Long 'angst Poems

Long 'angst Poems. Below are the most popular long 'angst by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long 'angst poems by poem length and keyword.


Ms. Jealous Girl 3-1-06

Ms. Jealous girl thinks she's better than me
Why should you be mad at me for the things I can do?
I live my own life and do my own things
Why are you so jealous of my life and such?
Ms. Jealous girl wanted to where I go and who I chat to
It is none of your besswax what I do and don't bother to ask.
I am sick and tired of you telling others that you're jealous of me
And sick of you telling my man things that you made up about me.
Ms. Jealous girl stop asking the girls at work if I'm there or not
Because I had it with you and ever since you left, I don't want you coming around 
starting trouble with me.
I don't want to speak to you or see you at all and leave me al alone.
Ms. Jealous girl, you're not welcome at my home and see my friends there
Because we all don't want to be your friend.
Lies and Lies and I was sick of it, really from you.
You got mad when I went out drinking with friends from work
You got mad at me when my man and I went out or away for a while
You got mad at me when I wasn't scheduled for work and yelled at me
You got at me for things I can do, even cleaning around the house is one thing 
that you never ever did in your carppy life.
Ms Jealous girl, stop calling here at the house, cuz your ex Kevin doesn't want 
you back and not allow to step foot in the house
You call crazy hours of the night just to get a hold of him but he also has a life 
and you get jealuos at him going bar hopping with his buddies and you got mad 
when he goes out with my man.
Ms Jealous girl, if you come to see me at work and start things with me, 
All I can say to you is this,
"You have been totally JEALOUS of me for the things I can do and where I go and 
leave me alone. No one at the house want to hang with you." 
Ms Jealoud girl, you have your own things to do and don't worry what Iam doing 
next week, next month, or next year. I have better things to do.
Ms Jealous Girl, let my pals and I do our own things and don't call my place when 
I go out.
Ms Jealous Girl, everyone is sick of your lies and you gotta stop that or everyone 
around you won't want to be with you.Ms Jealous girl, want to know her name? 
Her name is Tiffany and she is known as the 
Ms.Jealous girl cuz she is STILL JEALOUS OF ME FOR DUMB REASONS AND 
SHE NEEDS TO STOP BEING LIKE THIS TO ME.
Ms Jealous Girl, I have a life and better things to do and screw you!
Form:


Your Nothing To Me

You're nothing
You're a disgrace
You've been dishonored
You've been unmasked
For the villain
That you are.


You know not
What true love is
You know not
The meaning of family.


All you know is yourself
Self-centered and egotistic
Who deserves the spotlight
Shine upon him
Thinking the world 
Revolves just for you.


I hate to burst your bubble
Of your twisted perfect reality
But the world revolves around nobody
Not even for a scumbag like you.


The spotlight shines upon all
It doesn't play favorites
Your not the star of the show
Your just a stage hand playing pretrend.


You talk amongst your blood
But don't praise your offspring
You dont' spare time 
To fix what is broken
You let it all go to ruin.


Your heinous crimes
Can never be forgiven
The lies you spout
Tried to warp my mind
But no more lies 
I'm through with you.


You put yourself before others
You think highly of yourself
You care not for emotions
Not know what they are
Your like a robot 
Without an empathy chip.


You've hurt many people 
Your road is crumbling
Burning bridges behind you
Poisoning the family tree
With your sickening presence.


No more, I say!
I take the axe of change
Chopping the rot 
Right off the tree
Drench it with fresh rain
To bring it back to life.


You're a waste of space
You're a disgrace to the family
You're a disappointment
You're a lazy bum
You have no respect
You have no morals.


I shout from the depths of my soul
I shout for the world to know 
The courageous roar of a dragon
Planting her feet deep in the dirt
To announce her right to say
"YOU ARE NOTHING TO ME!"


Be gone, foul demon!
Return to hell from which you came
Away you go from my sight
I wish to never see your face again!


You're a burden
You're a parasite
You're a moocher
You're a sloth
You're a liar!


Ye who dare to bring our family shame
Try to bring ruin to our name
I cast you out of my life!
Your no longer my father
The father I knew
Died a long time ago!


Replaced by a lout
Replaced by a bum
Replaced by an imposter
Replaced by a Jackass!


You mean nothing to me!
You're an embarassment
You're not my father
I've lost all respect for you!


