Long Anger Poems
Long Anger Poems. Below are the most popular long Anger by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Anger poems by poem length and keyword.
War is a psychopath in greed of power...
a nation wrecking, wrapped in rubble,
with nightmares of the might of hatred.
Muddy boots over broken buildings
the debris screams in silence of death,
Please , can you stop the war?
A brutal bullet butchers innocence
A bomb defeats the trust of humanity.
A missile stalls in the ragged horizon
Anger exploding in a cauldron of hell.
Only two legs lost, one amputed arm
scars forever sour in head and heart.
A beautiful country of tranquil pastures
now a daily news of counting corpses.
Dignity of a body, fights a helpless woman.
hidden in darkness, cries of scared children.
Pain in sadness, all noise and destruction.
Finally they hail the glory of a victory.
Who has won the War?
A psychopath in greed of power.
You know how we sometimes analyze too much and forget to feel?
It’s okay to feel -
whether it be confusion
pain
sadness
anger
or you just want to cry -
even the strong ones like us get lost
we don't always say what we really need,
we hide behind things
we end up being the go between and supporter to everyone..
So tonight if you're lost
know that in your silence you can still
liaise with your Maker...
He sees beyond what you ever imagined
and most importantly He gives you the peace
and guidance you sometimes seek in others...
©134403112014
the dance around the heifer
To think I'm five years older than US president
Joe Biden, I think he is senile, but he is also corrupt like so many senators are
The Jews who lived in America knew of Western man, the obsession with status, a big house, and money, making them easy to corrupt.
The Jews, those who live in the USA, don't feel patriotic towards America for them; their heart is Israel, where goys are not welcome.
The Jews are a people with high EQ, but they lack empathy for others and let unbecoming greed take over their strange reasoning.
The Jews, due to their fatal flaws like ancient hatred when the irate behavior has gone too
far, be caught up and become victims of violence
The Jews, thus, castigated, will measly offer their services be fixers for the powerful and win favors and, in this manner, win power once again.
gestures of merit
light in letters
with fluttering words
simplicity
of impulse
twixt art &art
white silence
shape emotions
with
power of the image
in
the inner
state of mind
oozing unevenly
seething
constellations of perception
random
splinters of sound
roadways of
thought
out
of everywhere
sequenced elipsis
visual blanks
on
a spatial pitch
in
spiritual breaths
minimal linear
flows&
stopped
by streams&visions
bruise-blue
cloud shapes
rouse anger
&exhileration
in
the absence of constraint
belonging nowhere
looking
touching
longing
wishing
choices scattered
blunted
by helplessness
uprooted
crumpled in small tokens
shaken
crushed
fallen shapes
abandoned
upwards
sideways
in silent
unshapen
shadows-
the unspoken
essence of knowledge
&
sounds remembered
Somewhere down the line, her hair was blond
Now the black roots showed the ageing woman I knew so well
She still had that dignified hatred etched into her face though
I could even see the longing for the question
A wanting to finally retaliate
She probably wouldn't be around in another ten years
Not with that pent-up anger
Strange how time does that
To keep it all hidden inside for so long
I really should ask, say something to her
I would sue your hairdresser
Her eyes exploded
So strange, it was the eyes that drew me to her all those years ago
She walked away without turning round
Dignified to the end
I wonder if they’ll put that on her headstone
Hated to the end
The very end
Yet her eyes stayed true.
Catharsis
Writing frees me from the depths of doubt,
the fear of releasing my most hidden demons,
demons I have held at bay and at the same time
nourished with my hate. Is it so much harder
to speak the words than to place them on paper?
The paper does not judge, nor grimace, nor
squirm in its seat, it stares blankly at me not
a bit intimidated. The words can be recalled
when writing, corrected, chosen with care so
as to convey the loneliness of the demon keeper,
the rage of the too young prey, the wrath of
an unknown victim. The demons are not his,
but mine, remnants of disgust grown into hate,
fed to keep alive the will to live, to fight,
to persevere, to live or at least go through
the motions while the battle raged within
me. A battle of the hows and whys,
a battle never won but waged in peace,
the endless quest for ease. Ease within
myself and with myself to be myself, to
befriend my demons and thank them for the
hate that steeled my will and praise them
for the rage that fueled my passion, to reward
them for their valor with the courage to
write the odious words, lay bare the angst
concealed through age, and free both they
and me. And so I write of them, and me,
and loneliness and of the battles fought
and yet to be, and thank the blank
un-judging pages for their trust and
curse the coward that I be.
