Long Blind Poems

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


Pierrot Lives In Sorrow

The people surrounding me keep asking “why are you going back and forth uneasily on the empty stage shedding crocodile tears, and telling the stories of negative effects on others, though you are not of a man of faculty who is even able to produce a theory comparable to 'Blind Will of Universe', one of worst hypothesizes a man can think of.

It’s because though, 
when a worldly-minded snob shouts from a podium
“you should have a positive attitude,” while displaying 
his resume proudly with the title that is little-to-do with his personality,
his limited academic background that barely conceals the lack of intelligence, and insignificant accomplishment with somewhat concocted experience hiding his real being and thought, he receives respect from the audience who fascinated by every movement the snob makes in the form of applaud with standing ovation, I was always treated badly from audience, fed only by unwelcome astringent fruits of rejection and drink bitter tasting water sprang from unwanted rotten roots to quench my desire…

And that’s why the course of my reasoning became negative, 
and, as a natural consequence, no matter how often you may say 
to the audience “you ought to be a person of positive attitude,” 
since there are more negative aspects surrounding us than 
the positive elements, and that’s why I was accepted by 
others negatively. More importantly, I was treated negatively 
from others simply because reality goes before me. 

Although positive thinkers boast themselves as if their thoughts are
sound and healthy, by saying that the water in a cup is half full;
negative thinkers sigh with a defected air and say that a cup is 
half empty. However, it doesn’t make any difference how you think, 
men’s thoughts cannot surpass the physical phenomena
and, therefore, a half is a half, no more nor less than a half.  
In the boundary and limit is as such, whether you like it or not,
men have to go on the path of their own destiny.

Then, why does everyone has to have a positive attitude? I suppose, 
that is, not more than a writhe of the men who won’t admit reality 
in desperate agony. That’s the self-gratification of men 
who are not able to face the facts as they are.

[The irony is, nonetheless, man is able to bear and raise a baby 
by an act of self-gratification. It’s amazing, the world is a place 
full of wonders.]
© Su Ben  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Narrative


Judas Christ

Im not sure what i did to you
what i've been blaickmailed for
under the rug we swept the page we tore out
dance around what it told us to do
its your gold to figure out
this time, your pain, of the sin for being the creator
did it to myself
pointing out the abuse of my father
whipped and chained
crucified
no enemies
confusion of salvation
weapon for a messneger
for those who choose to hear it
the tower of babel fell
what if we were all wrong together
back to the basics of how i did this to myself

My father gone crazy
scared of mirrors
his own reflection
another gopher hole to remind him
of what you are
remove the blind fold
and see all my scars
never should have trusted you strangers
fictitious lies
graves of danger
holes to dig
in plots to fall into
wrap myself around the obvious to turn this loose

forgive and forget
i forget all the time
the leash on my neck
i dont forgive
choke at the tears i dont understand
fallen from my throne in the clouds
i didnt deserve
into your nightmare
to live a lie
called your perfect life
and who arwe you mad at
judas or christ for saving you from crucifiction
for the crime of the century
where the finger of your god gone awry
realising his mistake of his image altered
has come with an obvious omen to translate
and photoshop you into restrictions, consequences,
ways you werent supposed to bend

judas christ
the only face left to blame
the truth of the game your playing,
three moves ahead opf the game
me in check mate versus a world not playing fair
creating your god, to be the sin, to live your nightmare
way out of hand...

stuck in this corner
without a hand
opiates for mary jane
and nobody complains
fear farmers and desperation
eyes of the shamed
necisary contradictions
to pull you out of the deepend
swimming towards the sharks we keep at bay

what do you think he did to you?
those who walk around carrying a grudge?
lied? died? never ran away leaving you with the bag in a previous life?
or saved a future generation from a future of nightmares
only he could save us from
unravelling now
never to be forgotten

hail to your mercy
which i dont see exist
hail to your truth of who did it
hail to your emptiness
i am forgiven,
welcomed to the family
treasured as the brother
i am judas 
judas christ

so knock it off with this kane and abel blitz
Form:

