Long Cult Poems
Long Cult Poems. Below are the most popular long Cult by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Cult poems by poem length and keyword.
I went to see the "Rolling Stones"- they rocked!
I had two tickets to see "Cher" in concert, I kept them both
A "Moody Blues" concert got cancelled, I heard they couldn't tolerate each other
Never did get to see the "Beatles" in concert, that really bugged me
I went to a "Rush" concert, it was over too fast
I went to see the "Eagles" they sounded a little bit like the "Byrds"
I went to see the "Doors" with a couple of swingers
I went to see "Led Zeppelin" and "Iron Butterfly" now that was heavy
I went to see "Cream" they milked the show
I went to see "Billy Idol" he's, my favorite!
I went to see "The Grateful Dead" they killed it!
I was going to see "Alice in Chains", but I heard she got locked up
I went to see "The Guess Who" eh, I'll tell you later.
I went to see the "Mamas and Papas" with my parents
I went to see the "Animals" they were wild
I went to see "The Cars" drove me crazy
I went to see "Blue Oyster Cult" I got all clammed up
I went to see "The Beach Boys" with my sister Sandy
Bucolic frolic or supersonic & demonic
Alcoholic demands in the stands vitriolic
Iconic rollick or quite simply HEADonic
England so shambolic at fans’ behest
So chronic plans for a Baz Ball inquest
Ironic still curious why the rest are furious
Spurious contest they know which way’s best
Histrionic tease they jest please don’t be a pest
Scorn who’ve worn the Lions crest on their chest
Suggest fire’s the ire…ferocity of pomposity detest
Tire of dire quagmire but we’re blessed with a zest fest
Everyone complains about the vain inane campaigns
Disdain of the stain of their refrain just won’t restrain
Pain again explain is plain what does pertain to a Test
Ashes conquest no longer a contest our own Everest
We frown they clown around go to town double down
How very dare you review from your pew not impressed
We guessed they quickly confessed only one way remains
We’re profane..they’re insane our hopes down the drains
They insult with this cult as Baz Ball without Brains reigns.
Introduction
Angels in literature are described in various ways across cultures. Some angels were mere spirits, while others were regarded as magical. Early drawings and late drawings had them with or without wings. People who were revered had a halo above their respective crowns. Still, the thought comes to mind about the angel in question. Within biblical accounts, we have Raphael (the Angel of Healing), Michael (the leader of the Archangels), Gabriel (the Envoy of God), Lucifer (the Bringer of Light), and Azrael (the Angel of Death).
A conversation with the Angels Raphael, Michael, Gabriel, Azrael, and Lucifer can be quite intriguing. Just ask some of the prophets in the Bible, or let’s ask the people who speak to him when they are in need of something. How about the people speaking of Michael trampling the devil? Let’s ask Joseph Smith and the last true prophet, the Prophet Mohammad (Blessings be Upon Him), about their conversations with Gabriel. For the sake of beating death into submission, let’s speak to the angel of death. For the hell of it, let’s speak to Lucifer or the cult that was founded by a person believing in him. how about asking the people that claim to fear him. ask the people that claim he is ugly, when in truth Lucifer is mentioned as the most beautiful of all the angels and being the bringer of the light. His name is light; just look at the Vulgar Latin languages, which use his name to describe a source of light. The following parts consist of speaking to these angels.
