Long Branded Poems
Long Branded Poems. Below are the most popular long Branded by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Branded poems by poem length and keyword.
The Alex Joneses among us
As we are coming up to Christmas, which is a feast
for the advertisers, and it is impossible turning
or switching on the radio or TV without getting an earful of sentimental songs flung at morning tired
adults before the first cup of coffee
PS. There was a time when one could write: a cup of coffee and a cigarette, we are glad tobacco is no longer
in our mind and body. Here someone is clearing throats
but find it best not to comment
A right-wing Christian and conspiracy theorist has been
allowed into Tweeter, X, and this has made the official
Press into a knot of outrage.
Elon Musk has done us a service by letting his Twitter be
a place for the burning questions to be aired.
Yes, at the same place where the perfectly awful
vulgarian and bigoted interviewer, Piers Morgan, spews
his opinions, for many who see him as a spokesperson
for despicable lies and shallow thinking
He is tolerated and has many fans among those who do
not reflect upon his utterings.
As for Alex Jones, a famous radio host, who has a theory of so many things and many of his views involve Jews, a group of people who hold American Politicians in a fateful grip of corruption and the weaponizing of
the Holocaust and in its holy name, special privileges
In Europe, Alex Jones is not well known I think he is
seen as an outspoken Billy Graham, a man I once saw
in the late fifties, preaching under a circus tent to
thousands of applauding Norwegians, many of whom thought he looked like Wild West Cowboy.
The good thing about an outlet like Twitter it gives
those with views contrary to the officials have a place
to air their opinions, without being branded a ban
In opulence, you dwelled, with wealth's endearing might
Gifts rained upon me, a gesture of your fleeting light
Thoughtful, you seemed, in moments of tender reprieve
Yet, when our bond broke, your words became a venomous deceive
You branded me an opportunist, with lips that scorned
Now I discern the truth, that love was never born
For love can't be bought, nor sold like merchandise in store
The heart that barters love, is one that's lost forevermore
Perhaps you felt pity's sting, or remorse's hollow refrain
But your words, they cut deep, like a dagger's fatal strain
You vilify me now, with labels of scorn and disdain
A rotten scum, an enemy, with no love to reclaim
What did I do, dear heart, to deserve this fate?
I loved you with abandon, with every fiber and every state
But you, with your learned pride, looked down upon my name
Education's pedestal, became the throne of your shame
I chose to liberate myself, from the chains that bound
I wouldn't spend my life, in a prison of the heart, unsound
Gifts didn't captivate me, it was your soul I adored
Your essence, your heart, your love, I yearned for, and nothing more
In fervent prayer, I pleaded, on bended knees, for you to see
The love that we once shared, in all its purity
But now I know, that wasn't love, that drove you to my side
It was a masquerade, a charade, where love was never the guide.
Nyawino, your final night was marked with sirens,
Yet peace still rested gently on your brow.
We stood by you, trembling, holding what we could,
Remembering laughter beneath the mango shade.
When others called you burden, you became my light,
Teaching me to rise again with the rosary in hand.
For two decades she washed, clothed, and fed you,
A daughter not by blood but by vow of care.
Her hands became your wings when frailty weighed,
She whispered the rosary as your breath grew thin.
She even clothed you, served and quietly hosted,
Was this not honorable rest you were given, Nyawino?
Three years since you left, her peace was stolen,
Backlash rose like thorns along her path.
She who carried you through years of frailty
Now meets scorn where gratitude should live.
Her union shakes, her nights know no peace
Nyawino, is this the price of faithfulness?
I too feel the weight of cruelty in silence,
Where justice should sing, only fracture remains.
Her hands that bore your suffering with grace
Are branded villain where they were your strength.
Nyawino, did you leave us to such betrayal?
Do the heavens not weep at this “legacy”?
So we cry unto you as we remember,
These three years since your gentle departure.
Shield her heart, defend the dignity she gave,
Let your prayers rise as walls around her sorrow.
