Long Deface Poems
Long Deface Poems. Below are the most popular long Deface by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Deface poems by poem length and keyword.
If you were born to be what you want to be
to believe your needs are yours to achieve
born to breathe the air of success
every failure a course of progress
to give it your all and then find more
to stand up tall right after you fall
and never give in and always endure
widen your view and seek to explore
carve out the path like no one before
In the face of defeat deface it with force
not narcissistic but humble and pure
confident not cocky transparent to the core
giving opportunities out as you go
never feel threatened and help others grow
the best version of you helps the next person too
when advance isn’t chance but purposely proved
and admit when it's chance because that happens too
don't make out and fake out the intention to do
when you don’t know ask questions and listen to answers
observant occurrence in all circumstances
always knowing there’s somebody better
always seek to be somebody better
never completed and never fulfilled
forever reaching increasingly skilled
always have hunger like when you were younger
drive up when you’re under the lightning the thunder
dynamo will of the furthering hunter
nothing’s enough wanting more out of habit
calling their bluff as you reach out and grab it
pushing the boundaries far off the radar
when you are the greatest seek to be greater
it’s about your desires and making them true
that means you do whatever you need too
it’s not what you are it’s about what you do
and you will do things nobody ever knew
if you were born to a set destiny
then you don’t need inspiration from me
you just need to believe it is yours to achieve
don’t let the negative energy breed
from those around you who you do not need
they arrived in your life but they don’t need to stay
it’s you who decides if they stay or go away
when you realise you must act the same day
take the one chance it’s the one that they gave
when you grow old you can look back and say
I lived my life and I did it my way.
sun sets early in november
while streetlights pepper busy sidewalks
and chilly winds hurl through the streets
bundled up, head on we face the gale
always keen for coffeehouse intermissions
where mugs and napkins are exchanged for money
a warm familiar welcome as we come in from the cold
the atmosphere relaxing, retro music that's enticing
a table for secluded refuge in a corner incognito
baristas giving us the eye offering to impress
with their skills: a fancy this, a fancy that
poised to whip up your heart’s desire
steaming milk for frothy lather
while the aroma of grinding coffee fills the air
and feels as soothing as a sweet caress
here time stands still on one side of the counter
the only one on speed is our pleasant
highly caffeinated talented barista
modern art hung on bare walls
yes, time stands quaintly still here
and this is where i seek my haven
where i go to hide, to read, to write
to dust the sinews of my soul
to sit where words will not aggress me
exquisite swirls of foaming cream atop
patterned with fleeting symmetry
lips approach and deface the perfection
the illusion forever shattered
time is afterall finite
as proclaims my empty cup
i linger longer in no hurry to leave
stretching this mini getaway
'relaxing' lounging and destressing
recharging my depleted batteries
soaking in the void of words
focus on what stirs below
absorbing energy in the silence
in the not speaking
in the not listening
behind the scenes reality awaits
the pause button is now released
AP: 3rd place 2025, Honorable Mention 2025
By Sashi.Prabhu(Zeauoxian)
Trampled lovers each parted their mutual ways,
Tears for them cause misty sprays.
Cold grew them both,
Love amid them was now an old growth.
Years of tenderness love a garland weaved,
Away their love, trampled hearts now bereaved,
Bereft them parted strained in love ,
Stripped of glow,trampled and devoid of heavenly grace from above.
Trampled lovers each parted their mutual ways,
Tears for them cause misty sprays.
Cold grew them both,
Love amid them was now an old growth.
As sorrow seeps across their face,
The dew of the morn shuns the warmth of the day deface.
Trampled lovers each parted their mutual ways,
Tears for them cause misty sprays.
Cold grew them both,
Love amid them was now an old growth.
For days to come both, they would grieve,
Make believe a straight face, for all to deceive,
But deep within their trampled hearts that broke,
A dim flame of emotions still lies awoke.
Trampled lovers each parted their mutual ways,
Tears for them cause misty sprays.
Cold grew them both,
Love amid them was now an old growth.
A score late were parted lovers to meet,
Wonder how they were to greet,
With frozen silence and tear dried face,
Wonder if those feelings could they erase.
Pain drenched brow would seem to show,
The trampled wrinkles with pain the deeper that they grow.
Trampled lovers each parted their mutual ways,
Tears for them cause misty sprays.
Cold grew them both,
Love amid them was now an old growth.
Unmet expectations damage the dormant psyche,
unkept promises smother the rays of fading hope,
unkind words tear the lattice of the mangled mind.
My life turns into an urn filled with your ill feeling.
Your senses become the fast spreading wild fire,
uncontrolled, it boils the blood of intrinsic pride,
and as it flares up, it burns my gentle demeanor,
its viciousness blazes the bonhomie of bonding chords.
As the bitterness smoke billows thick and intense,
upset conscience loses the equilibrium and crashes.
Vile breath is charged with the acrimonious ashes,
while the patient facade of restraint you deface.
Your flashing eyes reveal you seethe inside,
generating an inferno of malice in your heart .
The twisted tongue spills out words so brutal,
smeared with the toxin of your malicious mind.
The scruple of sane sagacity turns into ember,
erupting out of your fuming volcanic conscience,
flows in the spreading smoke of stifling spite,
consuming the remains of reason you lose outright.
With the arcane acumen of a trickster devil,
as sordid silhouette of menace you crawl stealthily
into the quintessence of my being to suck
the ambrosia of my soul, the casualty of your cruelty.
Used books were sold each semester.
Los Angeles City College bookstore, and
California State University, Long Beach ...
