Long Charlatans Poems
Long Charlatans Poems. Below are the most popular long Charlatans by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Charlatans poems by poem length and keyword.
Born a lover, man of valor and strength
Admiration of women, eyes in length
Head of the valiant
Power acquired from assailant
Might relinquished at hand
Born to conquer by hand
From the sword lives the strong
Bold and louder than a gong
Name etched on stones to lead
Fame carved on skins to bleed
Highlander is the warrior
Half-man and half-sorcerer
Skilled to live and conquer
Fated to last like a meteor
Hundreds of years he has lived
Real or myth, not short-lived
To kill is to survive with dolor
To die is to live with honor
Villains of various characters
Attempted to deceive as praters
Enemies wearing tatters
Bearing signs and symbols of partners
Charlatans in images of beasts
Or allies of antagonist that feasts
No one has yet silenced
Voice of protagonist in valence
The name remains the same
Under a curse he lived without shame
Redemption for every kill on his list
Contrition and pains in his whist
Gorged with uncontrollable dreams
Scourge of endless reams
Hands of stone that's blown
Heart of own that groan
Immortality is the prize of existence
Mortality as the wager of penitence
Sword is a sign of the Cross
A token of torments embossed
Balance of justice he lived for
Weights of toils he'll die for
Hero or heel, he asked
Brewed or screwed, he basked
A King in his right to live
A slave in his sight to give
Blood in his own vein that whines
Soul in a body that grinds
Highlander is the title coined
Man of justice in his cry conjoined
Love in his heart will stand tall
Over heroism or barbarism of the fall
Love will prevail in the heart of the Highlander
Destined to outlast, not falter
There can only be one...
Behold, the signs are unfolding, the prophecy unfurls,
A celestial roadmap, guiding us through the whirlwind's twirls.
Let those with eyes to see, behold the majesty,
And those with ears to hear, heed the call of destiny.
Yah is coming, to reshape the world anew,
To bring justice and righteousness, to see it through.
As it is in heaven, so shall it be on earth,
The kingdom is coming, with divine rebirth.
The wise virgins stand prepared, with lamps alight,
Their hearts ablaze with passion, for the coming night.
Heavenly soldiers march forth, with armor shining bright,
Their swords unsheathed, their spirits unbroken in the fight.
The fire of the Word burns within them, a flame that never fades,
Their faith unshakable, their hearts unafraid.
They've fastened the belt of truth, donned the helmet of salvation,
Clothed in the full armor of Yah, their protection and foundation.
Though persecuted, they remain steadfast, unwavering and strong,
Bruised but unbroken, their spirit enduring all day long.
Cast into the lion's den, the beasts cannot prevail,
Thrown into the fire, the flames cannot consume, nor set them frail.
They're ready to follow Yah, no matter the cost,
Through trials and tribulations, they'll forever be lost.
The harassing voices, the charlatans' deceit,
Cannot manipulate them, for their hearts are anchored, their souls complete.
The serpent whispers lies, with cunning guile,
But they turn a deaf ear, for their identity is worth God's smile.
Their purpose, their destiny, is not of this earth,
But of the heavenly realm, where their true worth has birth.
The battle rages on, the war between good and evil's might,
But the soldiers of Yah stand firm, in the darkness of night.
Their light shines brighter, amidst the chaos and strife,
Guiding all who seek, to the path of eternal life.
My soul hears the cries of children,
their tears tethered to the whims of fate.
Children shackled to poverty,
without a future and bereft of love,
struggle to survive in a world of plenty.
And we exploit their plight,
pretending to care if they live or die
by sponsoring phony, predatory charities.
But the fact is, we care little for them;
they're mere propaganda fillers for partisan news.
We go to church, bend our knees, and pray
to God to forgive our sins.
But we believe we've found a loophole
in God's unconditional love;
how can He fault us for testing our free will?
But God commanded us to love our neighbor;
that choice was never left to us.
Humans are hypocrites and charlatans
who claim to be compassionate beings.
