Long Comparatively Poems
Long Comparatively Poems. Below are the most popular long Comparatively by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Comparatively poems by poem length and keyword.
Mr CEO, How Much Do You Make
Going around in Whatsapp circle is a viral message...
About a CEO with an inflated ego hoping to burnish his image....
Being a CEO knowing his own worth and full of self importance...
He presumes the world has to be in awe of how much he makes...
Acting magnanimous, he politely and ever so sweetly asked his dinner mate....
Being a long suffering teacher, how much is it that the teacher makes....
The teacher, she paused in her dinner, and launched a monologue....
About how she teaches her students the virtues of patience...
And mathematics and how invaluable it is minus the technological aids...
Guiding them to a C+ that feels like achieving a congressional medal of honor...
Teaches all the future brains and big wigs of society, CEO's included...
Her monologue was cunningly crafted calculated to cut down to size....
All those egoistic CEO's who feel they have arrived at the pinnacle of success...
She ended her broadside, asking, How Much Do You Make, Mr CEO?....
Hohoho....
The CEO lives in a different world and goes by a different yardstick....
In his world, it is all money in business, losses and profits....
That's the bottom line, money talks and makes the world goes round....
The comforts of life is his for the asking, given the mega bucks he has to be making....
The teacher in question is obviously one very peeved individual....
Given the comparatively peanut salary everybody knows she has be given....
His resentment has built up for she must have felt or has been reminded once to often...
Her salary is peanuts compared to her many successful ex students...
What can she do but put on a show of bravado...
Just be scathing and craft out a creative answer....
While massaging her long bruised ego over seemingly salary failure...
Earning meagre bucks yearly at base level while her CEO ex students soar all over...
That she feels ultimately superior is obvious from her concluding query...
A challenge to her rival, Just how much you make, Mr CEO...
When truth be told, she has merely applied a different yardstick of measurement...
To deflect yet another CEO's disdain for yet another teacher who was once his mentor...
Hohoho...
I am content to walk alone,
but to walk in company with others
adds vigor and passion to the journey.
Rumi
Good Taoists,
although I am not sure I actually know any,
refine their inclusively subordinate clauses,
and sentences,
and contracts,
and lives
Define eternally and mutually satisfactory gratitude,
anthrosupremely alone
LeftBrain dominantly apart
We camouflage EarthTribe's cooperative ecological praxis
producing win/win healthy outcomes
consistent with multicultural peak experience research
within human natural systems
Analogically synthesizing sacred principles of Earth's nature,
Her natural flow and spirited functions
Her decay and lifeless dysfunction;
like post-millennial PermaCulturalists.
But, Western Monotheistic Cultures
prefer more compassionate vigor in our strut
through this divinely manifest live-system
we inherited from Indigenous Elders past,
comparatively short-sighted
about EarthMother's healthy global future.
All newborns are experiential researchers of balance,
symmetry,
flow and rhythm,
form and beauty,
capacity and lack thereof,
time's sufficiency and spatial synergy,
and lack thereof.
Human children also evolve as recreative muses
of color, shape, paradigms, stories,
rhythms of patterned confluence,
and denigrated dissonance.
We can,
Taoist or not,
child or not,
use dissonance to show us our way
toward appositional confluence.
We are each compelled to survive,
and sometimes togathering thrive,
in this Tao way,
within double-boundaries of systemic spacetime trauma
and therapeutic imagination,
rooted in regenetic memory.
Imaginations grow intuitively fueled,
empathic powered,
passioned,
vigorous,
with polysystemic comprehension of Prime Relationship
P-Yang=NP-YinYin,
binomial win/win thermodynamic balance,
as +1 = -(-0)
co-binary eco-empathic.
Cooperative economic polycultural balance,
exploring inclusive oppositional subsidiarity
to optimize EarthDay's slow-growth atmosphere
as one EarthTribe Community,
both compassionate,
and, hopefully, still content
with being less lonely
hiding behind all our LeftBrain dominant
verbal camouflage.
I have great respect for you, and I have refused to take any of you for granted, even though I have never experienced your presence. Even though we do not always understand, I know that everything that God has created has also been given a time and purpose.
You are a mighty force to be reckoned with. I know that it is not your fault and that it is even beyond your control. The dear people of Texas suffered the wrath of Hurricane Harvey just a few days ago. He was a category 4 storm, and you, Irma are coming across the Caribbean as a category 5.
