Long Blueprint Poems
Long Blueprint Poems. Below are the most popular long Blueprint by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Blueprint poems by poem length and keyword.
Genesis means the beginning
Root word gene, the blueprint of life
So...In the beginning, of the seventies
There were jeans.
Now try to follow this
Jeans cover our bodies, but,
Our bodies are made of genes
Skin covers our bodies like jeans do
But, skin is made of genes too
We all have life, so the blueprints inside of us
So...genes have the blueprint inside
Jeans are printed blue outside
From genes come the word generation
Every generation loves jeans
Unless they are blue genes
That's when they're sad
Humans we are all living breathing genes
We were made by a Creator, a Designer
So in a way we are all wearing designer genes
And sometimes we also wear designer blue genes
That's when we're sad
Babies when they are born what are they?
Brand new designer genes
A teenager what is he?
Lightly used designer genes
A tired old man what is he?
Worn out and wrinkled designer genes
I feel sorry for the stone washed,
Acid washed, hard pressed
Steam ironed, left in the freezer, blue genes
Because not only has he had a hard life
He's also kind of sad.
November 22,2015
For open contest
The poems that weep with grief
The one that bleeds a sadness unnoticed
The ones that grieve the erasure of colour
I wish I didn't have to write poems
To convince you of our pain
The one that stains every word on every page
The ones that can't bleed out of existence
The ones that break and linger
I should've never had to write poems so sad
But what else must I do to prove to you
The mistreatment of my people has always happened
And continues to do
What is there left to do to stop the cycle of abuse
You silence our voices, you mute our words
But still I will write, for our stories demand to be heard
I should never of had to write poems of self worth
To convince you of black beauty
When we are the blueprint
Why must I need to write
To convince you of our light
A light that burns brighter than the sun
I should never have to write poems of love
Where we don't have to struggle
Where we are the main characters
Why must I convince you that we are not hard to love
That we deserve the sun, the moon and the stars
That we deserve more than the bare minimum
Why must the world make us cry
Despise
The skin that we live in
Why must I convince myself that I deserve love
That just because I'm black
Doesn't equate to being viewed as good enough
Why does it feel like I have to beg for acceptance
These are written poetry I should never of had to create
The poems lead by strength
Filled with the empty fuel of endurance we had no choice to go on without
The poems where our hearts are vigorously tested to see if we can make it to the next line
Why oh why is our pain a testament to see how much we can take
A test to see if we break
Because when your black
The weight of the world is on your back
And any sign that you may crack
Is their own permission to attack
Why are these poems I have to write
Where beneath the ink
Is the blood of my hands
A sacrifice of demand
For the price of being strong
I, and others should never of had to write the poems to explain
That being black means to always be with pain
Not just physical but also psychological
Where our existence is put to shame
And the grief that comes with the erasure of our names
But being black shouldn't mean a life boxed in by strength, yet somehow this is a burden that remains
Telling "White Lies"
My mother got born November
thirteenth, nineteen hundred thirty five
within poverty stricken household
of Canarsie, Brooklyn, the youngest
(most mollycoddled) of four siblings,
experienced grinding poverty, no
matter maternal grandfather (Moishe
Kuritsky), a tailor he lacked drive
(and felt neutral about stitching
together gainful employment)
to support his family two parents +
remainder offspring, he helped sire
lacked positive role models, none the
less gumption taught her to strive
at tender age livid with rage to escape
caricature living poor, thus sought
employment when/wherever sheik hood
if necessary fibbed to survive
plus rash of healthy nurturing, and
absolute zero constraints, perhaps five
or thereabout years old attested
much later, suspected her papa did jive
with unspeakable improper behavior
(nobody dare discuss taboo issues),
yet intuition awoke within immoral
conclusion Harriet Kuritsky did arrive,
and perhaps resorted to stretching
the truth (fibbing a "white lie") the only
recourse available plied sweet innocence
knowing little or nothing about birds
feathering their nest, nor little about
buzzfeeding activity in beehive
naivete flirtatious coyness advantage worked,
I bet young thang did connive
and probably never did contemplate,
deliberate, generate and wrongdoing,
where mother of necessity spurred
angelic demureness strategy to contrive
securing bare necessities, hence fast
forward, when unsolicited advice given
to this sole son, or either sibling, (an older
& younger sister) tactics upbringing did deprive
ma mum of positive role models, hence
only blueprint to acquire essential needs
serendipitous series of unfortunate events
before Lemony Snicket did derive
school of hard knocks, (I do believe
formerly called Abraham Lincoln High)
rather than impugn, judge, revile, et cetera
kernels/nuggets of wisdom memory did revive
within my mind for rhyme, nor reason
blunt honesty, not always best policy
despite ten commandments
to husbands with many a wive.
