Long Demand Poems
Long Demand Poems. Below are the most popular long Demand by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Demand poems by poem length and keyword.
If i allow a mother to steal food, in order to feed her babies. Does that make me
an angel or criminal? How do we as people not take responsibilty to change our
own destiny?
For justice is the right of everyone!
If i don't take the time to teach this mother to stand, to be self reliant, to have faith,
to face her fears. If i don't teach her compassion and self respect. Does that
make me part of the problem or the solution?
For any injustice hurts everyone!
If i don't register to vote because i believe the system is broke. How then can i sit
on this mother's jury, with 11 others to deceide if she committed a crime?
For justice is the right of everyone!
If i allow the truth to be silenced by her economics or her up bringing. Am I giving
her an excuse to keep on?
For any injustice hurts everyone!
If i check hispanic as my race because my other choices demand that i deny my
mother. Does that mean that i disrespect my own people?Does that mean i don't
believer in Dr. King's dream?
For justice is the right of everyone!
If i allow the disrespect of another's faith, from one coming of my own. Does that
mean I have no faith in my own beliefs?
For any injustice hurts everyone!
If i adopt a child from a a foreign country. Does that make me heartless to the
needs of the here?
For justice is the right of everyone!
If am a solider supporting my family and I must go to war. Does that mean I
support the reasons behind the war?
For any injustice hurts everyone!
If am a hard working law abiding citixen . Does that mean that it is none of my
concern how the system punishes criminals of differnt races?
For justice is the right of everyone!
If my child is on life support and my insurance won't cover no more treatment .
Who then has the right to deceide if my child lives or dies?
For any injustice hurts everyone!
If i justify my wrong doings with excuses of what was done to me and my people.
Will you tell me what that makes me?
For justice is the right of everyone!
Justice is everyone's freedom to think, feel, love, have no limits in what one can
do. Justice is to receive the respect of everyone. Not to be judged for sex,race or
faith. To have equal opportunities for you and I!
To quote Dr. King's words, " Injustice anywhere threatens justice everywhere!"
end quote.
For any injustice hurts everyone!
Form:
I just wanted to thank Poetry Soup for, well, for being, for existing as a format for poets to share their hearts and souls. I can hardly believe it's been 6 years (gulp!) since I first posted a poem here--it was about that time that I started writing poetry again after a 30 plus year hiatus since I stopped writing anything in my early 30's. Why I stopped or why I began again, I don't know: Who can explain creativity? But somehow I found Soup and well, a community. So may I thank, on behalf of that community, all you unsung heroes who maintain the 'Soup'.
And as to all those who add their 'ingredients' into the Soup, let me commend ALL of you. In those same 6 years I have not read a single poem that was pretentious, egotistical, idiosyncratic to the point of being so obscure as to seem meaningless--in other words, so called 'modern' contemporary poetry as favored by a depressing number of lit mags today. I've learned at last to stop wasting my time submitting to such [and certainly not if they demand a reading fee] as I-- fool that I am-- continually strive to find meaning in both what I write and what I read. One editor even warned not to send anything that 'conveyed' a meaning, and in no uncertain terms did he want did he want to hear anything about the soul or the heart or-God forbid!- God.
I suspect this is why so many people are turned off by modern poetry today-- and who can blame them? Wasting time reading a bunch of big/obscure/erudite words strung together, only to scratch your head wondering what the hell did that all mean? The best poems are often very simple: 'to be or not to be', 'death kindly stopped for me', 'the Lord is my shephard' -- but they always take you SOMEWHERE [though it may not be a place you immediately recognize]. The best poems, I believe, increase awareness, not leaving you feeling confused, perplexed, frustrated ['what the hell did that mean?' ] This does not mean they give you answers --but they may suggest some. And as modern society becomes increasingly at odds with itself, at risk quite literally of fragmenting, some insight would seem as valuable as it is rare.
