Long Complexes Poems

Long Complexes Poems. Below are the most popular long Complexes by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Complexes poems by poem length and keyword.


Premium Member Attractor

I formed a basin of attraction
somewhere inside my brain
It pulled deduction toward it
Mere reason was in vain.

They warned me she was mean
She treated horses bad in Texas
I discounted what they'd seen
Thought they had complexes.

Her ex sat down across from me
said "there's something missing there:
There's no promise she will keep...
I beg you to beware!"

But my basin of attraction
said this time she'd be true
Warnings could not get traction
In one ear and out they flew.

She was my type, I believed
A false model grew in my mind
But events proved I self-deceived
flipped that basin, truth aligned.

So all you who study brain computation:
learn how the landscape warps and bends
It may help some avoid the consternation
of making that mistake again.

Last I heard she found acting roles
with cowboys on the silver screen
Jealous pang inside my soul
Then they tried to shoot the roundup scene

The horses bucked and threw her.
cause they knew - she was plain mean.
Production failed, couldn't sue her
Studio budget was wiped clean.
 
But she hooked a wealthy actor
He ignored my note saying "beware"
He spiraled into a chaotic attractor.
I understand, because I've been there.
Form: Lyric


Spirit Filled

Connection is an offering of messages as people who crossed over 
Connection is spirits of those we never knew 

The guides of offering life advice from the other side are special connection with the crossed over life that surrounds our energy fields, life offering, support and guidance 

The comfortability of guidance works with something we are unfamiliar with 

The deepest healing carries through generations of healers and stronger relationships through meditation, communication with the spirit or family lineage studies.

Our life path are provision of guides through experience as  verbal communication which can however not be of a great influence 

The utilities also help in developing psychic ability or offer loving support 
These are  as multidimensional beings, existing in physical reality but simultaneously not alone in the world 

The residency of our beings does not reside in other worlds but the higher beings classifying astral spirits that are in need of healing 

Desiring to be born, modernity recognizes our psychology that family patterning has issues such as addiction, incest, abuse and other complexes that are passed down to generations 
These allows healing of the spirit while affecting the living


Poet 
Masego Nkuna

Premium Member Being a Light To Others

Fear, caused by mere inferiority complex, 
Puts, in many relationships, abundant checks;
Like touch-me-not, faces shrink, all at a sudden,
As though, the entire universe, on me, fallen...!

Superiority complex, is a crime great,
That governs me, often, as though predestined fate;
And keeps me aloof from existential neighbors,
As though they're awful universal law-breakers...!

How could I, herein, be light to the others, then?
When, by complexes, chain of soul-bond is broken?
Doesn't this light of lights that makes me so content,
Wish, that in all, this light, in abundant, descend...?

Leaving all complexes, I must love one and all!
Here on earth, no one, amidst beings, great or small!
I need to give heed, to those seek my love and care,
Mercies I have received, profusely, I must share...!

Carrying my crosses, is, indeed, my duty,
Helping others, to carry theirs, is true beauty;
Talk things, I must, to those hard at heart, politely,
What I want to teach all, I must do contritely...!

Need the gold, ever tell others, that, I am gold?
Isn't a rose a rose, even when it's not told?
If the light of lights, abides in me in fullness,
From this fullness will flow fullness toward goodness...!



15 March 2022
Form: Rhyme

Irony of Purpose

It is funny! 
Very funny how
A masked preacher can preach honesty; 
And even points at the wrongs with his
Fingers of hypocritical righteousness…

We stare with grim satisfaction
Because the black winged Angel 
Ridding a flaming chariot tells a tale; 
And proclaims that God is love, 
Yet he, himself is an Angel of death. 

Day after wretched day Humanity walks! 
He walks down the dark alley of freedom;
Freedom which shouts fairness; 
Fairness that begets confusion—
And he tries to bottle the spittle of birds…

Every night he lies in bed and tries to hear
The voice of fishes shouting gender and Sexualty in a world where the scale of
Equality is  unevenly proportional and
Equal rights mean the oppression of men. 

Apartheid, the history of Mzanzi is 
The present for the African world and
That has caused his inferiority complexes 
To suffice and personalize racism and 
One after another, generations play along. 

Lest we forget, 
The victims are just as guilty
As the perpetrators but at some point. 
Humanity weeps as he inspects 
His isle of hopelessness! 

But just like the majority, men; 
They cry in hiding. 
Where no-one sees, 
No-one hears and 
No-one dares speak for the black sheep! 

