Long Conscription Poems
Long Conscription Poems. Below are the most popular long Conscription by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Conscription poems by poem length and keyword.
Woolen objects wrapped up in fine linen tucked away on a shelf bear the scars of age-old men lamenting in their years, while the sound of young men gets ready to join the conscription line thunders in the streets and anxious mothers running around in a frenzy consoling their sons.
The temperature keeps rising and mulberry tree in all its splendor stand still absorbing the peace as the sentiment of the earth embraces its fate and looking around for an answer that have traveled around the world to console those innocent souls.
I watched the squirrels running up the mulberry tree, hiding among the branches in a peculiar motion that I could not understand. The animals bear the witness of the hidden grave that lies at its roots. The mulberry tree is a witness to the brutal murder hanging from the throne where the mulberry tree has grown.
I feel a sudden urgency in my feet propelling me to walk in the desert heat and mix the desert dust with sand and sprinkle it all over the land but I can see a barrier erected in the way and the moment quickly fades away.
My heart is invoking a strange feeling and I cannot understand the meaning, I forced myself to pull it back but an element keeps wrestling with my spirit setting my heart on fire.
It is not the fire that glows in firewood, it isn’t the fire that dance like a servant should, it is the fire of the weak that is speaking to the deep and the matchless price that you have to pay. It’ burning with internal fury paving the way for a new chapter as the vision gets wider.
I can see them lining up, hundreds of them standing at attention and their guns strapped across their back. They are getting ready for a mission that requires great devotion they are up against the army guard and the notorious “alcoholic” lords.
The guns alone cannot defeat them, the belly dance, hips up and bottom down and galls sliding beneath their night gowns with ribbons and skirts to move away the earth and squeeze the passion out of their heart and melt the pride of hard tone men.
My heart is contemplating a delicate matter so ride with me to the next level and I will show you something spectacular, there are millions more miles to go and my heart is in tune for the greatest show.
Although I'm childless by own hand
That's no crime as I understand
But parenthood I might restrict?
This world's not one that I'd inflict
Upon another soul by choice
So, in this cause, I raise my voice.
I do not judge the ones that do
But wish that more would think it through!
A boy's just toy to those in charge,
A tool for war until discharge
Of duty, all but smart must face,
Although for cripple no disgrace.
Boys taught all feelings to suppress,
That death by war should not depress,
For to the victors go the curls
Of otherwise complicit girls.
A girl too's chattel to the hoards
Of fools who rule conscription boards,
Her privileged status meant to lure
Acceptance of forced life demure!
Her payoff's choice among the rank
Of men untrained to feel or think.
Bereft, accepts the lot of moms
(Who build earth's population bombs.)
Where's freedom of democracy,
When population's blind, can't see?
Is there new hope when women serve,
Experience what men deserve?
To earn the salary of men,
Be president, but without sin?
I do not hold my breath and yet
What if more lived life with no net
Of children born to soften fall
In our old age! Would that forestall
The privilege we seek to gain
Though at the cost of other's pain?
No child is born who asks for life!
And parenthood can foster strife
You did not dream of, or foretell,
(The plans of man don't all end well!):
Loss factored in if you are wise
And plan in fact to improvise!
Just know that rain won't always serve
A ripened field or sun preserve
A field that's dry, bereft of rain,
All life, in fact, foreshadows pain.
Though rain will come, a poem rhyme
God still decides when it is time,
No farmer's labor, love can save,
What lightning burns, we're weather's slave.
Best scorn our pride and value mirth,
Our future's tied to Mother Earth!