The contests are fun at Soup and many demonstrate how clever and knowledgeable Soupers are about the myriad poetical forms. I have to say, though, I wish there were more thematic contests--open to any form that served to enlighten the proposed theme.
The Monarch Who Thought He Was King
Once there was a butterfly
who fluttered by a gate.
The gate was closed, that’s when he said,
“O shucks, now I’ll be late!”
He danced and pranced and shouted
and did not hesitate,
“I demand,” he said with power,
“please, open up this gate!”
To his surprise before his eyes
the gate did open wide.
“A lovely thing; I am the king!
I’m surely qualified.
I had no choice so with my voice
the command I simplified:
‘Just open up this gate!
I need to get inside.’”
He told to all who’d hear him:
“I am the King,” he said.
While some bowed down and listened;
some would not turn their head.
They huffed and puffed and scoffed away,
“We’re sure that you misread.
To open up a gate is easy;
like falling out of bed!”
His shoulders drooped, his forehead sagged;
his eyes filled up with tears,
“You cannot make me less a king
with your scoffing and your sneers.
I am the king,” he fluffed with pride,
“the ruler of my peers.”
Then off he flew without a thought
of all their laughs and jeers.
He fluttered to a purple bush;
the hue fit for a king.
And there he sat to contemplate
and other kingly things.
“I’ll show them all; the small and tall,
and all the scoffs they bring.
A proclamation for my nation:
we’ll hold a royal fling.”
From low and high, from far and near
they gathered close to see
the monarch make his grand command
and show his identity.
A thousand monarch butterflies
watched with frivolity
with five or six ambassadors
from the queendom of the bees.
And there he came with pomp and pride
the self-made king to share
he was a monarch butterfly
and worthy of their care.
He preened his wings and listened for
the sound of his fanfare,
but all he heard was rustling wind
which threw him in the air.
He crashed and tumbled to the floor;
they could not believe their eyes.
The kingdom they had counted on
was built on fibs and lies.
The king was crumpled to the ground
ashamed in his demise.
He let the rain fall down on him
from clouds in the gray skies.
And then he woke up from his nap
and turned inside his bed.
He saw the flowers of his home
of purple, blue, and red.
Right then and there he promised
and to himself he said,
“I’ll be the best of butterflies,
than to be king instead.”
I am a monster
A tormented work of God’s hand
I will roll over you
Like a storm
Because that I am
My energy will attract you like a swarm of bees in spring
Into your lover’s bed
Where I will remove tranquility
From you mind
Before you reject me
I am a Tesla
Coiled
My fingers set to spark
They will suck the life out of your longing
You will desire to burn again in my hell
But you will remove me
And keep me at bay
For I am too strong in field
To leave close to your heart
Yet I will possess you
Not because I own you
Only will I own your desire
To wrap around my tongue again
And from inside your womb
You will grow a hand longing to pull me into your core
Yet I will unwillingly shake your bed
While you try to sleep
Because I cannot stop
Even when I rest
A storm I am
Cursed am I
With a double vortex of pain
That rips at my muscles
And makes them twitch
When I want them to relax
There is lightening inside of me
That longs to be kissed into a deeper slumber
Just once, so that I can rest in bliss at your side
Will you do that for me, just once?
Or throw me away before the first dawn, as is my fate
My tormented soul
Wants the electrocutioner’s pulse
To leave me alone
And let my limbs recline
For just one night
But instead I must sleep awake
So I do not unleash
Another crushing wave
Against your brain
As my twitching arms attack you despite my love
For while a storm may intrigue you to watch
You will not ride long in the funnel of this tornado
I will become your toy
And discarded after a few shocks of my constant sparking
Have burned your precious fingertips into charcoal
My place will become as your sworn servant
When you require another grinding
And remember the reason your millstones have worn thin
Desiring another load
To render into stardust
And while I just wish to rest my weary head
Upon your swollen breasts of honey
While you sleep against me in pleasure’s afterglow
The storm that never sleeps will jar you awake
And your pointed finger will show me out the dog’s door
Creep that I am
Requires his mask to be kissed away, but it will not yield
No one can endure
A lasting embrace
Because I will bump your arms away in the night
You should be warned
As upon notice be you now informed
My tic ticking heart
Will demand its daily toll
Sending me to sleep alone
After finishing a seminar based on demand and supply,
I walked out to the street and hailed a taxi going by,
and as I sat down in the seat, the taxi driver said to me,
‘my, my, your timings perfect, you are just the same as Terry.’