Away with you now
Get the hell out of here
I don't wish to see you
I don't want you in my life
You mean nothing to me
YOU ARE NOTHING!
© Megan Ryan  Create an image from this poem.

Turning Anguish Part 1

5/21/11-5/22/11
I rule over the night
undaunted with all my might
I have time to spare all I can bare
Watching the hand chime 
tugging…pushing…shoving
through whirling toil
that feed the spoil
Perplexing strife
refusing to give up 
Power and torment 
 
We are too caught up in our own power
and ruling over each passing moment
each passing night…destroying the twin towers
 
Who’s doing all the blaming?
Who’s choosing our faults?

I’m tossed…shifting around with uncontrolled anguish 
Zipping…tripping over rambling bolts
spiraling into a mad house
Don’t enchant your intolerable voice
I see no love dwelling in this household
Do you seek for your power…
you insufferable traitor?

Seeking our upcoming doom
brewing strife in the heap of ruins
brewing strife while we still leave room
to obey and remain under power
You are assuming the worst 
father…mother…
rule over the passing anguish…circling around
stumbling around…not aware 
Hey you! play fair

Behave and stay awhile
before you feed the fire that holds sheer vile
Allow love to not be thrown away
into another pile

I grasp no love engrained 
In our giving garden
that plants ceaseless approval  
Pardon my faults
I was far from comforting sleep

Dread is driven mysteriously 
Through an endless night
Moving on the tracks 
Forming into an alarming train

Who’s doing all the blaming?
Who’s choosing our faults?
Who did the labor suitably?

worthwhile father…pleasure-seeking mother
Don’t enchant your intolerable voices
and expect us to listen sensibly 
Demanding us to do labor
and assist our displeased neighbor
Why do you melt the delight away?
Throwing away a flavor of ecstasy
and put us to glove-less labor
without putting our favor and opinion
into the overlooked pile

Burning agony
dries the buried glee
Saved for a grieving moment
Playing like a warped tune… unable to express
solitude that develops in the heart
raped by the ragged uncertainties 
without taking heed of our pleas

These desirable moments
Cherished in the deplorable journey 
They weren’t acknowledged by power
Love in those days were brand new
Do you have a clue?
they were cherished...
Bountiful…
stranded in a deserted past
in merciful beauty…caught under the spell

Where did that come to pass?
Where’s the love?
Who’s doing all the blaming?
Who’s choosing our faults?

Premium Member Foster Square,Bradford England

It wasn’t that she was the only woman
in the group, that mingled precariously
beneath the bronze figure, or her classic
stance, when placing immaculately the
newsprint covered bottle to lips willingly
breached, but more her opulent style, her
contrast of attire, her hair as yet unspoilt. 
Although jewel less except for a wedding
ring in her recently pierce blood stained ear
lobe, (this bearing signs of some street wise ritual?)
she still wore a suave sophistication, eyes
that bred a wanton life, fingers more use to
the gentle stem of the crystal goblet, than
the demure grasp of the shapeless neck of
the common brown.     But alas maybe the
corrosion has not as yet penetrated her
foreboding mind, a mind that in time will
be given to surrender, never to realize that
this volatile life will plunge her deeper, into
one shambolic life, whilst still trying to escape
from the previous. But! Who knows what ills she
was force to bear, what tribulations life brought
upon her, maybe her new found acquaintance
comfort her, listen to her sympathetically,
understanding her predicament, also a novelty
this sharing, this caring, respect and reverence
showered upon her, like solicitous petals
falling gracefully upon her shoulders,
removing the burdens of a lifetime.
                                                         Her head
began to lift higher and higher with every
mouthful of distant courage, every courteous act.
Then! A look of deep despair, as the bottle was
released from her reluctant deep red lips, a
senseless shake only proved her greatest fear.
Immediately to her aid, came one of her new found
companions, swiftly finishing his own endless gorge,
he commence to wipe the neck of his perpetual habit,
with his mucus soiled cuff less sleeve, before
passing it on to her veracious hand, his eyes eagerly
awaiting its return.
                            One can imagine when the long day
is over, the sun finally at rest, only the motley bench will be hers, only the best that fleet street can offer, will cover her chilled body, her metabolism soon accelerating, to become one with theirs, a license to enter their dissipation, only then will all options for her diminish, external metamorphosis soon to blend with inner corruption, life’s destruction almost completed!