Life lesson learned meant blurred line
between mendacity and truth
courtesy upbringing mommy dearest
if repeatedly drummed into me noggin
brutal honesty will bring nothing but bupkis,
or if you prefer the Yiddish spelling bobkes.
Rob Brezsny reports
In 2004, San Rafael hosted a World Conference of Soul-Making
resulting in three schools for best PeaceMaking practices,
to which I will add one
more democratically inclusive,
less autonomously exclusive.
"The Ruminators
theorized that humans are born without [divine] souls
and can create them only through arduous,
disciplined rebellion against all [trauma-informed] belief systems.
The Resonators
agreed that soul [peace] isn't innate,
but insisted that soul-making is by no means difficult
...gathering good [health-humor] stories is effective [necessary]
and not at all hard [resiliently sufficient].
The Revelators
said every [individual] person is born with a [peace-full monotheistic] soul
in seed form,
and need only discover the [organic] 'blueprint'
of that [individual] seed
in order to attract the [anthropocentric] experiences
necessary to draw out its [integrity's] potential."
Regenerators
win/win hypothetically agree with all of the above,
born with a potential integrating peace seed,
we struggle with systemic traumas
win v lose dualistic pathological dramas
painfully dissociative
devolutionary ruminations
yet also
celebrate our greatest Gaian Synergy Story
of inter-religiously ecological
cooperative revolutionary culminations
resonantly anticipating
health-climaxing wealth
of panentheistic pronoia.
Re-ligiously con-scientious peace-making
within universally engaged
neurosystemic unitarian mindbody
and
compassionately pleased
ecosystemic bodymind
Re-membering roundly resonant Gaia's
mystical polyamorous vulnerability
historical pronoia transparency
anticipating interdependent EarthTribe's
soul-communing peace communications.
Once again, adding a culminating four-fractal fold
to three interdependent dimensions
closes a four-season healthy
regeneratively wealthy
peace-development story
Inviting our polyculturally expectant revisit
for yet more win/win synergetic soul food
Re-ligiously feeding spiritual Resonator minds of
con-scientiously breeding natural Revelator bodies for
re-viving more sacredly compassionate Ruminators singing
organically co-pleasuring ReGenerators dancing
to soul-full musing EarthPeace.
Law began by living,
locomotion meeting the rails of electric rainfall,
Consequence coursing through interconnected crossbeams
making all form fruit of the first & final recipe,
one great statute spawned from the storm
billowing from Divinity's genius,
everything in the Universe existing to produce,
get busy, get bounce'n, grow wild & now,
receive with wisdom and take as thieves humbled by offering,
the original impulse from a manic God
pregnant from androgonous purpose,
a trillion movements in a single start, a fanatic for feral smarts,
stagnation anethema to the spectacular suspense of survival,
Natural Rights were for me
the moment my blood became mine, became a wet warlord
exerting presence in the wide open wrestle of Universe,
God the shadow & weight of my spark,
the window & scene of my good gumption, of my dusty dream,
self defense a mandate from the magistrate of my heritage,
freedom of expression an obligation humming from ancestors'
anniverseries applauded along the Appain Way headed
not towards Rome but forward to a higher home of honor,
a Law unto myself I am,
eating from the spines of lions,
sleeping atop pyramids built by a billion bones unbroken by battle,
afternoons auction affection for my amusement with discount
and the nights nudge nightmares asunder
with the release of red lightning
spelling the name of Creation in raw neon, breathtaking breakdown,
a script scribbled by a hand having the blueprint of dirt in it's fingernails,
I appeal to Adam, attest in favor of aggression's willpower,
to Eve I beseech, testify to the severity & sanction of self confidence,
let us smash all false law that stands as a wall to our fulfillment,
smack the eggshell of Man's authoritarian angst,
waking into a world of wakeful worries, confined by Common Law, U.C.C.,
walking through waves ment to wreck the arrogant
with a constitution inked by nerves electrified
by entertaining the urgency of a rampaging God,
thought of the great expanse thumping thoroughly through
the expeditions my expectations encounter,
black static undulating around the blue bulb of my brain,
sparks of ultimate consciousness mothering marks of miracles
in the becoming of birthright,
J.A.B.
(1 Kings 8: 27)
I Would Build YOU Seven Pillars
Made of Pearls of Such Dimension- Prized
I Would Build YOU Ten Giant Columns
Made of Pure Crystals Up To The Skies
And On That Holy Edifice
of 400 Cubits Elevated To Size
I Would Build YOU A Thunder-Temple
A Thousand Stories High
This Would Be My Metaphysical Monument To JAH ...
