Long Benefitted Poems

Long Benefitted Poems. Below are the most popular long Benefitted by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Benefitted poems by poem length and keyword.


Who Shot 2pac

Remember that commercial tool,
that fool Ja Rule.
The miniature 2Pac image imitator,
packaged and bought up but in no way similar.

Was Suge or the Illuminati really behind Pac's murder?
Suge, a dangerous man with many enemies,
while east and west were representing territories.

But Ja was a clone of Pac's identity,
now stop and think....
MURDER INC.
You see off the rival companies,
then you replicate what made them pennies.

It's not that Suge wasn't capable,
it's that someone else had more to gain from it all.

Pac was bigger than the whole of Bad Boy,
even with Biggie Pac was able to destroy.

And what gets put to market knowing it would sell,
Ja Rule and his crew, Murder Inc mocking us and well
hidden by the distraction of the stories and conspiracies
but the east coast killed Pac then benefitted financially.

And it says what it says when he went at 50 Cent,
after all Deathrow artists started a new label to be different.
Aftermath, with Dre and Shady became the main event,
once again the east coast was outdone and unable to prevent
being overshadowed and seen as less relevant.

The Game got signed in a shady way,
they made sure that the market would hear him play,
so I don't think it was Suge or the Illuminati,
when MURDER INC. is a name based on mockery.

Business leaders killed 2Pac,
they did it to be the leader of the pack.
© Nick Trim  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Rhyme


Premium Member Blm

So black lives matter now we say
their worth now seen anew
While ages past we saw the day
we recognized so few.

But white lives matter too they said
and brown and yellow too
Yet centuries of hidden bled 
‘neith toes of masters’ shoes

Enslavement built our country strong
in goods and crops and funds
A wealthy nation moved along
on backs of murdered sons.

We benefitted, all us here
no matter when arrived
The trials, the deaths of lives held dear,
paid forth while some survived.

To teach, to know our history past
to claim what we have done
to own the wrongs we’ve amassed 
and could never be undone

In knowledge learned we find our quest
to right the wrongs we’ve made
To drop our shields, our acts confessed
True history now conveyed,

Now streets so loud, with anger, fear,
drums beat resounding clatter
How long ‘till we erupt in cheers
that every black life matters.
Form: Sonnet

Premium Member Blessedness

Blessed by God, source of eternal bonus
Bound am I to burst with gratitude bliss
Basking under His light, sublimely bright.

Benefitted midst divine banquet
Breath of mine brings out worship blows 
Bestowed well with the Bread of life bountifully.

Beseeching the Saviour for favored blessings
Burdened soul earnestly seeks help in my prayer bouts 
Begging to aid me when broken, blinded and bruised.

Beautified with faith that’s Bible-based
Blooming am I in the Saviour, joyously beaming 
Braced to serve, reaching-out against selfishness bondage.

Behaving as Christ’s believer
Built am I upon beatitude brand
Bearing His goodness of blessedness.*

“Even as David also describeth the blessedness of the man, unto whom God imputeth righteousness without works.”  Romans 4:6 of the King James Bible

Alliteration in Tristich form

January 31, 2023
2nd place, "Writing Challenge - B Word" Poetry Writing Contest
Sponsored by Constance La France; judged on 2/1/2023.

I Write To Stay Alive

Don't assume I write with an aim or end in sight, my ambition isn't with the pen the paper or the mic, I'm not reaching to be famous or for riches or for hype, writing down my thoughts is me unloading what's  inside after many years of silence and confusion of my life which I now know came from breakdowns in an isolated strife that dragged on overwhelmingly to attempted suicide, I had many people but not one of them on side, nobody to talk to no one seeing through my eyes stunned by the lack of support as the battle reached it's height which i now know went unnoticed because it was thought a lie, happening so fast i lost my  thought process and lived mentally blind, I was snowballed in the moments losing track and in decline, with no one taking notice of myself as the person I was died, numb and living clueless hoping theories could answer why, people told me my problems convinced that they were right but none of them came close to truth which I still hadn't realised, those thoughts still remained unprocessed and years had now gone by, it was worthlessness in autopilot taking each day at a time, I knew people had done me wrong but couldn't place their crime, the theories they came up with shone a light inside their mind, I never once blamed anyone and accepted it as mine, but my subconscious was hinting at what people were truly like, leading me to a place were their company was denied, 
with no one influencing me I slowed cleared my mind, the thought process flickered on again over a decade behind, repressed memories present the answers and facts began to shine, i could see true colours as the chapter horrified, I never spoke about it because they told me not to lie, which lead to a suffered silence until i broke down and lost the light, no future or past in mind stuck living but not alive, these people were my closest and now have no place in my life, they left me isolated where I stayed until today when I have only I, yet theorizing never stopped and their mentality doesn't lie, they haven't ever changed and i see through their whole disguise, they want to better everyone and help nobody rise, they benefitted as I survived unsure wanting to die, a revelation helping me come back to life, it took it's time as it had too much pain it had to hide, but time and distance was the key and I write to stay alive
© Nick Trim  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Rhyme

