Long Complicity Poems
Long Complicity Poems. Below are the most popular long Complicity by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Complicity poems by poem length and keyword.
How can we not have this conversation
where footprints of the poor vanish
beneath the boots of investors,
and the river sings only
to those who can afford its luxury?
In Chobe, the elephants roam free,
but people walk caged in poverty.
We call it coexistence
when tusks are protected,
but mothers bury their sons
gored near neglected kraals.
And no one comes
unless it's a game drive
and the victim is not black.
How can we not speak
when the lion's roar is louder
than a widow's cry for compensation?
When leopards eat goats
and ministries write reports not cheques?
Let's talk about the five-star smiles
that greet foreign tongues
while the Batswana mop floors, serve beer, and sleep on concrete after ten-hour shifts.
Let's talk about uniforms and pay slips
that smell like servitude,
contracts folded into silence
in offices lined with antelope heads.
And let's speak of the racism
how a Black woman was shot by a white woman
who said, "I thought it was a monkey."
As if her body was a silhouette of threat.
As if Blackness is always a blur
on the edge of someone else's comfort.
The river bore witness, but the law shrugged,
and headlines softened the bullet.
Let's talk of fishermen
banished from their birthright,
told their canoes spoil the view,
that their laughter scares the tourists,
that their presence is pollution.
Let's speak of lodge owners
who toss insults like breadcrumbs
to those who clean their sheets
lazy, slow, replaceable.
No chains, but contracts.
No slurs, just smiles
with knives beneath them.
We cannot be quiet
when the sun sets
behind lodges built on lies,
and the river is fenced
not for safety, but exclusion.
How can we not speak
of the politics of permits,
where land is leased
like livestock,
and council seats are auctioned
to the highest foreign bidder?
Corruption blooms like water hyacinth,
choking life from the roots
of communal trust.
The sand knows.
The baobabs know.
Even the crocodiles know
how long we've swallowed
our own tongues
to protect the myth of peace.
So let us talk.
Let us gather in the heat
of midday truth,
where no luxury air-con hums.
Let us speak until the sky listens,
until justice stalks this land
as fiercely as the wild.
Because silence, here,
is complicity.
And we have been quiet
for far too long.
Form:
As mortal veils dissolved, our bodies merged in the ossuary's somber symphonies, two mistress awakened by the velvet-wrapped cadavers, our disinvested hands tracing syllabic patterns across the olive verdure of our skin, as maelstroms of lipstick tormented our intimate geometry. Kissing amidst ribcages and scavenged lullabies, our filial ***** tingled with an unresolved finitude, lost choruses awaking from armature wounds as compatibilities laid bare.
The azure gemstones of our sweat-drenched pores harmonized with the relics scattered about us, a Kolossus of Korova consumed by the clingy threads of our detachment. Quivering heartbeats elevated the ambiance, suspending the predisposition of neglect, while scratches on the cryptic monument inscribed our entwined destiny. I sulfured lips, poised at the sorceress-close mic.
A snarl-like grin spread like a firebrand, smoldering with provocative ferocity as I ravished the venue with tongue-flicked promises, conjuring the haunted echoes of our ecstatic love. Ghosts of our abandoning, whispers of our surrendered reveries, and shadowy allusions to lost frenzies began to undulate, like an eerie tide, through every crevice and cavity of the place, leaving only the acrid tang of our desire and the spectral whisper of "evermore".
Laughter and teardrops entwined like conspirators, as our kidnapped captives, vacant-eyed and warily bound, cringed within their gilded cages, their suffocated pleas dissolving into silken suppliance, amidst this twilight tableaux pyxis o madness, we beheld each other, our psuches conflated in a whirlwind of circumstance and whimsy, our gazes piercing the veil of regalities, and our breasts, beating in tandem, like a tempo of tender complicity.
Fore in that golden instant, innocence and abomination, zero and infinity, coalesced, and we knew, without equivocation, that ours was an amour born of estrangement, grotesquery, and co-creativity. In the subterranean realm of our laughter, a spangled whirlpool stirred, drawing all else, including reason, into its poisoned vortex, as we whispered, like doomed refugees, into the bitter wind, "pour l'amour de tous les diables".
Fervently the serrated teeth on the saw rang the death knell, twisting countenance rictus, then close casket, we heard wedding bells, as we crafted a hellhole requiem of faceless visages.
Boom.