8/13/2013
Strength Thru Adversity Poetry Contest
Gregory R. Barden - contest sponsor
What will it take you make you learn
There are bridges you don't burn
Some things you just shouldn't be
Messing with or you will see
How it comes back haunting you
You should really think it through
Before the trouble you are stirring
Gets somebody's anger whirring
Smack dab right int your direction
Heed my warning and suggestion
There are times you walk away
Turn around and do not stay
Where you cause so much disaster
Inside you are full of laughter
But there's no joke a while after
The bridges you burned will soon fall
From the fire you install
As the flames of hurtful heartache
Start burning higher as they take
Everyone around you in
A fiery tale-spin
That will end up in hot ember
And these ashes you'll remember
As they leave a burning scar
Of a joke you took to far
I run through life wounded with a steel jawed trap
ensnared onto my foot restricting my life’s essence.
Day in and day out I’m never able to shake it off,
in relentless movements as fast as I could go
so no new pain touches me.
I fight for sustenance; I fight to inhabit this life
damaged and wearied, from taking life’s persecutions.
This invisible torment of my afflictions you can’t
Identify with.
I hold close that God is always watching and will pull me from
the of muddied roads that I run. He hears my tormented cries;
He feels my tortured spirit; He sees I can’t stop this path I’m on.
You say I’m not getting free but the running is
critical to me, as long as I can run, I’ll move,
don’t ask why, don’t question it, don’t try.
It’s not something you’ll ever comprehend.
Don’t question my animal instinct, let me be free
from what haunts me, from the nothingness.
You’re not saving me, you got nothing on me.
I’m God’s creature and vow to be who I am.
You say the war is over but the hurt remains
I keep a mask on through good times and bad.
They don’t think my life counts but God sees the
merit of my existence.
Every day, it’s my struggle not yours, no one can imagine
the heartbreak, the suffering, the sorrow cutting my soul
as deeply as the rapt foot, it won’t come off it’s always
mine alone.
I’m still fighting, the battle rages on in my mind.
Stop your judgment, leave me be, if you have not
been through this anguish run with me or without me.
I have accepted the aloneness in this fight.
This trap keeps me from fending off life’s predators.
I’m a solitary being with a broken spirit. My desperate
expression is evidence enough. Though my instincts are
powerful I’m not able to discern when I’m in danger.
I know GOD watches this unbearable burden I carry.
I pray when my time is up He gives me warning
so in the final moments I can stand still as I’m being
raised up out of this hell into Heaven.
My Angels in Heaven see me; I’m okay to die this way;
it’s not for you to say. I beg God to keep His guard on me.
I’m done defending this. I pray for you without any
prayers in return.
I heard my God say as I mowed yesterday,
It hurt me but still it was true.
"The moment you tell me someone needs to change,
I begin to start working on you!"
If you think they aren't giving or even forgiving,
Then add those to what you sometimes do.
The way you are to love, should reflect mine above,
Forgiving Mankind for all things.
That task is too great for you or any human to do.
Ask for my grace and see what it brings!
It was human flesh that got you all in your mess,
Being prideful and not doing as I say.
If insanity is repeating the same thing the same way,
Then you're all out of your minds everyday.
You all can be sure that my word is your cure,
By the rebellious effect it has upon you.
I sent word from above, commanded you all to love,
Through sin the opposite you will do.
Forgiveness belongs, whenever you've been wronged,
Yet most times you carry a grudge.
Until you can see that when you pray to me.
When you disobey I don't even budge.
How about your greed, passing those who are in need,
Looking for change instead of a dollar to give.
Can you really afford, what my angels record,
That determines where in eternity you'll live?
Parents hope their child will copy their style,
But doing things the human way is a mess!
Don't know what to do? I left a book for you!
So that nobody ever has to guess.
I see your mowing win soon end, recall something Ken,
The saying someone shared that's so true.
When you point out or talk, condemning others walk,
It comes back three times against you.
“Poetry allows the poet to give vent to rage
and despair in words, instead of action.” ~ by poet
Oh, you don’t wanna know
what it would be like
if it wasn't for poetry.
Living this life would be unbearable,
The false preaching of the pompous priests
The false promises of the crooked politicians
The false hopes of the cheating charlatans.
Whenever I am disillusioned
and my heart aches at the wickedness of man,
I sit down to write poetry
to lessen the pain.
Looking at the wretched condition
of the downtrodden and
the hedonistic lifestyle of the affluent,
the pent-up rage in me is ever raring
to burst forth and burn the world down…
if it wasn’t for poetry!