Long American life Poems
Long American life Poems. Below are the most popular long American life by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long American life poems by poem length and keyword.
Watching in amazement, as they grunt and grow and cry
Learning from their mothers voice, as they see and hear and try
This whole world is new to them, too young to reason why
Just walking free in safety, feeling sun and wind and sky
Life is ever changing from the moment of one's birth,
learning and adapting to their future life on earth
On this porch, I'm standing watching many kittens play
As my mind drifts to the future, hoping there will come a day
As I enter the fall of life, I dream that I will see
my children grown, with their own, alive and growing free
As you seek the why in life, take time to have your dreams
You'll see the greatest joys in life aren't toys or homes or schemes
The why of things you're seeking may not be yours to understand
I found my greatest joy in life, playing with grand-children in the sand
It comes natural.
To want to save time as well as money.
We incur convenience.
Readily available to what we long most.
It occurs quite often.
The constant clipping and saving.
In search of the best deal.
Not taking into consideration that we might be short changing ourselves.
The shredding and discarding of things we don't use.
The big brand we call love.
Thought to be so expensive.
We spend in the product of smiles.
Manufacturing the ounce of time it takes to show how much we care.
The exchange of one thought to another.
Extreme couponing to get the best value of ourselves.
Perhaps without proof of purchase.
We tear ourselves at the lines.
Refined in swift passing.
Saving all the coupons in search of a bulk that satisfies all craving.
Consumers without guarantee.
Constantly clipping and saving.
Rearing ourselves at the line.
A coupon exchanged in saving for a kiss for later
Then I realized my mistake.
I searched the world not realizing that the world I longed existed inside of you.
Wherefore I felt I needed some sort of permission.
Some sort of console.
Instead of accepting the card I knew hid face down in a deck of the same face cards.
I manipulated the cards to what I knew best.
The only thing I felt was real.
The inevitable.
I was the veil whom dangled in wait.
The classic a-ha moment when all would be revealed.
Not realizing that I myself was a part of the illusion.
The one I kept at arms reach.
A realm filled with room upon room of smoke and mirrors.
Face down on top of a hat.
Waiting for some sort of hand to reach down and pull me toward what I already knew.
I was stuck in an illusion
I wonder who I am sometimes, what seems to be a universal phenomenon. As everyone remains looking to be someone other than themselves, because those who are themselves are persecuted and dreams hung on the cross by society.
But as I wonder the colorful atmosphere of those around me tend to judgingly remind me exactly who I am and what I’m capable of accomplishing.
Because they assume before they even get the chance to know me, my story, why I act, talk, or dress different, why I smell another fragrance, perceive, taste, and feel the world inversely.
Under my skin they shoot before they ask, a trigger finger itching as the deadly explosion blast piercing the body of another innocent soul. Slavery is illegal now but we still hang.
Hang pictures up of loved ones taken through an unjust act, if you listen closely you can still hear the sound of invisible shackles as I walk and fall to my death…click clack, clic clac, click…a heart beating but dead now the heart no longer beats…
Under my skin if I put my hoodie up I might as well wear a mask, to hide the sinister agenda people assume I carry. Sometimes I just want some shade to block out all the negative rain on a summer day.
And when I succeed they assume I’m cheating, because my plateau has no high point or high ground. I’m a flat line, dead to success, and they put me here.
It’s a little misleading when all your hard work just falls off the deep end, because they look at you as if you have a red hand or you’re the bandit.
And if I bought it I could never own it because under my skin without acting I’ve already sinned.
How can you win when you can’t control the end?
All I can say is never stop praying and keep grinding until the end, because God controls the future. So never let someone else control you through “You cant’s or you’ll Nevers.”
P.S. I am black lives, THIS IS JUST A POST SCRIPT.
2007 How Much I Despise You
2007 How Much I Despise You
2017 How Much I despise You
Following 2016 the second worst year ever
Will 2018 be any better ?
And what we have suffered
The darkness settles on the land
Like a curse on the land
As our mad demented senile dotard king wannabe
Struts about the worlds stage
Ushering Americas inevitable decline
April 2, Has America Gone Mad?
America’s foes and friends wonder
Has America gone mad
Turing over ultimate power to this man
A con man narcistic criminal
Self proclaimed smartest man in the room
In reality a clueless reality TV hustler
Whose sell by date has expired
As he tries to make America great again
For white Christian men
April 2 American Life and Death
As American struggles
To cope with the ever declining standard of living
The 1 percent loved the stock market
Love the dismantling of the regulatory state
The corporate tax cuts
and the coming plunder of the land
Can Disney Yellowstone be the future?
