Long Behind the scenes Poems
Long Behind the scenes Poems. Below are the most popular long Behind the scenes by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Behind the scenes poems by poem length and keyword.
The Weapon of Indifference
The purpose of the society you live in is to destroy you slowly and surely,
all you have is at the service of what consumes you with nobody caring,
the weapon it will use is cold indifference that freezes you in the void,
you cannot adopt the same attitude you must jump into action now.
Every society has its weak points of resistance that break easily,
the painful places where the open wound bleeds in heavy silence,
put your finger on the wound and press hard and firm with all your strength,
dig deeper into the subjects that nobody wants to talk about.
Behind the scenes hides the ugly truth that doesn't want to come to light,
the underside of the beautiful decor covers the filth that slowly rots,
insist upon the sickness the agony the ugliness that everyone wants to forget quickly,
speak about death and oblivion about the emptiness that awaits us all.
Speak about jealousy indifference frustration about the absence of love in the world,
be abject and you will be truthful saying what nobody wants to hear,
society destroys you with its hidden weapon of cold and empty indifference,
you must jump into action to put your finger on the open wound always.
Dig into the subjects hidden beneath the shining surface that everyone sees blindly,
insist upon the agony the death the oblivion that awaits us all in the end,
be abject in your filth that speaks the brutal truth of existence,
do not adopt their cold indifference but jump into action pressing hard on the wound.
2/14/17
At similar and different degrees
Animals, humans, and objects proceed
At lower and higher speeds
By the land and sea
Near many trees
Bearing fruit, or mainly leaves
Far too many display greed
Being naive, with intentions that deceive
And mislead
I believe
Indeed
I'll succeed
And achieve
While following through on deeds
As I aim to exceed
Burned, dug and pulled weeds
Some of which got cleaved
And eventually heaved
Into a orderly pile before, after or during the eve
Pollen in the breeze
Causing those allergic to sneeze
Near and far from hives of bees
Some pray on their knees
In the midst of Summer heat or Winters freeze
Evidence and other items getting seized
Some but not all could be got back through paying fees
What was difficult for many, may have been done by others with ease
Regardless of if they have prestige
A vast amount of cuisines
With greens
And or meats, some of which considered lean
Either following or breaking the creed
In the midst of, or behind the scenes
Handmade crafts and figurines
And others created by machines
Instead of charging in with a head full of steam
Better think and heed
While trying to grasp what it means
Do you agree or disagree
That is not all that it seems?
Areas with weather considered extreme
Occasionally turning things into smithereens
Another night where I didn't dream
Whether I did or didn't fall asleep in front of a screen
Can the soul be redeemed
Despite there being no guarantee
Finished tasks solo or in a team
Above and below terrain having ravines
Dirtied up, scuffed and cut my jeans
The same could be said for my sleeves
Not yet have I had mead
Or paid for a limousine
Close and beyond places known for the occasional stampede
Could it have been preventable with vaccines
For afflictions and disease
Above and below streams
As well as submarines
However this all may be deemed
There is no hidden strings or schemes
It is good to read
Brain, body, soul and spirit need to feed
Intervene
Got to switch up the same old routines
And reign supreme
By: Dalton Ogletree
Whats a Queen to a King if behind the scenes she out doing her own thing
Feel like her love is starting to fade, a Heart cut by a spade & it's no more kisses from the Mrs, soon as she sit up you know she about to get up & go, pacing room to room looking suspicious whenever her phone ring
Try to romance her but than you notice her tone change
And when you ask her who she on the phone with it's always the same answer, "oh the call dropped" like she out of her phone range
Feel separation sinking in slowly drifting apart
Stressing with questions, know there's something that's come in between us but can pin point on what ripped us apart
I mean I kept it smart I played my part, didn't entertain not a soul or fall victim to lust
But on her end it's clear she doesn't care & there's probably alot I don't know details get shared
But obviously you was foul & allowed an outsider in to play pretend in your ear
So again what's a Queen to a King if behind the scenes the King's sitting alone, disowned by his own
Knowing when he's laid in the earth
he was betrayed for his worth by a woman who he believed was next to the throne
Only to see she wasn't to be, on top of the lack of a heart she was a user, not a Queen by any means, she leaned more towards playing the role of Medusa & left the man as nothing more than a statue sketched into stone....
The One who seeks the end of man
has cunningly devised a plan
to rob him of his Maker’s gifts
through inner and outer conflicts.
Through evil men, He works His scheme
to deprive man of self-esteem
by urging freedom without restraints
and living life without constraints.
The chaos that His scheme creates
Leads nations into dire straits.
Then men arise, who crave power,
as saviors from the dark hour.
Dictators rise when chaos reigns
because it titillates their brains.
And when they get to hold the reins
society is held in chains.
Beware of those who chaos sow
inciting hate and preaching woe.
Such only care for their own gain
And cause real pain, when’eer they reign.
An Enemy lurks in the dark
its aims are clear, its methods stark.
Democracy its doctrine hates,
freedom of conscience it berates.
Behind the scenes its agents sow,
The seeds that to chaos grow.