Breathe peace into this house of fractured love,
And let your memory stitch the wounds that bleed
Where am I suppose to begin?
How do I start from the unknown?
Some place to never have been
For no guide was ever shown
Yet be moments I favour
Never knowing what the future might bring
For truly it does not matter
For ever long, the mortal heart is always keen
I can perhaps be what I want to be
Questions remain however… do I really want to?
To finally be how I want others to see
Am I truly keen, to be branded your fool?
I realise in time... that I can choose
For where there are choices, there are privileges
Balances are kept for all to win and to lose
Do you prepare for all that is life till death faces?
I suppose I have already began
How have I started… remains unknown
Choices are always limited when is something you want
And as always… there will be no guide to tell you, you won’t
A silver shawl hangs heavy over the mountain
sky grey clouds shooting gun barrel smoke hiding sunlight
Looking out towards the ocean dreaming in wild north Atlantic waves
tides turn a little lamb suffering in the spring crouched cold
We all see visions of injustices flash before our eyes turn
for which no one is held responsible the standing joke of our century
So many people turn a blind eye as their souls have already been bought
children of this world have suffered at the hands of tyrant slave masters
Born free without chains attached what gives any race the God given right
killing innocent women and children destroying families unjust actions
Some of us on this planet are sick with an untrustworthy state of affairs
listening to what these monstrous brutes get away with
In the name of peace not twisted truths building bridges instead of walls
who ever sells arms are terrorists against the living
Democracy has no grounds only love the suffering because
behind the mask many in this world condemn us
Branded from birth marked as slaves unto a system each of us a number
piercing bullets flash before the eyes redemption knowing whats true
"Wow!" Everyone is desperately chasing somebody,
It brings the context;shadow and a moving object,
Trying very well just to be somebody's replica,
Forcefully fixing the tooth to where it doesn't project,
If I'm to trust myself,then I need to die skeptical,
The market wasn't able to provide what I needed to buy,
Walked away only to know I'm watched like a character of a feral bride,
Rendering contempt upon a slight,
Somebody was taking a trace over my to and fro,
Anyone looking at the act was passionately admiring that goal,
When we're together,the heart feels it,
Also,when we disperse the mind testifies it,
Hope everyone's foot differ among a lot?
Why don't we put on the same shoe size in this walk?
Yes,I have to show gratitude,
How is it possible to represent somebody,when everybody is ruined?
Should we keep to Fondle the desires which could leave us pale?
Then fill my bottle to the brim,
The heroes and heroines are making more jealousy,
Whilst, the fans are feeling more drowsy?
You selected his goal on the manner it's branded,
And the way you spoke about your plans,she took it propounded,
Some of us are laughing,....some of us are weeping,
Only do we see,but the feelings are rightly hidden,
Like a dream,everyone seeks for someone's mean,
I'm the fish that swims in the ocean blue,
The eagle that flies to the highest horizon is you,
Many foots are uncomfortable in shoes not of their sets,
Indeed,let's maintain our sizes though it slightly hurts.
OUR LIBRARIAN
I once remember the
Librarian in my college
Meticulous ,and savvy
His love for knowledge
Knows no bound.
I once remember the
Librarian in my University
A man with a large heart for others
His glasses perking on his nose
His Professorial “penkelemesi” like
Grey hair connotes love for research.
But
I cannot but ask which librarian is this?
I cannot but query the insidious sudden
Love of this Huckster for knowledge
I cannot but be surprised at his hubbub
Declaration for his Library launch.
Oh ye people of our land!
Lets all give ovation du applaud to
Our land’s new Librarian.
The very one who rakes in seven
Of a billion cowries in a hurry
In the all looters Library launch.
The very one whose hatred for education
Towers so high and hit all towers of ivory.
The very atrocious leader of the ruling bandit
Whose avidity for money stares us in the face.
The very leading African Chimera whose
Chicanery we cannot measure
Has now suddenly fall in love with knowledge.
The very blood brother of “Haruna”on our campus
Who votes irritating meager resources for education
He is now our own celebrated Librarian.
