Long Bribed Poems
Long Bribed Poems. Below are the most popular long Bribed by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Bribed poems by poem length and keyword.
And ignoble prize trumpeting hubris awarded to...
Bourgeoisie donning ersatz
overstuffed ego freezer bewigged pate
"FAKE" grotesque humanitarian
bribed corrupt judges will vindicate
jimmied cracked corn
land of "milk and honey"
red hot button he spoils to activate
countdown to Armageddon
leaving nation prostrate,
all the more reason to axe electoral college,
now holds electorate
hostage to bully tactics grate
for dead souls – zombie thriller, viz
Putin on the ritz,
whereby Pavlov's dog will salivate
on cue and pony show will titillate,
and worse case scenario, a far more terrible fate
than death by a thousand cuts
equals his refusal not to abdicate
presidency, should voters
get smart to administrate
White House with progressive commander
in chief he/she will adjudicate
decency, honesty, integrity... and acclimate
government toward amity, comity, equality...
oh,... and most importantly advocate
salutary measures affecting biosphere,
where industrialization didst devastate
contaminate by bajillion beings birthrate,
every square inch of Earth
*****sapiens succeeded to abominate...,
prima facie global warming doth correlate,
hence primary requisite mandate
to reorient modus operandi no time to wait,
where carbon footprint negligible
still preserving technological paradigm
fixing low cussed electricity to generate
courtesy renewable resources
else man/womankind will become footnote
atrophied trappings agglomerate
twenty first century civilization
damned, inundated, ossified bridgegate
checkmated, choked, chucked... wag gone wheels
das spare - tread fully tires fuming primate
jammed fruits of loins going bananas
infuriating, exhausting accelerating
no exit (sorry Sartre) to circumnavigate
hardy lee any recourse to extricate
oneself from madding crowd
self resignation minimally doth alleviate,
whereby impatient broods frustrate
inaccessible jackknifed mobility,
thence spark ignites spontaneous eruption
impossible mission to plug
crowdsource mob frenzy translate
pent up fury once loosed doth degenerate
into atavistic pandemonium cutthroat rage
snarling human logjam foaming at mouth
poised to strike ready to decapitate
any remaining shred of salvation barren feeble
slow vac hoovering, milking, and sucking
every last vestige of bondage peoples extirpate.
ronic – isn’t it…?
The very essentials we need to survive
Are the same essentials that endanger and destroy us!
The very same people we love
Are the same loved ones we hurt or hurt us –
The very same life occurrences and events
That cause us to smile and laugh
Are the same occurrences and events that cause tears and humiliation!
Ironic – isn’t t…?
The same life we cherish and deem of priceless worth
And we hold fast to never foresee its end
Is the same life we mis-care for and waste
Toss aside and risk and gamble away
As if its value were less than a penny worth!
Ironic – isn’t it….?
The same sunlight that produces energy and cheerfulness
Is the same sunlight that burns us with its UV Rays!
The same smile that deems us cheerful and beautifully radiant
Is the same smile that label us “fools” to our predators!
The same hand that extends to help and rescue
Is the same hand we use to strike and knock each other down.
The same eyes we use to captivate beauty all around us,
Ae the same eyes that covet our neighbor’s possessions!
Ironic – isn’t it…?
A friend can be your worst enemy
While one’s enemy could have resulted to be your closest friend.
A friend lies to another – even for mercy’s sake
But, an enemy holds NO reservations or presumptions!
If an enemy tells NOT the truth
At the very least he shares his opinion and his thoughts
With no presumptions or reserves!
Ironic – isn’t it…?
The very dust we are drawn from
is the same dust we return upon death.
Ashes to ashes – dust to dust
The conclusive summary of a man’s journey
Is that a man’s life is but a mere reflection – a flash –
Of how his life PRIMARILY began!
“From birth to earth
From womb to tomb”
(More than just a West Side Slogan)
Connoting that life and death are bound like brothers
When often perceived as oppositional rival enemies.
Life calls for a celebration
While death yearns for acceptance
Not rejection!
Ironic isn’t it…?
Death’s announcement bares no good news!
We run from death and fight against it
Even when we know we stand NO CHANCE to defeat it
But only to surrender ourselves to it as we stand POWERLESS against it,
For death cannot be cheated nor tricked
Bribed nor negotiated
Death bears nothing to offer but death itself:
An infinite eternal flat-line with no further response
On any end!
Homer in his prime knew what was divine he sets out to woo the earth but his ambition was crumbed in the dirt, the Trojan War is an epic of past, love, power, hate, marriage, and crime; the Greeks and the city of Troy and the ten years war that took many lives and causes numerous painful sacrifices.
