Long Damned Poems
Long Damned Poems. Below are the most popular long Damned by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Damned poems by poem length and keyword.
Howard ...
I wish I'd known you
But then ... maybe I DID
Choices, tastes, motivations, obsessions, demons
(Ah yes, demons ... with no damned respect for protocol)
Near perfect reflections of my own, finish-to-start
Like fate put flesh on a hanger for tomorrow
Pressed in cellophane with a number tag
Every bit I've learned and heard
Leaves me with a shaking head
For it is as familiar as my own, unsullied
They thought you strange ... hermit, recluse
But that was pain, nothing less or more
The dark revenant that blooms in suffering's shadow
They never wore your shoes, but tongues wagged just the same
I know it all ... the endless thoughts, spinning
No quiet, even in your own head ... even in dreams
The same torturing self-analysis and fault
Nerves afire, aching for relief
The horrid sickness of body and mind that replaces it ... forever
I do not envy you your sorrowful, lonely end in the least
But I DO begrudge you your fate, ultimate
For the spinning has stopped ...
Mine ... goes on.
In past elections I’ve heard told
Voters adding an extra box and throwing old Bugs into the fold
How bad does it really have to be?
Could Bugs Bunny maybe help set us free?
Poor Elmer Fudd would definitely be of no assist
They took away his gun, no proper reach around and no kiss
Daffy Duck has also taken his leave and gone south
He was just no match for Bidens quick wit or Trumps loose mouth
But seriously folks I think we are all screwed
We’re damned if we don’t and damned if we do
Some say the Donald is a little bit touched
But what’s left of Joes faculties, not much
As we get closer to election day, reality will surely bend
Beware of fake news my friends and this apocalyptic end
I know who I’m voting for, me and my toot toot
Bugs Bunny for president, now wouldn’t that be a hoot
It’s 5am here and 2am there
I’m up with the blue birds
Pulling the word worms from my mind
Wiggling out seeking the soil
We all want to be planted in
We all desire to be made whole
Golden sun slowly rises on horizon
And I find it inviting
If I could swallow it
Would I be enlightened
Would I no longer seek human vices
Musings of a early morning mom
Peeling back thoughts like
Covers sheets on a queen’s bed
Always hoping to be better than I am
Always growing despite feeling damned
Why fight against emotions they are like a sail
Can take you only so far if you are brave enough to care
A bird bathes my ears in his yellow song
Welcoming and charming tweets so strong
This bird’s heart is sure of his plight
Despite dark hearts his song is of light
So nature has lessons I need to learn
Like fire is hot touch it not or burn
Trust in God for His ways are not our own
Like the little bird does as he creates nurtures home
We see them sitting in towers
carved from ‘learned’ ivory,
insulated by their tenure
from the world of reality,
poisoning their students minds,
putting bad ideas in their heads,
the kind that in a century
left one hundred million souls dead.
They know they face no consequence,
they even blacklist all others,
it’s the students who pay the cost,
in the real world they all suffer
for imbibing leftist nonsense
that they learned at academy,
betrayed by malign professors,
by ‘elites’ who are not elite.
We see them strutting in Hollywood,
convinced that their fame is greatness,
they want us to watch ever film,
yet our values they dismiss.
Thinking they’re on the cutting edge,
and the we’re all just inbred proles,
they think that lying well on film
makes them the people in the know.
Yet most of them have more spouses
when most people have fingers,
all their rapes are upsetting,
the pedophilia disturbs.
Once called the city of angels,
now just a Sodom on the sea,
a mess of ruined human souls,
an ‘elite’ who are not elite.
Glance upon the creative scenes,
you’ll find many more of this kind,
like the ‘artist’ who wants thirty grand
for a spray-painted orange rind!
Or maybe the plotless writer
who calls it ‘literary fic,’
bad characters just moaning on
about how they’re damaged and sick.
Don’t forget today’s architect
with his swiss-cheese ‘masterpiece,’
it’s supposed to be a building,
nut I looks like concrete feces.
I wouldn’t take any of this
even if given out for free,
they’re making all art hideous,
these ‘elites’ who are not elite.
