Long Demeaned Poems
Long Demeaned Poems. Below are the most popular long Demeaned by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Demeaned poems by poem length and keyword.
...They proclaimed that we ‘oppressed women,’
it’s the refrain of loud femenists,
forgetting that before birth control
nature gave us little choice in this.
That before we had technology,
when life meant brutal, physical work,
that there just weren’t all that many jobs
physically weaker women could work.
They forget that the woman’s franchise
arose on America’s frontier,
that we blazed the path for suffrage,
their equality started right here.
Now why would a nation do all that
if they cared so little for females?
If we sought to be patriarchal
then I dare say the strategy failed.
And yet the left keeps raging about
rights which women have been long endowed,
Why should we buy all their self-hatred
when there’s so much for which to be proud?
And worst of all these fools like to claim,
that we’ve learned nothing, it’s all the same,
which I think is a sure sign that they
have something dreadful wrong in their brains.
We look at our mistakes all the time,
we brood endless on our sins and scars,
America lacks no self-reflection,
if anything we take it too far!
We get so obsessed with all our wrongs
that we think they drown out all the right,
we selfishly think it’s all our fault,
then of the truth we sadly lose sight.
Many cultures can’t ask such questions,
ask the Turks about past genocides,
or see if Communist China will
own up to all the Uighurs that died.
You don’t see many Japanese kids
who know about the rape of Nanking,
yet every American does know
that Wounded Knee was a horrible thing.
Why should we regret a culture that
tries to learn rather than disavow?
Our growing should not bring self-hatred,
to be honest, it should make us proud.
In the end, these issues are smokescreens,
thrown up to keep good people off track,
the left wants us all to hate ourselves
because self-hating folk rarely fight back.
There’s no logic behind what they hate,
hell, it changes hour-to-hour,
what unifies all these self-hatreds
is whether it will bring them power.
That’s really what’s behind all of this,
like some grand Machiavellian scheme,
to make free people into peasants
they first must be cut down and demeaned.
In truth, they don’t like Americans,
they don’t like people who stand unbowed,
so reject their vile self-hatred,
embrace all the things that make us proud.
I heard you talk with your girlfriends
over mai tais the other day,
I heard clearly from the kitchen
the sorts of things you had to say.
You said good things about me, yes,
but then you started to complain,
and talked about all of the things
that you say you’re going to ‘change.’
You don’t like that I own some guns,
or that I sometimes watch NASCAR,
that I will not vote for lefties,
and prefer trucks to tiny cars.
You don’t like that I think Broadway
is a torture to be endured,
and you think that your influence
will somehow make me ‘more cultured.’
As if the things that I enjoy
somehow will leave you demeaned?
You even said that,”He’s so close
to being the man of my dreams!”
And when I brought it up later
you didn’t seem to understand,
said,”But babe, why wouldn’t you want
to grow into a better man?”
You got mad when I pointed out
the truth of the words you had said,
that it meant you didn’t really love
the man that you lay with in bed.
You love a hypothetical,
and not the person that you have,
that I’m somehow not good enough,
and that your presence is a salve.
Now imagine the reaction if
I went and said those word to you?
You’d be furious, up in arms,
the whole internet would be too.
To think that a man could somehow
demand a woman become more,
we’d have psychotic feminazis
come and explode right thought our doors!
Yet when women want to ‘change a man’
we just nod our heads and smile?
You such double-standards just
leave most men feeling defiled.
I don’t love you for what you will be,
No, I love you for what you are.
I don’t pretend I can ‘fix you,’
treat the imperfections and scars.
So I will be what I must be,
and I will like what makes me glad,
even if that involves some things
that you don’t get, or think are bad.
The vision you have in your head
is a dream and will remain so,
such ‘perfection’ is fantasy,
and that should not come as a blow.
I’m a partner, no a project,
so please accept this if you can,
I can’t be the man you dream of,
only the best of what I am.
When the police came with clubs, dogs, and fire hoses, the non-violent protesters did not blame the American flag. When protesters were beaten, jailed, and some killed, they did not blame the American flag. When many were sent off to fight for the rights of others but not their own, they did not blame the American flag. When in uniform, they were treated as second-class citizens far from home, they did not blame the American flag. When their own country discriminated and demeaned them on foreign soil, they did not blame the American flag.
When on bended knees, believing in country, church, and God, against what seemed to be impossible odds, they fought for justice through the courts and the halls of Congress and won many incredible battles.
From the segregated schools and the cotton fields of the deep south, I saw the non-violent protesters and freedom riders. They took the blows and stood tall; from the dogs, they withstood the mauls and realized that hatred and racism were the cause. Yes, this baby boomer observed it all, but I do not recall that they blamed the American flag.
01132018 PS PH FB
I guess you're seeing a flag?