One loss of life is one too many, but with Harvey there were comparatively small numbers of lives lost. We are hoping and praying that God will hear our cry for lives to be spared by you also. One thing is sure: we can prepare for you and pray to God, because only God can control you.
You have been next to impossible to predict, and the models cannot get a real fix on you. You are strong; you are huge; and your winds speeds of 185 MPH are probably historical. Unfortunately, you might change all the rules about hurricanes. There is nothing like you, and you may be the most powerful in history. At 18 miles per hour, at least you are moving faster than Harvey, and that is a good thing for which we are grateful.
For Atlantic hurricanes like yourself, there is a list of names for every six years. So the 2017 list will be used again in 2023. This cycle changes if a storm is so deadly or costly that the use of it's name is deemed inappropriate. It is retired and removed from the rotation. For example, to name a few: Matthew 2016, Sandy 2012, Irene 2011, and Katrina 2005 are hurricane names that have been retired. Your name and Harvey's will not appear again. We also pray that no hurricane like you will ever cross the Caribbean again.
09062017 PS Contest #2, Another 2017 Stunner. Line Gauthier, 3P; Late October Standard, Brian Strand
One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest
The apparent insanity of inmates
and prisoners
and addicts, conspiracy theorists and paranoids,
does not prove,
nor necessarily even suggest,
the keepers are not also self-entitled nuts
with unhealthy powers,
narcissistic self-serving authorities,
delegated detached responsibilities
primally loyal to ratchet race competitions.
Passion Story
When you are crucified, naked, poor
and occupied by RomanRed yangish powerful voices
and Loser commodity values,
unhealthy fought and sold colonizing authorities,
irresponsible fury-power occupiers,
violators of healthy green peace objectives
applicable to any sanctuary
with humane organic embodied rituals and behaviors
yet still WinLose divine punishing evolution-machine minded,
then we have all become historic asylum invited
to purge messianic homeless egos
perpetually hanging on HolonicSpirit's centering Earth-cross,
rather than remain comparatively imprisoned by traumas
to the disassociating left or right cross of hopelessness.
Health History Story
A. Earth was born, still, flat, without form and ZeroCentric void.
B. S/he remains newborn and young,
springing organic life
WinWin preferential solidarity with all EarthTribe,
inmate prey and predative keepers.
C. S/he still grows mature healthy Heavenly summer sun
over nurturing MotherEarth,
sacred/secular health/wealth care conjoined.
D. S/he co-emerges Northern revolutionary Yang/Yin bicameral,
bilateral healthstream co-arising poly-paths,
-phonics,
-cultures,
-nomial maps,
-meme messages,
-asylums for growing non-sectarian communal nutrition.
One Flew Into the Communion NestEgg
See "Health History Story" above
The apparent stillborn insanity of original patriarchal residents
need not predict
Yang/Yin co-redeeming caregivers
are not also ego- v eco-logical sanctuary sociopaths
sabotaging our own potential opportunities
for polypathic sacred communion passions.
Ego laying
and nesting
and active resting
and birthing
and raising
and lowering
back into EcoAsylum's non-sectarian EarthPeace nest.
In some integral green ways,
and blues truths,
and red-hot fear-filled/angry rightwing lives,
We all began as the ecofeminist
EarthMother-wombed and -birthed
children
And, thereby,
co-attached with her EarthMother's health-egged
mind/body habitat-nurturing womb
Ecosystemic
regenerative,
win/win committed
embedded
indigenous
Win/Win ReGenerative Living
Loving Nature EcoSystemic
environment
Holy EnSpirited back
back
back
to when we were each
a mere NonZero Egg
integrally potentiating
another EarthTribal Living Soul.
Each individuating
segregating
original win/win toward win/lose
conversion experience
severs EcoSystemic Mother
from New neuro-systemic EgoDeveloping
BiCameral-Life
Originally one dipolar co-arising win/win
eco-political conversion communication system
for transactional nutrition
and bilateral neurosensory co-invested exchange
for Ego/Eco BiLateral Intelligence
Emerging into a segregating
comparatively autonomous physical win/lose
heuristic neurosystemic mind//body
conversion experience
for new EgoLife
Into monoculturing LeftBrain dominant
straight white patriarchal-hierarchical orthodoxy
competitive BusinessAsUsual verbal debate
following rational deductive Either-X/Or-Y
complex branching distinctions
of many multiculturing differences
definitions not also seen as potential refine-moments
That we may also convert
out to expand multicultural experience
with co-empathic
Both-X/And-Y RightBrain interdependent memory
of primal X/Y Win/Win Attachment
Draws us toward healthy win/win EarthMother Justice
polyculturally thought/felt ego/eco-systemic
CoPassion NonVerbally-Felt Healthy/Safe Communion,
ComPassionate Verbal Communication,
CoEmpathic Health/Wealth EcoPolitical Community
EcoSystemic Conversion Experiences.
