Long Warlock Poems
Long Warlock Poems. Below are the most popular long Warlock by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Warlock poems by poem length and keyword.
Dear Poetic War
I'm here to inform you to change your name to (War Shoe.)
Warlock doesn't even fit you!
I have many ways to insult you.
I have to play nice, can't you see all them evil eyes!
Poetic Warshoe the only talent you poses is the word LOCK!
No need to try and crush what you can not see
All you are is another loser who can't let me be.
You silly jail bird, you sound more like a game of Monopoly
Its my turn and I hold your ticket to get out of jail for free.
Don't worry Warlock, Board Walk is owned by me.
Washing your couplets down with a cup of tea.
I laughed so hard your words almost made me pee.
Warshoe, why are you jumping on me like a little flea?
The only stinger you have belongs to a bumble bee.
Poetic thug you are messing with the wrong killer bee
Sorry I told you I share my fate with Nate!
Go grab some more help from your psychotic mate.
Raid I will spray on your strategies you poetic bug.
You have no class to be a Warlock.
The only thing you master is being a poetic thug.
Go back to playing dominoes, cards, and chess.
Your poetry smells like potpourri.
My demons will hit you with an epic battle of success.
Hunting me is the way you want to waste commissary.
I will enslave you to worship the grounds my feet caress
Challenging me will be the best thing you've had in 5 years.
First I will send you this letter with a small request.
Look down first before you think you pushed me over the cliff.
I own the crown causing massive damage to your quest.
You will never dominate my battlegrounds, I will end you in a swiff.
Your sword will be conquered in my arena, bringing you down to a rest.
I will make you suffer begging for mercy and forgiveness.
For trying to step up to the best.
Warshoe you already failed my test.
In this game you will never beat me at my own contest.
Your heart I won't eat I will feed that to my guest.
Warshoe its time to rip you out of the shadows where you hide.
I will LOCK you in my WAR of hell.
Shackling you in a fetal position as we collide.
Your fear will spread for everyone to smell.
I will end your poetry with no pride.
I will post venom in your abyss through out your cell.
A poison so rough now bend over and open wide.
Warshoe by the time this is over you will bail.
And I P.D. will still have you under my spell......
by;P.D.
Shhh....Ok, quiet down, quiet down; let me smash this clown.....
Ryan, kneel before your father, or I will pop you like a cyst!
Writing this slam I shouldn't bother, you're not even on the "top 50 best poets" list!!
You've soupmailed me twice, so since you don't know, a "warlock" is a "male witch!"
I'm not here to play nice; what are you , P. D.'s bit#%?
I see you left me a comment or two, practically begging me...
Who the hell are you for me to read your lame poetry?
You need to check the soup news, I don't have a computer, I'm an inmate!
So you need to pay your soup dues, then your slams I may educate!
Look at your poems title; In "Destroy" you forgot to add the "E.R.!"
Is P.D. your idol, or are you just attracted to the bizarre?
Talking about my slams are "odd," are you mentally ok?
Download some Eminem on your I-pod, and learn some word-play!
And you do know a "shamrock" is for good luck, right?
Slamming with the Poetic Warlock you need to prepare yourself for a fight!
How many rhymes do you have in your vault? Not many?!
Watch my poetic summersault, because I've got plenty!!
I'm about to slam your butt for days, until you beg for mercy.
My stanza's will set you ablaze, so feel my fury!
You gave me a 29 line slam with no meter, that should be a sin!
Damn, if you're gonna be a cheater, don't you dare pick up a pen!!
This is 22 lines, the sixth stanza, now that's what cha call poetry!
Oh-my-God, it's a "stanza bonanza," so Ryan are you following me?
You're a poet-in-training, but I don't want your ass in my class!
These poetic bombs are raining, so don't throw stones if you're made of glass!!
I see you ran to Sidneys' rescue; Man, are you "Captain-save-a-hoe?!"
I'm gonna lyrically beat you black and blue until a "Souper" yells, "TKO!"
That's right, I'm going for the knock-out, straight for the heart.
You'll scream and shout, as I poetically tear you apart!
Ding Ding!!! This round has come to an end, but you'll not return.
So go on and tell a friend, how you failed as P.D.'s intern!
*Note: my fellow poets are encouraged to read "Ryan Emeralds" slam "War-locked with a
Poet Destroy"...My fellow soupers tell young Ryan don't slam with the champ! Peace and
love ...Jimmy Anderson #0459587 ;)
A farmer's son was once tending to his mother's hens,
Collecting their eggs to sell,
At his family's road-side market stand when,
He found a purple egg with a rotten smell.
The boy looked around at all the female foul,
Perhaps a mutant hen had delivered this egg,
Although it wasn't gold, perhaps the egg could wow,
Some wealthy hobbyist who would for the egg beg.