                                        © Harry J Horsman 1991

The Ugliest Poem

The worlds Ugliest Poem

Think chaos will become the new norm
in this world where life and words are cheap
think there'll be bodies littering the streets
and blood rolling into the gutters
from people killing their neighbors
just to get a little something to eat
and a place to lay their heads at night to sleep
think their'll be rioting all around
scorched earth the only ground
will we cry out unto God
or will we simply blame him
I wonder what things will be like
for the innocent little children
Oh how I wish we could stop right now
before anything like this happens
and it happens
yeah, it happens
mostly in war torn nations
and those that are so very poor
and what makes any of us think that we are better than them
think our nation is not filled to the brim
it could happen
yeah, it'll probably happen
because we don't know how to live
and our ministers preach personal salvation
how can we inherit the kingdom of heaven
if we forsake our own nation
or are we forsaken
by the leaders that we trust
are they are part of us
or have they become so rich and full of pride
that it's time to knock them down to size
before this happens
because it happens
Oh my God have mercy
for I fear this time there'll be no place to hide
here I sit writing and typing
it's all I can do all balled up inside
filled with fear and anxiety
and I type and type and I type
striving to warm them and explain to them why
yet it seems all of my words are in vain
it's as if
my work is little more than a strange curiosity
and sometimes I wonder if it's me or the world that's insane
they prefer lies so nice
I guess it makes them feel like everything is OK
don't lift the Vail or just might see me
and who wants to believe that their'll be hell to pay
for all the children starving in the streets
that have no place to stay
all dirty and full of disease
how can we turn them away
and some of these are angels
think they can hear you pray
at night before you go to sleep
without worry or pain
it happens
yeah, it happens
and it could happen to you
think your life is fool proof
I wonder if chaos will be the new norm
I wonder if it already is
at least to some extent
cancer is on the rise
and how can we possibly fix this
maybe I just worry to much
maybe I should just turn on the TV
and watch something fun
while it happens
yeah, while it happens
© Mark Beal  Create an image from this poem.
Form:


Free Range Fear

There is too much fear in the world these days,
Fear of the unknown, scared in soo many ways!
Phobias of spiders, mice, rats and bats,
Are you frightend of nothing?  Why are you scared of that?

Scared of oppression?  And the way they use aggression?
Are they messing with your head, using psychic suggestion?
Wrestling with your doubts will only lead to fear,
Always looking into shadows.. scared that something's always near.

You're winding yourself up!  There's no reason to be scared,
But it's never as it seems.. so you'd better be prepared.
Because if you're feeling fear, it could be.. you're not ready,
With your trembling legs, and butterflies in your belly.

It's not so strange, that lots of people fear pain,
Being boiled alive, with needles stuck into your brain,
You've got to be careful, I'm afraid to say,
Be quick to make your mind up, to fight or run away.

Would you fill your pants, with a gun to your head?
Now, that's REAL fear.. you could be dead, enougth said!
Some could find your nerves and make you scream for weeks,
They can teach you about pain and how it reaches new peaks.

But the ones like that..  are fearful too,
Of justice, revenge, and the human rights crew.
They should be scared!  I wanna see their faces white,
'Cause they even kidnap kids and slip away into the night!

Now I'll get swept away, as it floods from me,
See, some of these emotions, are as deep as the sea,
Some wanna get a gun, and hunt these sick suckers,
And get them on their knees and say PRAY MOTHERF%%%%%!

See this is the crux..  this is the bottom line,
If they catch you doing that, then it's you that's doing time,
It's never black & white, it's not easy to see..
There are so many fears, it's all part of being free.

Are you scared of the dark, because that's how it began?
Are you scared that it links you to the earliest man?
Who had to hunt to eat, had to kill to stay alive,
And did what they had to, so this race could all survive.

The things to be scared of are the things inside,
You can struggle and fight, but you can never run or hide,
So walk down the street with your head held high,
And face down fear.. because we're ALL gonna die!