Written with capital headings
because LeftBrain dominance
seems to prefer capitalism
competition
Either-X/Or-Y debate
over Both-X/And-Y discussion
about historic merits
of Win/Win multicultural creolization
over Win/Lose monocultural colonization.
My little child was like a butterfly.
She was fond of butterflies as well.
This was why I called her: butterfly.
She ran to me commanding me to tell her stories.
I obeyed as she had been the apple of my eye.
‘Tell me stories’, this was how she commanded me once..
‘What?’
‘Tell me stories'.
I felt it was as though asking Bheeshma Pitamaha at his deathbed of nails to utter the 'Gita'!
He could. Could I?
Flesh mine was, of course, weak.
Spirit- Was mine strong?
I was drowning in cancer.
Well, I asked her then:
‘Stories on what?’
‘On butterflies.’
I was absolutely perplexed.
I thought then: was it, in actual fact, a coincidence?
Was it not my dream, once, to talk about butterflies?
'I should speak out', I thought.
I felt in the interiors of my heart that it was a call of the time, or, rather, a demand of the time.
Hence, I decided to put a temporary halt to my grand finale: Death.
Amidst unbearable pain, I did make words from my throat to hail.
To all those who were on the watch of my health, my words sounded as though the last song of a dying nightingale.
I started my story.
Indeed, I did not know then that it was she who was a better storyteller and poet, and philosopher than me.
‘Once upon a time, there was a butterfly…’'
Then I saw her 'flying after' a beautiful butterfly that rushed therein and dazzled away like a dazzling of lightning.
She came back after a while, panting, puffing.
She asked me, ‘what had happened to that butterfly?’
Might be due to the annoyance of her disrupting the very outset of my story, yet, of course, not out of malice or contempt, I told her abruptly, ’she's no more.’
She was shocked! Cheerless!
She seemed as though feeling absolutely sorry for the creature.
It was hence she exclaimed:
‘Butterflies have a comparatively shorter life span. Why don't you tell me stories of butterflies that have longer lives? Or, why don't you give longer life to butterflies in your stories, at least?’
I fell silent.
30 January 2023
The Boy from the Tail End of the Goldhawk Road
1.
The Boy from the Tail End of the Goldhawk Road
I was born Carl Robert Halling at the tail end of the Goldhawk Road which runs through Shepherds Bush in west London and which in the mid 1960s served as one of the great centres of the Mod movement, whose dandified acolytes were infamous for their vanity and hedonism.
I was raised in nearby Bedford Park, a comparatively genteel district close to the largely working class area of South Acton.
My first school was the Lycee Francais du Kensington du Sud, and by the time I was 4 years old, I was already bilingual.
I wasted little time at the Lycee in establishing a reputation as a troublemaker, a popular one admittedly, but a troublemaker nonetheless, constantly in trouble.
I was popular, that much is certain, not just with girls but boys too and blessed with a vivid imagination but I was a near impossible pupil which caused my poor mother a good deal of heartache, and on at least one occasion she drove me home in tears.
I seemed born to controversy, being impatient, disobedient, mischievous, remorselessly attention-seeking, a true imp of a child, on which the full force of the innate depravity of Man appeared to have landed.
At the same time, I was friendly, sincere and open, a good friend, and well-liked.
My Judo teacher at the Budokan in Hammersmith once told someone no doubt with a sickly feeling in the pit of his stomach that whenever he heard me he always knew it was Saturday.
I was no less a trial in the quaint little back streets of suburban west London.
My roughness could hardly have been helped by the popular music of the times.
By the time it came for me to leave the Lycee my scholastic standing had improved a little, and after some months spent at Davies Preparatory School, I received the most glittering school report of my entire young life; and was actually declared an excellent pupil.
You've been a rock
When I felt vulnerable and unsteady
You've been a comfort
When I felt weary and downcast
You've been a balm
When I was in agony and distrust
When those I counted as friends betrayed me
You stayed true
When others regarded my feelings as a doormat
You gently placed them in a jeweled box
When those closest to me could not vindicate me
You affirmed my intelligence and sanity
When others dismissed me as less than human
You regarded me as more than just a man
When others took more than they gave
You gave more than you took.
