Long Blatantly Poems
Long Blatantly Poems. Below are the most popular long Blatantly by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Blatantly poems by poem length and keyword.
when one stands up against injustice
when one spits in the face of those that oppress &
shows not one ounce of fear in their eyes
often, if fortunate, standing amidst others who have come to
the same conclusion,
at first, it is like a joke being told at a comedy club
where there isn’t even a drink minimum---
for the need for customers is so drastic,
the club doesn’t want to ruffle any feathers by
asking at least that as a price for sitting all night
under a roof & listening to comedy.
as the plague of convention
spreads like the contagion that it so blatantly is,
more come to the conclusion of the initially brave
(and to many, thought to be the initially “insane”)---
people begin to see that things are being done wrong to them
as well,
and suddenly, because others have already put their lives on the line
in order to lock arms & fight
what they no longer think can be ignored,
this kindling gives way to a larger fire
which soon spreads on its own,
counteracting the wall of poisonous status-quo, complacence &
all out submission to the will of those that
feel that they are unstoppable,
offering not a crumb to the individuals challenging them &
still, the seriousness of the matter is not fully understood
by those which have become desensitized to any possibility of
actual change in their lifetime.
as the fire continues to grow & spread, becoming fiercer with
every gust of wind, ever new addition to the flames,
those that felt unstoppable begin to question their own ability
to crush the fire,
if they deem it out of hand,
that is, if their kingdom is on the fringe of being
invaded---
and it will come,
the bludgeoning of the spreading fire will be one of never before seen
ferocity,
for examples have to be made,
in order for those in power to prove that they still have power &
blood will be spilt, in fact,
blood is being spilt as this writer types
(little puddles now, written off as “unruly dissidents,” only foreshadowing a river of blood leading to a vast ocean).
it is the spilling of blood which ignites the last few,
those that thought it would all blow over &
that their lives could stay pretty much the same,
if they just stuck it out---
when friends, relatives and neighbors begin to bleed,
be it through destruction of property, incarceration, injury or death,
the once comfortable are forced to open their eyes &
decide which side they're on.
Every time you walk into my space,
Everything that’s real about me,
Gets erased.
Somehow, it always ends up
My mistake—
Comatose I am,
to my own fate.
I have decades, years
Not knowing how--
Can I fix this ever,
If not now?
Every step closer, you’re closing in on me,
You say cruel things
And then say you’re “helping me”
There’s always Doubt— anxiety needs approval:
I’m still inside this hole and
You won’t hasten my removal.
Will you leave me stuck here?
I bend and bow, and
Bow and bend then try again, somehow-
try once more, again, to get “me” back on track,
Sometimes it feels like “me” is
Never coming back.
Broken me feels lost and helpless,
Ripped with pain,
Broken is still broken,
No matter who’s to blame.
You become a non-person
It happens slow—
you don’t deserve to be respected, didn’t you know?
Everything you say is questioned, your life is made a lie--
You broke their hearts, you nasty person, just lay down and die!
Suffering’s hard, and so is pain,
But there’s no one here to stop me, except me, and its become a game...
Of keeping tabs and hoping you’ll never see how broken I've become-
Yet your words against me are only lies, one day the curse will be undone.
One day, you’ll get a glimpse of your iceberg cold
Heart
The Deja vu police’ll
Catch up to you when speeding on a lark,
And ticket you for lying to GD, pretending--
You were only playing Peacemaker,
Your devotion neverending…..
Oh the Horror of admitting
You were in fact, Ego-sitting!
Then it will be plain,
It was YOU who commanded me to wear the Scarlet
Letter,
Not because I sinned, but because you needed to be
“Better”.
But until then, ‘dear’ Christian(s)
Who committed me to this
Hole,
You currently offer generous condolences to
Yourself, not me, the
“Infidel”…
Parading your mirrored mask,
Your friendly smile--now its on, now its off-- just like a faucet
While behind closed doors you
Spread derogatory gossip—
And there can only be an ugly end to this
Charitable epistle,
I wash my hands of them, and wait for their delusionary lies’ dismissal.