Long Tooth
August 1, 2018
Shouting at their profit clouds
I have been on the left all my life
Our leaders war in Vietnam inspired me
As a young man, facing conscription
Then Labor was elected and saved me from jail
Or killing people I did not know
For reasons unfathomable
To my young mind
I was too young to vote
But went to Labor
Or rather its left
And found the branch meetings boring
Uniformative and superficial
I went to protests
But the economics and law I was studying -
To change the world no less –
Consumed my life, my thoughts and my ideas
And led me to work in the tax office
Where I met my wife
Through a union meeting
And an action group
With revolutionary socialists in it
And found a new world
That explained the one we lived in
I became a revolutionary
And have been for over 40 years now
Fighting the enemy, their class and its hangers on
Our victory would not be long
But I was wrong, it is eternity
We remain unfree, all of us
We kick up little fuss
As a class or even as
Disconnected event protesters
I wait for the explosion, here and elsewhere
Because I care and am a socialist
Democratic and revolutionary
Where we become our parliament
For the people, not the one percent
My dream remains alive,
In my mind and that of some others
And occasional outbursts of strikes
And big protests
That upset their status quo
For a little while, too little a time
And I rhyme my way around
Another poem,
Just a person
Shouting at their profit clouds
Aloud,
Standing too alone
Until we all join together
Against them
Then we can be free
In My New Year’s Resolution I Vow
I solemnly declare under oats on the libel to walk
N aked with only a bellow with fellow utopians
M istletoe tattoos on my fingers criss-crossing in
Y onder to shepherd ‘blue sheep’ congregations
N oel novel nobility flying pigs dressed in purple
E merge from a smoke screen of incense sandal
W ood scandals on their quest to capture the moon
Y ou’ll have to bear with my golly batik on grizzly
E nchanted magic spills hailed comet drizzle and rain blows
A biding by enlightened dark chocolate scripture
R ock solid marsh mellows on twelve tables of sand
S unk quick in fluffy cuddles once dogma eats pie
R econfigured lolly popped pious conscription I resolve to
E nshrine on altar egos chapels custard apples
S weet sin of saviour and savages prophets and whiz
O n privets hedging bets on riveting cross bows in
L ucid delusions of light hearted senses’ scent
U surping snakes in the garden’s modest seduction in
T ransit transgression staking boundaries sake
I lluminated I will fly from chandeliers promise to
O bey only mocking jesters fooling the fools
N ever more will Nirvana shout at the Buddha
I n hearse verse and chapter closed by conscious
V irtue vilified by voracious villains vying for
O ms rosaries dumb bells from myriad towers
W hen my Weltschmerz and Zeitgeist tickle my treacle
22nd December 2016
Wisdom seems an oxymoron if implied there’s ‘State of Being,’
slight trace found where truth’s wildflowers flourish unrestrained by seasons.
Wisdom wears truth like a glove protects soft flesh from blister/callus.
Truth ‘is’ wisdom loves disguises, rainbow’s curves are free of malice.
Evolution’s wisdom’s penchant, change it welcomes – ‘child of reasons.’
What’s true blooms with understanding, lines Love’s path of flavored seeing.
Wisdom’s finite, truth’s far-reaching, infinite. Yes, God‘s more trouble!
‘Truth’ seems strange (A shock! Surprise!); infinities aren’t all the same size.
Just not true? A child can grok this: [Odd and Even both are numbers.
Every Odd gets paired with Even. Infinite are both groups’ members!
But Real numbers, odd and even, count them and feel wisdom downsize;
paradox pops up to plague us! Real’s infinity’s their double!]
Who’s more cursed/blessed, male or female (war’s conscription/moms imprisoned)?
Truths we long to find (mirages) may, in fact, exist, but where sir?
Socrates (some called a wise man) groked his truth, forswearing knowledge.
Paradoxes’ gifts worth loving (PhDs from wisdom’s college).
Science models (pointing at what helps) aren’t Christ revealed (though savior).
Faith in Christ, in Science (blinders off), gilds Wisdom, Truth (when seasoned!)
Brian Johnston
28th of November in 2022
…fighting for peace with guns is like bonking for virginity
it is a macho world but then women can be excellent killers
the barrel phallus washed from conscience dipped into blood
a thin membrane between defence and aggression heavily torn
who wants peace when they can enjoy the fun of armed forces
weapons of mass destruction with human waste collateral damage
in a second whole nations can be amended and revised into nothing
seized by the fire when the iron is hot in pursuit of violent pleasure
and yet bravery is the courageous merit of never surrendering to
war mongers who are in it for the profits power and domination
who send others to the apocalypse while counting their money
eye for an eye in need for cataract implants and retina detachment
like a condom greed sheathes acts of collusion violence betrayal
of upright values wrapped up in flaccid denial of liberty and life
constitutional rights terminate immaculate conception of freedom
to the rhythm of grenades shrapnel and heavy breathing in death
conscription leads the conquest of foreign fields and genocides
rape pillage and plunder sow seeds of slaughter and trenches
that divide marginalize discriminate in the name of civilization
happiness is a warm gun while the planet looks into the barrel …
27 April 2021
Nazriel Rising Small World Ace
She was as pretty as ever on this night
With me smitten to bits with her aura
As we met on our usual pickup location
Nazriel that one who so compliments me
We were on an official business briefing
One of Epic proportions with intricacies
This time the operation was offshores
With me providing intel logistic n liaison
We had to discuss the mission details
The coppers got wind of our operation...