A greater portion of comfort
Was derived from the fact that
You were only
A one hour drive
A mere train ride
Away
But now
Life inflicts yet another reminder
That the best things never last
Although it is for the best
It is a bitter, painful pill to ingest
Although it is a comparatively short distance
Shorter than the Oregon Trail
It is a far distance
Far from your jokes, you’re your sisterly scolding
As well as your shami kebab. curried okra, and chai
Although I am happy for you
And although I wish you much success and joy
My heart is tearing at the very seams
Of your own mending
And while your map can lead you to your destination,
My abundant tears, like Hansel's breadcrumbs
Can easily lead you back to me, when G-d is willing
For you have been more than a friend
You have been a sister
Though you have the courage
To keep bulls at bay
You have the tenderness of a lady
And the wisdom to know when to use both
Where yonder can I find your duplicate?
Whereabouts may I find your twin?
For there is no one I know of quite like you
And your absence will be a void
As craterous as the Grand Canyon
Therefore keep me in your heart
Even in the tiniest nook
And never forget me, sister
For as sure as the sun in the sky
And the blood in my veins
I will always remember you
In my heart.
It’s a journey to be reconciled with the past,
especially when one’s life still carries the wound;
it’s like a running sore that permeates the soul,
a gigantic barrier, an impediment in any way.
God’s promise, “The light shines in the darkness,
and the darkness did not overcome it.” True!
Comparatively, some shades of darkness
have to be cleared and dispelled in one’s heart
the revealing darkness that symbolizes pain,
closed windows that block God’s blessing.
Well, it’s a metaphor to the so-called ‘wound’
a kind of silhouette that’s difficult to mirror
a kind of misfortune that ruins disposition.
It’s hard to believe those who’re with God,
those who teach about love and respect,
yet, it’s a tragedy to see them on the contrary
because they live with hypocrisy and irony.
This is what I feel as I welcome the New Year,
mired in hope that someday healing takes place
such a great deal that needs love and understanding
that life may be whole again with a heart that cares.
The throbbing verses of cultures
Chronicled as part of history
the reality gives meaning;
it's a pathway to move along,
a commitment to future dream,
a response to what is ideal.
Addressed as a piece of literature
the struggles involved with one another.
It's a life of experience that forms,
a historical menu to savor,
an enormous task to fulfill.
Lived as a language I best hear
with silence and profound meaning;
It's a human action and reaction,
a point to what we're here for;
being called to serve -
a measure to Christian perfection.
Proclaimed as a gospel of inspiration,
with diversity of cultures
that runs through this generation,
its texture, zest and color,
aptly describes, "we're one nation."
Being grateful for various reasons
with different contexts and situations.
They're hallmarks to great civilization;
with the continuing growth amid some afflictions,
a message of hope, worthy of revelation.
Propriety
belongs to a
society
as dignity
sings my song strong
individuality
Both benign
characteristics
earned right through
win/win wellness statistics
comparing
individualistic
flawed integrity
of Othering patristics.
Improperly colonizing
militarized monoculturing
choosing bitter
unbetter capitalizing
A worn down path
of ZeroSum assumptionizing
improper wealth baptizing baths
of undignified conclusions
unholy rising
Directed by a demonic god
weak and/or promiscuous
slatternly sinful goddesses
Eating Earth's own children
when Her Consort's favorite book
calls for religious recipe looks
of meaty mighty
sacrificial ingredients, cooked
For at least comparatively improper
social climate change
and oppositionally degenerative
personal political
lack of win/win gain
Integral knowledge
of which comes first,
propriety of worshipping Earth's
sacred ecosystemic birth
or healthing dignity
of individual bursts
into enlightening constellations
and empowering corporations
and health wealthing cooperations
for polyculturing climax peace,
resonant rebirth.
Earth health and safety
already pre-supposes sensory
dignified Mother propriety
v patriarchally improper memory
of a nationalistic society
rather bicamerally unbalancing
would-be patriots
of universally viral health integrity
Of and for healing
win/lose ZeroSum fractured stealing
from win/win Futures holistic
not not ZeroZone revealing
appropriately integrative
double negative
holy holistic co-relatives
of individuals socially sensitive
to EarthJust dignity reweaving
propriety redeeming
resonance restoring
Compassion's mind-invested work
and heart-infested
operatic passion play
singing through each reworked day
and nights of silent
holy
misty stay.