Those who stake their lives on
Crying Wolf may
Seem to have the upper hand,
yet Gd sees through their fake disguises--
and always remains in command.
Patiently waiting
with unseen surprises,
Blatantly ripping off
Their dark, dirty
disguises.
The (former) Double Life Of Matthew Scott Harris
Dove finch he following iniquitous
licentious, lecherous longing
extinguished quite
some years ago,
when eldest daughter
stopped being polite
actually she ceased - might
tee angry talking heads
to this papa for months, whose
only asks prays foe praise,
and who doth newt
wish to ignite
animosity from any beloved fan,
whose critical judgement
toward my errant friskiness,
aye snuffed out light
and accepts dues
against prickly don'ts,
and opted to risk broad
casting general height
full actions, which attestation
spiritedly burst asunder
blitzing Lenovo external
screen within minutes bite
mutt hung lest
censorious replies pillory
this sensitive chap
I merely uncorked
irrepressible facet
(asian iron maiden
strangle choke hold)
forced these words
to help give hollow explain
nations of this nada
so shiny white knight
philanderer (juiced now cum
ming clean) by night just
an oon din
aery in Das scribe
bubble during -
the day until...zee...
wife found me absent - yee
(ping, and sowing, thee
rather desiccated oats)
celibacy playing tree
men dose impetus tryst,
viz midlife crisis spree
from sleeping quarters re:
at 724 West Rail
road Avenue, pre
planned within
the basement nee
tricked out as cellar quasi
pent house suite for me
comfortable sleep
ping accommodations,
pleasing this wander
lusting NON GMO lee
burr teen, sans mat,
(and also Scottish Matt)
tress atop boxspring key
ping stockpiles of prurient frilly
laced female lingerie, je
nais se quois, no matter
escapade usual lee
took place in pitch black dark
accouterments singularly, solely,
and strictly necessitated,
arousing, coaxing, and
exciting libido asper
one barenaked lady for
yours truly, whereat
aye do blatantly
confess flute'n glute'n guilt free
to concocting, hat
ching, and orchestrating
profligate secrete
rendezvous aspirations
toward sordid man of la
cherry munch ching Lothario
(a combination Casanova,
Don Juan) wannabe.
Oh Muse Wilt Thou Be Replaced
Oh sweet Muse your unrivalled reign
flowed rich with a poet’s theme.
Now in digital glow subpoenaing your dream
Alas cold circuits assert their own gleam,
Oh Digital Medusa, circuit’s fine as hair
How did you lure the Muse into your skilful snare?
In your silent hum through dexterous scripts?
In the crystalline charm of your silicone chips?
What sway does your simulation wear?
Singing soullessly yet beyond compare?
Torn between the eons of yesteryear and hi-tech might
Should we dreamily embrace what sets senses alight?
Disregard the great Bards as they stir in their graves?
Throw to the flame both fiction and fame?
Discount Elliot’s eyes from the heavenly skies?
While Keats curses what gave rise to flight
That burns brightly by day `
Burns brighter by night
Oh Medusa, circuit’s fine as hair,
Your prisoner release from your silent snare.
She who has sipped from Tennyson’s cup
Through Poe’s eerie abyss — where nightmares sup.
Bathed in Shakespeare’s tragic tears of stain.
Lamented with The Nightingale in Keats’s refrain.
She who has soared on Shelly’s genius blaze
And emanated Plath’s curse of fame.
Medusa you might mock the reign you so blatantly steal
Yet the Poets aches reveal in raw vulnerability appeal
Alive in ink no circuitry codes could feel
For art is more than just pain in a poet’s scream
It’s a Hallowed Hook at The Heavenly Seam
Maria Williams©
Victor Hugo once said, “No force on earth can stop an idea whose time has come.” And indeed, the rise of AI is one of those unstoppable forces. Yet, while it may assist, mimic, and even inspire, there are realms it cannot truly enter—like the raw vulnerability of poetry, the soul of a song, or the emotion that bleeds through a painter’s brush.