Then there are all of the blowhards
who make up the modern news,
thinking that you will only see
the things that they pick and choose.
When any man with internet
can see through their partisan crap,
and lord do they get all annoyed
when you call them out on that.
If they cannot win they censor
and double down on their madness,
the idea that they can’t control us
is one they cannot stomach yet.
Those fools will tell me it’s raining
while I walk down a sunny street,
it is far time we tear them down,
damned ‘elites’ who are not elite.
I responded to a dare down at the county zoo
I was with my mates so what was I to do
It was only meant to be an Itsy Bitsy joke
That mighty ape seemed half asleep… so I gave him a poke
What happened next, in later life, I might have bragged
That massive ape looked angry when I said, “You’re tagged.”
I’m sky high on bravado but that didn’t last long
For very soon I found that something was very wrong
I thought it was a leg pull but my mates seemed shocked
When one announced that that gorilla’s cage ain’t locked
Kongo, the gorilla, grinned (I kid you not)
I’m telling you, I wasn’t welded to the spot
Kongo headed for his gate, he looked irate
I shouted as I ran, “I’m off; it’s getting late!”
I couldn’t find my keys; my car was staying put
It’s human v gorilla… and it’s all on foot
But I made it to the highway and I hitched a ride
Kongo kept on coming at a rapid stride
I asked the driver, “Can’t you give the gas a blast?
That damned gorilla’s angry… and he’s really fast.”
The pedal hit the floor, we hit a hundred and five
So we would outrun any hairy ape alive
We passed a warehouse and I said, “Thanks for the ride,
I think I’ve found the perfect place that I can hide.”
I snuck into the building but I felt quite sick
I heard gorilla footsteps coming really quick
I guessed he must have tracked me by the scent of my breath
And pondered all the headlines apropos my own death
He crashed in through the doorway like a drunk home late
With every step he took I felt the floor vibrate
I hid behind some shelves and tried hard not to breathe
And when he found me I knew that my folks would grieve
I knew that all was lost; I couldn’t fight that beast
Maybe I could sock him on the jaw at least
He grabbed me with both hands; I thought my chest would split
But then he bared his fangs and said, “Hah! Tag; you’re it!”
Hope the man above as tuned in, To what I've got to say
All the peoples of this world need to get attuned to peaceful ways
Lord above he should have seen the writing on the wall
Letting war and famine plight these lands is not the way to go
Everybody should highlight that fighting needs to end
Let no nation bomb another inciting violence should be banned
Understanding not screaming at each other , lets walk hand in hand
Justify your reasons or on judgement day you will be damned
All of us need to live in harmony live by these words he commands
Hallelujah
comp entry 1 song hallelujah the writing on the wall pic 2 mens shouting
Your the architects of your own oppression,
Surrendered in fear from the threat of aggression,
Collaborating to salvage the scraps,
Living in squalor between the gaps,
Your empowered people from your loyal elect,
Exploit you and treat you with disrespect,
We cannot fathom why you live this way,
We don’t understand the games you play,
We’ve shared our knowledge in an open embrace,
But you refuse to share it with the rest of your race,
Even now as your planet dies,
Your greed is the blindfold that covers your eyes,
You aren’t the first that we have found,
That walks across their dying ground,
Though you may be the last that will ever be,
Unless you have an epiphany,
I will return when all is done,
When the crescent light shines from the blackened sun,
But for now I must tend to matters at hand,
To other planets on the cusp of being damned.
We are extremely jealous of her sandals, the ones with the glitzy silver rhinestones.
She has worn them twice this week. But who is counting?
We scoff at her apple decorated tennis shoes, who would wear them in public?
I hate those damned ugly fur-lined boots she drags out for snow, my mate says.
I snicker.
We hear footsteps, and get quiet.
Humans get weird when the shoes are talking.
The closet door opens a crack.
Someone yells “Are you ready yet?” The husband, we think.
He never comes in here.
The door opens wide, making me blink due to the bright light.
I feel like I am in a police interrogation room.
Pick me! Pick me! Pick me! My mate begins to chant. I shush him.
I can hear him still thinking it from his corner of the closet where he was thrown
Upside down and backwards last summer.