Lost Part 2

Inside him he can feel flurries of powerful fury
and curiosity that come and go in a hurry,
bringing to life short lived waves of bravery,
then supressed by depression, owner of mental slavery.

Paired with anxiety he's a panic attack liability,
retracted social skills detach him from society,
to get by he hides his mind in shadows of a cave,
waiting and hoping one day they'll come and save.

Scared but angry with past ways that he's behaved,
people in his life benefitted from attention he gave,
time was spent on selfless actions and never returned,
forgotten through distractions, those bridges burned.

People only ever watch out for their own backs,
a selfish key attribute to survival but a fact.
You can't hate people because of how they act,
suddenly there's a light shining out of the black.

This revelation makes timid a little of his frightened,
only he can save himself with a fight to the end,
be brave in life by turning the unsighted bend,
knowing only on himself can he truly depend.

Sometimes all you can do is hide,
sometimes it's the only way to survive,
sometimes feelings rise up inside,
when they do it's time to fight, keep them alive.

At present a blank page starting fresh like a child
trying to climb back up this bottomless spiral,
a need to learn quickly, he's adapted to the wild,
facing a fairytale comeback to be done in style.

But he's been sat in hiding for oh so long,
and he has been getting decisions wrong,
he knows now that he needs to be strong,
there is no time to waste, no time to mong.

He can't change the fact he didn't act sooner,
but he's not prepared to be depressions prisoner,
freedom a distance even for a strong warrior,
get it wrong now and it's a trip to the coroner.
© Nick Trim  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Rhyme


Premium Member Not Loud Enough

Recently I heard of some third world migrant
Complaining that unlike back in her home
There is no culture here, and
That “white culture” doesn’t even exist.
My first thought,
She sure is confident in her ignorance.

But then realize maybe she can’t see it
Because it’s too subtle for her,
Not loud enough and colorful enough
To get and hold her attention.
And that what is loud and colorful here
Is often just so damn cheap and tawdry;
I’m thinking
Gaudy rappers to Walmart shoppers
Disneyland characters to Hollywood’s
Red carpet galas.

Western culture for the most part 
Is derivative of other older cultures;
The printing press and gunpowder 
Of Asia for instance,
The fine woven fabrics of Persia
Spices of India, and foods of everywhere.

What the West has that stands out
Is a tradition of revolutionary ideas, 
From Greece to the American Constitution.
And it’s these ideas that have freed the individual
From the dogma and chains of tradition
And benefitted the world
With its innovations;
From abolition, to electricity,
Transportation, to rock ‘n roll.

Maybe being from a third world country
Those things don’t excite you.
Maybe you enjoy having slaves,
Simple dirt floors and bright dusty clothes.
I for one also like acoustic music the most
Just as I do traveling by foot.
But there is nothing
Like the sound of an electric guitar 
Tearing through space, tearing my mind open
And leaving it transcended of time and space.

Besides all the obvious attributes of white culture;
Pasta, pizza, burgers, hot dogs and whiskey
Blue jeans, nylon, plastics, cell phones and AC
Are the subtle ones
That are more of an acquired taste
Sci-fi novels, quantum physics and the notion
Of where we’ll go 
Through that disruptive tear in time and space.

(9/21/26)

Premium Member My Grandchildren

MY GRANDCHILDREN

My Father’s Day present from my daughter each year since our first grandchild was born has been a ’T’ shirt with my grandchildren’s picture on the front…which I happily have worn.

Three more grandchildren have been added since that first ’T’ shirt 25 years ago which means each Father’s Day I am a walking reminder of how fast grandchildren grow.