As America declines
Back to the future
April 2 Heading Back to the Past
While the rest of the world
Embraces the energy of the future
Our great denier of the truth
Wants to boldly take America back
To the 19th century era of oil, and coal
Yet perhaps it does not matter in the end
As long as we have one another
We will overcome
The darkness will flee the land
April 2 When Will this Darkness End
As the darkness settles down on the land
All are consumed with evil
Foul deeds and endless darkness
I wonder if it will ever go away
Yes I wonder if our great nightmare will ever end
Are we doomed to live out the decline of America?
This is what I pray for 2018
The end of the darkness
that consumes our land
In a way this sort of feels like school.
One moment we're curiously writing and passing notes to each other.
The next we're caught and sent off to detention.
I never knew which box you checked.
Yes.
No.
Maybe kinda sort of.
There's a lesson to be learned from all of this.
Which one I am really not sure.
I wasn't paying attention.
Instead of studying.
Here I am writing another note.
It never really occurred to me.
That while the teacher is teaching.
Filling us with what passes the time.
Life happens behind his back.
The context of how competitive everything is.
In retrospect.
What did you get for number 2.
A.
B.
Or C
Which answer dictates how fast he turns around.
One day soon we'll both know
Granny said that all things have a seed
and that every seed produces its own
thing to be reaped: good or bad:-
At the time, it was hers and the bible study
lesson to be taught and remembered; however,
at that time I didn’t get the full allegorical meaning
of what they were saying: good or bad:-
Now, at this time of grey hair and aged awareness,
I finally realize and know that we all scatter and sow
seeds—either to the flesh or to the spirit—and what
is reaped, is according to that which we freely sowed.
Now, as I look out over our urban fields, I
realize that many moons ago, syndrome-like
sowers of the flesh came like thieves in the night
and scattered their seeds of corruption everywhere.
Some fell onto the paved streets and were wheeled;
Some fell onto the sidewalks and were foot-crushed;
Some fell into the gutters and were washed away;
Some fell, however, into cracks and needled bushes:-
From these seeds we’ve reaped Black-on-Black crime
misery;
From these seeds we’ve reaped Black Families falling
apart;
From these seeds we’ve reaped Black apathy and its
depression;
From these seeds we’ve destroyed each other physically
and mentally;
From these seeds we’ve done the oppressors’ harvesting of
our demise.
Now is the time to re-plow our domestic fields with the
plow of the spirit;
Now is the time to rid our domestic fields of wind-blown
evil seeds;
Now is the time to take back the stolen they took from
our plowed rows;
Now is the time to rage defense against all forces that seek
to destroy us!
Come! Let us get ready Black people; the harvest season is
dawning;
Come! Let us get ready Black people; the harvest coming is
plentiful;
Come! Let us get ready Black people; time to take back the stolen
gift of freedom;
Come! Let us get ready Black people; freedom’s vision awaits its
due reality.
Come! Let us get ready Black people; reapers must be as equal as
is the harvest!
We left the safety of port.
Rising and falling
wave after wave.
The wind stung our face.
Abroad tensions rose.
Never seeing water the way we've seen.
Tossing and turning.
The ship slicing the strong current.
Together we hauled toward the anchor.
Spotting the largest wave we'd ever seen.
Hurling towards us with everything she had.
We set sail without guide.
This perhaps the worse storm yet.
We braced for impact.
Not prepared for what accompanied.
The boom crashed against the deck.
Our linen tossed everywhere.
We panicked,
steering best we could to no avail.
We succumbed to her fury.
Ready to face what may.
Our true destination found.
Seeking the sun after devastation
I love the night.
It makes the things we can't see that much easier.
Finding our way to the light.
The stars are beautiful.
Appearing in perfect dark.
Perfectly placed.
Such a calming sight.
To escape in a dream.
Proof that the most beautiful things reveal themselves
at the right time.
Shoving their light in the dark.
Shuffling all the reasons I love the night.
It's comforting.
Losing track of time.
Savoring every moment gazing at the stars.
The weight of the entire world replaced
with a shower of stars.
The dark, miles & miles long.
I run in thought.
Soft pats of feet through the shoving and shuffling of bright.
The advantage of seamlessly coming out of nowhere.
To look up.
Gone too soon.
Awake subconscious wake up, awaken to the Archangels evil ways in this world, awake to
the things wrong and missing from our modern day village’s, awake to see all humans as
one, wake up and disconnect the good souls from the bad, awake to set my course via the
sun, the moon and the stars. Awake so the mosaic can be placed back together again,
awake enabling I to travel 7 stages, awake Awaken the righteous in my soul and allow it to
shine like the sun, Awaken my righteous thoughts, to be spoke and felt like heat from the
sun or snow from the skies, Rise................ Awake................. Wake up..........
Tallan J Bent (c) 10/11/2010 01:11Hrs