We oft ask ourself, the purpose of life
For desire pursuit, makes us not bliss rife
Pause awhile to ask who in truth we are
Driven by instincts, we’ve drifted afar
Deadened to conscience, how will we reform
Blind lead the blind; in stupor we conform
We’re worldly wise but heart has contracted
From path of love and light, soul’s detracted
Who’s the stranger we see in the mirror
Cold heart allows not love to draw nearer
Why inner conflict, like Jekyll and Hyde
In our palm too, head and heart lines divide
Religion too offers us no relief
We’re asked not to question imposed belief
Why do we fear the unknown and occult
Time’s now to exit each and every cult
Reflect, are we not reborn, with each breath
There’s no liberation at point of death
Save fears and desires, what thoughts do we think
Trauma bonding thus, no wonder we sink
The path then seems clear, as to how to start
First things first, let us meld head with our heart
No sooner head and heart act hand in glove
Boundless grace in-pours; we’re suffused with love
Dropping thought, we become a child again
So easy it is, to break ego’s chain
Analysing not fulcrum of a sneeze
Delight in effervescence of release
Choosing stillness as our default fulcrum
We hark within heart, the soundless bliss drum
Oh weary hermit, embrace the vast void
Once heart’s love drenched, we’re never by fears toyed
Seeing life in motion, what’s there to clasp
In blissful wonder, just let out a gasp
How may we garner truth, if we resist
Know we are living light and a love mist
Questions cease as we become the answer
Transmuted as the divine bliss dancer
14-August-2022
Creating avatars in political and law reality,
contracts and controlling stability.
Modus vivendi where the money flows,
oceans of spirit fears in tows.
Irresponsible silence of motions,
honored sheep’s and their devotions.
Munchausen’s syndrome via comic book,
kindly bulling with every look.
Home at causes, churches and cult,
never able to see the own insult.
Insisting on taking over and fixing things,
manipulated moments for the kings.
Being aloof with natures flawless bound,
no key for the self chain can be found.
Pride in the unfathomable meek,
pointing fingers to the seeming weak.
Motivation all about themselves,
to shine in opportunities like sparkling elf’s.
Taking care of this the millionth time,
when the world needs them in that golden frame.
Justified by abusing others because of it,
stories of the leading role in every bit.
In control to the freakish point,
if not involved so bitter anoint.
The masters and puppeteers put them in charge,
then everybody loves a hero at large.
In the shadowed mountains of Romania, horse-drawn carts travel down dirt roads. On foot, some walk through rolling hills blanketed by fog in a world that's become known for myths and legends. Darkness is associated with the folklore of this mysterious, medieval land. People, some call them cult worshippers, are drawn to wander the hills and valleys nestled in the ancient Carpathian Mountains. Drawn there to envision themselves in the midst of what Bram Stoker's novels describe in great detail. Such is the reputation of this land that's been labeled, Transylvanian Gothic.
in deep dark forests
vampires search for nightly prey
Dracula still lives
Beware if a chill is felt, for wanderers may be dealt a blow, or a bite on the neck. Wildling wolves howl at the blood red moon, a foreshadowing of the dirge, the terror that is said to scourge the land. In the background chords of organ music is heard coming from within moss draped trees and, in the distance is an eerie castle. Its gates should bear a sign reading, "Forbidden! Entering after dark would be a foolish lark for in an ancient vault lies one who feeds in the night on blood."
bats fly from turrets
Transylvanian Gothic
gruesome place at night
gothic villages
undeserved reputation
of vampire legends
The Founders' fear of tyranny
informed their choice of polity.
They chose a form of government,
founded on the people’s power.
They acknowledged the hand of God,
in battles fought and victories won.
And knew the nation’s future state,
depended on His potentate.
Political parties soon evolved,
with platforms bold and grand.
The people hoped that they would be,
the pathway to prosperity.
Progressives felt no need for God
and thought the government was flawed.
So, they installed bureaucracy,
in place of our democracy.
They thought a forceful president,
would help to forge their vision grand.
A society without poverty,
and with complete equality.
The tyranny of bureaucrats
led by the squad of autocrats,
has stoked resentment similar,
to that which sparked our nation’s birth.
When Virtue's ship has long left shore
and integrity valued no more,
then lies parade as gospel truth,
and crooks, ruffled consciences smooth.
The parties are not relevant,
identities are dominant.
Sharp divisions have laid bare,
a nation caught in chaos’ glare.
Our nation flirts with Hitler’s ghost
as we are with one man engrossed,
who promises to right what’s wrong,
and is supported by a vast throng.
The threat to our democracy
comes from the right and from the left.
Beware friends, of cult-like figures,
they'll one day treat you like a pig.
Obituary
The following notice recently appeared in the Toad Suck Monthly News Express. The management apologizes for the tardiness of its publication:
Ms. Villonia Beebe has passed away,
She was Toad Suck's most famous attraction.