The marriage of Peleus’ and Thetis’ brought the whole nation together Zeus in his fantasy was merry and happy but the goddess of strife was denied entry to the marriage feast and so she made a dangerous decree, she throw her gift among the guests; and everyone scramble to find the second best, Aphrodite, Athena, and Hera began to fight for it but the spoon quickly ran away with the dish.
Zeus in all his pride could not decide who to get the goddess of strife gift and Paris, the prince of Troy, was asked to make the decision but Paris was not the smartest fellow and he left everything in a big hollow and so Hera the queen bribed him for a thin limb.
Hera promised him political power and a sordid throne for tomorrow; but Athena in a subtle tone promise, wisdom in mind and battle in pride but that could persuade Paris. Aphrodite knew his heart from the start and promised him the beautiful Helen of Sparta. But he quickly chose Aphrodite and wrap up the selection plight, woman was his weakness and he went all the way for her.
Charming Helen was married to Menelaus, the mean king of Sparta so, Paris journeyed to Sparta and kidnapped Helen from her home and brought her back to Troy with him and Helen could not resist his touch and she fell in love with Paris when she felt his heart and from there on the Trojan War began. It started with a gift and ended with a gift.
The Greeks surround the city of troy and hid in the Trojan horse. A few of them went back to sea and pretend as if they were gone but Paris and his men hang out on the lawn, and what they thought was a precious gift was an ambush set outside lawn. No sword was drawn, no blood was spilt but the Greeks defeated troy with a massive fire ball when they took the Trojan horse inside, “burn! Troy burn” the Greeks shouted.
And so Homer, the greatest storyteller of all gave an account of how the mighty Trojan fall on his way back from the Trojan War in the epic Iliad. You are a long way from home.
The Lost Art Of Composition
too often my thoughts and the ability to express them
are taken hostage without a clue to the cause
this is an affliction familiar to many a writer
as if madness wasn't enough
it proves to be immune to every method I've used
to relieve my minds constipation
it enslaves your ideas and duct tapes the mouth of your soul
binds your fingers and hands so you are unable to write
I Whiskeyed and Scotched it self medicated with drugs
the addiction that resulted I thought could be bribed
held a knife at its throat threatened, bullied and beat it
poked and scratched at the eyes
Kicked it in the balls
pleaded and begged even got on my knees and prayed
all my efforts were ineffective
it only pissed it off more and tightened the grip
around my Muse's neck
I had exhausted my resolve to this disease that consumed me
there was no other option but to surrender
I decided to give up , knuckle under call it quits
not answer the bell for the next round
I disconnected my computer and turned off my cellphone
the typewriter on my desk just for show
I've had since college every once in a while I have at it
so I stashed in the closet with books by Sexton, Wolfe and Burroughs
Cisneros, Bukowski and Gonzo
I turned down the lights and lit some candles
sat at my desk to prepare my suicide note
what happened when the ballpoint touched the papers surface
was the key opening the front door lock to home
an energy manifested that I had known long ago
before Technology had deadened it's nerves
it sparked the transfer of thought into a word
forming the shape of a sentence
this cosmic electricity flowed into my hand holding the pen
then designed a paragraph the child of chapter
I touched every noun felt each verb envisioned the adjectives description
heard every "ly" in the adverbs reply and ignored the rules of punctuation
I had discovered the remedy to restore my inspiration
the cure I possessed all along
The lost art of composition was my salvation
my own prescription is what I wrote
the poet is an artist that paints in the darkness
a poems words the colors that create light
a writer is blessed with all of the answers
cursed in the search for what questions to ask
Judge Burdon
The hummingbird
Came to feast on my vermilions
Filled my heart with joy ‘til
Pinkie rang the bell.
About the time all is well
A solution is in sight
The future looks bright,
Pinkie rings the bell.
Pinkie’s bell is not so loud
Sometimes it is silent — remember
At your church and school,
Work and neighborhood,
Family gathering and vacation,
Thanksgiving dinner, Christmas and reunion
When things looked too good,
Pinkie rang the bell.
Guns are everywhere
Killing more than cars
When Congress wants to act,
Pinkie rings the bell.
With a handicap of forty
Pinkie can defeat you
No matter how far under par
He plays the game.
We demanded universal healthcare
More times than I can recall —
Each time we came close,
Pinkie rang the bell.
Even though the score
Is three to three
And a winner must be had,
Pinkie rings the bell.
Pinkie’s bell
Rings so bolshily
It can say no to anything —
Completely stop the day.
Four hundred years of racist laws
Were about to be undone and
Segregation made taboo until
Pinkie rang the bell.
You can count on Pinkie at your golden anniversary
Centennial birthday, high school graduation and bar mitzvah
To be waiting in the wings for you to stumble
Before he rings the bell.