Lazy Dream Mysterious Death

From the heart of green naïve village
surrounded by corps field, mosque, ponds, 
ancestral grave yard, school, college, 
madrasah (islamic school) etc he is

brothers, sisters with parents, a beautiful family 
with relatives, neighbors he had

learned person he was, full memorizer of 
the Holy Quran and institutional study was 10th grade

but dreams touched his eyes, his breaths, his veins
the dream in the hollow eyeballs of him
flaring dreams have been gathered in his sight
dreams touched his ideality, his mediocrity, his learning
against the holy verse
dreams touched him inseparably 
dreams touched him within vain clothing
dreams touched him within flirting industrialist mind
dreams touched him within merciless sky scraper building
dreams touched him within fake benevolent charity right hand
dreams touched him abortive assurance giving to others in generosity smiling

dreams made him blind to the path of income
small income once made up him happy with family and relatives
but leaving small, come to big on the lame stretchers dreamy boat

he did not understand- dreams in lazy hands is 
misfortunate hell for upcoming every steps

dreams made him luxurious ambitious as 
the begging bag before learning how to beg

dreams made him laughter in garrulous argument 
as happiness of billionaire under torn blanket
in biting cold winter dreamy night

dream made him foolish dandy in business world 
as Xerox machines copying activities 
which has no personality to make another root 
to survive with it as parasite
  
dreams made him passerby the dark path
dreams made him lonely walker
dreams made him lonely resident on title-less building of hill view
dreams made him unknown religious in the eye view of unfamiliar him
dreams made him a dark horse in flattering broker world
dreams made him hilarious land lord in his verbose copying documents
dreams made him a beggar in heavenly real eyes of the sun, 
crystalline day approved him he was dreamer only

from the dreams he made his journey to be great 
benevolent helper of relatives and neighbors
he was dreamer but in paralyzed bone and indolent veins
and this dream awakens him in tears of mysterious death

(Written on my Maternal Uncle Hafez Abdul Allam 4th July 1962-29th July 2018, who was inactive but great dreamer, but sudden death of him makes us heart rending cry)

Our Family Reunions Are Strange, Part I

I will sometimes be asked how it came about
that my children have one set of grandparents,
and I know just what you are thinking now,
but hear me out, an all of this will make sense.

I’m explaining this for one final time
to put all these blasted rumors to rest,
the odd position my family is in
did not come about due to incest!

It began when I, Armond Carruthers,
fell in love with a beautiful girl.
Her name is Denise, and she is my light
in this crazy and much-confused world.

See the two of us were high school sweethearts,
been together since our junior year,
managed to build something that could outlast
the blind passion of our teenage years.

But during our freshman year of college
we decided that we couldn’t wait,
maybe we were just a pair of young fools,
but we went ahead and set the date.

Now this is the point the story gets strange,
both of us were raised by one parent alone,
my father died in a car accident
when I was six, mom raised me on her own.

Denise’s mother was out of her life,
she cheated on her dad when Denise was four,
her father George did all the upbringing,
he gave her all of his hear and then more.

We were just nineteen when we got engaged,
her dad George was a fit forty-one,
my mother, Kristen, was just thirty-nine,
wanted to do something nice for her son.

She was us to focus on our studies,
and would gladly help plan the wedding,
that she and George would make things run smoothly,
we both thanked her, and let them do their thing.

They both must have seen something they liked,
though neither one of us realized it then,
they kept meeting up to ‘plan the wedding’
again...and again...and again…

All this time we just thought it was nice
that these future in-laws were getting along,
figured it would make holidays easy,
you can say we both read that one wrong.

Of course they did not tell us all this,
and the wedding was done in fine style,
neither realizing that for two months now
my mother knew that she was with child…

When three months later it became obvious,
both our parents sheepishly let us know,
to say we were stunned does not describe it,
but later to the courthouse we did go.