Was my life just a wish
I hid between the pages of survival
And even though the Universal source of all
Granted me this gift
This singular precious life
Did I search instead to be the worthiness of heaven
Did I judge all my actions
By the prison bars of hell
And see in your eyes and the eyes of others
The handiwork of demons
Have I written on the chalkboard of my soul
The dark inks of my submissions
I see that in our innocence
We have been duped and confused
Into leading a less than innocent life
And the greatest tragedy of this Earth
Is the ignorance of our denial
We do not see the collage of injustice
Their bodies scattered on our path
And all the bright and shining electronic objects
Are limply hanging from the sign posts of our children’s future
Their bodies dried and bloodless
Skeletal in their silence
Point the way to our decent
Into the depths of the untouchable and the soulless
Where and how have we been brought to this
To feel so very comfortable
While the price we count in money
Is the cost
Of human life
Did we eat too much
Did we want too much
Did we suckle so much in frenzy
Upon the teat of propaganda
Did I believe too readily
Did we swallow all our pride
Has conscience become a mouthful
A swallowed panacea of pharmaceuticals
When did we agree to be
So confused
Did you accept that all this luxury
Must be paid by the suffering of someone else
Or did I just close my heart
Close my mind and close your soul
And even though the nagging is persistent
The denial of truth haunts all of you
Did we bury ourselves in the infatuation
Of all this passing momentary thrill
Bought and sold from the instance of our birth
And it is not our part to carry the guilt or the fault
But each one of us in time
Must wake up
To the complicity that we play
In the slavery inflicted on this world
A part of innocence and ignorance
In the suffering of our brothers and our sisters
A peculiar gift is the insight burgeons a new light within the soul
Far more humane it is than burden of its curse
To live amongst these human chains
But still see all that we are worth
Shame
When word had spread of His arrest, I left
Bethesda, passed five porticoes and came
Eventually upon the Roman fortress;
My curiosity overriding shame.
Six trials they say He underwent, stood still
With arms behind Him bound, yet He refrained
From admitting guilt before being dragged outside;
While I could only hang my head in shame.
They flogged Him with a lead-tipped whip and placed
A crown of long sharp thorns to mock His fame,
With laughter wrapped Him in a purple robe;
While I could only hang my head in shame.
As parting crowds allowed the Cross to pass,
A constant storm of fists and curses rained,
My silent form within the shadows hid;
While I could only hang my head in shame.
From my place upon the hill, I watched Him
Shake his head when offered wine, the same
Brew sipped in greed by His companions;
While I could only hang my head in shame.
With scant regard to modesty they stripped Him,
Then gambled for His clothes and scorned His name,
Brought hammer, nails to crucify this man;
While I could only hang my head in shame.
As noon approached, the sun retreated and
Darkness fell across this land, yet hard rain
Fell none to wash away complicity;
While I could only hang my head in shame.
His sweat stained forehead creased in agony,
That wound where spear had pierced his failing frame,
And from on high I felt His gaze meet mine;
While I could only hang my head in shame.
When all was still I helped Joseph wrap Him
In a linen shroud, was thanked, proclaimed
A friend, dismissed this status out of hand;
While I could only hang my head in shame.
Sunset stretched the shadows, an olive grove,
A cave His resting place, Mary Magdalene
In stifling tears reached out to say a prayer;
While I could only hang my head in shame.
And there we sat until the night sky turned
To dawn, cold stars above, the burning flame
Of our own thoughts now dwindling embers;
While I could only hang my head in shame.
I’m older now, my life is nearly done,
Have followed in His steps despite been born lame,
For healing hands once worked a miracle;
Yet even now I hang my head in shame.
Listen up, because we're diving deep
Into the mind where corruption sleeps
It's not just out there, it's in here too
In the choices we make, in what we do
Power whispers, "Just a little more"
Greed opens up an endless door
The human mind, a battlefield of desire
Where ethics and temptation build a pyre
We're all susceptible, don't you see?
To the siren call of "What's in it for me?"
It starts so small, just a tiny seed
A favour here, a blind eye there, the shadows we feed
Cognitive dissonance plays its part
Justifying wrongs, it's a perverse art
"Everyone does it," we tell ourselves
As integrity gets dusty on the shelves
Fear of missing out, of falling behind
It drives us to leave our morals behind
The slippery slope, it's steep and it's quick
Before you know it, you're in too thick
Maslow's hierarchy was thrown out of whack
When survival mode puts ethics under attack
Fight or flight becomes cheat or bribe
As desperation changes our vibe
But wait! There's more to this corrupt equation
Social norms, culture, expectations
When the system's rigged when cheaters win
The honest feel like they're wearing thin
The bystander effect, we all play a role
Watching corruption take its toll
Silence is complicity, don't you know?