I must admit he had me thinking, so of course I answered ‘Who?’
‘Terry Parker’ said the cabbie; a bloke it’s obvious he knew.
‘Yeah, anything that Terry did, he was right on every score,
he lived with perfect timing and Terry never had one flaw.’
I had never met a bloke like Terry, so I’m wary of the fact,
so I subtly gave me answer in a way most would react,
‘None of us are perfect mate,’ but the cabbie did insist
That Terry, he was faultless, and so few like him exist.
I heard that Terry was an athlete with the most amazing skills,
His golfing matched the pros, and his tennis playing simply thrills,
he could sing like Johnny Cash; and even better so I’m told,
he danced like Fred Astaire; his piano playing…simply gold.
I could only think he must be special, this Terry Parker bloke,
and the cabbie uttered ‘hang on,’ and once again he spoke,
‘there’s more to Terry yet, you see his memory never failed,
he remembered every birthday, and every one detailed.
‘He was a connoisseur on beer, and knew everything ‘bout wine,
He knew how to serve the finest foods; all simply pure divine.
And if anything needs fixing, then Terry was your shining light,
he was streets ahead of me, ‘cause I can’t do nothing right.
‘He could always read the traffic, and you’d never find him stuck,
not like me when I am driving, for I had none of Terry’s luck,
and I ought to mention women, and how he made them feel so good,
he was the ideal gentleman; he treated women how I should.
‘Terry would never answer back, even if the woman’s wrong,
he was a charming butler, and his charisma it was strong,
he kept his house immaculate, as no other person can…
no one could measure up; Terry Parker was the perfect man.’
When I reached my destination but before I stepped outside,
I paid the driver what was due, and then I thanked him for the ride,
but I thought it best I mention, at more or less a parting whim,
‘this Terry Parker is remarkable, how did you get to meet him?’
The driver took my money, and then he muttered deep and slow,
‘Actually I never met him, but I’m married to his widow.’
A woman speaks:
“I will live in a tent, or demand I pay no rent!
My name is Sally, I want everything free!
To God, I never will bend an ungraterul knee!
For my community…..nothing will I ever do!
For the USA, you see, I think so little of you!”
“I will burn every American or Isreali flag I see!
Because everything in the USA belongs to me.
That new, red car you drive, it should be mine.
Anyone else's hard work, I shall never will do!
But all your accomplishments belong all to ne
not to you.”
“I am dying of bright, green jealousy and greed.
I steal anything I possibly can,it is my fervent creed!
I make our government tax you, till you bleed!
For you are my slaves,to fulfill all my selfish needs”
The USA, now a nation that will not work?
Why not we kindly deport these hapless jerks?
The melody I hear is so incredibly tragic,
People refusing to live lives, that are could be magic!
Criminal rioters are now totally honored here?
Teen gangbangers do stand on corners, slurping beer.
Children in Chicago, weekly are with no mercy shot dead.
BLM Marxist marches, rioters destroy, where are their heads?
Alas, the Jews are now not allowed a higher education
But must live as rodents~in fear and open the door in hesitation?
Americans, unite and do so very soon.
Do you applaud the slaughter of infants beneath an October seventh moom!
The new normal of hatred here must end now
I Pray to God, no money to Iran..I vow!
Find people with character who love, not have the joy to kill
October deventh gone,I still hear cries for mercy still!
Tent cities have ruined many delightful towms
fentanyl, thanks to Cartels, have taken many American lives.
