Long Afford Poems

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


I'Ll Smile 4 U

Stroll through the Illest Empire
So much heat feeling like we’re living in the fire
But we’re living under fire
Tell me how many shots must it take before my loved ones are crying at my own wake
Its time for a break from sad eyes I’ve seen grown men cry
It hurts to tell a loved one good-bye
It’s the same reason why they died
Hearts just too full of pride
Mothers praying their young’n wont be a victim of a homicide
Too many drive-bys blood shed for a block you really can’t call mine
Wishing we could turn back time
High off of nickels’ and dimes
Making moves to boost your grind looking for hope
But the hustle got us in a head choke
Don’t blame me for acting crazy cause this how the streets made me and you
To watch our back and throw bows and cuss
Cause you got to be tough when times are rough
I know your asking when will enough be enough
And truth is I don’t know but this is how it goes down
But if I make it out will you smile for me now

So many families struggling with poverty
I don’t judge cause that use to be me
Watching mom come home late
Barley any food on our plate
So young and life we already hate
Praying God bring us something great
My clothes were cheap imitates and kids called you on them for being fake
Knowing mom bust her ass to provide
But all your knock offs you begin to hide
Ashamed of what you own
I know how you feel I been there too
I see mothers walking there kids to school
And the walk is far when you cant afford a car
Mom hoping one day you’ll be a star
I know about being next to poor
Your local neighborhood liquor market is your grocery store
Wishing you didn’t have to go through that living off of food stamps
Cube the neighborhood is a trap but we’ll all be free
So smile for you and me

Even 2pac said smile for me
This isn’t how its always going to be unless you let it be
In our different way we’re all a G
Cause we’re trying to make it straight legit
Whatever your hustle never quit but don’t lose yourself in it
Cause you still got a long ways to go
Still got a long time to grow
Use what you know to get by or you wont survive
Remember to always keep your dreams alive
Whatever it is just do it and never try
The limit is the sky so keep your heads held high
And when you come to a hard road just always know nothing can keep you down
You’ll be able to come back around
So give yourself a chance
And I’ll smile for you now

JUNE ‘06
B.K.M.jr


The Morning Soars With Skylarks Singing Repost

The morning soars with skylarks singing
o'er the greening meadow and the pliant pasture,
the ocean sighing, gulls aloft on wings of prayer.
A sudden shower would see me running
fancy free between the rain drops,
I cried 'Excelsior!' and set the hills alive;
I skittered, happy, crisp and clear, 
like God's first measure of a holy hymn.

The air alive with songs of praise, 
the gentle winds a sacred message,
His grand prescription like a dream
that streamed out from the pillows of the heavens.
I liked to wander by the sea shore
skipping stones, disobeying laws of gravity,
as a lamb on shaky legs and tumbled freely without care,
'til gasping, I would stop to catch my breath.

The halcyon days of youth came true,
when I would race forever 'neath the tawny sun,
bedaubed in Autumn's blood, the flame
a blend of hues the likes of which 
would make a young boy doubly blind,
and lead him into kingdoms where the battlefields
would blister scarlet, happy times
that made me see my childhood clearly.

The weather turned again, and shanties
high atop the hillside loomed like castles drifting
in the sea-blown mist, the noise of boats,
their nets pulled, nudging at the jetty.
From the sand the village was a hazy spectre,
the chapel steeple peeking like Rapunzel's lair,
her hair a daydream falling soft,
O fanciful imagination!

I thought to when my mother took my hand. 
We skipped the cobblestones and shopped for wishes,
toys which we could ill-afford;
a Batman cape, a red fire engine.
The lanes were thick with merchants and the joy of life,
haggling, chattering like crazy seabirds,
loud, and mouthing their wants and wares,
and then we wandered home exhausted.

I never lost my youthfulness, 
my joy at seeing herons gloating, eagles floating
high on zephyr'd breezes free as spring;
hallowed times, in Jesus' presence.
I measure now my moments as the hours shift by,
thirty years and blissful, regrets are slight and few,
I count my blessings, feel content
that tribulation never came to bother me.