Every time we look away, we let it grow
So what's the cure for this human flaw?
This tendency to break every law?
It starts with awareness, by looking inside
At the choices we make, the truths we hide
We must feed the light, starve the shadow
Build a culture where ethics can grow
It's not easy, it's not quick, but it's right
To face our demons, to win this fight
'Cause corruption's not just "them," it's "us"
It's in our nature, but so is trust
We have the power to choose our path
To build integrity that will last
So look in the mirror, face what you see
The power to change starts with you and me
Corruption's roots run deep, it's true
But so does our potential to start anew!
It's time to rise, to break the chain
To wash away corruption's stain
The human mind can be our greatest tool
In building a world where justice rules!
Heroes,
To some people a killer can be called Hero
To other people a defender of their rights is called Hero.
There are many untold true histories as
some people wanted to be celebrated.
Leopard II killed many Congolese in the colony regime innocently , stole congolese natural resources and
he is well known Hero today.
Imagine if Leopold II killed some neighbours
innocently could the majority Europeans
called him " Hero?"
Answer is no and no...no.
Some Belgians and Congolese leaders called
for negotiations meetings for freedom and agreed
to free the republic of Congo,
On June 30/ 1960 , Republic of Congo was proclaimed
as independent Country.
later on the Congolese liberator Emery Patrice Lumumba was killed innocently
by the complicity
of the Belgium government.
Hero Lumumba was putting in sulphuric acid
And
He straightaway melted.
When the Belgium current king sent a golden tooth as
the remain of Emery Patrice Lumumba to President Antoine Felix Tchisekedi Chilombo,
All the world watched it.
No one is concerning about many crimes done
by the Belgium government in Congo
which could be the important things
to focus on daily basis.
Heroes,
The attack of president Putin in Ukrain was wrong
and he does not deserve to be called Hero for doing
such crime against humanity.
I know that all the top leaders who were behind
the destructions of Libya, Irak and Afghanistan
were totaly wrong and
they don't deserve to be called Heroes
for such crimes against humanity.
I salute the courage of some African presidents
Who stood up and put their colleagues
Presidents Putin and Zelenskyy
on peace negotiation table.
World youths continue to rise and knowing that
there is no race that prays for repetitive maltreatment
in the planet earth.
Anyone who is not happy to live in peace
with others on earth , there are many planets
which can be his " her " good place to live.
June 30/2023
By Alfonso Warally Ngengethe
Mussabwa Chris
In the heart of inner wanderings hides, alas, a tormented soul,
Wilted by anguishes woven at the edge of the mind, where the thread breaks.
In verses, the silhouette of an overwhelming sadness takes shape, a landscape made of lead,
Carrying with it the bitter taste of disappointment, a sheathless sword in the chest of time.
Why do you ask, when the answers are like leaves in the wind,
A dance on an abandoned stage, where the echo of your steps resounds without witnesses?
It's a self-portrait born from the depths, marred through the eyes of another,
Living its marriage with sadness like a slow waltz, in a twilight that senses no dawn.
Admirable, enchanting, marvelous, full of refinement is the soul of the broken,
If it weren’t for the arrow of separation, the cold kiss of pain, the sterility of melancholy.
An artist's soul flying above lower realities, and yet,
Gravitating towards the abyss of a solitary Parnassian - an eternal home of muses and ideals.
Two spheres, of tyrants and dreamers, spin in parallel orbits,
Touching in the grace of a moment, a spark in the cosmic night, just an illusion of embrace.
Magnetism isn't enough, their potential fusion delayed by inertia, and yet,
A hope slipping through the cracks ceases not to breathe, fragile as a shooting star in the night.
That merciless distance, the renunciation of worthy wings, leaves the soul empty,
Starved of complicity, with anxiety as its cloak – a knight of solitude.
Thus, in the ballroom of the equinox, the artist dances alone,
To music born only of the murmur of his own dreams flooding the empty hall.
Could the eternal struggle between ideas and the heavy ankle of reality be the ticket to freedom?
Or just rainwater in the desert, where the artist, a master of solitude, sculpts his phantoms,
Awaiting a world where ships from other spheres sail with fantasy-filled sails,
And where only the poet, emperor over tear and dream, can still raise his crown from the mist.
