Long Consent Poems
Long Consent Poems. Below are the most popular long Consent by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Consent poems by poem length and keyword.
REACH ABOVE THE EARTH
Do reach above the earth through sky,
the holy place, where God abides.
What earthly good, when rest our eyes,
on awful snare of deadly lies?
Do perch your hands, above the fray,
where birds both small and great attempt.
Let incense-tongues sing out all day.
The smile of God above contempt.
Oh Christians, let hearts’ be content
through toil and trouble, lest the pain
overwhelm you, without consent,
without sound mind - drive you insane.
Hear the angelic choir resound.
Christ wraps his cloak around you, friends.
Let praise arise, with leaps and bounds,
like lambent lambs, the notes ascend.
Do reach above the earth through sky,
the holy place, where God abides.
What blessed good, when praise does fly
t’wards awesomeness - the I AM’s nigh!
7/23/2022
To sir with all my love. You are good to me and my family. I do not have a quarrel with you. It is great that you find beauty in the hills and relate it to my strip of land, forest of land, land of barren. If it had been from any other man than you to say this, they would hear the sound of thunder upon their face with my crimson top nails. They would feel their loins become red with a jack kick from my stiletto heels.
In truth I know that you speak of the beautiful sights and think of me. This is one of the reasons why I show my love for thee. You are me and I am you. Together we are the flesh to create new Xeroxes of us. If another spoke to me as a lover, then I would say, I only speak to my flesh in that way, so leave my sight. A woman’s love is a gift to a man that gives his love, respect to her. Some would say that you are not respecting me. well, to them I say, he does respect me. We are both liberal in how we communicate our love for one another. Watch the person you marry my lady, for he is showing his unfaithfulness behind your back with a friend or family member of yours. Do not berate my love for him speaking of his unquenchable love for me, worry about the lust of your man for other women and men to quench his thirst. My love goes me and only me. if he goes for another it is at my discretion. My vow to him is to only have his line. Also my vow is to let him take another one into your chamber. I am number one and only I can give the consent to that. For I am #1, the other girl is carrying our child in her belly. The second girl has his child, my step-daughter. Both of them were a gift to him from me. Still he is only in my chamber at night. Where is your man if not with your aunt, sister, mother, and cousin. Not to mention the ones in the red district.
To my love, do not be shocked, I told the berater the story to shock her, the story of those women. I retold her that the women were carrying out children. Still be weary my mate that I know of your heart and you know of mine. I k now those girls and you know them. They are still part of this family. Sister wives if needed my love. (smiles brightly and leaves the man with a blushing smile)
I must take umbrage with this phrase
I’ve heard it stated in multiple ways
The essential nature of it goes like this
I’ve asked you to do this already
The implication that one is obligated to perform
Simply by the act of asking something of them
What kind of self- important attitude allows
That your request out ways the consent of the asked
And even if consented to the asked party should
Lose control of the time frame to complete the task
I’ve heard parents, teachers, bosses, politician’s, preachers, husbands, wives,
All succumb to the notion as if it was a magic potion
I asked therefore it creates an obligation by which
I should be obliged in my machinations
Well You’re not!
On second take..Lowe is not that great.' In fact i hear of
Late.' He wants 'bio meat on our plates?' Its beyond the
Pale.' Its all lookng stale, i beleive its time ti bale.' I had
Hoped against hope; for better.' Yet he's another bird of
False feather.' Along with Farage? Although giving and
Asking for it (large!) In support i mean.' What a dejecting
Scene is seen.' Yet to be fair (their was an irk) between
My shoulder blades it lurked.! So i must jettison any writes
Of support.. This type of skull-duggery appeares fully rife.?
( I must choose!) Ashby versus White..I do not consent in
Ink' to write.)
The sky’s acid blue, and I have an idea
To be approved by you
Let’s catch a cab to Westminster Pier
We'll be standing awhile in a queue
Let’s torment ourselves with a boat ride
Like in the good old days
Watching marinas on riverside
Passing through open gates
Of many locks on the way to Richmond
And as soon as we moor
Let’s visit the Kew and the Hampton Court
That’s what we’re here for
Let’s lunch in the Privy Kitchen café
Then I’ll get lost in the maze
Smiling the silliest smile I’ll pace there
Trying all possible ways
We’ll go for a ride on a horse-drawn carriage
I’ll chat with the coachman of topics
Not so important like Royals marriage
While you’ll be taking some pics
I’ll buy a walnut brandy before we set sail
Back to the Westminster pier
It’ll be quite an outing to repeat that trail
What do you think, my dear?
I take your silence as a sign of consent
I knew you’d accept my plan
There’s just one nuance, that wasn’t meant
Hope you will understand.