But the opposite of fear though..  is to be brave,
Who knows how many lives you could save.
The futures unknown, and we all face change,
It is all just a part of being free-range.
Form: Rhyme

Hypnotized

Is slavery dead? Honestly it isn’t
Those of us who conform are stuck within a prison
We follow celebrities and we wear their clothes
As if they are Gods and we are mere mortals

As if they are shepherds and we are merely sheep
As if they are they are the strong and we are the weak
We quote their words and become their clones
And if we break their trend, we are left alone

And as they pass, we shower them with gifts
Money, so they can go and get their face lifts
Fame, so they can go out and conquer more slaves
Power, so they can destroy those who call them fake

They’ve brainwashed us so much we’ve gone completely numb
We openly cheer when the hero pulls out his gun
We don’t understand that we’re all completely mindless
We’re overjoyed only if the screen shows senseless violence

Nearby a police officer fights for his life
As a drug dealer tries to stab him with a butterfly knife
We’d call for help, but we’re busy with our own stuff
Discussing how the movie was good, but the killing wasn’t realistic enough

Our emotions are gone, we are all just droids
We don’t cry when we hear about a little boy
Who was killed in a shooting by a merciless gang
Because his father was part of the Ku Klux Klan

Instead we just shrug and respond “That’s the world today.”
“His father was an idiot,” is all that most people can say
“Things happen for a reason. That’s the Lord’s way.”
But that night, for that boy, everyone forgets to pray

We watch a few minutes of the news, not because we want to know
Coming up next is the new hit reality show
We’d rather watch girls dancing and grinding on each other
Instead of observing a woman work two jobs and be a good mother

And if disaster strikes, we observe the destruction and pain
The details of the damaged are extensively explained
But money only comes to charities with writing on the bag
The money must be packaged with a rich man’s name tag

So when the people see, they will remember what his mask looks like
He only cares if he’s quoted saying, “They will be all right.”
And with that, his money, fame, and power grows
And in the next election, it could even win him more votes

Learn to break the chains, learn to set yourself free
Your eyes are open, but you must learn to see
Don’t drink their potion. Don’t let them inside
Don’t stare at the pendulum too long or you’ll be hypnotized

Tired

I’m tired.
When I say that,
people ask me,
“How much sleep did you get?”
They tell me,
“Go to bed earlier then!”
I joke and say that I try,
or I lie and say about 6 hours.
But in reality,
I barely get 3,
if I’m lucky.
I’m physically tired,
but when I say “I’m tired”,
I don’t mean it in that way.
I mean I’m exhausted.
I don’t want to get up in the morning.
I want to sleep, but I can’t.
I have no motivation.
I have to fake my smile.
I have to hide my tears,
from the voices in my head.
I have to force myself to work,
so I don’t fail.
When people ask how I am doing,
I tell them “I’m fine!”
and give them the brightest smile I can muster.
I joke about my sadness,
as a way to cope.
I have no motivation.
I have no real happiness.
I play a part,
like my life is a show.
I put on a performance,
for the people to enjoy.
I play the dumb friend,
so I can keep being the “funny” one.
I smile at everyone, and treat everyone nicely,
so I can stay the people pleaser I have always been.
It’s tiring.
It’s ing exhausting.
I have no one to talk to.
I feel nothing.
I feel empty.
There is nothing in my heart.
I care so deeply,
but it hurts when I’m just used.
People like me because I’m kind,
but they don’t know how I really feel.

When someone likes me,
and I don’t reciprocate those feelings,
I pretend, and date them, so I don’t break their heart.
I know they may find out,
but I don’t want people hurt because of my actions.
I’ve hurt people though,
and I hold on to the guilt like a lifeline.
I take it out on myself.
As I drag the blade, and watch the red flow,
it feels so good, and it makes me forget,
for even just a moment,
the mental torment.
I’m so drained,
that I feel as though I’m just…
Numb.
Numb to the happiness.
Numb to the sadness.
Numb to the anger.
“Numb” to the pain.
I want to feel better,
but I don’t know how.
I have lost the one person,
who gave me the motivation.
I have no one.
I’m alone.
I write these poems,
to hopefully feel something.
Though it never works,
it’s the only thing I can do.
Only way I can talk,
only way I can let out the pain.
I need help,
to stop feeling this drained.
But I can’t get help,
and I never ask,
because I will always just be a burden
with my problems, and my thoughts.
I’ll always feel tired,
and nothing will ever change that,
no matter how hard I try.