Trouble comes and go,
The range of my eyes captures all black
Walk with me if life is without you alone,
Steal an emblem to save a city,
When we don't know where to go,breastfeed me to experience your nurture,
From west comes deity,
Drilling your motives pings a picture,
Who testifies about how we do it?
The infancy about handling our kisses form texture,
Don't break our dream when firefly jolts in pit,
Like stellar,we end not a plan,
There you see one,specifically you point repeatedly,
I'm ferocious to explain what need to be in steadly,
Stay dumbed,...hinged with haunt,
No more understanding,wrestling over count,
Style leaned against what excels ,
In melted rubber,I'm bonded,
Out from a water,cleaned from irritation,
Freedom chased,lumpy all around station,...
Imaginative compression,
Yellow within colour,
Bright and delineated stiffening what ants throw to us below earth so lower,
The flag is dirty,
The means it ponds me,...leave feeders bin,
Orchestra at top,the recrimination is demeaned,
White snakes climbing the poles at this place,
Miracle deconstruct brace,
Utterly,I'm surveying what goes else where,
I'm far perceiving good with bad,
On the mountain...on the mountain,
We have to go,
Just believing the sharp distinctiveness,
I'm a little eagle on neatness,
Feel right,I speak your mode,
Maybe I wish I'd known,
The night bought you freckles,
Thirty-six minutes passed Three o'clock at dawn,
The moon frowned against pond,
Its brightness killed the strength of everyman,
All the time,pictures come from a volition,
Pretend she does fight under sun,
Friday won't be dismayed,...it's a vision,
Other way needs several elsewhere,
Get yourself into deep air,
Further we might go,we could washed the flag neatly,
It seems wholly what came after a touch of help,
Already,motives are alternated,
Can I adulterate the nip?
It's not problematical as who glib,
But teach me the means of consolidation.
It's an extortion...
Siempre el rostro de lo bestial
Always the face of the bestial
a creature in fabric
of no more than instinctual
an instinct driven by predators
Knee-jerk reflexes for survival
and so we are this
the painted animal
All morality by some gangster curse
alpha above each other
educated in the doctrines
of humanities warmonger
to be the worst resort
the scrabbling rats
who chew and gnaw at the meaning of life
Ever depicted in this trait
towards destruction
to destroy ourselves
this self-hate
a brushstroke of our obscurity
to whitewash a desperate search
for loves actuality
But the painted animals do not love
they merely perpetuate the species
obsess themselves with close-knit families
And throughout histories translation
by politics and religion
so degraded the human
this painted animal of violent intention
the pretense of its rebellion
a damp squid
as time would tell
And although we struggle to recognize the lie
the truth of ourselves eludes
lost amidst the rhetoric
and murderous abnegation
deliberate confusion has no conception of what it means to be a human-being
only what it means to be less than human
"We were saying how very important it is to bring about, in the human mind, the radical revolution. The crisis is a crisis in consciousness, the crisis that cannot anymore accept the old norms, the old patterns, the ancient traditions and considering what the world is now, with all the misery, conflict, destructive brutality, aggression and so on. Man is still as he was, is still brutal, violent, aggressive, acquisitive, competitive and... he has built a society along these lines." Jiddu Krishnamurti 1966
The human never exalted
for the miracle it is
within Gods creation
Unloved, unwanted
yet still the tool of obsequious
yet the human demeaned
painted and derided
sinful
bestial
nothing more than just a painted animal
Siempre el rostro de lo bestial
Y con este fin arrasa con su amor
por solo los malos y los amargos
es su sabor a vida
THE REMAINERS
A Comment on the march on London against the Refrendnum Result
The 23rd of June 2016,
A noble day, a great day,
The day the people had their say,
But if Remainers had won the vote,
They would pontificate and preen,
That democracy in action had been seen,
and boast of principles not compromised,
That their democratic ideals were realized,
Would be incensed if you questioned their win,
Yet are happy for self interest to indulge in that sin.
The Remainers all want to overturn,
The principles we all must learn,
The values that define a nation,
Should not be lightly cast aside,
Do none of them have any pride,
The vote is made, the die is cast,
Do not ignore our noble past.
Remainers this was not your turn,
you know you've got it wrong,
One day this tragic treachery,
will be refrained in song.
Democracy has died today,
you killed it with your lies
And so in every one of us
Our hope for freedom dies.
The little man he had his day
but then you shot him down,
Ecstatic when he won the fray,
he little knew that you would say,
We do not think you know enough,
besides you look a little rough.
I stand to lose my job,
and probably all my money,
I think it's best if you don't count,
and then my future's sunny.
Don't worry, we'll look after you
providing there's no fuss,
We will have to change some rules of course,
so this again, won't happen.
Give it a Year or two,
I doubt that you'll remember,
And going to the polls to vote
will be a cold dead ember.
To Remain where we don't have to think,
Where absent honour, hides it's face,
The race fair won, to you means nought,
Where is your conscience, your shame to trace,
Your fairness, of which you give no thought,
Our values are by you demeaned,
Our most loved Land that you disgrace.