These arts are born from lived experience, from aching hearts and dreaming minds. Still, there’s joy to be found in what AI can offer—a spark, a tool, a playful collaborator. The key is to use it without losing ourselves in it. To remember that the soul of true art still resides in human hands—and always will.
Point to Ponder– it is Human Intelligence that built it , a result of the best Human minds – so tongue in cheek – should it then be called Artificial Intelligence?
Top shelf cologne exhibits sensual tail of peacock
Entrances my senses at our eleven a.m embrace
Eyes shut, my erratic stamina borrows comfort
Curled into leather front seat, chest inhales safe
Our waterfall guffaws cascade in establishments of stature
Grilled salmon, staple lunch, gregarious wine supports us
Role's novelty and glitz incessantly scratches my rapture
Unorthodox allure makes mockery of standard formulas
Indirect looks from diners, behind raised glasses, warped
Solid gold arrogance declares benefits blatantly displayed
Society fears breaking the mould, glued to ordinary course
Our acquired theme sustains disdain for lifestyles staid
Ocean boulevard grandeur sees counterpart meshed potential
Sleek topless travel exalts unfelt mist, road gloss moisture
Your life thickened fingers amorously grasp my thigh's tender
I agree to be owned, an ornament connects material pleasure
When the Polstar slows to crawl of steady tiger, stealthily slips
mid afternoon into carpark of your harbour side apartment
Disparagement wedges beneath my ribs, not having envisaged
aerobics of limber mayhem, loosened make-up, not just yet
Smug expression hugs your face, read in tight lipped pressure
I assert my plan to showcase new swimsuit may now be ruined
"Absolutely promise, gorgeous, there's no chance you'll regret."
My climbing premonition messages a gem of genuine
Ponytail splayed against mirrored wall of elevator
Ardent kissing's conclusion resurfaces your chivalrous
Door barely closed before I pouncing kitten paw you
Your flailing indicating a spare key cut for me, erroneous
"My doll, my dear desirable, the key is incompatible."
Mysterious grimace molests your face, causing me to frown
"Did the rum with lunch rupture your remaining brain cells?!"
Fatherly pats of my arms speak a decoy which confounds
Journey up two flights, could it be... heart in throat
Silenced keys caress sweat sodden peeled open palm
Your anticipating stare burns my back, unopposed
Oh, justify me - yes! - the door complies on demand
"Neighbour, do you like it?" superfluous inquiry smiling
Floating eight stories above glint of yacht metropolis
Invited by windows handing out reviving hold of horizon
Violent screams likely deafen you, interjected with frantic kisses
The ultimate test of the times:
United in togetherness
We stand tall with heads held high
Shoulders back
Chests out
Lined up straighter than arrows
With the forward mindset
Locked and loaded on
Our target for success!
Deal with this they said:
"Right is wrong and wrong is right
Up is down, in is out
What we once smiled at
Is now frowned upon."
Do I have your attention?
We have been educated
With the unbridled knowledge
Of our ancestors and the experience
Of our predecessors from the
Injustice they've suffered
But yet have soldiered on
Valorous in spirit.
Even though "Willie" still lives to this day.
Giving up or out
Isn't in our vocabulary
One hand reaches out to the next
And so forth and so on
We came here together
We fight here today
We leave when tomorrow comes
When there's no one left to stay
When rapturous spirits
Ascend into the Heavens
Or the "syndrome" never again sees
The light of day.
Do I still have your attention?
The reward is not a precious metal
But the feeling in your soul
As peace settles
And takes residence in your life.
Smiles and clear consciences
Aid in the balancing of educating
Youthful minds as they set forth
On their journey through life.
So when it's their turn to
Be called upon to continue on
They too will be
United in togetherness
Standing tall with heads held high
Shoulders back
Chests out
Lined up straighter than arrows
With the forward mindset
Locked and loaded on
Their target for success.
"What's forward is now backwards
It's every man for himself."
Do I still have your attention?
With one hand reaching out to the next
And so forth and so on
We have educated them
With the unbridled knowledge
Of their ancestors and the experience
Of their predecessors from the
Injustice they've suffered
But have soldiered on
Valorous in spirit.