Phyllis Schlafly’s ring choked the ERA,
Andrew Jackson’s paved the Trail of Tears,
Jim Crow’s postponed equality,
Ronald Reagan’s blocked almost everything.
Countless treaties promised
Natives they could keep
What was already theirs, then
Pinkie rang the bell.
You may want infrastructure,
Women priests, and world peace;
Before progress can be had,
Pinkie rings the bell.
Never mind the struggle
Pinkie will be there —
Universal suffrage, gun control or parity;
Some say Mitch McConnell
Is the champion Pinkie of our time.
Can you count the times
His alarm was so loud we were blinded when
Pinkie rang the bell?
You and I may hope
For an improved tomorrow;
Have faith that man will do better, no matter —
Pinkie rings the bell.
Pinkie has his way so often
He believes he’s always right;
His followers know it too —
They provide the wall —
The naysayers have advantage
The sun is in our eyes
The courts are made of mud
The referee’s been bribed.
Happiness, happiness, happiness
The one thing we all seek
What does it really mean
The million tonnes of gold we hoard
Or the millions of cash stashed in a bank’s vault
Fleets of expensive cars cruising the streets
Or diamond ornaments glittering for all to see
Big parties on yachts and clouds just to please
Or a program on tevee just so they may see who it really is
All these yet at the end of the day the heart is still not at ease
The look within doesn’t satisfy nor please
So what really is missing
Happiness surely does exist
And the truth is that there isn’t a price to it
Just a smile and a honest heart spreads the enthusiasm with ease
Hearts can’t be bought but friendships can be bribed
It’s a choice we all must make
To live at ease in adequate means
Or to cheat and connive to acquire wealth built of lies
At the end of it all, the only room big enough is the one in your soul
At the end of the day
...the only compliment worth to be heard is that which you give yourself
The only true best friend one can have is the one in the mirror
For with that friend is where happiness begins
How can you love others if you can’t love yourself
How can I honestly appreciate others if I can’t appreciate myself
How can they find happiness if they don’t know what it means
Happiness is the only thing that the blind can see
...better than the ones who see
Happiness is the only thing that the deaf can hear
...better than those who hear
Happiness activates the limbs of the handicapped
While those appropriately moulded still don’t function efficiently in it
Happiness is a destination to which no one can cheat
For it requires a sincere pass in each and everyone’s mind and heart
You may cheat me with your smile
But you can’t cheat the you inside
It’s not about me, it’s not about us...It is about you
This reality is a syndicate for your happiness
Question is, do you recognise it
You can afford to buy off all your past
And keep it under lock and throw away the keys
What matters is now
...for it is here that happiness is to be found
Looking back only presents regrets
Looking ahead only presents worries
It is only when you are happy that tomorrow promises to be a blessing
There's an unwanted listener lurking in my way.
I'm worried about what they may or may not say.
They could have heard something I did not want them to know.
Makes me wonder if maybe I should lay low.
Unwanted listeners can be found in many different forms.
They can be hidden in ways you cannot even imagine.
While you wait for what they might perform.
They can use objects to their advantage, technology is just one of their sources, since it chooses to lie there, sitting unnoticed.
It gathers all the information that it is programmed to collect
While it travels to the ears of the person waiting to recollect.
Unwanted listeners can vary from young to old. Once bribed they're integrity and self-respect has been sold. They are now the puppet to the puppeteer, as their strings are pulled the information that they need draws near. The masterminds behind these evil deeds hides nearby, unfolding many secrets while using the innocent as they're disguise. They wait patiently, watching their plan come alive. At the same time hoping that the innocent doesn't panic and turn away in strive.
Unwanted listeners have a history of destroying the lives of many, but not all of them are bad. In unlikely cases some of them help the sad. There might be a person who stumbles into your conversation. They are surprised at what they might have overheard but still use that as their motivation. Out of the goodness of their heart, they set their own selfish needs apart. Secretly they benefit from this act of civil kindness, while the unknown suffer from temporary blindness. They will assume that this is just a person attempting to be nice. At the same time wondering if this is going to come with a specific price.
Unwanted listeners can be something of a surprise. As they have two options, either help those fall or rise. They have been around for centuries, in the present and in the past. However no one can predict the future, for who knows how long these unwanted listeners are going to last. Though I do believe they will always find a way to grab as much information as they need. Whether it was been planned or come up unexpected, there are indeed ways to plant this special seed.
To be predicted means that you’re the fruition,
Of a rational process, effortful and determined;
We can all predict that someone will soon cure cancer,
And so Jesus was foretold as medicine’s romancer.
The name Jesus Christ means predicted saviour,
And Isaiah 53 verse 5 states that he definitely would be,
Wounded by the government for the people’s freedoms,
But that because of his wounds society would be superior.