The peculiar egg was polk-a-dotted with greenish spots,
And reeked like a port-a-lu,
But for some reason that the boy knew not,
He decided to make it into a stew.
For the egg was massive, maybe one foot tall,
And in width the same as its height,
It looked like a putrid soccer ball,
Played with maybe by witches in the night.
So the boy grabbed from a cupboard a large pot,
And lit a flame beneath the oven's coils,
And poured in some water when he thought,
"Should this egg be poached or hard boiled?"
He decided instead to make an egg-drop soup,
With this heinous egg that was sitting in heated water,
For the boy was tired of farming and wanted this goop,
To prove that magic was real as it was in Harry Potter.
He stirred the rotten concoction with a branch,
Of hazel for added dramatic effect,
Added some salt and vinegar from inside the raised-ranch,
Where his family had been obliviosely kept.
The vinegar dissolved the flourescent shell,
Whose hues of purple and green had swirled,
Into a mauve-colored vomit solvent from hell,
And steamed an odor which made his hair curl.
Giggling to himself, he ignored the stench,
As he fancied himself a warlock,
And once it was done he pulled up a bench,
To sit as he added in some chicken stock.
After a few tireless minutes the boy decided it was done,
So he grabbed a bowl and a silver spoon,
Ladled some up and ate it with a cheeseburger bun,
Which he dipped into the disgusting soup.
The boy soon realized that the egg was not magic,
As his breath stopped and skin turned red,
For the goopy soup he had made led to the tragic,
End of this boy who dropped immediately dead.
Had he realized that magic was the power to make plants grow,
And the strength to care for your cows and chickens,
He certainly would have seen the egg and known,
That whatever ate it would surely be sickened.
Oi Oi ..saveloy…caps do doff..bless Joffy boy…with injury woes and blows…
From the off some did scoff…Joff can no longer bowl for toffee…clearly not really…
Not being coy but some of those press hoi polloi said Ben had chose..
A risky ploy against our Indian foes…but seeing him let rip
For the fans unbridled joy..a trip to our favourite offy..
It must have been hard..his comeback marred..alright scarred
By what the keyboard warriors deposited…despite his trouncer
Bouncer calling card…was abused.. and accused of being coddled..
Even swaddled and cossetted..
While everyone in the stand thought it was grand…
Our corn row mane not dread lock..spearhead…
Gold chain warlock.. with the ball they all dread
After four sore years to once more..
Adore pure pace grace so raw..
Watch the speed gun soar…
A hardcore encore we saw for sure..
You can’t really match it…the Jofra creed…
Watching batters in tatters..can't relax..sow the seed..
The champ axe in our camp does ramp it up to the max…
Trying to face our flying ace hatchet who when he does need
Can just ratchet up his speed..
No faking…Joff did always say he would do his best..
In his quest to play another test…the ultimate contest..
Can’t be forsaken by those mistaken that he would just be taking..
The cash for some crap brash slap and dash bash..
Fleeting greetings from the future..where we will all being well ..
Will be meeting our speedster suitor…us.. amorous
About our glamorous Jofradamus..his blizzards will neuter..
Have willow wizards by the gizzards..our tearaway tutor..
So a quick nod to the bowling God…giving him another
Chance to prance and dance..sod each odd bod..
Getting sniffy or spiffy.. Joff somehow iffy..
Cos it was bloody lubbly jubbly..
To see you back having a crack on the track …
Like the scene of that 2019 tiff between him and piggy Smith…
Us again getting squiffy in a jiffy..with this new riff..
By our corker stalker.. wicket hawker…..the bliss
We did miss due to his injury abyss..
A new era ..finally coming…Joff still strumming …humming..
Nice one my son…so come on let’s open the bubbly…
Ding. Ding. Goes the sound of the bell.
Soupers see a poetic king emerge from his cell...
You called me a "Whorelock" - define that word punk?!
You're in for a shock - I don't entertain poetic junk!
I see you're using "caps" to capitalize certain words.
Tell your "girl" to give back my jockstrap before I tell the soupers what I heard!
That's right dakarai cobb. she said she can't stand your "small size."
Your girlfriend gives one helluva head job, but that's no surprise!
Only the Poetic Warlock can say, "hocus, pocus."
I'll slap "you" so hard, your "grandma's" eyesight will go out of focus!
I laughed silly boy, after I read, "Jimmy's first reality check."
In this prison, you'll be someone's toy, walking around with hickies on your neck!
Come on now you poetic thug, you've never been in a fight in your life!
In this prison you'll be smashed like a bug, or become "big bubba's" wife!