Deep down this egocentric radicalism, 
He orders rotten eggs to make an omelette
With which he feeds pirate justice, 
And he goes all year long 
On a running stomach. 

Although the words never sink, 
Humanity hearkens to 
The rumbling stomach of justice but 
When the rainbow of life turns 
Grey! 

Humanity's children cry day and night
While the Angel of death entrusted 
Their protection feasts on their tears
And dances to the beautiful sound 
Of their troubled voices. 

And when the wolf comes for their
Brazen souls we hail at the smiling lady
Who says 'I am virgin Mary'
With fangs behind her white vail
And poison under her tongue—death! 

The rich are poor but morally, 
Yet no-one sees
And no-one cares; 
They say 'each one for himself' 
Come shall the final hour do. 

It is funny! 
Very funny how
A masked preacher can preach honesty; 
And even points at the wrongs with his
Fingers of hypocritical righteousness…

Humanity looks on 
And passes his judgement. 
The masked preacher scoffs:
“No-one is perfect. 
No, not one!”
Form: Ode

Premium Member The Coming: Mood Variations

The Coming…
(Mood Variations…)

		      
The long hot summer yields to the arrival
of the cooling fall.
Despite the coming treat to survival
towering trees proudly stand firm and tall.

Sticky, sweaty, steamy nights
have now all gone;
giving way to the cool ebony breeze.

Horny frogs and crickets
no longer sing their eerie song;
squirrels organize
their cupboards in the trees;
and ivory towers grow on
graves of fall’s fallen leaves.
		      
In the early evenings’ misty wine
sun of change set the close of day,
leaving hued shadows to sway
on the footprints of changing time.

The angels of the sky have flown far away;
leaving a strange peace to seek out another day
to find sanctuary in caverns of hope.
Seasoned lives prepare for what winter nature will send their way;
as echoes of rain mock the variations like a cruel joke.

Strange how nature’s circadian rhythms
bring about change: yet the more things change,
the more they stay in the same range.
No one saw the ambiguity of the coming strange schis

Dawn seemed to have struggled this morning---
     Returning from her nocturnal journey,
She slowly stretched, yawned, and arose
     To the appointed occasion 
Sending dim, golden rays piercing through
     Shades of lazy grey clouds

The whistling wind wails, whooshing through the trees
     And winding around corners
Bring awakening alarms that hands cannot stop
     Nor ears can ignore

The weight of sleep lifted; the window shades of dark orbs
     Open to the set time
Oblivious to the exact moment of designed closure, only
     Aware of the here and now;
Thanksgiving is offered for one more day of struggle:

To be free of the shackling mind games they play,
     We prepare to fight another day.                         

Only God could have made this chosen day
     We cherish 
To teach the children the liberating way
     That they not perish
In the ongoing struggle to be totally free
     Culturally, politically---
     And economically be.                           

Closing in on an all-time high, wars remain in vogue:
     Peace has been vetoed 
Military-industrial complexes are the nation’s money lode
     There is no other road. 
At the conference table, negotiations continue 
     To collect dust
And the compromise remains us.


Premium Member Too Provocative

Russia valiantly fights 'a war of defense'
  against Ukraine which 'has given offense'
Can Russia depose 'the Nazi, Zelensky?'
  to end Ukraine's 'genocide of slaughtering Russenkis?'         (aka Russians)

Russia's 'defense of her people' is understandable
But are NATO's policies all-so-commendable?
NATO says 'Nyet' to to No-fly Zones -- 'too provocative'
  ~ Russia laughs at such 'justifications' for her to use her prerogative



________________________________________________________
Russia bombs a maternity hospital and a nuclear reactor; levels whole
towns; shells civilian apartment complexes indiscriminately -- and NATO
can't OK a 'No-Fly-Zone' -- a DEFENSIVE tactic! -- to stop it?!!! For the
sake of humanity, when will Western leaders find the courage to FIGHT 
this second coming of the murderous liar, Hitler?!!!!
Form: Couplet

Premium Member Of Wars and Peace Everywhere

Around the world—evil, raging wars continue to be steadfastly
Fought in the name 
Of lasting peace;
The military industrial complexes have found the puppets
They’ve sought
 In the ruling 
West and East;
Mislead cannon fodders on each side are being sent as heroic
Anti-terrorist
To theirs and others’ death;
While the war mongers play pass-time war games of the mighty
Military strategist—claiming what
Of Earth’s resources are left. 