He who once ruled will rule again
and it will be a tyrant’s reign.
America, return to God
or you will settle for a fraud
If you wish to become great,
Embrace God’s law, heed His dictates.
I am of art
I am an artist
Taking a stance in life
I sit and ponder in thoughts
Trees in cubanism surround me
Paths so pure of white
The aroma in my soul
Of air in wilderness
I am embedded in as I dwell
In the scenic atmosphere
My eyes upon you
My head in the sky
Feet in the ground
The tranquility I found
While I whisper no words
Just think and enjoy God's love
Of the arts my stance I say
As the clouds around my head
My body is no blemish in land
Its subtle the thoughts I project
Tweet - tweet - tweet
A bird looking for my feet
I'm silent - I hear the breeze
My mind weathers telepathy
And the bird just sits listening to me
With the aura beneath my skin
Critique now at hand can begin
The thoughts I must then contemplate
And the mind tells the bird sit and wait
With thus we see the power of woman
Self confident with God's creation of land
I am the artist
I explored reality
I pondered and saw wit
But now the bird just flew
And I draw the conclusion
Defining a little LINE in my soul
I am of art
I reflect with hue.....
the words scowled
peering through the bars
imprisoned thoughts
rattling empty cups
they had been arrested
incarcerated
denied expression
unjustly accused
charged with
unfettered utterances
benign belligerence
the most heinous with
Double Entendre-ing
They all claimed to be but pawns
Innocent bystanders
Drawn into the fray
Succumbing to the wily whim of wit
Some will be shunned forever
Lurk in the shadows…waiting
Others will “clean-up” better
assume “new” meanings
Many will work behind the scenes
Savor the eerie darkness
Of language and its implied intent and meaning
For “Judgement is Mine…Sayeth the Poet”
It was a day of near death, I did not know,
I found myself sitting, at the beginning of my own show,
I watched my whole life flash before me,
It only took seconds, to the years of my life-,
before this,
I then found myself sitting up in a hospital bed,
doctors and nurses were running all around me,
they didn't even see me in front of them,
I wondered what the excitement was all about,
They kept going behind me, a place for some reason, I was not allowed to see,
Confused to why I was here, I felt good, home was only fair, I seen my family sitting around,
they all had long faces, looking through me, like I wasn't even there,
It was then I started to make a move, home was in my view, something then took control, put me in my place, it was powerful, but good,
I was showed a glimpse, a picture, I did not understand, it soon dissapeared into thin air,
I then laid down, I awoke with the most crusading pain, the doctor then looked me in the eye, and said, it's a miracle you're still alive, you gave me a scare, I lost you twice,
It was that moment I realized, I was the one, behind the scenes, the one place I could not see, it was me they were working on the whole time.
Poet
David W Carter
Form:
The old timers complain nowadays,
about how modern technology.
Is stealing away all their secrets and,
selling everyone's privacy.
Information is left up for grabs,
exposed for all of the world to see.
By touching a finger to a glass,
while they are hiding behind the scenes.
As my mother would always tell us,
“You do not air your dirty laundry.
But back in the day, if I farted,
she would know about it before me.
But I never could quite understand,
how anything could possibly be.
Less private than hanging my holey,
underwear outside for all to see.
If you're thinking that your 5G phone,
might be the fastest thing in the land.
Then you have never met my mother,
with a rotary phone in her hand.
If I made ends meet by meeting millions of millionaires in meetings galore,
would you care to explore my heart?
If I made up my mind to resign, and spend my time at a diner,
behind the scenes,
would you find a way to care about me?
If I took up poetry, and wrote hundreds of stories,
told in metaphor, with rhyme and prosody,
creating irony in euphony,
depicting pictures no eye can see,
neither mind comprehend without a beating heart,
would yours skip a beat?
Would you see the beauty that breathes beyond ink and paper?
Would you see its creator and stupor in thought?
Would you suffocate in the fog that envelopes body and mind,
unable to find the words to tell the story of your sentiment?
Would it spark a desire to explore and admire my entire being-
every minor detail?
To be real, do you even know me at all,
or just the stale version that pales in comparison to the whole?
I want you to know the whole of me,
and want to hold me for it.
Who am I? Becoming? Who is that, she'll be.
The dragon slept... And also wept, hid herself from the party filled with tea.
Far away in her cave, brewing firey in depths.
Stewing and chewing on her mistakes and spitting out the pips of empty threats.
Emerging again, as you, as new.
A familiar dragon song, plaguing her mind and ringing again, loudly too.
The attacker, the observer, the tourist attraction, the hidden power... Which one was she choosing and could it be all?
Or none of those...
The guidance.
Behind the scenes, wisdom shared.
Could her wingspan encompass all and guide from behind?
The scenes, the circumstance, the trap of their minds...
The biggest of fantasy, monsters and magic need rest.
Sometimes a reminder of this from the hidden who once flew openly above their villages...
May encourage peace to infiltrate into to their nests.
The scariest and most unpredictable, with the brightest of lights...
Emerging as the understander and encourager of those who can no longer stay out of sight...
Listen to the whispers, before you must hide.