Long Betters Poems
Long Betters Poems. Below are the most popular long Betters by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Betters poems by poem length and keyword.
Its not a joke.' Well to some that is ! How did they miss
Such crazy biz.? First there were 'roller coaster noises'
Then drawn out breaths, and hauranging voices comply
Was a buzz-word, and no-thing was normal? Masks
Macarbe; we were given slim choices.. 90% might survive
Just take the medcine..' you will thrive' there are others life's at stake this ride
no
Mention of (time limitation) so onto the next pin-humanisation, then
You only got six months it broke.' Like some news too sick
To those so good folk, vermillion skies shaded mental screams
Nightmares by dayscapes, it is better; in bad dreams.' The
Heated chatter of motivated masses, slowly turning down Like cooling molasses, there are no more those of the chipper
Jabber-woke.' whose minds are contorted, i feel for those
Folk, eight times stuck, maybe de-terminated? satans
Tally of the inseminated, dna mostly blown away its pain
To observe, how did it get 'this way?' A club of your betters
Stand back or hide.' Dont smile laugh or sneeze in case
Others died.' of genocide; I heard not a whisper..Mainstream
Media were in an 'approval blister' sacherine coated glossy
Lips lady killers and cutting quips, t v doctors knew yet
Didn't..? Too soon to call, and we're all in it.! All in what.?
That changing scene, no matter your profile t v king or
Queen.' All is normal as normal is' all is not new its just
The same old monatary biz.'
You couldn't cope with being you so you didn't help me,
the struggle was too great, no time was free,
you'd mock me when I'd speak out of pure need
to stop me 'cus you're weak and so I would leave
You couldn't cope with being you and you'd turn to me
seeing you struggle I'd set time free
non stop talking for your relief
forgotten in a week when you found self belief
you had a friend that i never had
yours pulled you up whilst mine made me sad
you healed and were glad whilst I went mad
you had a good friend and my friend was bad
you choose to see me as mentally broken
it makes you feel you're good at coping
your fake composure betters my brutally open
yet I quit the cannabis that you are still smoking
I've often felt quite helpless..Although i would fight hard, against the ocean of life
With its often; errant strong surging tides.'
In twenty twenty five we saw Los Angeles
Besieged; many areas were set ablaze; a great
City upon its knees.' The factor of bad
management of water not held in the
Ammount, that would really be needed
when on it; services had to count.' Also the
Arsonists did their job, a nasty crew indeed
I like others felt asized, of the helplessnes
As the Santa Annas careened.' No respite
Came the news reports, I saw many people
Had died.' I sensed defeat and could
almost taste the charcoal, it was fraught
; and yes I felt a tear in
My eye.. Yet all at once I thought of
God.? who was bigger than any disaster..I said a prayer then put up a blog, and requested prayers to 'the only Master' others joined and but a day and night.? A sea mist rose and rolled in early light.' Then on this improvement rain arrived..The
worst danger over and the remenant survived..'
Now i arrive at year twenty twenty six..A similar tale..My stomach felt sick twenty eight fires in
Victoria my 'home State' hit Again not
Accidents all.. A lot i'd guess were lit.? I decided to ask the Lord again, wondering would He
Have mercy this second time my friends?
All un-worthy i appealled for help.' Others
Answered, i continued and hoped.. For betters trends, again
Weather reports said no respite maybe dry
Lightening ( would more evil arrive? ) another day past I checked the news.' The
First I read was disaster.' My heart went to
My shoes..So my prayers were unaswered.'
Still i decided to look.' To face my chastisement and repent by the Book..Then I was shocked it was all turned
Around He had flooded out the fires people
Were heading for higher ground,
All Praise throughout the heavens all thanks to my friends..Who with me had enjoined..And we saw Himself His Name defend.'
There better be a bit of me to better not yet bitterly but if the bitter bit of me is bigger than the better be it better be the better bit get better over bitter bit so bitter bit the little bit and better bit the bigger bit then with better bit the bigger bit bigger than the bitter bit I bet bit by bit the better bit betters bigger whilst little bits of bitter bits get beaten bitter to little bits as I beat out bitter bits living bitterly battering those bits bitter to better me til bitter bits don't fit in me making better better and better bigger and with no more bits of bitter and no more bitter bits in me leaving better bitterless better betters bigger the bigger the better's better whilst the bitter so little it's beaten bitter in bits
You must believe there is heaven and hell
or how could your betters keep you in their spell.
You must go through life in their total control,
believing your faults are the plague of your soul.
How else could the righteous be piously great,
while us poor ‘mere mortals’ grab crumbs from their plate.
For we live our life in eternal sin,
and the heaven they seek, we will never get in.
I've a feeling when life's at the end of the game,
call it heaven or hell it will all be the same.
But I'll share it with folk who can think for themselves,
not living from books that collect dust on the shelves.
You may think that your soul will be free when you die,
but I'm sure that your spirit already flies high.
For by choosing the way that your heart says to go,
you cast off the demons that torment you so.
The Bible’s a thick book, and carries great weight,
but I'm sure that it's not the sole key to the gate.
For those who have used it to give them great power,
may find it gets scorched, in their life's final hour!
Ivor G Davies
Good morrow merry citizens
Here’s another Brexit gain
We may have our country back
But we can’t go live in Spain.
Record numbers now
Are all giving thanks
For the almost empty
Essential food banks.
The poor are getting poorer
The rich getting richer
In our Free New Britain
A sad disgraceful picture.
