Long Civilize Poems
Long Civilize Poems. Below are the most popular long Civilize by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Civilize poems by poem length and keyword.
Come on OKPE and rise to the mountain top
How long will thy remain in the valley
Thy had been stuck and stagnant for ages
By the trauma's and flaws of our ancestors
Liberate your people from deceit of the past
Conquer our heart with truth for greatness
Come on OKPE and shine forth thy light
Illuminating every dark in the past
Bringing forth insights for creativity
Educate the minds of the youths for growth
To maintain within us peace, love and unity
Keeping us together against external forces.
Come on OKPE and portray thy greener pasture
How fertile is thy soil and people still hungry
How resourceful thy land and still lack finance
How brave and strong thy youths but still jobless
How long would hate lead us due to indifference
How much love we've got to share but seize to.
Come on OKPE and bind all thy people together in unity
North east west and south all in oneness for greatness
Selflessness over selfishness but same goals and spirit
So the next generation would be wiser and stronger
Ready and dedicated to carry out any given task easily
Building a standard and civilize nation with harmony.
Come on OKPE and portray thyself the pride of thy Nation
Showing the intelligence, knowledge and thy heritage
Soaring higher just like the eagle elevating the people
Restoring their father's land and replenishing thy mother's
Building and protecting thy people just like a griffin
seated in highest place, yeah can be the greatest People
Yeah are the chosen generation, royal priesthood, holy people
God's own special people, let's proclaim the praises of Him
who called us out of darkness into His marvelous light.
Girls could not wear pants to school
When I was just a kid
And on our feet were shoes, not sneakers;
That’s just what we did.
We got dressed up on holidays
Or specialized events
Like Broadway shows or graduations;
There were no dissents.
Grown-ups also went to work
In dresses, suits and ties.
Decorum was the rule of thumb then,
Meant to civilize.
We’ve come a long way from those years.
Now there are no set rules
And most would claim they like this freedom;
Dress codes are for fools.
Yet there are times I look around
At people at their jobs
And what I see is the result;
So many look like slobs.
I wouldn’t want restrictions like
The ones we used to know,
But it bothers me that sloppiness
Is now the status quo.
she chooses to begin
where ever the nearest end of the road bends
she chooses to share an identical heartbreak
for pains he painted
she cannot mend
she chooses to see no other men
her fiery red eyes
love now disgusting to her
but in her he is deep within
growing pains
nightmares
moans and aches
the road leads to open sea
a place where introverts roam
free
she and he may never be
so disturbing
these two distant lovers
destined to be
traveling carefully
carelessly
ambitiously
aimlessly
defining and defending
some new definition or new dimension of love
doves soar high above this open sea
where last and sudden embraces were shared
she and he may be no where
but love
the blossoming of intimacy and friendship
the busts and bursts of insanity and fear
the world blows winds of life
and life experiences new world leaders
leaders that warned them
of the end
and even still
she chooses to begin
again
and with him
to domesticate and civilize
the brave new world
a new old world
with him
My mind is tribal, I hunt in the mud and slurry,
I track the stars in a wooden chariot
made from the ribs of a blood-clan crib.
My thoughts are armored, yet as articulated
as any youthful flesh, they cannot be washed,
or manipulated, I have an ax for every hand
against them, a caress for those
who choose to fight on the battlefield
of inspiring ideas,
a painted arrow and shield to defend
the commandments of ever-mutating gods.
A green tree within a high mountain
is my mind, a solar flare of endless creation
are my barbaric prayers,
the same orisons that now civilize the corrupt
and morally spent.
I am the heart of existence, my tribal markings
cannot be scrubbed away, by smooth-skulled
manikins or the slick prattle
of any grandiose legion.
This has got to stop: Killing our citizens and Police Officers. Fourteen and thirteen year olds by their counterparts, this must stop. We have lost two very virbrant Officers of the Police Department, this can't continue.
It makes me fear my going out and coming in. Praying it's not my turn. All the lives taken are from people who have not reached their full potential in life. Why? We cannot just stand and look, We cannot just look? What can be done?
It is more than sad, going to young people's funerals. Just tell the reason for this senseless violence.
I am a senior and can't understand why this has to be. Is it the laws we have made, that no longer protects us? Have the people changed so drastically, there is nothing to be done? Is it necessary for everyone to walk with firearms? Tell me what is happening.Can we not go back to civilize behavior. Where is all this hate coming from?
I pray no wars between states again. Have we not learned anything?
Noble heritage they cannot erase
Ancestor’s plight laid bare for all to see
Tribal identity etched in each face
Invincible spirit their pedigree
Various attempts meant to “civilize”
Expanding demands for more and more land
Pogroms by forced removal terrorized
Extreme suffering they had to withstand.
Only unshakable resolve saw them through
Providing strength to mitigate their fears
Lives lost, yes, their memory we’ll renew
Endless remembrance of the Trail of Tears.
***
December 6, 2019
F G I series 23 tragedy
Brian Strand, sponsor
Submitted 12/20/2018
"Contest 530, Any Form, Any Theme, Up to Max 20 lines" Poetry Contest
Brian Strand, Judge and Sponsor
—A Poem for the Reckoning
You rulers of cold castles,
With pens that write in blood—
You sail on seas of sorrow,
Feeding empires with the mud
Of broken nations, broken backs,
Broken dreams beneath your tracks.
