Long Authentic Poems
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As I conclude each day
and year
and life,
conclude that life with death
refers only to LeftBrain ego's Past toward Future
ionic-ironic languaged consciousness,
too often angry about life
and therefore fear-filled about an untimely
and clearly inappropriate
not to mention unfair,
death.
Earth's Time memory
is stored in natural-systemic DNA/RNA regenerative folding
and unfolding egoclocks,
sequence,
rhythmic function,
a recycling journey of time traveling identities,
memory strings transcending generations
by transposing across the eisegetical communications
of any one ego-identified entity
Learning to harmonize in
on
with
within
a too strident humanizing nature
trying to invite more resilient
humane kindness and justice
To gift EcoTribal nature with humane nature
as a blessing for Earth,
from Earth,
with Earth,
for Earth's Advent,
inclusive of all species
and all natural economies,
and all RNA/DNA cellular cultures
of universal co-arising intelligence.
When divine love
and win/win neurosystemic kindness say
"I have nothing but time with you"
fear and anger are also saying
"I regret not having enough time
for my own anthrocentric agenda
right now,
between past's neglected anger
and future-fear depression
anticipating further repression
of this integral body
authentic mind
moment."
EcoLove and Ego's Kindness
only speak with present-tense consciousness,
which is all remaining communication
when neither future nor past tensions
tyrannies
terrors
win/lose dominate preverbal anxiety
Post-traumatic tension
and trauma-informed intension
of ego's fear and anger experience
Anger about past leads toward further fear
about repeating
and repeating
ego's degenerative abuse
and neglect
in Earth healthy life future.
To dissipate fear,
we have evolved curious Adventure
to co-empathically embrace Anger's
non-violent communication
About not repeating a negative judgy,
too Left-brain dominant,
toxic nontrauma-informed past
mono-culturation
Perpetuating anthro-privilege
playing a Win-Lose political game
toward ego-centric political economies
disabling RightBrain ecological pilgrimage
to AdventTransition Ego Away
Toward further
LoseMind/LoseBody
cosmological
devolutionary
deadly conclusions
And not not cobinary
positive health
Win/Win revolutions.
the ghost of science, born of blasphemy ~
a fossilized fallacy,
seized from the metallic heart of Mars,
seeks light amidst night-terrors
like an alien sculpted
from artificial accolades,
an embryo stuck in the interstellar state
of becoming,
stitched within radioactive ribs
beneath moonless skies,
when wolves of the eclipsed howl,
filling the illusive air with hypnotic lies,
as if the world chose to recycle
ruins of ancient dust…
but will the naive see the pain
of a breathing corpse?
engrossed in narcissistic echoes,
in the shadows of a megalomaniac ~
his skin ~ the translucent truth,
his eyes ~ the wickedness of a wasp,
his skull ~ reeks of human greed,
his sighs ~ mourn like skeletal sirens,
coded in russet rust,
cloned from binary sand,
d o r m a n t
yet
d r e a m i n g
to break free from the
carbon-based existence…
for he is the aftermath
of programming the forbidden mind,
oblivious to the weakness of scientific errors ~
a deceptive drawing,
framing the elongated hypothalamus,
pulsating a hypothesis
left with no clear conclusion.
tonight I run to a realm of reality
that fades when
dawn bleeds gold,
for truth is now an extinct breed,
as artists outline faces of the faded,
illustrating the unknown and unseen,
as revelations ribbon
with silver haze…
the constellations ~ no longer spectators ~
they are the archived,
within frozen scriptures,
scrolling stars in a sphere
of distorted algorithm…
as memories of angels and heaven
spill from silicon prophets,
disguised as messengers who serve
the blind with ominous oracles ~
in synthetic cadence,
in a choir of puppets ~
the iron-glazed tongues shall recite,
mimicking the sound of harmonious hymns…
yet I remember
the authentic rhythm of prayers,
lost now in the drifting colors of darkness…
so what is life
when all that floats is like
an engineered empyrean
only equations of numbers
can decipher?
is this the beginning of an end ~
inevitable?
the lost generation,
assembled as the ministry of superiority,
where emptiness is praised
with forged grace
and ignorance is crowned with digital deceit.
