Never be weak for the drug's you seek, for she knows what she needs.
She really has no need to plead, what ever she needs, I'm pleased.
For her money is coming to me! If she only knew I was taking her life.
Everything she has, or ever treasured, from her husbend, to a straight dike!
She needs me for I'm here to please. With out an "us"... they'll be no "we"!
She'll give up her home and, her family, she'll never go to far,
I'm her pusher man!
I'll make her dreams a reality!
To reconcile, to feel all she needs is me! I'm the prophecy, she'll live in poverty,
talking with profanity. Selling her big screen to me!
I'm her pusher man. I make her happy when shes sad,
I can get her higher than a kite, she'll be in the streets all night!
Her family wouldn't see her in weeks, her home, was with me!
No need to eat, drugs was the beef!
I'm her pusher man!
She'll rob her mom, just to get her high on.
She'll steal from the police, If she see me in the street's!
I'm her mom, I'm her dad, Im' her everything she had,
I'm her pusher man!
She keeps me richer, my pockets stay thicker!
She loves me more than she loves her self... because the crack, is what it's really all about! I'm her pusher man!
I am what I am, I give what I can!
From the suburbs from, the hoodest of all hoods! I stay with the goods!
I'm her pusher man...
The streets will be watching everthing you do, and one day they might come for you!
For I'm... your pusher man!
You can't imagine what its like to march on a sacred city,
to plunder and pulverize a Peoples' promise to Deity,
demolishing centuries of lavish labor, wasting offspring of ancient heredity,
destroying flesh, scriptures and stone with a savage Roman military synergy,
a discipline determined in it's destruction of dissention, inspired by ancestral victory,
politics was not our purview, methodical punishment was our specialty,
We were War's royalty, we were Legio XV Apollonaris,
monsters of Mars, messengers of Apollo, the juggernaut of Jupiter,
along with 11 other Legions led by General Titus, 60, 000 cuts of glory we stood,
for 3 and a half years we fought through Jewish guerilla ambush
asymetrical urban warfare welting our progress like a pirate pestilence
district after district, hell spell after hell spell we bled with chilled maneuver,
the Zealots were pyromaniacs, burnt sacraficers, their zeal and our bodies zesty wood,
in the Kidron Valley they flooded the streets " knee high " with oiled water
as the Cohorts waded through the lanes leery, a torch was tossed, flames rose in rush
240 men perished like spazing stars trapped in a box, our grief agape with a horrified crush,
as reprimand, Titus made the Legate sit in a tent with his chopped off ring finger
smoldering like hot sand in the hand of a marooned man aware of error in his plan,
the insurgents had men we called Fox Tails, desperate demons who knew how Hell began,
as a skirmish succumbed to our skill and number they would run into apartments,
dragging the fury of our blades into rooms of Hades revenge, these were fire entrapments,
the buildings would blaze like windowed volcanos, screams salting us with panic linger,
It was not uncommon to discover a missing Brother Legionary
castrated, and decapitated with a headedless eagle carved upon his chest,
don't speak to me about morals and mercy for I have seen and dealt the damage of rude death
hate becomes your Father, vengence your Mother, aggravated murder your cause
when everything you revere and fear merge to make a leviathen of life,
the " Chosen People " of God became the chosen target of annihilation,
Mount Moriah, mansion of Yahweh the Pariah would become capital of Divine crucifixion,
J.A.B.
This poem has been entered into the Roman Legion Contest
to honor Ancient Rome and the Poet who sponsored this historical subject.
Myrtle Parker
Myrtle Parker lived on the Riviera,
That’s the English one not the French.
Her favourite tipple is Red Currant Cider,
Only beverage her thirst would quench.
Never did she marry no husband,
Preference for life single and free,
Though kept two doggy companions,
Twin Westies, Florence and Zebedee.
Miss Parker was a gatherer and hoarder,
Antiques, curios, lots of impractical tat.