They, too, sold used books.
I've been in possession of some -
Students felt fortunate stumbling on the right one,
For some classes commenced without certain books -
"Liberation Theology" was one such book-
I'd already own a copy signed by Dr. Cornell West
He spoke at Dr. Maulana Karenga's center one Sunday.
The point I want to make is:
Some used books held handwritten notes-
Students left their marks on pages of time.
And as the years passed, I formed a habit -
That habit told me not to borrow library books.
Why? I read, and like breeze with leaves, I twiddle words.
To deface another person's property... how trifling.
And so, I'd browse Barnes & Noble, and
Thrift stores housing books I would purchase and cherish.
For I know countless poems will come to mind
For I have seen haiku moments in my travels,
For when I die, find me on pages of time.
*
“A fool sees not the same tree
that a wise man sees
which moves some to tears of joy
is in the others only a green thing
that stands in the way.”
William Blake
Brutal cruel and ignorant
Barbaric really
That stupid woman
Who chopped the flowering rose bushes
Down to one-foot stumps
Because their petals littered the common driveway
And she had no time to clean up after them
She thought they were her disobedient children
She a self appointed cleaner
No gardener of our common garden drive
With no knowledge of gardening children or cleanliness
She spends all her time sterilizing her house
And drying her badly washed laundry
In the unwilling air of the rolling Tuscan hills
This is what we are dealing with
Un- trainable un-teachable blindness
Beasts who massacre deface and pollute
the blessedness of this world unseen
unknown unknowable
The dignity of the non-human world
Assaulted by creatures from hell
Destroyed without compunction
Without any moral consideration
I hear the roses screaming in my sleep
But it’s too late
They will no longer be flourishing
We have come too far
There is no hope left
We can only wait
For the world to be truly cleansed
By the will of a shill
They deface the blood-filled memory
Marauders invade the capital city to the steps
Spoiling the roots of liberty tree by butchery
Strike the man who stands upon a mountain
Art of memory destroyed to satisfy mediocrity
“Let it burn” controlling hunger of a mob
A fitting placebo for the mentally maimed
Destruction remains of smoke and graffiti fire
Then the children ask in horror
Why a proud man died?
Demeaned like Santa Clause
They fall with grace withheld
Soon the young in strife will seek to vilify
Anyone those lacking leadership decry
Until no neutral Hun exists
Acceleration of the withering slain
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_cBayEcXsxc&feature=emb_logo
https://www.wsws.org/en/articles/2021/01/07/pers-j07.html
Let’s deface it—my reality isn’t the same—
Your world is an illusion—similarities set invisible base-lined boundaries.
We share this similarity
Just not the exact same
Ironic Zinc relates this (many things) to childlike innocence…
Why…?
Perhaps this is a direct result of how he has developed—emotionally—?
I should ask him—I have connections!
Nah...
That’s no fun. I know him well—
Allow me how…
As a child he recalls having a special, ignorant connection with people; in general.
At some point in his life, this feeling (or presence) left Mr. Zink—
Maturity processed realty that previous ignorance believed in; with conviction.
Ironic Zinc then absorbed wisdom through every pour of his collected consciousness.
He inhaled its truthful whisper in the wind…
Feeling as if he had been betrayed by practically the entire world—sniffing lies after lie…
Trust reflected through his misplaced eyes that had become wide-cut—Dilation.
Demented to the brink of insanity; Ironic Zinc bathed his anguish with substance
Testing the waters and questioning the vibe
Ironically, he then became them—
Those he now understands, only as misunderstood—empathetically.
Ironic Zinc has drifted apart from stead-fact claims and harsh negative judgments.
Growth is obvious, materialized through his poetic journey—revelations
I am Ironic Zinc…
My ultimate intentions are apparently pure
Equal or lesser than you
Positive judgment—morals—this is how we base beliefs
Negative judgment—called judgmental—flawed logic revealed
I am Ironic Zinc
He has issues—
Issues with current; present day society
Your world is an illusion—similarities set invisible base-lined boundaries.
We share this similarity
Just not the exact same
Let’s deface it—my reality isn’t the same...
Ir0nIc zINc 9-27-15
A land of virtues with cultural grace
For myriad religions, a home place
A peace loving paradise by nature
Honoring traditions, its grand feature
Many a scholar hailed from this blessed soil
Reformers made it renowned with their toil
Assorted branches of knowledge flourished
Awe-inspiring arts and cultures cherished
Invaders tried to grab this divine land;
And aimed to deface its glorious brand
The brave leaped into the great freedom fight.
Protected its legacy with much plight
The soil, water and breezes are pious
Adorned with the crown of Himalayas
Handles all hardships with no compromise
A true faithful friend to all its allies
Truth, justice, kindness and love are its stands
For global peace, it always stretches hands
Evergreen is its heritage story.
With a lot of joy, I praise its glory.
Place: 4
If Your Birthplace-country was a poem Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Anoucheka Gangabissoon
Date:02-06-2023
You could make paper paving pavements as a pavement paver,
and take that paper to a rave and rave like a raving raver,
save behaviour you savour and say to the saviour to save ya,
lose weight so the waiter waits less and waits more for more to waiter,
exaggerate hatred that's stated and overstate the case
whilst you raise praise to raise the raisin raisers wage,
then tie a lace and race with pace to first place and deface the stage.
or...…..
you could save your wage from paving pavements and savour the wait as you save for a case of raver behaviour with pace overstating hatred for a raisin raiser waiter waiting to wait on an overweight weight weigher disgraced in their weighs and way of racist that defacist de stage, man.