I'm a real life "head-buster," I've just learned to control my anger.
lil' boy, my life could be a blockbuster, for I'm an ex-gangbanger!
You don't believe me silly, just call Maury Correctional Facility!
In case you didn't know, it's public info, so check my credibility!
I wish I could have you all alone in this here cell.
I'd rip your weak heart from your breastbone and send you to hell!
I'm sending you a message telepathically, trying to make your brain explode.
I want to destroy you mentally, and then tie you to a railroad!
I want to inject you with HIV, and watch you choke on your own tongue.
I want to blow you apart with some TNT, and then lay your "pieces" in animal dung!
dakarai be serious, what other poetic forms do you write?
I'm just curious; for "soupers" have said you're just a poetic parasite!
Yes, I stay in the "soups winner circle" religiously.
Don't be upset with me because poets appreciate my poetry!
Yes, the "top 50 best poets" list, when will I see "you" on there?
"Soupers" say you don't exist, but that is true "after" this poetic warfare!
*Now I see why P.D. chose to totally ignore you.
For I've left you an amputee, and now I've injected you with swine flu!
Soupers quiet down, quiet down, dakarai cobb is in for a shock.
I'm gonna smash this clown, so let me metamorphose into the Poetic Warlock.
Soupers put your hands in the air, and chant my name to the sky.
You poets can tell by my demonic stare; dakarai is about to die!!
Give "you" some ammo? dakarai, a true slammer would have his gun cocked and
loaded!
You are such a "lame-o," for I read your comment - clearly noted.
Soupmail after soupmail you begged for a piece of the Poetic Warlock.
But a certain poetess had me under her spell, because of what she did to my c#$k!
You are not a worthy opponent for me, because I only battle the best.
I know you intend to "bite" my poetry, for you notice how I do in each contest!
Matter of fact, do you ever win? Do you ever "place?"
Let me show you my diabolical pen, and what I will do to your face!
First I will staple your lips, then super glue your eyes shut.
I will strangle you with a bullwhip, but not before I kick your poetic butt!
Dude this slam is giving me a raging hardon, tell your girlfriend I said "Hey"
I gave her the nickname "Jaw-bone" and still have her purple negligee.
You called my open challenge a joke, dakarai you just have no clue.
My poetic gun will smoke, and I'll gladly annihilate you!
My poetic vault is filled to capacity, and after I'm done, I'm sending you to the electric
chair!
You have the audacity to ask for ammo for your gun - punk you're not even ready for
warfare!
You're a child playing a grown mans game, and I'm putting you in checkmate.
These soupers are chanting my name, and your "head" they wanna see me
decapitate!
I will take off your ugly head, and defecate down your throat.
You will end up dead fighting a poetic heavyweight, and there is no antidote!
Note: I will enjoy slamming you back to back to back - can you keep up? After I'm
done with you, you'll end up cutting your wrists. lol
I'm going for an alley-oop, dunking on your head like "Shaq"
Home court advantage here on the soup, and I'm ducking and dodging your wack
attack!
I'm spraying you with a "fade-away jumper," kinda like "Kobe."
You are trash that belongs in the dumpster, just like your poetry!
dakarai look up at the score board, my slams out number yours 3 to 1!
I've sliced and diced with my poetic sword, now I'm hitting you with my poetic gun.
Rat-a-tat-tat, bullets tear through your flesh and bone.
As your body hits the mat, give back your poetic skills you have on "loan!"
You have no meter or rhyme, and yet you continue to want ammo; For what?
Why waste your time? You must like this spanking across your butt!
Are you a "beat-freak?" Even our fellow soupers think you enjoy pain!
I know you're sweating my technique, and I have you addicted to my poetic cocaine!
Why do you look to battle on this particular site? There are other poetry sites ya
know.
You thought you could win an easy fight, but surprise, I'm the great great grandson
of Edgar Allen Poe!
That means dakarai, it is in my genes to be one of the best.
I've mastered this art, and so your heart I'm ripping out of your chest!
You were not born a rhyme slayer, so why challenge me?
So go ahead and say a prayer, because I'm leaving you an amputee!
I may seem obscene, but I'm diabolically mean like North Korea.
Before you feel my poetic guillotine, I'm injecting you with gonorrhea!
Note: I would like my fellow soupers to follow me and dakarai cobbs battle - dakarai
needs to know who is "PS slam champ" - This is my 3rd slam for him;) can a souper
please tell dakarai it is no contest. He is like one of the many hopefuls who audition
for American Idol truly believing they can sing - when they really can't! lol So dakarai
comment "openly" on this slam - letting me know "I'm P.S. slamming champ" J.A.