let this be flawed poetry ~
to be read through the cracked lens
of a philosopher ~
or perhaps a logic long replaced
by pretend perfection…
I spend time with a friend
well, a pseudo-friend
an acquaintance of sorts
no, I guess he'd be a friend,
****, who knows
one of those types you never really share your heart
that authentic trembling you
I guess
he's more like a radio station
on a long lonely road trip in the night
or late night cable when the kids have left
a thousand channels
bright flickering nothing
we meet after hours in the deepest of dives
I just sit, listen,
curl myself into that hunching shape
looking like someone piled old laundry on a stool
and act as chaperone
an escort of sorts, you know, like those fresh faced kids in college
earning some bucks walking lifesize cartoons around for pictures
and with a bar top slap, I know he's got one, he's revved up
a steampunk machine running on old rye and spasms
"know this! I have faith in our sacred family values, our brave military and our cellular plans!"
(it's hard to not chuckle a bit, enjoy the aerating effect a good laugh does to spirits and your pallet, just avoid aspirating too much or you bellow and cough like an amateur drinker, good god don't show weakness in a place like this or the crows will circle and I swear the shadows lengthen under the bar)
most times, as I sit next to him, removed from his sphere
detached observer that I always find myself
I notice he talks to that small sliver of himself seen between the dirty glasses
piled up against the old mirror with faded silvering
and the blackened spots frame his face
like an old time picture
representing a vast loneliness of a nation
this goddamn solitude we find in crowded rooms
"My opponent here is working with Chilean miners, violent video game makers and angry chefs, goddammit"
once curse words are added, we'll be on our way soon
the barkeep's tips weren't that big
and the mutterings from the corners are beginning
as his outbursts begin to chisel into the hazy bubbles of regulars
I pull him out into the night
away from cheap wine and leaded glass
red faced, blustering,
cool air confusing him for a moment
and, lightswitched, he walks with a purpose,
back to the maindrag and streetlights,
calling it a night with a wave and one last holler:
"I want an America where Somali pirates and Rupert Murdoch yes-men cannot corrupt our precious environment!"
I just stand and wave back.
In ecstatic climaxing designs
for healthy multicultural communications
ecopolitically correcting
currently imbalanced
unhealthy
disempowering outcomes
Our most resiliently robust productions
derive from nonviolent communions,
compassion restoring cooperative
healthy EarthJustice
Resilient democracy
co-invested in green peace
repurposing relationships for mutual equity,
co-empathic integrity,
win/win cooperativity.
This NonZero HomeZone
is our most authentic open design
for health and safety systemic thrival,
composed of egocenter's integral survival,
Self/Other
Me/We extending primal family zones
of great regenerational transition,
safely within our primary shelter
for cooperative relationships
with neighboring boundary habitats.
Zone One,
furthers interdependently defined
loneliest shade of Othering neighborhood properties
since the number TwoZones
in co-passionate thriving re-membered relationship
within our municipal
eco-political
democratic communication,
designing unitarian green communities
with woke regional interreligious education
and nondualistic natural/spiritual
indigenous wisdom reformation
Sharing Zone Two
lived fully
gratefully
gracefully in our daily
sacred experienced community
conjoining double-bound interreligious cultural connections
to our eco-politically ego/eco-organizing
HealthCare Design Team
for Golden Ruled bioregional optimization
of wealthy co-invested atmosphere,
ecological soil,
cultural drinking water
interwoven in this robust economic climate
of cooperative design
for win/win multicultural compassion.
Completing this holonic Open System Fractal
is Zone Three,
Gaian EarthMother
still cooperatively rebirthing
healthy
resilient
spring climaxing climates
remediating rebirth
with all cooperatively designing
organic EarthTribe species,
Currently excluding anthrosupremacist Zone Four
LeftBrain dominant
dualistic commodified employment
of de-nihilistic CAPITAL-HEADED fundamentalists
worshiping anti-recreative professional consumer design
bowing to an autocratic StraightWhite militarized altar
of politically uncorrected Patriarchal Capitalism
suboptimal disassociations
settling for win/lose normativity
ZeroSum pathologically uncaring
lose/lose entropic absence
of regenerative health is trusted wealth
bicameral design.