The papers are full daily
Of the unedifying sight
Of the squabbling royals
And their family fight.
The PM’s a Billionaire
Thanks to his wealthy wife
With little understanding of
The poverty of modern life.
The National Health Service
Is shrinking with each day
Just a rundown of our country
Sinking into moral decay.
As you dip your stale crust
Into your tepid weak tea
Just cast a thought to
How things used to be,
We British are at our best
With our backs to the wall
Tugging respectful forelocks as
Our betters openly nick it all.
But, be upstanding good people,
Celebrate the joyous thing
We can still find the millions
To crown our latest king.
Heres a man trying to bridge, a route to sanity along a ridge'
He's being hit.' with the same old twaddle'
As his so called betters loudly squabble'
I recall a board and stick' used 2020; they must think think us thick?
That with much mod tech, and breifing easy to do)
Thise ww2 methods, we would not see through?
It shows indeed utter contempt; of humans from the 50s'
The sacrifice, that they were first targeting shiftily'
It was gain the grandparents.' pull the younger in.'
One life lost was one to many, 'yet when the nhs needs some tin?
Lives are ten a penny ' they'll take the strikes and try to trash
As today the truth runs rampant throughought the land
Its aversaries have really now lost, the countrys trust.
Then some with spine stand; on the settling dust.'
Mr Bridgnd is Just one of many ' such people would incline to heal '
But all the liars; just aren't ready to' apologise, of genocides steal'
In the (long dead narrative) they, still strive to hide.'
I doubt that many, 'will' last out this ride.?
We were always a little ash white,
the girls always a bit cleaner;
the soap always green carbolic
the toilet paper always slick and hard to scrunch,
six year old bottoms always a little sore.
The nuns who ran these grey bricked barracks
called it the: Covent of 'Saint Hilda's Sacred Tears.'
There were lots of tears but no saints.
No black kids either, though there were many
seen on the grimed streets. They looked well fed and happy.
We were different. Our parents had sinned,
had broken the golden rule and got caught
birthing the unwanted.
Back then the birch cane was an instrument of love.
From here-on I must paraphrase...
Each Sunday, The scrawny priest
would look down upon us -
speaking thusly:
"You're all sinful
fit only for cannon or factory fodder,
forever doomed to poverty."
A pause while he did the sign of the cross
while mumbling to himself in Latin.
"The righteous must
resign themselves in good grace
to their natural place,
to humbly throw themselves
upon the mercy of their betters."
Such sermons filled us all with much joy,
and we were all briefly uplifted
until the hatchet-faced nuns
led us back to our own special hell.
Travis shot a black man, he says it was self defense
They put him in solitary, that punishment is intense.
For 27 months he was in "the hole" let out for just one hour
where he could use a phone, exercise, and shower.
Then he got a new jail, in a ten by eight cell
So many threats to his life, so protective, but still hell.
Travis's sentence is life without parole
A long time to be stuck inside a hole.
He spends his days drawing and answering letters
He reads the bible, are we sure we are his betters?
He used to be a lifeguard in summer, then joined the coast guard.
Started a fishing business and worked hard.
But a mob came after his relatives and friends
Those who gave his business a good review, were threatened with bad ends
Picketers showed up in front of his house with signs
Did the law give him justice, or was it just payback time?
There was a time mob justice went after blacks
Lynching without checking facts, unwarranted attacks
Travis's excuse is he was wrestling back his gun
I read his account, I don't think he's the guilty one.
The police didn't think so, and set him free
But a narrative after George Floyd, took his liberty.
Apart from that, solitary is considered very cruel
We cannot allow this punishment to become the rule.
If Travis needs protection from angry men in jail
Let's build a new jail, let not the constitution fail.
The eighth amendment was written expressly to defend
people from government cruelty, however they did offend.
There but for the grace of God go I
Yes, there was slavery and many a racist white guy
But racism is an opinion, and goes under free speech
If you believe in freedom, practice what you preach
Don't dox the guy's friends, don't judge him based on what's cool
Or how you think the system works, as a rule
If innocent, let him be, if guilty, then in jail he must go
But be much more careful that you act on what you know.
I cannot help but notice that,
since Wuhan virus was released,
we have seen a real absence of
those who proclaim themselves elite.
The lawyer and the professors,
the politicians and the like,
have all become somewhat useless,
and some have just vanished from sight.
They’re not counted as essential,
don’t help all the people survive,
it kind of makes you reassess
who is important in our lives.
The academics who claim that
they are above simple ‘truth,’
who push sinful socialism,
and corrupt the minds of the youth.
They do love acting important,
but now, when they’re trapped in their homes,
society had not sputtered,
by their absence no loss in known.
Our children have a chance to learn
since their professors cannot work,
were they ever more important than
all those grocery store stocking clerks?
The actors who look good naked
when they’re up on the silver screen,
those closet perverts in LA
who belittle the heartland scene,
now they prattle on from their homes,
and without writers it is clear
that by themselves they can’t entertain,
they come off as brain-dead and weird.
These were the folks we idolized,
no more than pretty lunatics?
Are they really more important
than nurses who care for the sick?
Then there’s lawyers and politicians,
but I guess I repeat myself,
always blathering on TV,
they speak, but nothing do they tell.
When it comes to giving relief
they play powers games with the vote,
no problem with watching us die
to increase their government bloat.
Even in an emergency
our ‘betters’ act like foolish churls,
just forget these useless people,
the truck drivers will save the world.