And as if this surprise wasn’t enough,
when my mind struggled to make some sense,
I received even more life-changing news,
my Denise was also now pregnant…

CONCLUDES IN PART II.
Form: Narrative

Mental Health

“It's not that we cant see the solution; it's that we cant see the problem”                            - G.K. Chesterton

It's all so crazy
The perception of our society
Are we blind; are we ignorant?
Perhaps what will be, will be

It's not that we can’t see the solution
It seems so obvious - so clear
But when you look beneath the surface 
The reality - I think that's what we really fear

We think that food is a problem
With obesity at an all time high
The truth - obesity Is a symptom
Yet, we continually close our eyes

Over half of America
Is over weight or obese
It's the leading cause of preventable deaths
However; it's not what we eat

It's what's eating us
During our days and our nights
Its the voice in our head
That tells us things aren't quite right

Food doesn't kill people
It's similar to gun control
30,000 violent deaths per year
I bet here's a fact you don't know

Of the 30,000 violent deaths
18,000 are suicides
You're right - guns do kill people
But we never ask people why they want to die

The solutions may seem clear
But stress, anxiety, and fear still remains
It's not food or the guns
That elicit the majority of life's pain

So let's have a drink
That will help us to relax and unwind
Here, have another
It's a sophisticated red wine

According to a National Survey
86 percent  reportedly drink
26 percent binge
That's a lot don't you think?

An estimated 88,000 people 
Die from alcohol-related causes per year 
It's the third leading preventable cause of death in the United States
The solution? - address, don't try to drink away what you fear

So what's the real problem?
Here, I'll take the sacrificial dive
I'll use logic and reason
A method we use in other areas of our lives

It's not eating or drinking 
That’s causing our pain
In modernity
It's the mental health of our brain

It's what we value
It's who we choose to idolize
It's the trivially matters
The distorted sense of self we despise

When we learn to face facts
Prioritize what we do
When we value virtue
Compassion manifest - love will carry us through

We’ll choose take smaller bites 
Have one drink to unwind
We’ll have a gun for protection
Moderation - the Golden rule still applies

It's not that we can’t see the problem
It’s that we won't look at the disease
The solution?
Address mental health - please
Form: Rhyme


The Morning Soars With Skylarks Singing Repost

The morning soars with skylarks singing
o'er the greening meadow and the pliant pasture,
the ocean sighing, gulls aloft on wings of prayer.
A sudden shower would see me running
fancy free between the rain drops,
I cried 'Excelsior!' and set the hills alive;
I skittered, happy, crisp and clear, 
like God's first measure of a holy hymn.

The air alive with songs of praise, 
the gentle winds a sacred message,
His grand prescription like a dream
that streamed out from the pillows of the heavens.
I liked to wander by the sea shore
skipping stones, disobeying laws of gravity,
as a lamb on shaky legs and tumbled freely without care,
'til gasping, I would stop to catch my breath.

The halcyon days of youth came true,
when I would race forever 'neath the tawny sun,
bedaubed in Autumn's blood, the flame
a blend of hues the likes of which 
would make a young boy doubly blind,
and lead him into kingdoms where the battlefields
would blister scarlet, happy times
that made me see my childhood clearly.

The weather turned again, and shanties
high atop the hillside loomed like castles drifting
in the sea-blown mist, the noise of boats,
their nets pulled, nudging at the jetty.
From the sand the village was a hazy spectre,
the chapel steeple peeking like Rapunzel's lair,
her hair a daydream falling soft,
O fanciful imagination!

I thought to when my mother took my hand. 
We skipped the cobblestones and shopped for wishes,
toys which we could ill-afford;
a Batman cape, a red fire engine.
The lanes were thick with merchants and the joy of life,
haggling, chattering like crazy seabirds,
loud, and mouthing their wants and wares,
and then we wandered home exhausted.

I never lost my youthfulness, 
my joy at seeing herons gloating, eagles floating
high on zephyr'd breezes free as spring;
hallowed times, in Jesus' presence.
I measure now my moments as the hours shift by,
thirty years and blissful, regrets are slight and few,
I count my blessings, feel content
that tribulation never came to bother me.