A birthday cake is waiting for me,
candles flicker, frosting beckons, hope eternal;
my wish the same, for peace on earth
to all men, greetings and goodwill!
I lie down in the close and holy quiet 
while the village sleeps, and slips toward a new adventure,
safe in His keeping, perfect day
with promise of a bright tomorrow.
Form: Verse

The Morn's Alive With Skylarks Singing

The morn's alive with skylarks singing
o'er the greening meadow and the pliant pasture,
the ocean sighing, gulls aloft on wings of prayer.
A sudden shower would see me running
fancy free between the rain drops,
I cried 'Excelsior!' and set the hills alive;
I skittered, happy, crisp and clear, 
like God's first measure of a holy hymn.

The air alive with songs of praise, 
the gentle winds a sacred message,
His grand prescription like a dream
that streamed out from the pillows of the heavens.
I liked to wander by the sea shore
skipping stones, disobeying laws of gravity,
as a lamb on shaky legs and tumbled freely without care,
'til gasping, I would stop to catch my breath.

The halcyon days of youth came true,
when I would race forever 'neath the tawny sun,
bedaubed in Autumn's blood, the flame
a blend of hues the likes of which 
would make a young boy doubly blind,
and lead him into kingdoms where the battlefields
would blister scarlet, happy times
that made me see my childhood clearly.

The weather turned again, and shanties
high atop the hillside loomed like castles drifting
in the sea-blown mist, the noise of boats,
their nets pulled, nudging at the jetty.
From the sand the village was a hazy spectre,
the chapel steeple peeking like Rapunzel's lair,
her hair a daydream falling soft,
O fanciful imagination!

I thought to when my mother took my hand. 
We skipped the cobblestones and shopped for wishes,
toys which we could ill-afford;
a Batman cape, a red fire engine.
The lanes were thick with merchants and the joy of life,
haggling, chattering like crazy seabirds loud, 
and mouthing their wants and wares,
and then we wandered home exhausted.

I never lost my youthfulness, 
my joy at seeing herons gloating, eagles floating
high on zephyr'd breezes free as spring;
hallowed times, in Jesus' presence.
I measure now my moments as the hours shift by,
thirty years and blissful, regrets are slight and few,
I count my blessings, feel content
that tribulation never came to bother me.

A birthday cake is waiting for me,
candles flicker, frosting beckons, hope eternal;
my wish the same, for peace on earth
to all men, greetings and goodwill!
I lie down in the close and holy quiet 
while the village sleeps, and slips toward a new adventure,
safe in His keeping, perfect day
with promise of a bright tomorrow!
Form: Verse

The Morning Rings With Skylarks Singing

...inspired by 'Poem In October' by Dylan Thomas


The morning rings with skylarks singing,
o'er the greening meadow and the pliant pasture,
the ocean sighing, gulls aloft on wings of prayer.
A sudden shower would see me running
fancy free between the rain drops,
I cried 'Excelsior!' and set the hills alive;
I skittered, happy crisp and clear, 
like God's first measure of a holy hymn.

The air alive with songs of praise, 
the gentle winds a sacred message,
His grand prescription like a dream
that streamed out from the pillows of the heavens.
I liked to wander by the sea shore
skipping stones, disobeying laws of gravity,
as a lamb on shaky legs and tumbled freely without care,
'til gasping, I would stop to catch my breath.

The halcyon days of youth came true,
when I would race forever 'neath the tawny sun,
bedaubed in Autumn's blood, the flame
a blend of hues the likes of which 
would make a young boy doubly blind,
and lead him into kingdoms where the battlefields
would blister scarlet, happy times
that made me see my childhood clearly.

The weather turned again, and shanties
high atop the hillside loomed like castles drifting
in the sea-blown mist, the noise of boats,
their nets pulled, nudging at the jetty.
From the sand the village was a hazy spectre,
the chapel steeple peeking like Rapunzel's lair,
her hair a daydream falling soft,
O fanciful imagination!

I thought to when my mother took my hand. 
We skipped the cobblestones and shopped for wishes,
(toys which we could ill-afford;
a Batman cape, a red fire engine.)
The lanes were thick with merchants and the joy of life,
haggling, chattering like crazy seabirds,
loud, and mouthing their wants and wares,
and then we wandered home exhausted.

I never lost my youthfulness, 
my joy at seeing herons gloating, eagles floating
high on zephyr'd breezes free as spring;
hallowed times, in Jesus' presence.
I measure now my moments as the hours shift by,
thirty years and blissful, regrets are slight and few,
I count my blessings, feel content
that tribulation never came to trouble me.