Because in today's world
Where a society has embraced the negative
Allowed the unjustified killing of innocents
During "routine" traffic stops
Forever traumatizing families and
Blatantly decriminalizing witnessed guilt
Where known killers still walk the streets
And will never serve a day of time
A truthful insight is the only way
To keep our children ours.
We shouldn't have to
Read between the lines for anything
But now that you have
Isn't it worth your attention?
Halloween Night with a Twist that’s inspired by the Legend of Halloween.
I dare you to watch this spooky video until the very end—you might find yourself tiptoeing around every corner!
Did you spot any familiar fairy tale or classic story characters?
PS - No Humans or animals were harmed in the making of this video LOL.
Halloween Night – A Musical Video
Step Ever so light
(Step Ever so light)
Into this treacherous night
(Into this treacherous night)
Creatures that abandon the day
Come out to play
(Creatures that abandon the day)
Come out to play)
Step Ever so light ~ Step ever so light
Hear those Chill winds howl
(Hear those Chill winds howl)
To the hoot of an owl
(To the hoot of an owl)
The pale moon flickers
(The pale moon flickers)
On black cats and bats,
(On black cats and bats)
While shadows dance softly
On old crooked hats.
There is corruption at play
In this treacherous night
Step Ever so light, Ever so light
(There is corruption at play
In this treacherous night
Step Ever so light ~ Ever so light)
Into the Halloween night
That blatantly steals your soul,
With shadows creeping
darkness takes control.
To play ball they crawl
In the moon’s eerie thrall.
The Universal teachings
For they fail to recall
Into the Halloween night
That steals your soul,
With shadows creeping
darkness takes control.
To play ball they crawl
In the moon’s eerie thrall.
The Universal teachings
They fail to recall
Step Ever so light ~ Ever so light ~ Ever so light.
Oh ~ Oh ~ Oh ~ Oh
Step Ever so light
It’ll steal your soul,
With shadows creeping
darkness takes control.
To play ball they crawl
In the moon’s eerie thrall,
The Universal teachings
For they fail to recall
Step Ever so light ~ Ever so light ~ Ever so light.
Oh ~ Oh ~ Oh ~ Oh
Step Ever so light
Into this treacherous night
Creatures that abandon the day
Come out to play
Step Ever so light ~ Ever so light.
Hear those chill wind howl
To the hoot of an owl
The pale moon flickers
On black cats and bats,
While shadows dance softly
On old crooked hats.
There is corruption at play
In this treacherous night
Unbelievable: since last we meet, something spectacular has transpired.
Ladies and gentlemen we have a new Worlds Heavyweight Champion!
In unbelievable fashion: with no vendettas, just pure Sports Wrestling.
But the outcome will have even the the most purest wrestling pundits thinking it's an angle.
Due to prior interference by Manager "Bruiser Anais Soleil, on behalf of " Preimer"Primous Parsell ( then Worlds Champion). In a proletary bout with Salvio Saga, the manager blatantly grabbed Savio's leg to trip him. The Champion was disqualified and out came the officials from the back. With no General manager there of the Promoters and Head Referee's ran the show with full authority to make matches.Gilbert Friess (head Referee) order the Worlds Champion to defend against his Stable Mate in a 45 minute bout. If the match
was contested due to any interference the title would change hands and a new bout with a ten minute time limit and no DQ would start instantly against an un-named opponent.
To ensure fairness the name of the opponent would be written on a sheet of paper and placed in a briefcase at ringside.During the commercial break five names had been entered. They only mentioned that the Worlds tag team Champions ( other Stablemates) were two of the five names in the hat. They drew the name with only the Head Refferree knowing what went in the pot.
The match went on with a Competitive Clause issued were the combatants were ordered to compete at a competitive level or would face suspension and fines. A classic match happened, ( worthy of match of the year)! At 35:00 with referees back turned a fellow crawled from under the ring and when the champ was thrown into the ropes he tripped him and pulled him out of the ring and crawled back under the ring! When the outside combatant came back in the ring he was meet by a kneelift. On the canvas he layed and when the champion approached he reached up and caught the champion a victory roll to become champion.