A birthday cake is waiting for me,
candles flicker, frosting beckons, hope eternal;
my wish the same, for peace on earth
to all men, greetings and goodwill!
I lie down in the close and holy quiet 
while the village sleeps, and slips toward a new adventure,
safe in His keeping, perfect day
with promise of a bright tomorrow.
Form: Verse

The Return (A Must Read)

The trumpet of the Almighty God will blow.  Then the whole world will instantaneously 
know.  That Jesus Christ has returned for his sheep.  You may miss this train if your faith has 
been asleep.  Millions of your loved ones will disappear in the twinkling of an eye.  Christians 
will be lifted up to meet Christ in the sky.  Those left behind have chosen their own path.  
When people tried to tell them about Jesus they just walked away and laughed.  It will be too 
late to repent.  Not ever hearing about Jesus can't be your argument.  For everyone in the 
world would have had their chance;  To know about Jesus the Savior in advance.  
Unbelievers need to be concerned.  Jesus Christ is going to return!
       Eventually we will watch the rise of the Man of Sin;  He will be the devil incarnate, 
wearing a seductive grin.  Millions will believe and be deceived that this man is the predicted 
Messiah.  The Bible warns us in several prophetical books,  From Ezekiel to Zechariah.  THis 
false Christ will have powers unlike this world has ever seen.  He will wear a mask of peace 
and claim he is the coming Nazarene.  People of this world will believe this lie and will 
spiritually die!  Simply put the world will follow this man blind.  This false Christ will do 
whatever necessary to get into your heart and mind.  This man will rule the One World 
Government and claim to end all bloodshed.  His actions will be so convincing, he'll even 
raise the dead!  But this is the anti-Christ, he is not the One.  He is not God's Son!  Here's 
something for the ignorant to learn.  Jesus Christ the real Son of God will return!
       This One World Government is taking place.  Get that Bible down from your bookcase, 
and you will see.  That everything is happening right now according to prophesy!  Beware as 
we watch nations turn on Israil.  More than half the world will attend it's own spiritual 
funeral!  Cataclysmic events will unfold.  World catastrophe that has been preached since the 
days of old  The American dollar has lost it's value.  A One World currency will be issued to 
me and you   Millions are currently spiritually deceased.  Even thousands of priests.  We are 
no longer the super power of the East.  So prepare to receive or reject the "mark of the 
beast."  The evil of this world will burn.  Jesus Christ the Savior will return!!!!!
Form: Narrative

Appear

You came to me many times in my dreams.

At first I was scared bt not anymore.

You came in the form of a shadow.

I closed my eyes and turned away in fear but now I see your face has appear.

The pastor feared for many years once upon learning who I am.

A gift to the world sits in the palm of my hands.

For good or for evil, its up to me to decide.

You came to me many times in my dreams.

At first I was scared but not anymore.

You came in the form of a shadow.

I closed my eyes and turned away in fear but now I see your face has appear.

Before the death of my sister, you told me I would have to choose.

I chose my familia then my heart forever became brused.

You went away from my dreams then only came back once my heart became cold.

You reached out your hand yet I only turned it away.

Fighting wars in my dreams of unknown beings.

Voices in my head and visions of unusual seeings.

Picked up the Bible yet only learning of its hidings.

Secerts of a World thats so blind to many.

When someone speaks no one listens.

When the voice up lifts then everyone begins to focus.

Against a belief thats much stronger then our own can leave a person breathless.

I lay down a pad then pick up a pen but my hands refuse to let me write.

Stand in front of a croud to speak of our World but my voice is silence.

You came to me many times in my dreams.

At first I was scared but not anymore.

You came in the form of a shadow.

I closed my eyes and turned away in fear but now I see your face has appear.

You told me respect will be high because of the gift I offer.

You told me I wouldn't have to struggle anymore all I have to do is take your hand.

Walk with you like how I once did with Jesus.

Talk with you like I prayed to God.

Not to bow to your feet but lift out my hand for you to kiss as we bow to each other.

Sit on the right hand side of the thrown.

To have power greater then the World can image.

A new lyfe where you wouldn't have to hope and dream.

You promised me my revenge on the cruel will come.

You promised my my oppinons will be a factor.

No more crying at night because of hunger pains.

Or familia betrayal.

You came to me many times in my dreams.

At first I was scared but not anymore.

I closed my eyes and turned away in fear but now I see your face has appear
Form:

Nothing Really Matters

Lately everything seems to be surrounded in darkness
Either I am way too close or too far away
When I stand close I perfectly see the flickering light ahead
How close it is but when I reach it.. it just disappears
I can't seem to grasp anything that's around me anymore
When I touch it, it just turns to ash... 