My own grandparents died when I was too young to remember them…one of Fate’s unexplainable twists……and having never known them…I never knew all the things that I missed.

What traditions would they have passed on to me if they had been there to watch me grow?
What wisdom would they have imparted?…Unfortunately I’ll never know.

But having been lucky enough to be a part of my grandchildren’s lives..to participate, to be alive…to see…the truth is… I’m not sure who’s benefitted more…my grandchildren…or me.

I’ve learned to enjoy this roller coaster of life…the highs and lows through all the emotions I have felt…
I’ve learned how a look, a smile or the touch of a tiny hand can cause one’s heart to melt. 

I’ve learned how to listen when they show me their magic tricks, tell me their jokes and stories…no matter how long or exotic or benign.
I’ve learned to ignore their groans and the roll of their eyes when the magic, and the jokes, and the stories they’re listening to…are mine.

I’ve learned not to worry if I flail when I dance or if my singing is totally off key.
because my grandchildren don’t care…they just want to sing and dance with me.

When I think of all the things my grandchildren have taught me…
all the things about myself they’ve helped me see…
When I think of all I’ve learned from them…
I only hope they’ve learned as much from me…

And although I never knew them…that is not a path my Destiny allowed
when they see me wearing my Father’s Day ’T’ shirt each year…
I like to think…my grandparents would be proud.
© Jim Yerman  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Rhyme

Monorhyme On Marwadi Resource Persons

In this unknown world of knowledge hilly,
You came as a Mozart in disguise dolly
To teach all teachers how to teach fully;
Benefitted though sad – not meeting daily.
Daily meeting not possible, gave a pulley
Of google drive and we see, hear our folly.
Giving a chocolate, taking note of us, O Alley.
A corollary we get makes us gorgeous frilly
No obfuscatory with him: sometimes chilly,
Times cold, but a hunky-dory, a true deli.
An accurate hortatory for English holy,
Teaching precise pronunciation alley
To improve us from state utter nugatory.
Encouraging, gave chances to all my folly; 
Novel, pioneering, predicatory. Never did dally.
Blessed to have such a trainer as lovely lily
Had been an orator, excellent energetic filly.
Marwadi University is blessed with hilly –
The persons so high, so intelligent, O Molly!
Wish to have such a guide in my life daily
So that saccharin be added to life’s chili
And lethargy, fatigue, lassitude goes dully.
Let it be Surat or Morbi or Rajkot or Delhi
Dhanajay, Viral and Brij sir be with me fully.
Form: Monorhyme

Premium Member Club America and the Matches They Do Strike

I sit here waiting for my fish dinner 
Wondering if Club America is going to be a winner 
With no wall in sight 
The casino sports books say this is going to be a good match, right 
One side of the country views 
Say complain and campaign until they can not refuse 
While the other side has a one man stand 
From someone who benefitted from being a media personality fan 
As the match gets ready to go down 
Club America has a way of being always on the town 
Shaking hands and making a fuss 
While riding the country in a comfortable tour bus 
Saying we are rock stars 
And debate what we say at your bars 
There are no bombshells here 
Just telling you who our party is going to choose to be the one in charge and steer
Now as the parties offer their beliefs 
In this production to choose the Commander and Chief 
After they do speak 
What type of action can the public do to put on the heat? 
After all the daily news reports 
The general public should be able in their own minds hold the Decision 2020 court 
Before going to cast the questions, they should ask 
Who are these people and what do they mean to me?
Knowing in reality none of them they will never actually see 
It is now coming to the hour of the Club America match 
And on this Friday, I have finished St Peter’s catch 
Feeling secure Club America is in good hands 
While most Americans sit in the stands.
Form: Rhyme

Dear my baby

I was criticized and humiliated 
Only because I chose love.
I was bad mouthed and cursed 
Only because I chose myself. 
I used to think they loved me 
And I realized it was because they benefitted. 

As soon as they found out I was expecting 
they said it serves me right. 
And whenever I visited them 
they'd make calls left, right and center. 
Not because they cared and wanted to update others, 
but because they wanted to spread rumors. 

They'd smile sometimes when they see me 
but I hated it because I knew it was fake. 
My mother got insulted 
My values got questioned 
My self-respect got judged 
That's when I realized that blood knows no boundaries. 
I named you experience and your dad named you beautiful things...

I'll tell you the whole story one day 

Love 
    Mommy
Form: Bio

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