A birthday cake is waiting for me,
candles flicker, frosting beckons, hope eternal;
my wish the same, for peace on earth
to all men, greetings and goodwill!
I lie down in the close and holy quiet 
while the village sleeps, and slips toward a new adventure,
safe in His keeping, perfect day
with promise of a bright tomorrow.
Form: Verse

Heterodox Genesis

at the beginning earth was a place uninhabitable 
to any living thing, it was nothing but a furiously 
burning wandering fireball in an immeasurable open space

while wandering in space, 
however, hit by the meteoric showers, bumped into planetoids, 
and from its own gravity the earth gradually lost its surface heat
and became a gigantic piece of rock covered with the great many wrinkles

in order to survive, 
the living thing cannot afford to lose time any more in this darkness of unknown beginning or inconceivable end, it must find a place to settle and bring new life 
into the world,
came and clung to the surface of the rock and struggled to hold onto it

one day, when a cry of pitiable life tore the standstill time into pieces
because it was unable to bear the time that is infinitely quiescent any longer, 
it echoed in the space and returned to earth as a dim light

in that light the sighs of the living thing heaped up high 
and became air, in that gleam the tears of the animated thing
came together and became waters

when water swelled to overflow it became lakes, rivers and seas
and when air became heavier it raised itself to a wind, 
and when wind passed through the surface of earth
it turned into vales, hills and clouds

life began with great struggles and confirmed by quickening 
in the darkness and echoing heartrending cry, though grew while calling the sea 
a mother and the mountain a father, and conceived meaning of lots of phenomena:

why the rivers flow and clouds drift, dews on the grasses 
change into fogs and finally dissipate, 
the stars come to visit the lakes 
and kiss to form ripples at night

the seed of arrogance grew in the heart of this creature
spreading rapidly among the creatures living in the surface of the earth
and when his arrogance reached to the heaven, the creatures threw stones 
in the seas, set fires on mountains, while boasting with those words:  
“we conquered world, the world is under our feet”

hence the earth surged by a raging water,
and the windstorm rose to shake the rocks in the mountains violently

nonetheless, the creature did not introspect 
his own detestable deeds but continuously acted 
in a lordly manner throwing his chest out as before, 

though enjoying saying this favorite phrase: 
“this age is a corrupted age! this age is a degenerate age!”
© Su Ben  Create an image from this poem.


Premium Member Race Management

Slavery
enslavement
force of self-imposed ownership 
overpowering another's ego-ownership,
anthro-morbid,
collective ego-morphic tolerance of identity rape,
fear and anger, together building hate,
from which enslavement derives;
a culturally camouflaged nondual co-arising relationship
of codependent despair,
self-hatred.

Enslaving force perpetuates Ego's full-blown angry reduction
in self-identity,
deduction of self,
as someone who could "own" another's Ego-healthy will
for equivalent freedom from my freedom 
to enslave another's life,
exterior and interior.

Slave and poverty development owners 
internally enslaved by our own hypocritical hubris,
swimming upstream into economically encrusted perpetuation
of cognitive and affective dissonance,
chronic anxious homelessness,
hopelessness that I cannot afford to be more co-empathic, 
healthier on my own,
than we are together
on Earth's owner-ship.

Those nations,
corporations,
families,
individuals
addicted to retaining 
and further developing 
vastly disproportionate wealth deposits,
divorced from our own cooperative health and well-being investments,
not only steal from those without enough to thrive,
but also slink away from our own collective mental health,
anxiously fearing freedom's inevitable reparations,
struggling to repress awareness of nondual codependent enslavement
into entropic death of species.

Hatred combines anger about past with fear of future.
"Anger Management" politics might choose a more transparent therapeutic label,
"Hatred Co-Arising Suppression".

Decomposing hatred first breathes through "I am Anger,"
listening for Time's healing simmer,
then decomposing anger about past violations
to embrace rational fears of deadly toxins
enslaving equitable prospects for a healthy future.

It feels healthy to remember we are Anger
with ourselves
and with each other 
before,
without sustaining against ourselves or others,
perpetuating enslaving hatred
for mental health stolen from those without sufficient wealth 
to thrive
to feed 
our own unhealthy enslaving greed.

Dispirited slavery imposes greedy unnatural ownership, 
dreadful wealthy lust for power
co-arising with holistic health's decreasing power,
globally and personally,
without as within.