While we hide at home,penning pietry that rhymes
Servants of the Gestapo, how dare you shame,
Those of us who believe in the American Dream, lost our flame.
We learned too well …..what happened in Germany,
When people thought that nutcase Hitler was sanity?
I hope you recall all the millions of lives thar were takem!
May God help us, this never occurs again ~ our hearts forsaken!!
4/25/2024
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I fell asleep in my chair
I awoke and a room full of smiling women
Looked at me
With Death’s Stare
I asked myself
Am I dreaming?
What are these women scheming?
I fear my mind these women soon will be reaming
What made me dream this way?
My boss yelled at me today
Too much work stress
My brain abscess
Heart and soul in distress
I heard on TV there are more men than women
Women dying and killed in record numbers
Female Final Slumber
Male Violence
Men creating
Female Silence
I looked back at the Cabal of Ladies
I fear I have a room at
The Hotel Hades
Their smiles gone
The room suddenly burst into flames
The women screamed out in pain
Their anguished cries driving me insane
I fell to my knees
I begged them for a Quick Death
They said after I listen to how they all died
Maybe then I could take my last breath
One was stoned
One was beheaded
One was strangled
One was burnt alive
One was led to a cliff and forced to dive
She did not survive
There is no Honor in killing
All the women committed the same sin
Wanting to be free
Male driven Female Genocide for centuries
Still going on
Way too long
All the men swore to love and protect these women
Fathers, Husbands, Brothers, Sons, Friends and Lovers all lied
Allah Cried
Love Denied
Evil dark music filled the room
Flames Rising
Tribal Trance Treat
Tantric Drum Beat
The women danced
I was entranced
Satan and Jesus
Came in the room
They approached the women
And both told The Flock they are
The One
Follow me to Eternal Fun
All the women laughed and turned away
From their Saviour
These women no longer crave
Male Behaviour
Then out of the Flames
I was approached by
The Head Dame
My Dead Mother aflame
Smoldering in front of me
My Beloved Mother said to me
Son you don’t have much time
It’s true you never committed female crime
You never got out of line
Why don’t you write a rhyme
Tell all men of future women yet to come
They need to be free
And will not be Men’s Property
These unborn women will demand to experience life
Free from Male Strife
And be warned
If Male Violence continues against women
And Men refuse to change
Then one day all the women will be gone
They will refuse to be born
Men will no longer be turned on
This will signal
Man’s Final Dawn
There once was a much-desired piece of real estate nearby the estate of a king.
The property was coveted by the king and owned by a subject in his domain.
The king offered the above mentioned landowner a fair price, but he promptly refused to sell.
The use of eminent domain laws is said to have originated in the early 1700’s;
but this story took place hundreds of years before Christ. It refers to an evil king of a Middle Eastern country.
In a democratic republic, many properties are often secured by eminent domain.
In the above mentioned kingdom, the citizens also had rights to be honored.
The king was known to be evil, but even he deferred to the citizen’s property rights.
Though a king may be evil, he need not seek to do everything evil. So the king went home very sad, because he sincerely wanted that property. He said it was close to his estate, and owning it would allow him to expand his garden.
Nevertheless, it was not to be. That is, until the king’s wife got word of it.
The queen soon noticed the dejected and disappointing demeanor of the king.
Upon learning about her husband’s dilemma, the queen promptly resolved the king’s problem without further questions. The queen devised a lying and evil plot, and in short order, she had the man killed. She then confiscated his property and handed it over to her husband the king. The property owner had bravely exercised his right to sell or not sell to the king; but it cost him his life. Yes, the king had a reputation for being evil; but his wife the queen was far more evil than the king.