And Inside The Thunder-Temple
I Would Build A Lightning-Fire
It Would Burn A Flame of Love So Hot & Bright
That Lasts Forever & Never Die
I Would Place YOUR Name On A Pedestal Throne
of Precious Gems - No One Could Pry
Of Such Height & Depth & Length
& Everlasting Arms Wide
This Is My Metaphysical Monument To JAH ...
O' My Rock of Ages ... Because YOU Are My Strength
& My Fondest & Most Fervent of Ties
I Would Construct This On A Mountain Top
That Stands Up Past A Million Miles
It Would Touch The Moon In Reflection
And The Stars Would Be Inspired
and Eclipse Every Man-Made Structure
& Orbit In YOUR Eyes
This Is My Metaphysical Monument To JAH ...
I Would Fill The Air With Perfumed Prayer
Celestial, Sparkled-Incense Would Rise
I Would Fill The Space With Music
& Exalt HALLELUJAH In Chimes!
I Would Bow Down In YOUR Beauteous Presence
In The Aisles & Among All Tribes
& Exult In The Awesome Atmosphere
of YOUR Essence So Wise
... In My Metaphysical Monument To JAH ...
I Would Fill It With All YOUR Worshipers
& All YOUR Wonders & Praise Realized
& We'd Sing My Metaphysical Monument
In Paradise ... To JAH !
This Is My Metaphysical Monument
And Yes, This Vision Is Heaven-Sent
Spirit-Height & Depth & Width & Length
In My Whole-Soul, Solar-Sacrament
& My Devotion's Endless Measurements
Built From A Bonafide & Blessed Blueprint
Constructed Thru Carpenter's Consent
& With The Master-Worker's Instruments
It Will Tower-Up In Testament !
So All Will Know - Everywhere I Went
It's The Metaphysical Monument
My HalleluJah - Horizon-Event!
... My Metaphysical Monument ... To JAH
Written & Copyrighted ©: 9/27/2013
by: MoonBee Canady
Within the chemicals
remain your mind
somewhere the soul divine
within inspiration
everything you say and do
not depending on the clothes you wear
or the shoes that define you
you are a writer
gift from soul learn lessons
want to share them
with spaces perplexed reason trapped within
as you become an artist your soul begins to scream horrors
cry and shout
you begin realizing the nightmare
pessimism's hellfire's
truths wonders doubts
don't fret my friend for this is only the beginning of your gift
only a matter of time
for your brain
creativity to understand privilege
blueprint or the script
essence has developed
take it slow learn tools of expression
when your mind notices
you are paying attention to your spirit
your soul, doors begin opening and closing
all tumble down this rabbit hole
when you learn to express feelings inside
start to understand there are many sides to this puzzle in time
start to understand life lessons
and the beauty of art
you become humbled enraged
smart stupid and full of heart
keep asking questions
don't forget to go back through your own pages and answer them
don't forget to look through insecurities
unanswered prayers
tell yourself what you have learned from them
don't deny your lessons your heart is begging you to learn
keep in mind as you grow to become wise
throughout time
philosophers
great thinkers
prophets
historical revolutionaries
were also once blind
reasoned with the puzzles inside
when your brain realizes you are listening to your thoughts
your mind begins playing tricks
whether you like it or not
see through the illusion
learn which voice to hate more than you
and offer yourself clues
to go back on to which door
you obviously readily did choose
keep in mind you are beautiful and your soul
the angels mans plans and god will pave the way
you might feel lonely like everyone but there will come a day
when all the loose ends fit
and you see your piece of the bigger puzzle
your voice of reason in the insanity
screaming filth
that’s a blessing to be heard
but don't forget
you choke on your own words.
The past is ash, you gotta rise like the phoenix, don’t like it call your mama and ask for a Kleenex. The time is long past due to stop thinkin’ and start doin’, start rootin’ for the man inside and stop all the internal booin’. You sound like everybody else with a story, braggin’ about past glory. What about today? Tomorrow will be today again, are you gonna be your worst enemy or be your best friend? Nobody believes you, you don’t even believe yourself, you need to take that bull*****and put in on the shelf. You can only judge and fix yourself, work on that person, no one else. You need to man up and fill your cup with the nectar that life has to offer. You want to win and be stronger, not lose and be softer. You want the fruit of your labor, to love yourself and your neighbor, to love the fan and the hater, to love what you got cuz you got it and you took it and made it cuz there was no tomorrow or later, only back then, back when, back in the day suffering every which way with your back against the wall that you made with your sorrow and your rage. Do what you do and stop being blue, you need a new blueprint printed out and co-signed by the future you, your future self, the architect and the tenant. You know what you got? A new start and a new shot. A chance to stop being a robot. A new lease on life with no lease payments and at the very least, no leash to stop you from running free in a new lot. Now it’s just you, yourself and the pie in the sky. Become the apple of your own eye, the catcher of your own rye, the ink in your own dye, the voice that will question your feelings inside and shine brightly upon all the lies in your mind. Create your future fate before time flies by and history says it’s too late, these words are your bond and your mind is a clean slate. Carve them out and breathe in each letter, fake it till you’re feeling better. Those who wronged you don’t exist, they are not your enemy, burn that list, of people you think owe you something...no one does, except one person, the hardest to find, and while you’ve been dying and losing your mind, and stressing and flexing on struggle and strife, he was right there in the mirror the whole damn time.