For we allow hungry children to starve to death,
without feeling any remorse or guilt.
We view their world as somehow make-believe,
convincing ourselves their suffering can't be real.
Democracy devolves into tyranny, Plato cautioned.
Flooded by the frigid torrent of factionalism,
will we certify his prediction?
Blinded by the prevarication of public discourse.
Numbed by the inundation of disinformation.
Crippled by the conspiracy of doubt.
The real deep state festers in our cortex,
a place where the charlatans of fallacy
invade,
a dwelling where terrorists of mind
take control.
But the terrain before us is vast.
The dense forest and effulgent meadows ahead are unmapped,
musky, fructuous forest floor perfumes the breeze,
The scarlet skyline of the dewy untrodden beckons us.
Abundant life is our rehearsal.
Can we honestly say we know for what?
Yet, such rapture is eloquent in our dreams.
Such reverie will arrest the parsing of our quintessence.
Our distortions are lifted when we are united
in communitarian struggle.
Published Online 4/2021: The Opiate Magazine
Also scheduled for print publication: summer, 2021
There is a corruption we all should abhor,
It starts on the left, and corrupts to the core,
Cancer of the soul, if left to go on,
It takes bit by bit, ’till the whole soul is gone.
Makes people think that there are no values,
That everything’s fine if it’s ‘true to you,’
Moral absolutes they loudly disclaim,
Then turn and wonder why the world seems insane,
Why their true feelings don’t bring happy lives,
Only leads to a black rage deep in inside,
‘being true to you’ is a moral perverse,
With no standard to judge, things get much worse.
What’s ‘true to one’s self’ for those fond of rape?
Should the serial killer show his ‘true’ face?
And what of the types who change ‘truth’ every week,
Then act offended if anyone speaks?
The corruption permits them to silence all,
Pushing more and more, until it all falls.
The corruption pushes out all real beauty,
Replaces it with the fecal and ugly,
Throws out the masters who’s work defies time,
Declares that splatter and blank space is ‘sublime.’
Renir, Bougereau, Bierstadt, and Degas,
Masters whose paintings amazed all who saw ,
Now me have charlatans, ‘artist statements,’
An art world that can’t uplift, just dement.
The same trend pus music into a plight,
Ignore Beethoven, ’cause his skin as white,
No longer to Mozart do critics clap,
But ‘es and ’hos,’ that’s where it’s at!
Celebrate decline, claim that it’s ‘sincere,’
As it there’s no ‘real’ behind beauty and cheer...
CONCLUDES IN PART II.
Self Inflicted
The wounds were “self-inflicted”
unmindful of the pain
that surged within the shattered soul
a never ending rain.
The priest in sanctimonious lie
anointed, blessed, and prayed
the parish nodded knowingly
they too had been betrayed.
The charlatans of Christendom
succumbed to mourning wail
while covering for demons
who should have gone to jail.
Thus did the guilty wash their hands
lead guileless sheep to follow
the scent of incense acrid air
flickering through tallow.
Warped plywood covers tear-stained glass
the altar’s gods evicted
to suffer the never ending pain
of wounds they “self-inflicted”
1/21/2016
submitted to - Self Inflicted – Poetry Contest
sponsor – Anthony Slausen
Reality, wow what a concept
lifes provable facts
those incontrovertible truths
things that stick out and not fall in the cracks
Its subject to interpretation you see
describing the elephant for the blind
this part the leg,
that a tail, this part a trunk!! Divine!
For reality takes an observer
to set itself in the track
if that tree fell in the woods with no one to hear
did it make a sound of a crack?