I am sitting under a garbage bag of clothes, so why am I laughing?
Our woman reaches for my mate. I can feel him smiling. I try to scoot closer, so she can see me.
She pokes around a bit in this hovel from hell, then she drops him. OUCH!
She picks up the glitzy rhinestone sandals, and the door shuts.
“I hate YOU!” my mate yells at me.
We are in the dark again, in the furiously maddening darkness.
I want to kill him, but I cannot move, squashed under this damned garbage bag.
She cannot keep a job; she has had several. Anger issues.
Cannot spell or write either, or be nice, but those are secondary problems.
Showed up at ten, was supposed to be there at 7:45; always good excuses.
Creative anyway.
Wanted them to give her a recommendation; highly angry at them for not doing it.
Called them prejudiced. They hate the Irish! She told me. Wait, their names are McCormick.
She tried to find another job from the luxury of her bed, circled lots of them in the paper.
Did not make the phone calls though; the valium she was taking for her perpetual migraines held her off.
What about the children? Her neighbors ask her. She was too ill to worry about them.
They were six, eight, ten and twelve, time for them to get jobs and take care of her. Right?
The school bought them Christmas presents, and she was furious they would not give her receipts.
Complained because they were not even getting a turkey for Thanksgiving, so her neighbor brought her one.
That damned social worker was really mad on the first when she realized the turkey had never been cooked.
She did not have a computer or anything. They should have brought her one that was cooked anyway.
That was on them. The crumby neighbor is pounding on her door again. She opens one eye.
Damned kids must have forgotten their keys. She can keep them for a while, she thinks. I am sick.
As she falls back to sleep, she wonders what will become of her, who will take care of her?
Why has this happened to her? Her uterus moves in a little hop like way, a happy baby this time.
Thank god. The other ones are always wanting something, begging for stuff, complaining.
Maybe this one will be the one who makes the difference. She pats her tummy and smiles.
Maybe she has a good one in there, this time.
Her eyes close.
In the garden, The Christ did pray
For strength ardent to bear pain's stay.
Gethsemane, the Master kneels
To ask to be with fond appeal.
His close aides lie in heavy sleep;
The Christ now cries in pain so deep.
The soldiers come to seize the king;
Judas now sums betrayal fling.
A kiss laid sound to tell on him;
Jesus is bound with scornful whim.
Then off they go to a mock trial;
Conspire to show with sure denial.
From high priest to Pontius Pilate;
An impromptu in vile charade.
Death sentence flawed in power play
As Roman law primes unjust stay.
Scourged to appease the crowd's frenzy;
The Christ was seized with mad cruelty.
Thirty lashes upon the flesh;
A mocking clash of bloodied mesh.
Crowned with thorns plucked from marine haunts;
Pierced mortal tucked with painful taunts.
Then the mocked king is forced to walk;
Heavy cross stings the burdened stalk.
The route is long with steps uphill;
The Christ bears strong with humble will.
Three times He falls, and feels the whip;
Cruel soldiers all who torments heap.
On and on He bears the wood cross
To death's alley, to sure recourse.
Along the way, The Christ meets those
Who did display the pains and ghost.
Golgotha's space, nails are driven,
The cross is raised in cruel action.
The Son of Man prays for mankind,
To save the damned that evil signs.
Two thousand years have come and gone;
The Christ did peer to times forgone.
Good Friday psalm to each and all,
We must not harm but heed love's call.
Love frames a law: "Who harms, must heal." --
Law without flaw, it's heaven's will.
The way ahead is beyond hate;
Let love break bread as grace now plates.
The Living Christ offers to each
Love's fine reprise: Love each to each.
The message comes to one and all;
Love is the sum of love that calls.
Go deeper still to know and see:
The Christ that wills love and beauty.
Grace sets you free to know your place,
To simply be love's happy face.
Heed this story just to be clear;
Join the lovely way to love's cheer.
Follow your heart and it will show
The steady art that true love knows!
Let love bring light to live and learn;
Let peace bring sight for grace soothes yearn.
Leon Enriquez
18 Apr 2014, (on Good Friday)
Singapore