The very illiterate Mechanic whose
Baleful gaze alone destroys our land’s Library
He is now our dreadful Librarian.
Sorry ,we know our Librarians
Our Libraries , we are acquainted with
Our Libraries are of obsolete materials
Ours is of more archaic facilities
With books and non books available
Two moons ago still branded new editions
This is our own Libraries.
Let the new Librarian disburse the seven
Of a billion cowries to our Libraries
Let him pump cowries into our education
Let their be more modern Libraries in our land
For is it of a nation that values knowledge
That gets the best of knowledge today and morrow .
Alayande Stephen .T
16th April, 2006
05.25pm
For Mr President 's special Library launch.
On a sale, my Aunt Bel can’t be denied
Access to mark-downs with red, yellow tags
Off for the big loot, her shoulders take pride
In carrying four gigantic tote-bags.
To keep poised, she dons fancy sunglasses
Like those models who shop but then conceal,
A giddy look that excites the senses
Obsessed about offers… Aunt’s set to reel.
Hurrying to snatch branded teenage jeans
Which do not fit her extra large belly;
She picks a bimbo hat, dye, and face-creams
As twinkling eyes roll … what a joyful spree.
While purchases are arranged , now she whines
The Mall’s closing with a long queue that’s packed
Bel groans,” I'm dizzy; my breathing's not fine,”
She gets ahead… feigning a heart attack!
Humorous Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Thomas Martin
Two millennia ago, a man told us to love.
500 years passed, and another told the same.
Another 500, a man’s followers killed his people in his name.
And they continue to my time.
Another 500 and the Slavs’ chains were relaxed,
In disfavour of those who’s stark beauty was demonised.
They struggle to escape even now.
Not too long after and rotten vines began to expand across the globe.
The rot killed history, and yet consumed its well ripened fruits.
While the vines have since gone the rot still grows from the same tree.
Throughout these years the blame has shifted,
From the people their idol lived among,
To his successors, to their slaves.
Now the heads look foolish for their fingers point in our direction,
Yet their backbone will utilise their ears,
And continue to walk to detain us.
200 years later or so,
And a new star-spangled nation emerged, rising like a phoenix,
burning their vine, and they began to spread their own rot.
100 year later, and the evidence had been branded.
Poverty across the wealthiest, war among the people of peace,
And those on the opposite side of the globe still called monsters in their own home.
And yet the mere four years was called
The worst of our history, the war to end all wars.
No one was surprised 20 years later, yet people fantasise,
eroticise and squeal about those times.
My mouth sours at the thought, no matter how much I try to forgive.
And ever since, false promises, true messages,
Critical salvation, dismissed protests,
State wide boycotts, civil wars.
I sit here, writing in the peace of the moonlight,
And I have realised that I have bought into it all.
I call this our history, and yet I started with him.
I call it this despite my ancestors.
But I do not know how else to function, for we have all done the same.
We bought into global suffering,
And so this is Our History,
And we are all the villains at some point.
The rot grows in the tooth of the beast that is life.
Technology that is useful,
Is built by hands that are purposeful.
Technology that is helpful,
Is designed by the insightful.
Technology can still be mastered,
If enough of us don't get plastered.
Technology is a tool, that has more blades than a swiss army knife,
With the potential to enhance our life,
If we can still see what is real,
And give the planet time to heal.
Technology can be branded low tech or high tech,
So, we can decide what is needed on deck,
Not what we can get if we decide to take what is written on that cheque.
Technology that is reliable,
Is not always available.
Technology that is unfixable,
Is readily available,
And sits on every table.
Technology that is harmful,
Is plentiful,
Technology that is sold to the gullible,
Is profitable.
Technology becomes compulsory in most lands,
When it is placed in government hands.
Technology has an impact that is undeniable,
For which you and I are liable.
So, while you are still able,
While you still have a brain that is rational,
Due diligence is advisable,
While the choice is still available,
For humans to do work that makes them essential.