The exercise of our rights can be costly, and may even demand the ultimate price. However, the pain is greater, and the wounds are deeper, whether inflicted by the state government or by people, if rights are ignored. The evils of a State, whether it be a kingdom or republic, can only persist if the good people of the state do nothing. When good people are silent, the state is at great risks of doing evil. But when good people are vocal and prayerful, the state does good and serves them, because they exercise their rights. ‘The Good’ can only be realized as good people rise from their seats of apathy. Good people can only see and combat evils as they raise their heads from the sands of indifference.
cj 07232015 PS
The soldier, he looked down at me
While I protested vociferously.
He seemed to be but twenty-five
An age that weathered eyes belied.
And as I turned to walk away,
I heard the soldier up and say:
“It seems that you don’t understand,
What it takes to protect this land.
The price we pay for what we do,
What we suffer for folks like you.
The cost of keeping people free
Is letting go of the fantasies.
The stories all you people tell,
Burn away in war’s fiery hell.
The illusions that most people hold,
They Sink away to depths untold.
To keep you safe we confront truth,
And force along the end of youth.
You chant and say ‘Let’s end all war,’
It’s understandable deplored.
But you never seem able to derive,
That the end of war is the end of life.
As long as folks can think on their own,
Conflict will exist, and war will be close.
To end it all, the cost would be
All trace of individuality.
A price too great for man to know,
Better the chance of trading blows,
Than giving up what is our essence.
It’s a bloody but important lesson.
And since the battle can never end,
You’ll always have need of warrior men,
To fight against chaotic tides,
To hold a line against the night.
And as for seeing an end to war,
Only dead folks will see no more.
We don’t as much for what we do,
In money I make less than you!
We ask no power, small or large,
We don’t demand to be in charge.
We don’t need swoons or genuflects,
We ask only that you show respect.
And though it makes bleeding hearts burn,
It’s a respect we’ve dearly earned.
By watching buddies die and scream,
By hearing them in haunted dreams,
By seeing our peace-time lives crimped
By missing limbs and nagging limps.
We just want you to understand
What such a life does to a man.
To keep peace for this country, wide
A piece of all of us must die.
And even if we survive steel rain,
What comes home will never be the same.
We do it ‘cause it must be done,
To those for fear no law but guns.
We stand up strong and take the blast,
So common folks, the rage will pass.
And had we not chosen this life
You’d all feel the weight of death-run-rife.”
And then the soldier walked on by,
I could not believe he’d bought the lies!
The fool, he probably stayed up late,
Thinking up new folks to hate!
If he’d only go to college, he’d see
The real heroes are protesting…
Why do we have such trouble
trying to explain
the height of ecstasy
and the depth of pain
when to you I am connected
the blossoming of joy
where upon it being severed
hollow emptiness deploy
I hear your cries in the vagaries of night
but your distance prevents the healing of your plight
your pain has saturated every cell in my soul
but only can the embrace of Love make you whole
My heart aches to hold you to my breast
to see you lifted like a kings treasure chest
wish you could see in mine eyes your own reflection
and take away that you aren't precious misconception
I have never spent my time tearing you apart
but sought those qualities shining in your heart
who keeps telling you with a derogatory voice
that you're valued less than any other choice
I have loved you from the day we first met
my promise until the end I'll you not forget
I exerted to support you every drop of energy
though would have rather had you very close to me
There is no treasure over you I cherish
count them as nothing that my Love should perish
an espoused sentiment will not a tummy feed
I had to work to roof and clothe your need
The only family at the time that cared for you
two grandparents who tried to help me through
they saw to it every school year you had clothes
and when I lost them how my sanity then froze
I'm required to forgive those who threw us away
and the father who never supported you in anyway
also the men who hide those who violate
until our God by Christ does away with hate
Sometimes in Life there is no indication
the path required will receive its vindication
I already know every place that I have failed
and my own inadequacy which upon I've railed
Someday perhaps You will understand
Gods requirement to care your needs demand
if I hadn't been alone might've been easier to stand
and in myself what I've lacked not to reprimand
1 Timothy 5:8
But if any provide not for his own, and specially for those of his own house, he hath denied the faith
and is worse than an infidel
COPYRIGHT © 2011 C Michael Miller