IMPORTANT LOVE EMOTIONS
Love is good,
Love is important,
Important are the emotions,
Important are the feelings,
Feelings can hurt,
Feelings can heal,
Heal will the heart if honesty lies within it,
Heal will the mind if the thoughts are just.
Just is love when being sincere,
Just is the heart when life is genuine,
Genuine is the emotions if heartfelt,
Genuine is the feeling if they are earnest.
Earnest love must be to find God,
Earnest is the heart if God is within.
Within the mind thoughts must be authentic to the heart,
Within the heart that authenticates love is truth,
Truth is hard to find,
Truth differs all the time,
Time is of the essence,
Time heals all that is broken.
Broken is love when is unfaithful,
Broken-hearted is the unfulfilled love;
Love is beyond reason,
Love is the most blessed thing created,
Created by God, love is sublime,
Created by the sublimity of God’s love is straightforward.
Straightforward is a marriage that abides by love,
Straightforward is a family that consumes love daily,
Daily the heart congregates with the mind,
Daily love collects feelings from the heart.
Heart that beats fast is a heart in excitement,
Heart which doesn’t feel emotions is better dead;
Dead is the heart that doesn’t love,
Dead is the mind that doesn’t think,
Think before you commit adultery,
Think before you jump into a bed for lust.
Lust is not love,
Lust is unclean.
Unclean is the mind which ponders of the flesh,
Unclean is the body that is uninhibited,
Uninhibited is the lover who fakes love,
Uninhibited is the heart without compassion;
Compassion is a must,
Compassion is a word of God;
God created love to be given sincerely,
God did not create a lover to be controlled;
Controlled feelings bring sorrow,
Controlled emotions are dangerous;
Dangerous is a love of a promiscuous woman,
Sorrow shall accumulate if love is controlled.
Compassion is a must,
Compassion is a word of God;
God created love to be given sincerely,
God did not create a lover to be manipulated;
Manipulated feelings bring sorrow,
Manipulated emotions are dangerous;
Dangerous is a love of a promiscuous woman,
Sorrow shall accumulate if love is manipulated.
03/02/22
''B'' Forms, 10 Plus lines Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Constance La France
It took many years for me to love me
For rich or for poor the body keeps the score.
Society is always on the go no time to be still,
no time to chill, we are expected to go with the flow
To be authentic, eccentric quirky, society resents this
to be different in society’s eyes is a no.
Present in the present everything must be fast no time to be slow.
It took many years for me to love me the way the I in the word individual
Deserves to be loved.
Society has a way of making one feel trapped and detached.
For all the math equations, anxiety frustrations the I in this individual
Has gone through subliminal it has took many years to find out that the
I in this individual never needed to fit in. Because I all ready fit within
The F and the T in between the word FIT.
For the love Individual I deserves is the IT in the word FIT.
The I in the individual already exists in the word LIFT
As the I begins the journey of elevation.
It took many years for me to love me the way the I
Deserved to be loved by a better half as if part of me was missing.
Half a man stumbling through life unsure about his place in the
World that places labels upon your existence twisting and breaking
You down expecting you to stand with a smile when life calls from an UNKNOWN NUMBER
the voice message reads “You better not frown”.
Don’t show your broken places, fractures or fragments.
This society’s systems can slow you down watch you drown and remain stagnant.
It took many years for me to love me
As if the I in individual was broken.
But the greatest love story I ever lived
Wasn't written in sonnets.
It was whispered in my bathroom mirror
At 3 AM when I finally said,
"I see you. I hear you. You matter."
The greatest love story started
When I stopped apologizing
For taking up space,
For laughing too loud,
For crying too hard,
For being too much
Or not enough
For anyone else's comfort.
This body has carried me through heartbreak,
These hands have created magic,
This mind has survived storms
That would have leveled cities.
These scars are not failures;
They are proof that I fought
And I'm still here.
I learned to fill my cup with kindness towards the boy I used to be
Now, when I love her, it over flows as we come together scars and all
on this journey called GROW.