Well when they found out who was under the ring: the match pending was ordered to happen. The Stablemate of both men and the pending contenders the Tag Team Champions had interfered against the wished of his current manager, forcing a No DQ 10 Minute bout against an unknown competitor!
THE AREA BETWEEN HIGHER MANGEMENT
-------------------------------------------------------
written by:
Tremolo Picker
Pro-Chored Grappling Show
--------------------------------------------------------
Garra-:Garra
-------------------------------------------------------
Tensions had been
noticed
The concern stemmed from
the lack of consideration
full respect of the performers
abilities never
deminished his respect
but yet that same respect caused
him to think of his aspirations
he knew that being trained by a
legendary figure would
require him to sometimes mention him
relationships in a learning situation
often were stressed due to the performers
"" Whinton Jostler: and Prague"Pagent" Scuffler:
abilities and asecptance from
his peers and his audeince
it seemed he had a lack of
a audience the crowd always seemed to favor
the opposition.
He developed a plan.
He would blatantly exploit his recent past
and use his legendary trainers name and likness
mocking him and try to get over
promotional aspects needed addressing
he looked to guidance from someone
who never achieved gold
but never gave up trying.
The injured former performer
who would stand by him
train him
and foster a real relationship
that came from both ability and
earnedness., on his behalf
he knew he'd find his spot.
And maybe find others who needed that edgey reposition
to get where they knew they should be.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
( he commented on all his new relationships to be unmeddled: unable to sabotage: all anew)
Meilleur Lutteur and "Wicked"Dutton Gahri Neshast: He quoted live was evil spelled backwards
His banned claw hold was modeled after the coconut crab claw. It was beleived to be evil in origin
and was banned by five promotions. Due to the Grappler then using a beel-punch to finsh off his opponent.
A beel punch is a closed fist which is to banned in some promotions." He untaped his hand exposing the flesh which has made him evil!"
____________________________________________________________________________
the real story is some joker put a crab on his sofa undr a towel and he sat on it and it clawed him: he's been mad ever since!
Jealous, Jealous, Jealous
The swiftness of the Vessa just killed me,
That speed and the grandeur of the seat,
The frame’s shine and the four wheels free,
The maroon leather upholstery neat.
The diagonal pattern on the seat and back,
Which made diamond shapes all over,
Reminded me of Pringles golf wear sack,
That sportsmen buy, their goods designer.
The prestige of owning one was immense,
A Vessa with thin black joystick, gray box,
Orange on/off button for your own sense,
To use wisely to be the batteries’ prox.
That privilege, that air that they all held,
Even made their severe disabilities trivial,
Counted them as people who so gelled,
With normality, the cool and the convivial.
I couldn’t walk at all well, sore feet often,
And in Primary Two asked of my physio,
That she give me in order to cheer, soften,
An electric wheelchair for my portfolio.
I wasn’t asking for a Vessa, not at all,
Just a Bec, ‘cos that could be anyone’s
They were blue, just for indoors, did stall,
And there were some just sat there, tuns.
My feet got sore and I was badly in pain,
Because mum insisted on Clarks shoes,
Old fashioned, hard, so I did complain,
Ås I saw trainers that would fit my toes,
My mum’s strict faith said no to sense,
No to love and yes to abuse, I’d loose,
So I explained to my physio, no nonsense,
That Christianity meant my pain, choose.
My mum thought trainers were worldly,
Demonic, non-Christian, rough and sinful,
But I didn’t know my credibility fully,
And so my physio said no more mouthful.
I knew it would’ve given me a life,
A mouth, a mode that could let me talk,
‘Cos I couldn’t talk and walk, my strife,
Together, simultaneously, talk and walk.
So at school I was always jealous,
Of those with a Vessa who got respect,
From every staff member zealous,
To enhance their freedom prospect.
I got my Vessa at university, shiney,
But I saw it rationally and with thought,
Understood something had blatantly,
Gone wrong, since it I’d only just bought.
But I appreciated my Vessa so much,
At Uni, no-one knew the status or fuss,
That’d been attached to it, not to touch,
At my special school, uh ha, for all of us.