Those who were intelligent just before Jesus came,
Felt a wave of change in the medical field,
Where doctors only treated the families of the rich:
The intelligent said that such a wave would equality yield.
When Christ was stressed out, about to be arrested,
He forsook his medical mind and surrendered all to god;
You can see that the god thing is for trials by government,
Or today, trials by society when your stance is not odd.
Upon arrest, the soldiers wanted Jesus of Nazareth,
Not Jesus the son of god, or the Jesus of any divinity tribe,
And Jesus simply replied to them “I am he,” squarely and plainly,
Unlike at his trial, where for speech he had to be bribed.
The allegation was indeed productivity in profession,
His work skill, which came and grew from his family roots;
He got much social power from his healings and exorcisms,
As he had learnt the joinery trade well, had invented new shoots.
Caiaphus asked if he was a king from the miracles he did,
Miracles of course being new methods and techniques,
And he replied to Pilate that god, the church and he himself,
Determine his actions, that their lee-way is his health.
Jesus was popular at church, not amongst the government,
So it was informally considered to be his validator;
The question was whether the people still saw state over church,
For common order to be maintained and not left in the lurch.
He knew he would die for the good he had done in life,
So inaugurated communion to remember his cause:
Loving the weaker, lower ones no matter who they are,
Saying everyone should know that personally in applause.
The Passion of the Christ film 2004 used.
LETTER TO VOTERS
Dafinacatensartpieces...instapage
Do you remember their promises
When they made a baraza for pleas
That when you elect them there will be a change
Bribed you wil a small amount as your wage
Its five years now
I hope what im saying you know
They stood on high tables for you
Did you notice their fake smiles as they spoke to you
Hello they cheated even your sons and daughter
Free education for election and afterwords they had laughter
Remember your money they took to slaughter
And the speeches they listened in laughter
Five years without action
Now see five years your reaction
Poverty has pervaded and invaded as motion
Here is your daughter and son at home with no vision
I did not speak it at the time
I wanted you to taste lime
Because they cheated on your hopes
They ran up and down to win your hearts
They met behind the scene
Because they knew their sin
They cheated to get royalty
And with you they had no loyalty
How is the infrastructure
How is the towns structure
See how they have changed nature
Our own families we cant capture
Where are the promises they made
Its now time for change of what we had
They are here again to have more five years..its sad
They have incomplete projects to stand
Thankyou and cheers to responsible leaders
Who has made us ladders
We stepped on to see our hunters
And here we are because they were superiors
I think they need to be awarded
They need a new step added
They are great kudos men with qualities
With you we have had more abilities
They made education free and accessable
They carried most task which parents were not able
We stand by their own legs and we are connected to them like cables
They made us fall against our troubles
Its time to change and get our best
Yes they say change is best like rest
Lets change and find them at west
Because they may cheat us again in east
Its wise for voters
To chose not their haters
But get promoters
Its a letter to voters
Dafinacatensartpieces .instapage
Votewise#2022elections#wisedecisions#Kenya
I’m moving down a forest trail,
wooden canyon on my right side,
above, on thermals, raptors glide,
always inspires without fail.
I hear a rustle before me,
and wonder just who that could be?
Perhaps it is an Indian,
face painted, war club on his back,
looking down at the dirt track,
the path taken by his foemen,
they took his woman in a raid,
his bow will flash, and they will pay…
Maybe it’s a militiaman,
on the lookout for that same brave,
the British stirred them to a rage,
bribed them to devastate the land,
dirty tricorn and old musket,
but he’s rarely had to use it…
Or could it be a long-hunter,
clad in leather, fringe, and fur hat,
rifle and necessary bag,
seeing it the duff is disturbed,
tracking an elk across the hills,
hoping tonight he’ll eat his fill…
Perhaps it is a pioneer,
just passing through on his way west,
his only clothes are on his chest,
his destination isn’t near,
looking for land that he can farm,
clear it with just strength of arm…
Maybe it is a lumberjack,
timber-cruising for trees to fell,
which ones to cut, his eyes can tell,
some of them broader than his back,
snaps is suspenders on his plaid,
they’ll have work for all of the labs…
Or a uniformed park ranger,
tired from long miles on his feet,
these winding trails his daily beat,
always looking out for danger,
knowing poachers frequent this place,
they’ll pay the price for unfair play…
It could be a tourist family,
father wrangling eager kids,
who dash about (like he once did!),
so many things they want to see,
his wife carries the little one
who snoozes in the mid-day sun…
Though it could be some teenager,
even now she’s glued to her phone,
why did she even leave her home?
Takes selfies to show off later,
Is she awed by the canyon’s drop?
or is it just another prop…
But it is none on these things, no,
it is an ambling black bear,
we’ve caught each other unaware,
neither seems to know where to go,
He’s as surprised by this as me,
was he also caught up in daydream?