Her catchphrase was somewhat familiar,
“I‘ll find a good use for that.”
Tumbledown Cottage name on the gate,
Aptly called for badly required repair.
The man from Devonshire Council,
Shakes his head in anguished despair.
Oh, dear Myrtle what are we to do,
I cannot see the wood for the trees,
Environment Officer is calling today,
He doesn’t like cockroach and fleas.
Myrtle lives close to Muscle shell beach,
Small cove of shingle and coarse sand,
Opposite the Cat protection league,
Where she buys new clothes second hand.
One summer had a house full of Kittens,
That grew into fully grown cats.
They left her in search of new comforts,
Plagued by visits of large rodent rats.
Myrtle decided on a radical clear out,
To make way for a new feather bed,
But could not let go of her treasures,
So continued sleeping on the sofa instead.
Seventy years old, obstinate and proud,
Devon Council man returned to her door.
“This house is making you poorly my dear,
Regretfully you cannot live here anymore.
Oh, dear Myrtle here’s what we’ll do,
Move you into a comfy town flat,
Environment Officer is calling today,
Condemn your cottage, so sorry about that.
Myrtle Parker was born in this house,
Her father he worked on the boats,
Mother stayed home baking bread,
From freshly ground buckwheat groats.
Tumbledown cottage is full of memories,
Though can’t find many for the clutter.
Diminutive rooms two up two down,
Walls dampened by broken pipe gutter.
If I have to go then take me in a box,
She chained herself to the newel post.
I’ll defend my rights for all I’m worth,
Then haunt Council man as his ghost.
Council man arrives excited with keys,
For Miss Parkers new urban home,
But Myrtle had been true to her word,
and perished on the staircase all alone.
Oh, dear Myrtle what have you done,
Your new flat was shiny and clean,
Environment Officer is calling today,
Demolition boss with bulldozer team.
Spilling a stampede of ink's prisms in brilliant
words infusing a Poet's thoughts.
Conveying creativity to provocative
imaginations .
Implicitly complying to isolating reality
Creating new dimensions where
Clock's spilling time's perceptions living
the moment of now forever.
Clockwise wisdom from wicked word’s
of a Crazy mind.
Philosophically our minds process symphonies
of orchestrated word's allowing cognitive man
to stay in harmony with the mind & body
a climax of our souls.
Mind the symphony insane insanity
orchestrated by the body in climax.
Words infuse a person's thoughts.
Emotions are expressed by the pitch of spoken word's.
Words communicate & body language speaks
emotions relative to the words
infused of a person's thinking.
Wisdom can be found reading in between the lines.
A paragraph of powerful catchphrases speaks
melodies of a catchy tune & flowers of imaginations
bloom.
Philosophy is ergonomics of the mind.
Urban legends in the suburbs.
Sounds of absurd check out the proverbs.
Cognition is a subject of cognitive man.
Premonitions are permissions of man's cognition.
Relative to the fixed position.
Precognition is a psychic's dream
an heard but not seen.
Culture is a reflection of society's ideology
theories of mythology in series of theologies.
Hypothetical theories query a qued question.
The clocks bleeding times perception
of dimensions in galaxies
light year's away.
Romeo’s an architect of accentuating
love's aesthetics in romance.
Twice pleasing to appeasing
sentiments in orchestra's
of delinquent eye's to witnesses.
Accentuating abstracts in non-conformities
designs contemporary aesthetics
in modern times.
Contemplating exquisite elegance unique
powers doubling my mind's conspiracy
of forwarding complex sediments.
Orchestrated the dynamics time playing
noteworthy scales of creativity
All the syllables in a kilogram of lines,
echoing grams of killer dope words whispering
persuasive complexity.
A mythic's chanting elegant wizardrtrii
enchanting ageless philosophies elegance of
life's angelic orchids of ageless wisdom's.
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Pen's Broadcasting Brilliance
21st century's Poet
# WickedRomancer
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