Born May 26, 1900,
Died May 26, 2023,
A century plus of pert near continuous action.
She was born and raised in Arkansas,
And lived most of her life in the Hollows.
Beauty queen at eleven,
Mother of seven,
Her children are listed as follows:
Homer, Jr. joined a sex cult in 1951;
Jasper's an internet parson;
Bobby Lee had a small part in "Nuns on the Run";
Hank's doing 20 for arson;
Tabby's on welfare, with three kids of her own,
And another one due any day;
Ruth is a madam in Juneau or Nome;
And Jolene works with Cirque du Soleil.
Homer, Sr., her husband, had a nice little still
Where he kept corn likker a-brewin'.
His body was found one day in the swamp,
Looked like the hogs had got to him.
Louetta Buford, her friend, who discovered the corpse,
Said, "Vee's countenance could not have been calmer."
The coroner noted she was so full of 'shine,
He doubted he'd have to embalm her.
Funeral services will be held on Saturday at the On the Seventh Day He Rested Cause He Was Plum Wore Out Evangelical Baptist Church. A potluck covered dish reception to follow in the church Rec Hall.
Looking ’round it is sad to say,
we who think that we’re so advanced,
that cults are growing everywhere,
it’s really getting out of hand.
They make people think insane things,
out of touch with reality,
leave them unfit to face the world,
and all of its uncertainties.
It may be that nothing will work
but giving them all a hard jolt,
to break the veil of lies they’ve built,
to free them of these brutal cults.
You see the ones who worship Earth,
claim that the world is gonna end,
that humans are of no great worth,
that fish are just the same as men.
Endlessly say, ‘It’s getting warm,’
and think that it’s all humans fault,
point out the sun, ocean cycles,
ice age mechanics, they just balk,
and demand that we don’t heat our homes,
demand that we travel nowhere,
treat oil like it is Satan,
his carbon going everywhere…
You point to glaciers that still grow,
that carbon levels off quickly,
do they stop and examine it?
No, the shout like its blasphemy.
You note that volcanos dwarf us
in spewing carbon they so fear,
the oceans too release much more,
holes in the theory do appear,
Does this cause them to stop and think
if science is what they value?
No, they just scream out, ‘Denier!’
then go online to cancel you.
Ignore the people that would starve
if oil went away right now,
forget the tech that they all use
would end if plastics weren’t allowed.
It never was science to them,
just a cheap religion-substitute,
find meaning without doing work,
claim you’re moral and appear good.
They’d take us back into the caves,
render our species void and null,
this pseudo-science Earth worship
is just rebranded pagan cults.
CONTINUES IN PART II
November 20th 2011,
betalbatim beach.
By Sashi Prabhu(zeauoxian).
Throttled pain and it’s come again,
All the doors kept ajar and my joys are drained.
Why it strikes me , I care to know,
The peace is gone and the pain seems to grow.
The druid churns the magic potion,
More gains are his only notion.
But men and women to take along,
Is not his goal and he’s so wrong.
Power blinds his wretched mind,
Oh! His deeds put all to the grind.
Dying creative powers they soak to grounds ,
Of the hallways, whose gonna turn it around.
People cry their minds a whisper,
All time idly spent in repent.
Passion dies yet another death each day,
And things not achieved all kept at bay.
Winds of change come sweeping across the globe,
The soothsayer swings his wand & depths he probe.
A new brotherhood of people he plans to build ,
Trusts he those who’s desires are unfulfilled.
Two years back,in November, at the nerve centre,
20 monks indicated to the leading lights along with their mentor,
The way ahead after spells of erudition under learned teachers,
A blind eye they turned then, today they all chant like preachers.
My plea to them is to let go of ego and come together,
As forces across the globe are down in the slump in all weather.
Together all must be to tackle the dark forces that surround,
It’s creativity that will bring back from depths,to astound
To build the cult the soothsayer has begun,
The dominos must align as now nobody must be the favorite son,
Err if it has been, now there is no way on land but to move ahead,
Cause the ships in troubled waters have already fled………….