You dress in suits of polished lies,
But justice sees through every crack.
You preach peace, yet profit war,
Leave Africa wounded, bruised, and poor.
You take her gold, her diamond light,
Then call her children dark as night.
But night remembers every star,
And pain becomes a prophet’s scar.
You think the South won’t rise again?
The wind is whispering: think again.
You flood our lands with aid and debt,
You play the game, the same old set—
Divide, deceive, destabilize,
Then blame the weak for all your lies.
But history is not a tale you own,
And seeds of truth have overgrown
Your walls of silence, thick with sin—
The age of reckoning shall begin.
You build your riches on our bones,
Then cry when we reclaim our thrones.
You fear the fire that justice brings—
But we are not your broken things.
We are the children of the earth,
The sons and daughters of rebirth.
Our time is coming, step by step—
We’ve tasted death, and nothing’s left
To lose but chains and stolen names—
We’ve seen through all your wicked games.
You claim to civilize the rest,
While you enslave the world’s oppressed.
But now the veil is torn apart—
And every soul holds truth at heart.
You cannot hide in conference halls,
Your pride will shatter with your walls.
Your reign was built on blood and fear—
But every echo says: it's near.
The day when stars will fall like rain,
And every ghost you’ve birthed in pain
Shall rise and point a trembling hand—
To mark your legacy in sand.
The time when Europe’s mask will slip,
When power’s poisoned wine you'll sip.
You mocked the world, but now you see—
The world is waking. Finally.
So hear these words, not born of hate,
But prophecy you can’t escape:
That every child you left to die
Will rise and ask the heavens why.
And justice, dressed in silence long,
Will sing her last, relentless song.
And Babylon shall fall, not loud—
But slow, beneath the grieving crowd.
For what you sow is what you reap—
And truth, once woken, does not sleep.
...For years they both lived there
in the crisp mountain air,
the rolling ridges were their home,
it was not written down,
so what pleasures they found
are only to history known.
Come several years later
word spread of some raiders
attacking the valley for cows,
some claimed that Winisook
from their stocks freely took,
they had to move and do it now.
They formed up a posse
with one Joseph Bundy,
out seeing to avenge his shame,
they pursued the rogue braves,
and as they made their way
in the mountains Winisook was found.
No one could say if he
was the thief they did seek,
but nobody cared all that much.
Bundy saw his rival,
felt his anger in full,
drew his gun to end the man’s luck.
Bundy said, “I must civilize you
by letting daylight into your heart!”
Bundy then took aim, sought to bury his shame,
fired, and the bullet struck hard.
He fell against a tree,
and when his wife did seek
she found him dead, sitting upright,
though the loss truly burned,
she refused to return,
would never more be Bundy’s wife.
By the sight where he died
a new lodge did arise,
she would never be far from his grave,
and with Winisook’s kids
that is just what she did,
and lived there the rest of her days.
They say that tree remained
to speak of this great pain,
right into the last century,
but a railroad came by,
built an embankment high,
now it rests in the earth quietly.
Now the tale is near lost,
three long centuries off,
forgotten except for place names,
like Big Indian town,
the Winisook Lake grounds,
and folklore to speak of their fame.
Bwana wanna boogie on safari.
Bwana wanna porter fetch his gun.
Bwana wanna bag a bloody trophy.
Bwana wanna kill it just for fun.
Bwana wanna rumble through the jungle.
Bwana wanna rummage through the bush.
Bwana wanna buy a pagan baby.
Bwana wanna snag himself some tush.
Bwana wanna colonize the tropics.
Bwana wanna rule from pole to pole.
Bwana wanna civilize the heathen.
Bwana wanna circumcise their soul.
Bwana wanna drink his gin and tonic.
Bwana wanna party like a sport.
Bwana wanna play a little polo.
Bwana wanna build a tennis court.
Bwana wanna condo in the suburbs.
Bwana wanna manicure his lawn.
Bwana wanna customize his kitchen.
Bwana wanna throw some burgers on.
Bwana wanna watch a game on Sunday.
Bwana wanna drive an SUV.
Bwana wanna bear the white man’s burden.
Bwana wanna live like you and me.
Tread not on me, brother!
To live is to expand.
Deterrence! Slay the Other!
Cold core countermand!
Boots a-click-clack, cobblestone.
Midnight raid and how!
Help the boy to hold his own!
Sacred, O my cow!
Written in the ancient s blood?
Time to cause a flood!
Rill and river, ricin, rud!
Break, fade, flash, firewood!
Bats before the bayonets?
Batons too can kill.
Settle in before she sets?
Providence, thy will.
Wild as any modern force?
Stranger than the sea?
Shift, O river, from thy course?
Not the likes of me!
Covert action! Civilize!
Cut them down to size!
Aim for whites of foemen eyes!
Dare to criticize?
Thunder, roll o'er city street!
Alarums to ring!
Riot team, best ye complete!
Jerk them on the string!
Silent aftermath, thy path.
Kingdom, how ye grew.
Pour out poison on the math!
Hope, need talking to...