Long Babylon Poems
Long Babylon Poems. Below are the most popular long Babylon by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Babylon poems by poem length and keyword.
Everyone is dancing to a new rhythm forcing everyone to sing, the notes are right, the message is tight and this rhythm is causing a fight. Many people are happy with it but many still don’t understand it they just follow the beat and move to the rhythm in the street.
It seems like a gender war and the religious people want to create a brawl, Christendom or the holy land; man wants to claim dominion over woman. That’s not how it was supposed to be, the destiny will decide for you and me when the bulls are in the town, it turns my emotion upside down.
They want to squeeze you in a corner and make years of hard work goes down the drain to make you feel ashamed, they want to snatch the book away from you so that your hard earn dream doesn’t come through and when the day is done you have to get up and run and seek for solace in the sun.
Men has had their time and mother earth is divine we are the fruits of the land and we just want to cross over. Why are you giving us such a hard time when you knew that the message is divine, you are fighting for something that will never be and you will have to cross over and stand by me.
You have got to stop this gender war and work with everyone that wears overall, they are the working-class people and the group that can stand adversity. Work with what is feasible and make your location applicable; remove the juice from the stand and marinate your beef and fish with onion and pepper, add some spice and serve it with rice in a broad dish.
When your objectives are met, you must drain the swamp to keep the mosquitoes off the land.
Some people will have to travel to get a better position or you will waste away to nothing on this flabbergasted island, Babylon has no plans for you and no one is standing up for you. You are like a rolling stone that is gathering no moss and it is time to treat yourself to an expensive frock.
The planes will be landing soon and you must be at the boarding gate before noon, you will be given instructions when you get there, and you must not speak to anyone or participate in any conversation out there.
.I don't understand what the architect wants but we will work out a deal that will finalize your plans and place you in a firm position. Destiny will meet you at the shore and give you the keys to open the door.
oh, the so-sublime motion of your sway
dressed in naught but the moon's wisps
sole fascination of the gods themselves
should Valhalla ever hold the refinement
to abide such flawlessly beguiling rhythm …
from heels to hips to dimpled shoulders
you toss your birthday outfit with intent
seductive swing lassoing my gaze, entire
the drift of your narcotic motion blooms
enough to best the Gardens of Babylon …
yet the whitest, purest blossoms known
would blush to crimson for the sole sake
of your unblemished, magnetic contours
the stairs and stars, swinging in tempo
to the dance of your fair and fluidic flesh …
pray these eyes, do not ever blink again
lest I chance to miss an instant of that
saucy, sinuous, room-sweeping saunter
pray this heart, do not ever thrum again
lest it interrupt your perfect ... cadence.
Copyright © Gregory Richard Barden, October 18, 2019
Searching for some comfort in the only ways I know,
Had no choice but to recognize this old friend of mine.
Oh, the blood and the sweat we have shared,
The scars you left me, I bear to this day.
Some with pride;
And others, with great shame.
Oh, the sweet whisper of my name I hear again
As your lips grace my cheeks.
I fall to the floor in devotion once more,
Half blinded by fear.
All of Babylon sings your praise,
And Walls threaten to crumble to the earth.
I am begging;
I am on my knees.
I will do anything-
Surely you know.
Now shaking and sweating I pull the sheet off to the floor.
This cut, you saw it went too deep;
But the blood, you smile, it is so warm at least.
Covering my body to hide all beauty and hide all deceit.
I’m yours to take, darling,
If you are not frightened by the stains my love leaves.
I whispered to you in the dark,
And I know you heard what I had to say.
My skin is lined with hooks and barbs you cannot see,
Lust and temptations keep the world blind to these unsightly thorns.
Hallelujah
Hallelujah verily, verily truly
Hallelujah
Amen revealed
I am expressing my worship
Hallelujah
I am rejoicing utterance received
Praise the Lord, praise the Lord
Hallelujah, hallelujah the highest praise always
Alleluia a great song
Such a great song praised be to God glory
Raise God triumphant over the Whore of Babylon
I seen I will Sing Praises on Express My Worship
Make known to others the praise
Divulge disclosed uncloke unclose Hallelujah hallelujah
I shall acknowledge to bring light confess devidge declare Exposed Proclaim in Jesus name
Hallelujah
I am expressing my worship
UNASHAMED Duty found
Standing before the Holy One
Our Father God on Holy Ground
Be it so, so be it mire than a feeling
I am the Lord God's child
I am expressing my worship soft but yet loud
Roaring as a lion in Him
I am fixed firm reliable and trusted in Him
I will I am revealed Hallelujah
Amen Hallelujah Amen
REVEALED
Dedicated verse the Candace Diszenu
10/30/22
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr (c)
Tales of a tragic hero
Why did he choose..me?