Without perception it's all contention
if it ever existed at all
and we are all running around with vivid imaginations on ground
till incontrovertible evidence is found
See it, touch it, document away
till the item in question is in decay
or maybe even obliterated away
the observation itself causing the obliteration to stay
And so that was how faith was born
for people to believe in others known truths
we didn't have to experience it first hand
we just had to trust like a youth
And from that comes charlatans
who mangle that truth for cash
and make the world a caricature
and history rewritten despite past
With no firm understanding of what is
or firm understanding of what was
people lose their compass
and look to god above
Reality, wow what a concept. - Artimus (C) 10/11/2023 Susan Manley
Dr. George Gey from Johns Hopkins Hospital
Was looking for cells that would be reproducible
Of their own accord for the benefit of medicine
And lo and behold one day found the perfect specimen
And how he acquired it didn't rattle his conscience
Because there weren't any rules then that governed the science
So he made them immortal or maybe God did that
Then he gave them to others who sold them for profit
And the cells multiplied and aided discovery
And they probably will help cure cancer one day
But where did they come from, the specimen's human?
Those cells were extracted from a mother, wife, woman
Poor Henrietta or maybe Loretta
Was a work-a-day lady who hailed from Virginia
She married her cousin and bore him five children
Then after the war steel work took them to Maryland
One winter's day Hennie felt her womb knotted
"Hennie," said Day, "we should go to Johns Hopkins"
"Henrietta, you're pregnant but there's something else growing
And what's in your system for sure we're not knowing"
So commencing the testing and treatment for cancers
But for all of the prodding came not any answers
At age thirty-one Henrietta died painful
And to her baby Deborah she'd be a guiding angel
So imagine her shock when she learned about HeLa
The cell line immortal that came from her mama
As reporters and charlatans flocked to their family
Some of them claimed they could gather owed money
But more than the money was the need to acknowledge
What their mother had given and pay her due homage
So bear with me now as I offer this paraphrase
Of the beautiful refrain that her headstone articulates:
In loving memory of phenomenal Hennie
A woman wife mother who touched the lives of many
Here lies HeLa her cells helping mankind eternally
As the Love forever to you from your family
With a load of worries on your shoulders
You dolefully trudge on your path of life
Evading any ditches or impeding boulders
craving for a life free of stress and strife.
But then someone cuts right in front of you
Shoves his faith in your face and his views
And wouldn't let you be even on cue,
Sadly but the pestering just continues.
And for the fact, since the beginning of time
Priests and politicians have come and gone,
Yet mankind has kept on with his crime
So why not leave politics and religion alone?
That’s when I go crazy with a machete,
Hold me tight for I can’t stand steady,
Like to shred those goons like spaghetti...
Ha, I am shuddering with rage already!
~11/08/17
~Judgmental People and Haters
contest by Brenda Chiri
Much of my life has been in the environs of church activities,
some of which found me in the presence of 'faith healing evangelists'.
I do not mean to be, but I tend to be a natural sceptic; so I look deeper.
Therefore, I have often been internally inquisitive of what others say they saw. Even though both their eyes and mine were present, we often saw differently.
Me thinks sometimes we see what we want to see and create our own realities. I am by choice and by Divine Favor a person of faith and live within and outside the box. I am far more influenced and moved by 'the prayer of faith' from any 'unnoticed everyday believer' than by Faith Healers, and I have every reason to believe that The Lord responds to 'the unnoticed'. Moreover, it is the prayer of faith that saves the sick....*
I am much too rational for some and a bit radical for others; so I am not out to please. I have been in meetings of 'Faith Healers', but have witnessed far less realistic healings. I believe that there are bona fide mortals of giftedness who heal through faith in Christ, and I do not hesitate to say that I am often disenchanted by mortals, but always enriched in Christ. It's not that most of them are charlatans, because they are usually sincere in their faith, but I am inclined to believe that there is less substance and a lot more exuberant emotions.
It is unfortunate that dollar signs and the thirst for prosperity have outpaced healings exceedingly. Minus a few bad and ugly apples, my journey in the arenas of Faith Healers have been good. In spite of the misleading, the misfortunes, and the misplacements of 'faithful hopefuls', the True Healer, Christ, still heals. Faith Healing does not have to be denied, nor should all Faith Healers be placed in the same camp. Personally, I have always sought to have 'A Balanced Faith' that keeps me deeply rooted in Christ.
120220PSCtest, Faith Healer Poetry, Kai Michael Neumann
*James 5:15a