Her Eyes Were Like Fireflies

In all honesty,
I never learned your name.
I didn’t need to; 
The look in your eyes is your name 
Like fireflies, they twinkle and glimmer your name
A name I love saying 
The way you stare at me 
It’s like I’m the color yellow,
And I’m painting away the grey of your world 

That’s what you tell me 
As my head rests in the crook of your neck, and your fingers trail up the bare of my hip
You’re yellow, and sunshine to me you say
And I’m grey like a pebble, soaking up your rays

I laugh 
But grey is my favorite color I tell you 
It’s the color of the skies on the days I’m tucked in your arms, because its too cold and wet to go outside
It’s the color of my favorite blanket that I keep under my bed
Its only for special occasions
When I need to cry and shake and let the dreams of the night know I’m not okay 

You’re not just for special occasions though
You’re for every occasion. Every fight, every dance, 
Every laugh with my head thrown back and my fingers tightening around you for purchase because laughing with you is like an ******, it breaks me, it builds me, it loves me 
Even when you’re not here
I still think of you
I sit you beside me, and tell you thoughts, even when reality speeds around us, and you’re not really there 

Even now I can sit you beside me 
And trace the figures of your love with my eyes 
Black hair, straight and deep. Sometimes short, sometimes long; I can’t choose, you’re beautiful either way
Brown eyes, deep like the dirt flowers and dreams can only sprout in, that burn like the hearts of spinning stars
Tall, and I hate it, but you always use it to your advantage to capture me tight
I lied 
I love it 
Long fingers, and you pluck secrets and whimpers from me like notes from a harp 
God, I love them 
God, I crave them 

You’re my all dreams bundled into one, my opposite, my piece of the puzzle, my favorite melody, my infinite addiction
I can’t live without you
A day that goes by without you is another breath stolen from my lungs but what can I do because you’re not even real 

Like Pygmalion, I’ve fallen in love with my own mind’s tortured creation and now I can love no one but you 
I can stare at no one but you, and when the night falls, I can go to no one but you 
To Orsino, how can you say women can’t love like men?
I’ve fallen in love with a woman and now I’m dead.

September 25, 2018

Ruins

It's about time we talk of ruins.
So, let us talk, for you never know,
How long ears of hope will remain receptive.

Your lips are missing, and your kisses fall,
Like ripe plums and tint my confession,
Like coffee stains with smell of rust.

Looking back, dreams had stories,
About laughters blooming in dews on trembling grass,
With roots growing into layers of blue skies.

That dark sweater you began knitting,
Lies lifeless by a woollen ball,
Like buried half of a rainbow.

My greys are silvery now, and my smile
Looks like a scar, but my heart
Keeps shredding dead skins.

Footprints covered by caddish shadows
Of hubristic tongues,
Never to be retraced, and
The wish to carry your whispers beyond life,
Scavenged by beaks of time,
Is nothing but a piece of
History's torn chorion.

Entangled in my pensive repentance,
Memory of a girl (assuming),
Whose playful steps ruefully erased
Even before she was assisted into the world,
Stares back from an obsolete painting.

I sense blood seething in my veins,
But with no ill-will.
If only i could stop this hour from passing away,
And touch life one more time,
Gently and wisely, perhaps sweet palpitations
Would be heard knocking from within.

Lying in the heap of fallen bricks
Of dilapidated castle of Eros,
Where, once upon a time,
Our romance was folktale for angels and fairies,
I'm supposed to be bleeding the high-noon sun
To feed yesterday's vampiric fleas.

My body no longer lives on bread and grains,
But on tears and prayers, and
Keeps on living, surprising the undertaker and
my foes,
Who begin to think
I am here to stay indefinitely.
So, I labour to hasten my swan song
To gladden those who want to witness my exit.

The yarn with which
I began weaving a flag,
Has been sold to brothels of politics,
Where patriotism is only a slang
In perorations of capricious pimps.
My nights are haunted by ghosts
Of betrayed slogans
I once coined on fisting graffiti.
Standing amidst graves of words
Spoken inconspicuously,
I see soldiers placing putrid shocks and
Ugly boots
On books strewn across the floor
Of my old school's library
Which is now a fortified barrack.

But when I see tombs sleeping like babies,
In quietness of a cemetery,
I beg you -
Don't let me die without a wound, and
Even if it is in pretensive nostalgia,
Bury me with bloodstained kiss.
Form: ABC

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