Very bad karma,
total lack of grace,
not our way to Win-Win race.

Letters For People Part 5

Dear people,
In relation, Historically, 
Historians heroically will fake it. 
kids can serve themselves said correlation. 
Take what is.
Record reels of Real confessions chalk full of truthful lessons on how to feel. 
How to push for real progression. 
Identify risk. 
 A population’s silent suggestion. 
To get Upset, in that, to get up In accordance to time, all of mankind barely register. a blip on the tip of conception. 
A  burst of awareness, to realize each set is set up separate in each relative reality of self perception.  To see in itself is a credit. To Receive it, It in itself ... 
One second, on the surface of decades, in a sea of centuries before existence, well kept, below, a hush to a hum unheard and left off of all of the records. 
Unaccredited, Easy targets to get over-credited. 
When Run red their credits, 
read: “It lives. Because I said it did.” 
Who gives a line of credit to those who so desperately to get it, who need it like a medic, 
But I’d wage to bet it’s to spend it in the opposite way that it’s intended. 
Commend all of those that contended. 
And anyone at all whom attended. 
Correct view. Corrective is collective let’s give ‘cause it’s best to - to the rest I guess it’s -
Just set it and forget it. Much as distant relatives;
 -Figure it’s Best to just let us live…
        As long as it’s ...Immediately gratative...
Our best method, many mini moves toward moving for a more major movement forward, 
Observe and compare pre-approved plans for improvements, no one can afford. 
Redact, reform, literary rebirth bursts into the truth that in which we will record, 
and now it’s more, collect, from pre accepted hits, Recreate in-an-organized-list. Of the top samples, 
A fool and A toolbar together with helpful tips. 
Slip bits in hidden messages, to send to ratchet kids to send them off, 
Off on A trip, on a Botanically based-spaceship. Hope they know that it’s All made up, 
While we Make believe that they arrive at home and safely they do make it. 
IS...crazy. (Imagination)
The craziest. The human case, it is. Inside the human case within…Is a sharper image, of every last face that formulate one’s nation. 
A Hereditarial misclarification taken down the forsaken line and educated In within the others next of kin. 
       -hope you’re still out there, people, 
if you’re lost, you can still win.
© Matt Godek  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Epic

Mornings Shrill With Skylarks Singing

Mornings shrill with skylarks singing 
o'er the greening meadow and the pliant pasture, 
the ocean sighing, gulls aloft on wings of prayer. 
A sudden shower would see me running 
fancy free between the rain drops, 
I cried 'Excelsior!' and set the hills alive; 
I skittered, happy crisp and clear, 
like God's first measure of a holy hymn. 

The air alive with songs of praise, 
the gentle winds a sacred message, 
His grand prescription like a dream 
that streamed out from the pillows of the heavens. 
I liked to wander by the sea shore 
skipping stones, disobeying laws of gravity, 
as a lamb on shaky legs, and tumbling freely without care, 
'til gasping, I would stop to catch my breath. 

The halcyon days of youth came true, 
when I would race forever 'neath the tawny sun, 
bedaubed in Autumn's blood, the flame 
a blend of hues the likes of which 
would make a young boy doubly blind, 
and lead him into kingdoms where the battlefields 
would blister scarlet, happy times 
that made me see my childhood clearly. 

The weather turned again, and shanties 
high atop the hillside loomed like castles drifting 
in the sea-blown mist, the noise of boats, 
their nets pulled, nudging at the jetty. 
From the sand the village was a hazy spectre, 
the chapel steeple peeking like Rapunzel's lair, 
her hair a daydream falling soft, 
O fanciful imagination! 

I thought to when my mother took my hand. 
We skipped the cobblestones and shopped for wishes, 
(toys which we could ill-afford; 
a Batman cape, a red fire engine.) 
The lanes were thick with merchants and the joy of life, 
haggling, chattering like crazy seabirds, 
loud, and mouthing their wants and wares, 
and then we wandered home exhausted. 

I never lost my youthfulness, 
my joy at seeing herons preening, eagles floating 
high on zephyr'd breezes free as spring; 
hallowed times, in Jesus' presence. 
I measure now my moments as the hours shift by, 
thirty years and blissful, regrets are slight and few, 
I count my blessings, feel content 
that tribulation never came to trouble me. 