.
not as bad as when
she drunk-posted Sand
and Water by Beth
Nielsen Chapman in honor
of her uncle's passing
forgetting it had a line
in it about their child together
which made it seem
incestual and ridiculous, as if
posting your grief in hopes
of getting relief from it in the way
of an artificially-induced rush
of dopamine is a curated
yet plausibly deniable
high that every single one
of the people reading in this time
or any other has done again
and again and again and don't
even try to hide from it like
you haven't been the guiltiest
of all even if you don't do social
media and eschew all the blogs
and always jump to recipe
every time you surf the darkest
corners of the epicurean web
we see you too even through
the incognito browser you initiated
before you swapped the names
and negotiated the terms of the PTA
sponsored dance at the end of the middle
school years and—you, ding dong
who raised a bud light in honor
of your buddy who blew three
fingers off his left hand in a fourth
of july celebration of rights—
we see you too peacocking
and girl mocking your way
into the male gaze, no shame,
baby—we all gotta get it
somewhere, baby
just make sure you snare consent
before the big bang, baby—
The story you read
In the shape of a poem
Its all about life
To continue it growing
The recent case
Of Daniel Hauser
To deny him help
Media exposure
This 13 year old boy
Saw his aunt the same way
He took his first course
But the course made him sway
And his mothers thoughts
Maybe religion will save
And the fear of the thought
Her son no longer the brave
Behind the scenes, the Religion Nemenhah
A white mans dream of the " Cloudpiler " Landis man ah!
Where Natural Curing is what they can?
Is this the reason why they ran?
My thoughts go back to the way his auntie was
For to continue his treatment, as his bravado thaws
Its the word Chemo and the course it takes
Going through spells of goodness and sickly states
How many cases where the parent was ill
Did they make their own choices, to get better at will
Or did a another person decide for them
With their consent, with the write of a pen
In natures eyes, as a mother gives birth
It should be in her want, to save her child first
Why she would do this, take her child and run
Is it this Nemenhah cause, that prevents her son?
Written to answer my thoughts on the question posed by
Katherine Stella on her poem
" Kid Natural ( the Daniel Hauser story ) "
I once thought it was
about power...once thought
it was about wealth and
greed -- now am convinced
it is simply, pure evil --
the Devil makes bad use
of politicians --
Don't give the Present Vice
a larger slice of your liberty!
Men competing in woman sports,
sexual organs surgically altered,
physically removed from otherwise
healthy children, without
parental consent.
-- You may not be a Jew or Christian...
but we all are something! Marxists
will come for you and yours as well,
when you dare exhibit any qualities of
self determination.
Vote wisely. Don't turn Orwell from
novelist into Prophet!
--------------------------------------------------
(Capitalism is the best system. But...but...but...as already stated, absolute power corrupts. Capitalist compete with one another. For greater wealth and influence. To get better workers, they need to pay more than competitors...which leads to the rise of a Middle Class. As that middle class becomes larger in numbers, more wealthy, they are perceived as a threat to presently entrenched institutions of financial and political monarchy. For self-preservation the ruling Capitalist class feels need to shrink, if not eliminate entirely the middle class. Starting by extinguishing Free Speech, and Free And Fair Elections. Suppressing or eliminating the Middle Class is what they find in common with the Communist. So, the backdoor unholy alliance is formed. Again, just my opinion. I have no financial nor political degrees. If anything I have stated is new to you, and of interest, do research. Your grandchildren will bless you or curse you accordingly.)
Asphalt black gets blacker still
In the total calm, sounds disappear
Wind gives up the sin of motion
Ocean tides know no boundaries
Only the pain of waves slapped back
Over the top, tippy top of mountains
Whispering over times broken spine
Step lightly. Feel the darkness there
Fill in the crevasses of the demised
It is wise to remain in silence
Snow rocked slopes grow into boulders
Once upon a drift they failed to fall
Into sleep, through no fault known
And through no fault of their own
See gray in a world gone immobile, inert
Wonder through the buried concrete slabs
Find another tunnel less dug by minors
The age of consent is over and done
Asphalt black is getting blacker every day
In the total calm there is only silence
Go struggle, battle if ye must your battles,
No consent need ye nod if ye should not,
You're not among them that for U-turn settles,
Let the whole world stay put whereso it sought
To be. Love, let it soil your snow white shirt,
To dance one's heart out no one needs a coach,
Love, worry not of that one-off vague hurt,
Dance, as if no one's out there you to watch.
Get up and pen your own little poem,
Whether or not world condescends to read,
Go to etch out your own distinct emblem,
Say what you must, let no one may pay heed.
So here’s that little poem, dear readers,
That knows to settle for no reverse gears.
_______________________________________________
Sonnets | 01.12.05 |
Topic: poem, poet
Poet's note: The octave here gives an impression that one is encouraged for some battle, an expedition, or do something rare. But the sestet brings the reader down, oh all this fuss to write just a poem! But think again, is it so easy to write a first poem, or even a very first love letter?