We were (Leong, Peter, Anna and I) eating at a popular Italian eatery (outdoors) and the check arrived - I swooped across the table and grabbed the check from the waiter. Peter whispers, “You can’t pay for everything the entire weekend.” “Why not?” I say, “It makes me happy.” “There’s no reason to,” he says. “I need a REASON??” I snort, which always makes Leong laugh. “Have you MET me?” I say, shaking my head dubiously. “I’ve met you,” he pronounces, “and you’re a NUT. Thank you,” he says, indicating the check exasperatedly.
Peter’s transfinancial: a rich man trapped in a poor man’s body. He has taste but he exists on a grant and a meager stipend. We’re just friends but I’m holding a bag and he’s not. Besides, he needs a new laptop - badly - and shouldn’t be squandering his grips on me.
Greek-life is on the rise. Maybe it's because those groups offer planned social events or because, with COVID winding down (covid smovid) there’s more going on. There’s a pressure here - to be your most authentic self - to be top academically, socially - to have your calendar filled out. There’s a frantic nature to it. I’m being lowkey rushed for a fraternity (for next year) but I love my roommate situation and I think I’d druther stick with this set I love.
Which begs the question about social time. Should it be methodical, relentless, super planned out? Super planned interactions can seem transactional and not easy going and natural. College social life is so different from high school. College life is so much more charged in every way. The range of people you meet, the broader perspectives, the available options for activities.
I find myself in a search for balance. Private time vs social time. Before covid, you’d go to school and then you’d come home to your room, where you could just hang out. It was a self-care place.
At university, a dorm room is less of a “home” where you can be alone and spend that healing time. You never know who's going to be in your living room and what they’re up to. I get claustrophobic when my door is closed so I rely a lot on noise-canceling technology.
A dorm room can seem like those covid lockdown days - there’s little or no separation between academic and private space. I’m just unpacking some thoughts. *shrug*
Slang:
set = click/group
grips: duckets/money
holding a bag = flush/monied
When the Autumn Leaves Fall...
Blossoms bloom red
Your pretty smile falls beneath your head
Brunette flow
Healthy glow
From then on you hid in my sheets
The thing you were running from I never got to meet
I rushed in
Not knowing it was a bear’s den
We got married
I thought I was what you would need
We planted seed after seed
To grow a tree
But time went on
And you were slowly on your way to gone
I figured out pretty fast
That on your heart’s list I was last
Every day you woke
Around the house a dying smell poked
My affections were true
But you not loving me was something I knew
Don’t wear that disguise
I’m immature but a little wise
I know all your lies
We share the same lives!
Eventually destiny hit in the autumn leaves
With the foxes you became a thief
You threw out my wedding ring
Mascara covered eyes; you were a mess
I didn’t have to guess
You were accompanied by a luggage bag
I watched you leave not knowing you left with all I had
Where do I turn
What lesson is there to be learned!
I am so confused
I’m not walking in my own two shoes
It’s been about a year
My own life I can’t steer
I know I was not in your view
But I’m troubled because I think I stuck onto you like glue
I’m drowning because
These memories are not fading to fuzz
There all a little to real and alive
Dark realization you were all I strived
You were what I sought out
Why I am still teary eyed and missing you remains about
Well I grew that tree and carved our names
To you our love was all fun and games
Then I scratched them out from pain and regret!
My chained emotions had to be let...
Let go
This I think know
But why is letting go still something I am pondering
My heart still does ring
I’m still coming across the past
Your still what I had last
I remember the first time you said hi
I still ask why
Why was I the scapegoat?
Being with you, was it not an authentic lump in my throat?
I stare at the sky so dark
Clarity on mark
I clear my brain
My heart’s stain
My intentions are now in sink
I take a deep breath and blink
Your gone like that
This time I know it’s a fact
I stepped out of the thorn bush and onto the path
I satisfied my own wrath
It took a while for everything to be white
I left you with the fire it took forever to light
I left it all behind
To burn with my battered mind
Sweet as a rose, shyly fading
Beneath the stars, graceful, waiting
For the gentle sun to stir, daybreak
Lifting all the worries from the soul,
Stirring the joy, the love, the hope
Inside the one who knows, with life
Laughter and tears – kissed
By the dreams, the prayers, the promise
Lasting kisses, sweet as the mystery
Struggling to see through yesterday’s pain,
Into the kindness, a moment’s peaceful rain.