A birthday cake is waiting for me, 
candles flicker, frosting beckons, hope eternal; 
my wish the same, for peace on earth 
to all men, greetings and goodwill! 
I lie down in the close and holy quiet 
while the village sleeps, and slips toward a new adventure, 
safe in His keeping, perfect day 
with promise of a bright tomorrow!

Everyone Is Doing Better Than Me

It hasn't been long
Since I've been on this Earth
And left the place to have my life start
The people I've known
The ones who've all grown
They’re all changing now, they are
Going along their path
Going to college and having kids
Or gaining knowledge with their many friends
As I sit helpless and depressed
Dormant in my bed
While my time grows less and less
And it seems so clear I see
That everyone’s doing better than me

I work for a wage
Doing dirty jobs
They push me like a slave
I just apologize and nod
I only afford pay rent with the money I make
Things don’t get cheaper, and the income doesn’t change
Sometimes I go to parties
Meet many people who’ve known each other all for so  very long
I stand around, I don’t know anyone
Don’t know why I would even come

I feel complex
But simple minded
Everyone seems to easily make friends
It’s not that I can’t put myself out there
Just feel like a bother interacting with them
As I sit alone in a chair
Drinking a beer, and fake smiling along
I could see, so plainly
Everyone is doing better than me

The more I explain myself
The worst I seem to come across
I seem to rub people wrong
And I always seem to feel lost
When I frown they say I look angry
When I smile they say I look creepy
When I look at them, they turn away from me
When I turn away, they think I’m high-and-mighty
When I say hello, they say goodbye
When I say goodbye, they ask why
People wonder why I can’t just talk to people
I feel like I’m the only one who thinks it’s normal
They think something is wrong with me
I’m not the only one who’s awkward around people they meet
I express myself in all the wrong ways
Because when I feel unhappy, that’s when I need aid
Whenever I feel happy, there’s nothing I need to say
And still I look around and see
That everyone is doing better than me

I want to grow up
But I don’t want to leave everything behind
Except for who I use to be, to everyone else I’m still that guy
I wish I had friends but I suck at conversation
I wish I had success, but I need help to make it happen
If I could be who I would like to be
I’d already be that person instead of being me
I know that when we die, well go to the same place
So it doesn't really matter who really won the race
But still it causes me to grieve
Because everyone I know
Everyone is doing better than me
Form: Ballad

A Clicking Tock

A night, again, in waking sleep,
Unuttered words that write the wall
From depths of darkness figures creep
Beneath the million fathom fall

Unspeakable the dreams that fright
The squinted eyes belie the wake
Beneath the sheets to flee the fight
And unformed lies the voices make

A promise, bargain, deal to death
Felled on ears that will deny
Ushered to betray in breath
The truth that sleep is but a lie

In the day's too honest light
The facts that once obscured are bare
The fears evaded in the night
Remain and quest the soul to tear

A wish, once made, can only die
The worst of all desires untold
Anything that grows to try
Will wither in the winter's cold

The waking brings the banishment
The sleeping can't afford
But the whisper's vanishment
Is undone by will's accord

Though too sweet the words once spun
And the price too great to say
Life's a game not easily won
Until the dice are thrown away

A night, again, in waking sleep,
Forgotten words exposed to swear
The oath he oaths to wholly keep
In the Game, there's none unfair

Be it love, or hope, or lust
That drives the mind to needs of want
So badly that one would entrust
Such evil with the heart's one haunt

Impossible, the logic cries
The truest evil's the mind of man
Projecting those traits we so despise
Is but the brain's self-loathing plan

Impossible, the hearts dictates
And truly wrong, but be it so
Then what's the price? The soul berrates
For the secrets that heart does stow?

Unsleeping, so the one returns
Whose promises resound through thought
And name and words to the flesh he burns
So that his offer not be forgot

If but a touch of lunacy already exists
What is the matter of spreading the rot
When a ticking clock is what resists
The selling is hardly worth the thought

In another night of waking daze
To make one last oath he may,
"Just sacrifice your mind to craze,
And I will take your pain away"

The deal once struck cannot revoke
The sacrifice is in the smile
The delivery of pays bespoke
Cements the access to freely while

With every day, the sleeping's less
And words will flow from wall to hand
Building to the mind's egress
The hourglass killing shards of sand

When the time has run and no hours will flow
He will come to me to find
Into the madness I'll gladly go
For, unto him, I sold my mind.
Form: Verse

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