A sinful man I am..how is it that I am?
Is this hell?
Im I his nightmare!??
What am I?
People expect me to come with the clouds so literally?
God help me I'm still trying to figure out what it means!!
I wake up one day..just turned 18..told I'm the son of God I many ways
I'm tired of keeping it to myself so all the time so judge me
Is this it?
Why me?
Why not someone else.. someone who's good with people
And not so disturbed
I'm not the smartest man that ever lived..
Hell..I passed with abc' and one D
My whole life I felt forsaken by my mother and biological father
Not knowing what that close love even means
Now they step into my life..try to tell me who to be
What the hell do you want of me!!!!!!
Im not Superman
But I could really use some wings
So I can fly away from this hellish dream
It's all fun and gamrs until the pieces Aline
I'm just a tragic hero stuck in babylon
Am I blackened??
Or is my light just unseen
When the Antichrist comes
Will I be who you want me to be
Sadness and pain and sorrow sear inside me
Who am I???????
Let me out of this dream!!!
I'm just a tragic hero..
If I'm supposed to be the one who died so long ago
Why do I struggle still with what's inside me???
Form:
Perhaps you too know of an animal species that is extinct, of a people, a place, or a thing that is no more. Perhaps you have heard of a place called Babylon, once great, but is now no more and gone forever.
I shall acquaint you with a little town that I shall call "My Yesterplace" that still has a name and a geography, but its people, its beauty, and its life as I recall it, is gone. I suspect the roosters that I used to hear crowing on early mornings are gone, but the lightning bugs we watched and the crickets that were so soothing to us late at night might still be there.
There, in my "Yesterplace", the first school I attended burned down when I was in the first grade. The second school I attended closed some years ago for lack of people. The Post Office, the two cafes, the three stores, and most of the houses are gone. Some of these things I only heard about, because I have not visited that little town in over 40 years. I have often wondered about the pecan trees across the railroad track where we gathered lots of pecans after a windy fall's night and the Chinaberry tree in our front yard where we buried our dog named Jack some 60 years ago.
I am reminded of a conversation a few years ago with my wife's uncle, the only uncle I ever knew, who was 96 years of age at the time. Several months before his demise, he said to me, "I would love to visit my home town one last time". Unfortunately, his wish never came true. Like my wife's uncle, that's what I would like to do-visit that "Yesterplace" of my birth even though the house is no more. Yes, that "Yesterplace" on whose grounds I may stand and say, "Here is where my story began".
021621PS
Time
Thou mighty monarch of “eartherial” scope,
the vicegerent and the viceroy of all fickle frame.
from thy womb lonesome vial sprung,
and the cavalcades of torrents bearing branches
Time
ere that chaotic cosmos regaled in darkness found a cloth of light,
Thou deccreest the bands and bounds by thine unvoiced speeches.
and when creation found a space in thy vast gale.
thy space was not submerged or muted in all affairs.
Time
As a conqueror, we see thy doings over man.
thy power over kings.
and thy victory over thrones
we stand aghast when arrogance is over.
speechless at the remains of monarchs.
Time,
where is Rome, where is Assyria?
Where is Babylon, where is Britain ?
Like carcasses in the wind
they crumbled regaled in dusty past of forgone memories
their days of Power are over
Time
Even now, thy watchers are in all cities upon all arms
when in rage the sword is drawn from the scabbard
some you kill.
other you honour.
and others you mocked.
May we in Time, find our paths ere we bid this earth farewell
sometimes
am alive
yes I got a spirit
it high me up to God
and that
is a protection
in case you care to know
am a sinner
yet it don't stop
women loving me
either does it stops
God from protecting
my soul
sometimes
the life is my plan ****
and am the artist
with my pen
in my world
I am the omini scientists
in my creativity
am the omini god
I need no stain
I need no pollution
cos am a sinner
already crucified in
the cross of greed
by the Forsakers
in their gangs and evil
I draw a world so pure
it wallow their heart
it beat down their mini gods
at last I got a legacy to protect
sometimes
the old wise man
use to say
live to live again
the preacher man
say be born again
the Laddies say live
for today and let tomorrow
speak for it self
but only
the politician says
trust all you fear on
us
we can solve all of the
above
that triggers a sinner
like me to my bone
cos I can draw the big
bold lies in their
manipulation
cos am already dead in
their lies now am
alive in a new truth
I fear no Babylon
as much as the modern
still bully my art
so I paint
words with bleeding
pen while the eyes rains
sometimes
After: "Letter of Mithridates to Phraates, King of Parthia"
Historiae VI by Sallust
*****************************
I am a man more poisoned against than poisoning.