Eluding My Ressurection
Eluding the proposition of more work to be done
Prelude to the inquisition that is blocking out the sun
I can only conclude that the ammunition was hard fought and won
While the interlude for the intermission has only just begun
Statutory situations from behind a judges bench presiding
Defamatory imitations that aren’t worth justifying
Auditory insinuations that see a person testifying
Crematory conflagrations that are somewhat death defying
Intercontinental ballistic missiles heading for a major city
Coincidental trajectories on the inside that are the opposite of pretty
Environmental projectiles that leave humans loitering in complicity
Developmental officials that stunt the growth of those without pity
Acrimonious altercations that leave you shocked and stunned
Parsimonious purification that has men reaching for their guns
Disharmonious communications that make you feel inclined to run
Sanctimonious salutations that remove the laughter from the fun
Aberrations of contemplations that leave my thinking incomplete
Abdications of compensations that keep you working on your feet
Complications of innovations that seem to be headed for defeat
Combinations of annotations that keep your words strong enough to compete
Augmentation of technological conversations altered for their privilege and stature
Conflagrations of mythological consternations that have people waiting for the rapture
Insinuations of psychological manifestations that make you feel like you are captured
Constellations of astronomical configurations that engender awe and enrapture
I’m hoping that the tides will flow in favour of my direction
While eloping from the slides that show my wanting predilection
For downward sloping motions that grow upward in their redirection
As they live while coping in the know of my resurrection
The End Copyright Elizabeth Moroz
i danced in bubbling innocence,
but shrouded with tainted boundaries-
no more simplicity
without redemption;
my soul complicity,
my essence like dying memories
i strike a fever like waves of lightning,
the storm never ceases
even in autumn breezes
i find this affair of dread most frightening
weeping with willows without resilience,
wiping away tears with tissues of
desuetude,
-for they never knew their worth-
and o, they have such fortitude;
i lay on the barren ground,
desperately nude,
no sight
no sound
misconstrued-
i allude
i ran in exotic light,
searching for brilliance,
spreading stardust amongst universes
too far for one to reach;
but
i reach because i was taught,
i fought to find my speech-
words can be so deceiving,
for there is worry in my insight
i need a remedy…
something relieving
and now i suture what needs mending,
saturated with scars that won’t fade-
this life of not knowing is never ending,
for i’ve been taken in chains hell made
never accepting
what can bring adoration-
i fly with ravens
i LACK love-
a failure with frail fingers pointing down,
disappointment of the worst;
i have but two wishes…
to collapse in a home of hope,
and finally learn how to cope
melancholy moments linger in my mind…
for i never saw what i should have seen
in my youth-
no time to seek freedom when you can’t
release what you united without fear
but
i know the truth
and
i will not accept what can’t be given,
cannot comprehend the world i live in
forever needing a haven of harmony-MY DEAR HEART BROKEN
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
this poem is a mixture of rhyme, free verse, senryu and monoku
1.13.20
Dear Heart Poetry Contest
Helplessness immobilizes yours truly,
I genuinely agitate
permanently lasting indelible impact deux
biological offspring unfairly bore brunt,
compliantly, complicity, and complimentary
I avidly, doggedly, instinctively helped create
subsequently, unintentionally, or willingly
unpleasantly affected as adults facilitate
learned behaviors to navigate
their respective independent lives
both managed to coordinate
transitioning as responsible adults
more successful than me -
I do congratulate
their separate feats, titillate
papa, who admires emotional growth,
though grievously despair
weaknesses invariably did inculcate
their once innocent selves did graduate
courtesy positive resources I dedicate
to other then myself, commiserate
as unwittingly tortured saturate
without knowing and implicate
thine guilty poor role model,
me - heartache afflicted with anguish,
especially younger offspring doth indicate
perhaps apathy, difficulty, paucity to equate
body/mind synergy, she doth habituate
herself with destructive behavior,
vicariously saddening me psyche
where alarm doth germinate
yet... particular influences I
awkwardly essentially, and
inadvertently now articulate
unsure if word choice (mine)
obscures soulful heartfelt
angst that doth resonate
oft time does afflict my existence
thousands of miles distant,
nonetheless doth percolate
reckon, reflect,
and reiterate pointlessly berate
to nobody in particular -
minus followers courtesy
various and sundry
digital poetry venues articulate
and doth interrogate,
fulminate, and futilely castigate
himself psychologically damaged goods
paternal legacy, their salad days
hoop fully mushrooming into great
and healthy women, where
every last trace of my
objectionable faults they eradicate,
cuz Shana thee mean more
than fine spun gold!