Nuclear power is once again the most prized of all desired possession;
Embryo and fetus organs—
The new ticker tapes;
Bloated bellies—reflecting world hunger—remain the victims of recessions;
Freedom and justice,
Victims of world-wide
Rapes—

Meanwhile, the pursuit of life, liberty and happiness of roofs over the head,
Have become worthless
 Pursuits of the game;
No matter how loud the screams of the masses of the walking dead,
The mongers only cry,
‘Ask God who’s the blame.’
Around the world, Sabbaths continue to be as segregated as peace from love;
War remains
The king pin.
The hawk remains on high—his talons clutching the neck of the defenseless dove:
Bigotry and war
Know no sin.


The dawn of the age of Aquarius has come and gone—nothing has really changed
As prophesized,
Predicted and supposed.

Behold, a new day is upon the horizon; faith and hope having long arranged a peace
Only the angles could
Have reposed;
Behold—the many rivers we’ve crossed now flow into the sea of a new found day;
None can stem the tides of the blood of peace and equity streaming our way.
Form: Sonnet

The Paradox

With everyday under protected skies,
we come across some traitors lives.
Promised solution to all complexes,
riches beyond faint heart perplexes.
Adoration by fame benediction,
bargains without guilt affliction.
The patriot and his free ticket vote,
righteousness that need some promote.
Fees for the clamorous priest,
words of comfort in the least.
Stones and graves as memorandum,
dust to dust and its bleeding phantom.
Bubbles to buy in ounces of gold,
it’s the story as package to be sold.
The price to know God for asking,
resuming whole souls tasking.
Imitation of immortality without death,
lyrics and rhymes already in breath.
Scientific prophesies as politic conclusion,
sweetest moments of delusion.
Medias senses of what is right in time,
feeding the truth through a costly plastic frame.
Enslaving oneself by far more credit,
for the children to know its inherit.
The dying dream with its inspiration,
ceased moments lost in translation.
The placid and self contained condition,
takes forms in transparent definition.
As term-less feast of our content,
souls are more then body meant.
Wasted time in displeased self-assertion,
no values after deeds in resignation.
The greatest tragedy of the world in confusion,
the lack of awareness in spiritual evolution.
Form: Ballade

Gray Heavens

Everywhere I go, industry dominates this world
Vehicles run on diesel, 
Massive industrial complexes have many factories
That create a skyline of smokestacks
The heavens are filled with a gray only we have created
Man and machine have come together
Like haywire to wire,
Generating a power countries only dream of
Diesel, our main power source,
Allows massive airships with smokestacks of their own
To block out the sun
Nations around the world use machines for industry, war and everyday life

Without diesel, 
It seems the planet will come to a complete standstill…

As an inhabitant of this industrialized world, 
None of what I see around surprises me…
For I have lived in the midst of man’s mechanical reign
All of my days
But I often worry and question our remaining humanity
Some of us have grown prideful and cold
Nations have fought us
Merely to prove their weapons are stronger and better

At times I even wonder if we could
Possibly find other ways to go about our lives—
Like alternative fuel sources
Maybe it seems like the world is industrializing too fast
But no one seems to notice that after the Great War,
Industry spread like a weed that would not stop growing,
No matter what you did to it

One must begin to wonder 
How long this kind of life can possibly last
I long to feel the sun on my back,
And to breathe in fresh air untouched by the fumes I know too well
Can we use what we have,
Can we use what we live for,
To build each other up, 
Rather than destroying all in our path? 
Shall we put our hearts into the cores of our unfeeling machines,
Or will we turn to Mother Earth with reverence and passion?

Taking and never giving back,
How can we expect our planet to provide and sustain us? 

August 20th, 2014
Collaberation by Justin Connor and Laura Breidenthal
Two questions to ponder: 
What do you think will become of this dieselpunk world? 
How can this message apply to life in your own society?
Form: Narrative

Philosophical Digression

I'm not a friend of poverty,
              I actually perceive  it's a mockery...
              But I'm a friend of the being under
              such a condition...
              I'm not a friend of wealth,
              I realize it's a disgrace...
              But I'm a friend of the being under
              such a condition...
              Of the human being rich or poor,
              I'm a brother... I'm a friend of man,
              his intelligence, his character...
              If it's always aimed at the superior...
              His struggle to beat the complexes
              of superiority and inferiority...
              I am in solidarity with the one who seeks
              improve his moral progress,
              fulfill his karma...
              I love the human being conscious
              of his provisionality... of  the one
              who comprehends  his  smallness before
              the unknown... and who realizes that
              real life is not here... He admits
              which here is real rehearsal, but
               not life... life itself
               it's another one, and it's right there...
               Elsewhere...!

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