That’s my version anyhow, and I’m sticking to it.
Don’t blame me for having survived a few meals
Which others, less fortunate, could not.
All that doesn’t help me now with Pompey at my throat.
Pompey, plunderer and bully, who has enough wit
Only to command a Materialschlacht,
But that is child’s play with Rome’s support.
Rome! Scourge of cities, tribes, peoples, nations, all mankind,
Were not the Pillars of Hercules, the western shores
Sufficient for your ravenous appetite
That your eagle eyes scan my realm?
O Phraates, King of Parthia still unvanquished,
Had you but lent your ear to me when together we
Might have rid the East of this ill-begotten son
Of Mars. Small the credit, so great the loss!
For Rome, unchallenged, bestrides the Great Sea. Eastwards
He surveys my mountains and your rivers, groves and plains,
No doubt beyond. Remember Alexander,
Who sacked glorious Persepolis.
You vainly sue for peace, like credulous Philipp once
When fondly strung along with Rome’s promises of “pax”.
And what of Carthage? Where now her wealth of gold
And purple? Barren her poisoned lands!
Mind you, I’m not well-placed on a high moral pedestal
When it comes to poisoning, but limits I respect.
A few enemies now and then, I admit,
Died at my table. The ham was off!
But the earth is sacrosanct. I never salted fields,
For Rome’s venom is stronger than aught I ever brewed.
Where shall this end? Shall Rome vanquish all nations?
Shall all cower to his bloody sword?
But Rome! With surfeiting the eaten, not the eater,
Prevails. The whole world is, even for iron digestions,
Strong meat. It is the sun, not Romulus, whom
East and West obey. Helios rules.
With Rome to east and Rome to west, then two Romes are there,
And I do fear for man and earth. The approach of death
Lends men insight. I fought, I won, I lost in war.
My spirit is still king. Sirs, your health.
The last round! Like Carthage we lose to Rome the third round.
Once more is the Gordian knot in twain. Quirites,
The gods look down. Remember Alexander,
Who died of fever in Babylon!
A new day perhaps, of immeasurable tin, sound of din
A hurricane noise, a thrall of riotous cuts, although thin
The blood-curdle choke of rage from before
Now purchased like plasma from the needle store
Go hump yourself, If you want my schtick, you vampire whore
You’ve had enough since the Garden, Lillith, you’ll not get more
Now the ratio between human, vampire, dragon and other dead
Has been cast with fair radiant echo against the nuclear thread
A shroud sewn with Alcubierre’s hand and Teller’s eye
Will re-write the laws of your time to die
Not forced by the forced prison of your local priest
Or enticed by Babylon to take part in it’s wicked feast
The work that was promised to Adam and re-framed unto Cain
To un-curse the valley, glen and land: to filter Acid from Rain
With thorns o- the rose coming loose from the Bush
And snakes running hither or thither in scintillate Rush
The Oracle of Satan found new charms to spread in perfect Cube
Could be the shape of Sound Maynard or Max’s Cubic Rube
The Time of Orwell Now and Jobs spelling Apple at his Side
And Sting writing programs for the Cops, whom along for the Ride
the Bladerunner checkin for humans among the technical horde
Huxley detected the separate spirit, lobotimized souls, Model T Fords
And Harrison checked again with electric sleep on the Brain
A tear for Summer, or a vision for Canticles, a wave almost Inane
With countless ages past since the Dust of Sumer lent
It’s hell-bound rasp of gutteral destruction spent
The awful wave of gas, a riotous nuclear blast
In the once Green land where sage grew fast
The dim spectre of time has given up the ghost
With markets bazar and material plenty, yet consider the cost
From Alabaster bone the Ocean’s a-shallow
The Mermaids remember the times that were fallow
Year upon year the bi-peds walked without aim or deed
That could count for fullness, even yet upon steed
Even in those ages of lore when upon horse they’d trot
Or with Gasoline chariot to the park like Mel Ot
None could account for the empty space of land
Or like Kieth Stone, bend down and till without turning into sand
The eidolons of time, immemorable: drooping, eternal clocks
An echo of murmurs, drogue and sorrow, indifferent as the rocks
Whom would not cry out, with refusal of price
None could garner their strength or bleed them twice