(The Poetic Warlock)
Birds of the same feather hailing from different places were summoned by a warlock. They speak different languages and were transformed into something else for their dishonesty. For them to understand each other, the warlock granted them one last wish -- one language to express their thoughts. They can't do anything to please the warlock, hoping they can return to their previous appearance and identity. Right now, they are talking to each other...
"Seventy-eight years ago, I recall, I learned that I was born to be a reader. I moved from place to place for being homeless. I have no name, but people called me "Tarot." Many people everywhere in the world loved me when they discovered me. And yet, many people hated me and still hate me up to now whenever I give them bad vibes or wrong predictions. I only serve people, but never speak a word.
Deck of cards: "I am 25 years old though I know I was born fifty-two years ago. I never get old and still look young. I am dressed in four different colors and shades. I was adopted too. I was loved for so many reasons. I serve all people and can read countless things based from what my reader tells them. I don't interpret things whenever and whatever the dealer serves on the table. People hated me too because I was used in gambling. People who have lived and died, plus the new generations hate me more whenever they lose much. Only in Solitaire and other games for entertainment that people love me, if and only I give them winnings and good predictions that come true. A fortune teller loves me and hates me at the same, all his/her life."
Crystal Ball: "Stop complaining! Even myself, I was adopted many times and hated. 'Wished I'm never cursed!..."
Ouija Board: "I second the motion!... Anybody else?"
"Come to me and take my hand
Flat or rounded, I will take your stand!"
(Prosebite)
Hey WARLOCK! Why don't you and I take a little test;
Separate ourselves from the rest, to determine who is best.
I grow weary of waiting for P.D. to respond to my battle cry.
So, don't be shy, and please don't lie! Would you like to battle THIS guy?
I took a little time to see what you had to say.
I don't know about Nate the GREAT, but Doc the POET wants to play.
Let the SORCERER and the SAMURAI battle for the top spot.
Now show me what you got, by taking your very best shot.
I guess you believe that you deserve to wear the crown,
But, like the Kidster and the Clown, you,too, will be shut down.
I am not a punk, so please don't underestimate my power.
My goal is to devour, and I get stronger by the hour.
Once upon a time, writing sonnets was the plan,
But, now, I seek the challenge of DESTROYING any man.
I have a humble arrogance, when it comes to writing rhymes,
Which is why I will accept any challenge any time.
YES! I think I am the best, so don't even bother to ask.
But, the question that I have for you is, "Are you up to the task?"
My confidence is high, so my bravado is strong.
My skills have been sharpened, so I can do no wrong.
My words will rain down, like a storm upon your head.
My bullets will separate the quick from the dead.
My Tetractys and my Cingku are sharp and strong as steel.
My Dodoitsu and my Choka will make sure that your fate is sealed.
I can slice and dice your limbs with these four Japanese swords,
Then, with a Haiku, politely sever your spinal cord.
So when it comes to courage, my friend, I tell you I have tons,
And from no fan or no man would I ever run.
If a battle is what you seek, then you are welcome to fight me,
But please, my friend, please do not try to take me lightly.
So unto you, WARLOCK, this challenge has been formally issued.
But, before you accept, you might want to stock up on your tissues!
I have goals, I plan to enroll in a community college. Get an associates degree in graphic
design. I plan to write a couple books. I have a few novels in my head. I love music still,
singing, dancing - I can do it all. I'm silly, funny, morbid, you can tell in my slams.
Now I've flirted with women on this site - I'm single, and yes I would love to find love. I
thought I found it, but it slipped away. I do not "prey" on women. I would love to have a
good strong woman in my life. That's why I've asked a couple to correspond via postal mail -
as friends first to get to know me.
Soupers my times almost done. I should not be prejudged or discriminated against!
P.D., Nathan, SKAT I am sorry for the slams. I guess I pushed your buttons where you guys
would want to gossip about me, Ain't no other reasons. But I have nothing to hide. I'm as
real as they get!
I have not asked any women on this site for anything (unless they are my genuine friend,
and a great friendship was already established.) If "preying" on women for friendship, pen-
pals, possibly love, then I'm guilty!
Some of you soupers are on my facebook! Carolyn Devonshire is like my big sister.
Audrey Carey is my dearest friend, whom I love, and no we are not an item. Marty Owens is
a dad I never had. Laura McKenzie, BillytheKidster, Bob Hinshaw (I have good friends here
on the soup). And I want more good people in my life.
SKAT was a great friend. We collaborated on a great poem, so what happened? Hmmm..
Well I love you guys man. The soup rocks, soon I'll be behind a PC screen and chat,
webcam you guys - It will be cool anyone wishing to write please do so (And Nathan, I'm not
going anywhere;))
Peace and love "The Poetic Warlock"
Jimmy M. Anderson #0459587
P.O.Box 2405
Marion NC 28752