And they being on standby we went on unabated
We were taking out a notorious terror cell
Deep in the suburban’s of Kismayu
The Operation had the green light of our CO
Yet... Something felt off call it an 8th sense...
A key word “conscription” kept clopping up
We were not decided... yet the die was cast
Swiftly we had to act and neutralize the enemy
Thus Operation ...Sly Jackal. was initialized
With Controlled Outcomes a key prerogative
Nazriel bid me goodbye with a kiss...
As I approached the coppers car on standby...
With me leaning on their window and by way of greeting
“What can I get you this time officers...?”
I can get you a couple of stinger missile at the right price
But are you sure you can afford… they eyed me calmly
Not betraying an iota of emotion... the rest transpired in silence.
To be continued… #Acode254_Pmc_LuisMi008
Judging a book by its cover
Sitting on the bus not knowing where to look,
Lady in the seat in front engrossed in her book
Woman in seat opposite glances then looks away
Upon realising that the book is Fifty Shades of Grey,
“Is your book a good read?” she says “I can't tell by the cover”
The reader mutters “It’s a story about a girl and her wealthy handsome lover”
The woman gives a wry smile and looks down at her coat
She’d read it herself six months ago but wasn't one to gloat,
“I’m reading J.K. Rowling but it's not a Harry Potter,
It's called The Casual Vacancy, Simon Price is such a rotter”,
Silence falls and five minutes is spent,
Observing the appearance of an elderly gent
Immaculately dressed, both suited and booted,
Back-seat youths start to swear and the air is polluted,
The man shakes his head at 'the youth of today’
“Bring back conscription” the driver hears him say,
He reaches in his pocket and takes out a mobile phone
Twenty missed calls from cold-callers,
Why can't they leave him alone?
He looks across at the bookworm
The girl can sense his stare
He hesitantly asks her “what's that book called you've got there?”
She showed the man the cover and then he did declare
"Fifty Shades of Grey's an apt description of my hair"
The marksmen took their position a century away from the target
The silhouette shape stood defenceless at the far end of the range
A clear sign of an alarmingly unequal contest in difficult times
Fred was unhappy with this situation of involuntary manslaughter
Had objected on conscientious grounds to Armed Forces conscription
But the killers knew his values and morals seemingly better than him
Align eye with sight and with aim breathe out firm grip on the trigger
'Better dead than red' the sergeants had shouted and 'men don’t refuse'
'Hit the bastards right where it counts be kind with a quick speedy death'
His shooting lane was number three and he deemed that good fortune
‘Bang’ and he released the bullet and felt only mild pain in his shoulder
Like a true connoisseur he waited for the results to be transmitted
Tension mounted the drama unfolded and Fred was an unlikely champion
Lane score results: One 48 Two 48 Three 0 Four 48 and 48 Five 48
Fred had a fine subtle point of some opposition and Either Can Win
02nd May 2018
Written for contest: crap shoot
Sponsored by John Lawless
I took the contest description as offering 4 possible sub themes to chose from
I chose 'Either Can Win'
I Smell Your Perfume On The Breeze
By Rick Rucker
I smell your perfume on the breeze,
When we’re apart, nothing can ease
My longing for You, most complete,
You are, by far, the one most sweet!
Although we text, and talk by phone,
When I can’t hold you, I feel Alone!
Stronger than the strongest drug,
You calm my Heart, with just your Hug!
I would live my Life under your conscription,
If my doctor would write that prescription!
But he’s afraid that my Heart can’t take it,
Too much of your loving, and I won’t make it!
I told him that it’s fine,
You are as intoxicating as Wine!
He is really worried,
He doesn’t want to be hurried,
When I told him about the smell of your hair,
I lost my balance, nearly fell off the chair,
It’s true that absence makes the Heart grow fonder,
In my case, it causes my mind to wander!
He’s never seen a case like mine,
His diagnosis he must refine.
“Profound Separation Anxiety,”
It sounds like a lot of bull to me!
Why can’t he just say,
That I miss You every second of the day?
I don’t know if my doctor just sucks,
Or wants me to return, another hundred bucks!
I think I’ll simply take the chance,
To be in Love, with You, in Hot Romance!