I’m lost in your eyes
Tired of all the when’s and why’s
I’m tired of trying to figure you out
I’m tired of you never having anything to talk about
I’m sick of your ways and your abuse
So I am permanently going to cut you loose
Everything you told me were all just lies
I’m finally cutting all of my ties
I’m tired of being tortured from your ways
I’m tired of not finding you in this impossible maze
I was stupid for believing your thoughts
Of all we shared and how now we’re not
The end of my universe is coming near
Only difference now is you’ll never be here
It doesn’t matter to you how hard I tried
You wouldn’t noticed if I just fell over and died
I designed this poem to remind myself
Of when I was with you, I was loosing my health
Your words are just fake anyways
Of untold mysteries and dreary days
You don’t acknowledge the fact that I am here
You don’t care if I cry these tears
You don’t notice I’m sick as hell
But your only thoughts are, “oh well,”
You don’t care about what I’ve sacrificed for you
You apparently can’t handle that I’m true
But keep in mind that no one will kiss you like me
Keep in mind no one will see you like I see
Keep in mind no one will hug you the same
Keep in mind that you’re the only one to blame
Keep in mind no one can talk to you like I do
Keep in mind that I already knew
I knew you used me for what I was worth
Even after I was willing to give you my Earth
Keep in mind that I’m not blind
Keep in mind someone else I’ll eventually find
You’re replaceable just like the others
Don’t believe me, ask my mother
Even she knew that you were phony and fake
And even she knew that you were a big mistake
I’m so happy I’m here and not with you
But also know that this blueprint you drew
You made your bed and laid in your grave
You eliminated yourself in a dampened cave
But you still didn’t quite get under my skin
Because if you did, you’d be the won who would win
But I still didn’t lie and I still didn’t cheat
So some other girl can go ahead and re-reserve my seat
I’m just glad I didn’t give you my all
Because if I did, I knew soon after you would make me fall...
Reindeer herd - heard clattering
Rangifer tarandus kept
this deep sleeper awake
cavorting, deer ring
escapade haint fake
dreamt only a smattering while
Santa did shimmy and shake
with ho...ho...ho...
no worry mate - everything's jake
resonating resembling thus Spake
Zarathustra jollity did quake.
Yours truly (i.e, me)
awoke with rapture
forty hooves with
four "toes" on each foot
surreptitiously, soundlessly, and simply
did invisibly bore
I noiselessly swore
sizable wrapped holiday box
with duct tape to secure
merchandise found thee missus
(Abby) excitedly tore
painstakingly, neatly, and lovingly
my feeble protest she did ignore
(think lame gesticulations)
ah... lo and behold goodies galore
unable to deter impetuous more
or less analogous to child like roar
ring with giddy excitement
December twenty fifth,
could not await opening your
linkedin holiday deliverance
including Trader Joe's gift card
to "fake" Monseigneur
Matthew Scott with dogspeed
to wish thee (Andy, Ansley,
Marley - if by ghost of chance...)
plus other kith and kin) bonjour,
and joyful new year, whence two score
orbitz will find me
newly minted centenarian, argh... your
brother not yet ready to explore
afterlife, which grave kismet unavoidable,
courtesy grim reaper conquistador
though... even now no fear arises,
when permanent sleep shall nevermore
witness generalized (anticipatory)
anxiety cease to perdure,
which bouts of panic
running rampant near winded seen yore
citizen banker (me) disgruntled
as if possessed by maniacal führer
running me rampantly ragged das
exhausting emotional furor
takes (and/or took) toll, I deplore
and decry lifelong psychological struggle
germinating while in utero,
when my nonexistence
no bigger than a spore
biological vagaries manifestation
nine months before
set figurative deoxynucleic acid
blueprint stage permanently
etched to the core
every cell sporting mutation
begetting, coding, dunning ensure
ring subsequent generations
oft times pondering,
whence final breath of relief
will signal time to scatter ashes
buzzfeeding boughs of sycamore.