Seems I have lost the will to do much anything
Sometimes I find myself starring at white walls..
I forgot to think.. maybe I will forget to breath too

The image of the world in my head.. is so different from what I see... with my eyes
Is reality an allusion or is the world in my head.. 

Darkness surrounding everyone I stand close to
You see them fade in and out like a hologram
When you reach out to touch them.. they are not real
Sometimes they just.. disappear 
Then I find myself searching for what I used to know

Seems the world in my head.. is not so bright and colorful anymore
Either everyone is stuck in the past with me.. or they are moving forward..
I am watching them pass me by as I stay within the realm I am used to knowing

No matter how many times I change my appearance..
Everything stays the same... and I realize..
All the people I know.. 
In the end. .. nothing really matters...

Everything you knew..
Everything you have touched..

Everyone you have loved
Everyone you once cared for

All the lessons you learned...
what are they for?...

Is it better to be... alone..
Where there is no pain in a relationship with another..
I can no longer get close to anyone..
I find myself.. stepping further and further back
Yet I cannot stop myself... there is no rope to grab..

Which world would I rather live in.. the one i see with my eyes.. or the one in my head...

They both have become.. one of the same... covered and smeared in blood.. 
Darkness...

I have no reflection in the mirror.. and I can feel my soul slipping from within me
All I see.. is cracks.. where my soul is leaking its way out..
Yet no band-aid or super glue.. could help cover it

Hallow...

Nothing can save you now.. because you realize... the truth..
Once your world is coming to an end.. it wont matter.. 
You will not remember.. you wont be able to feel.. 

Somehow, even with this darkness and being surrounded by darkness
Having the feeling of comfort and a blind happiness

Everything is perfectly where it belongs...
Form: Lyric

The Morn's Alive With Skylarks Singing

The morn's alive with skylarks singing
o'er the greening meadow and the pliant pasture,
the ocean sighing, gulls aloft on wings of prayer.
A sudden shower would see me running
fancy free between the rain drops,
I cried 'Excelsior!' and set the hills alive;
I skittered, happy, crisp and clear, 
like God's first measure of a holy hymn.

The air alive with songs of praise, 
the gentle winds a sacred message,
His grand prescription like a dream
that streamed out from the pillows of the heavens.
I liked to wander by the sea shore
skipping stones, disobeying laws of gravity,
as a lamb on shaky legs and tumbled freely without care,
'til gasping, I would stop to catch my breath.

The halcyon days of youth came true,
when I would race forever 'neath the tawny sun,
bedaubed in Autumn's blood, the flame
a blend of hues the likes of which 
would make a young boy doubly blind,
and lead him into kingdoms where the battlefields
would blister scarlet, happy times
that made me see my childhood clearly.

The weather turned again, and shanties
high atop the hillside loomed like castles drifting
in the sea-blown mist, the noise of boats,
their nets pulled, nudging at the jetty.
From the sand the village was a hazy spectre,
the chapel steeple peeking like Rapunzel's lair,
her hair a daydream falling soft,
O fanciful imagination!

I thought to when my mother took my hand. 
We skipped the cobblestones and shopped for wishes,
toys which we could ill-afford;
a Batman cape, a red fire engine.
The lanes were thick with merchants and the joy of life,
haggling, chattering like crazy seabirds loud, 
and mouthing their wants and wares,
and then we wandered home exhausted.

I never lost my youthfulness, 
my joy at seeing herons gloating, eagles floating
high on zephyr'd breezes free as spring;
hallowed times, in Jesus' presence.
I measure now my moments as the hours shift by,
thirty years and blissful, regrets are slight and few,
I count my blessings, feel content
that tribulation never came to bother me.

A birthday cake is waiting for me,
candles flicker, frosting beckons, hope eternal;
my wish the same, for peace on earth
to all men, greetings and goodwill!
I lie down in the close and holy quiet 
while the village sleeps, and slips toward a new adventure,
safe in His keeping, perfect day
with promise of a bright tomorrow!
Form: Verse

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