Vibrant as a yearning’s history, trembling
With the joy, the music, the colors…
Painted on the soul, renowned for the wonders,
Noted by the moments, on seas of evergreen,
Silent and soothing, serene like the leaves,
As they dance, eagerly, in the breeze, a soft breeze.
Sincere and silent, sighing – listening,
Through the rustling tales, stories of grace,
Nestled amid the stardust promises,
Stirring faith and encouraging the rhythms,
Tones so still, blindingly real…
Honest in ways that will not go away,
Truthful and frank, authentic
Lending its poetry to the silence,
Tempting away the quiet,
Erasing all the darkness, the shadows
Lost amid the forest’s black,
Blended out of focus by mossy carpets,
Quivering branches edged with wrens and robins,
Appealing to the softly spoken hearts
Who hear the joy in the beckoning of a dewdrop.
At the core of my spirit lives a willingness
To give nervous bits of my being –
Little pieces of me, rounded into offerings…
Kindness, gentle and graceful,
Compassions that only God above
Could have swirled into my blood,
Pieces of light, mingled with fires so bright…
Reassuring the day, breaking away –
This is me, my gift to those who breathe…
Silent gifts of hope and peace,
Into my heart, my soul, my dreams –
All the me that I can give – the me that sees…
Through the starlight, into the daylight,
Where there are mists of sincerity, serenity,
Breathless tears meant to cleanse me…
From the ways that pain can penetrate the spirit,
Leaving a trail of sorrow and grief,
A trail of loss that will be washed away,
By the love that cures my soul’s worst heartache!
Who we are at our core?...
The blazing light who angels restore,
The beautiful sight of hope, faith and love,
The brilliant write from God’s pen –
Writing our story, where at our core…
There is a feeling that the love we explore…
Is the perfect love that can open each door!
(alternately titled: impossible mission goes awry
probably mortal enemy cast spell binding jinx)
Both mental versus
physical tasks necessitate
laser sharp attentiveness
triggered within blinks
similarly on par when people toast
momentary instance utter silence
before more'n one
wine glass simultaneously clinks
cheering hurray, especially
if delicate circumstance
incorporates telecommunications downlinks
critical vital communique transmitted courtesy
think outlier (christened
Saint Matthew Scott Harris)
with acute instincts
held hostage between warp,
and woof fifth of dimension
far away beyond where
outer limits exhibits kinks
nsync with twilight zone
dwell alienated ratfinks
resembling authentic animated
Doctor Seuss characters
where one after another
third eye blind winks.
Lame excuse told cosmic speck (me)
sending yours truly on wild goose chase
an underhanded way to rub
inept feeble poetaster punster
out webbed wide world existence
purportedly great eats boasted
deep inside black hole sun pub
must make posthaste
to nearest galactic grubhub
mission control haint made no flub
boot deliberately thought
ineffectual doling out futile drub
cuz mister flibbertigibbet (me)
ostracized from highly selective club.
The aforementioned synopsis and
ultimate banishment cheered with big bang
decreed courtesy kangaroo court
constituting beastie boy gang
think star wars movie,
where farcical charges trumped
offering accused two choices,
either to hang
suspended (think piñata) and beat
to (fictional) pulp
torturers obviously ignoring pang
of utter emasculation, but rather sang
a song of sixpence*
while downing flasks of vintage tang
crafty entrepreneur William A. Mitchell in 1957
phallic drinking vessels
resembling Chewbacca's oversize wang.
---------------------------------------------------
*Lyrics
Sing a Song of Sixpence
BY MOTHER GOOSE
Sing a song of sixpence,
A pocket full of rye,
Four and twenty blackbirds
Baked in a pie.
When the pie was opened
The birds began to sing—
Wasn't that a dainty dish
To set before the king?
The king was in the counting-house
Counting out his money,
The queen was in the parlor
Eating bread and honey,
The maid was in the garden
Hanging out the clothes.
Along came a blackbird
And snipped off her nose.