If the referendum is overturned, then Democracy is dead. RIP
A MOTH, A PORCH LIGHT, ALONE IN AN OPEN WINDOW---
Owning up to his shortfalls may be his most difficult task.
Tomorrow mirrors that reflection.
In thought, he begins his introspection.
Standing looking out the open window, a moth distracted his attention.
He turned on the porch light thinking about how he was always alone.
He did not know why he kept the window open all night.
His analysis found he feared the unknown.
“May I concentrate in a philosophical mode?
Winter is coming fast and I do not want to be out in the rigid cold.
Sometimes I wonder why my mind has grown old.”
Larry had been a recluse for the last ten (10) years or so.
He was a nature walker and he wrote poems.
He was an electrician by trade and skilled in masonry.
He had designed beautiful architect.
His hands provided him an inventor’s intelligence.
However, Larry was always down.
He did not see the open window he looked out.
He felt that the doors had closed.
That he had lost his stance in the world.
Therefore, he caught moths in a jar and watched them wanting freedom to fly.
As he stood on the porch alone, a spirit appeared standing in his open window.
The moths were attracted to the light.
He fanned a moth away from his eyes.
Therein, he felt his eyes were deceiving him; therefore, he looks toward the open window once again.
A noise he hears.
He wakes up wet.
His night fever was on.
He was a pallor of fits.
His sleeping had embraced his condition and the clatter had awaken him within.
His demented state of being demeaned.
He reminisced.
He ruminated the moth while standing under his porch light alone but in his open window stood a pack of coyotes.
|_________________________________________________________________|
Penned on November 01, 2014!
November 6th 2018 - election day
Later today after
all votes get cast
post final countdown,
the winning candidates
ought to be known
way before break fast
cometh on the lanced
morrow (for champions),
nonetheless
my fingers and toes crossed,
that those donned diametrically
opposed to establishmentarian
(reed conservative
buttoned down
MAGA stalwarts) deemed
more dangerous than
beastie boys, or
foo fighting, Outkast
sans, these progressive forward
thinking Democratic activists
(purportedly threatening
gerrymandered territory,
where white Anglo Saxon
Protestant hegemony dominates
status quo regarding
dhow ting Thomas Nast
tee Donkeys as
hashtagged by Trump),
I pray these true
purring blue state
representatives clinch,
the majority to oust vast
Republican politicians cowed,
demeaned, and excoriated
for NOT fawning
prince supple lee,
nor paying expected
obeisance as mealy
mouth sycophants, that she
push hilly accede toward
belligerent, execrable,
and incriminating, nee
Machiavellian hot headed,
quasi coiffed,
donned, and puffed que
hair raising bully,
whose vindictive
uber lyft tartly tinged
tongue lashing,
they risk acerbic
punitive un re
lent ting vitriol stemming
from recalcitrance determined
by the fuhrer wannabe
wool shear lee be silenced
unless that bigoted,
"FAKE" man hat
tinned unabashed, unhinged,
and unruly
villainous president we
the village people nominated
to bulldoze zee
American free
dumbs, now made irrelevant!
Does he even know;
That my heart sings for him even when I'm sleeping;
That every small wound, emotional or physical, hurts me ten-fold;
That I cry inside when he lies and says he's fine;
That with every touch my stomach flutters wild?
Does he even know;
That I stay up late hoping he'll stop texting and call me instead;
That I really do love his friends;
That I try so hard even though I get no where;
That when I say I want to help, I want to be told that I'm needed even if there's nothing I
can do?
Does he even know;
That I love spending time with him;
That that doesn't include his phone or the computer;
That I can never get him off my mind;
That I like doing meaningless things like running errands or cooking lunch with him because
every second counts?
Does he even know;
That every time he leaves, I'm afraid he won't come back because someone stole him from
beneath;
That the drama in his life pains me because there's nothing I can do;
That I wish he's accept my opinions of him because I feel demeaned when he dismisses
them;
That I mean it when I tell him its hard to sleep without him?
Does he even know;
That I hope there is a future;
That I'm not ready to give up;
That I hide all of this in the small heart-shaped container beating in my chest;
That I don't want to lose him because he IS the most important thing to me?
Does he even know;
That when I hold his hand, I feel like I can take on the world;
That when I'm in his arms, I couldn't feel any safer;
That when I lay with him and slowly fall asleep my last thought is how wonderful he is;
That he's so perfect for me and I hope he doesn't mind having a little loser named Shelby?
Yeah, life here is being mean,
Everything behind me is not clean,
Trying best to hold you prove we`re never demeaned.
Nkasa pii, esans3 bibia ny3 basaa over what we`ve seen.
Days pass by teaching us the scope of hard times,
The season bounded for us without crimes,
I can`t anticipate even when hope get in lines.
Is it about your right to get to greater heights?
Masa si aboter3,
Adiepena nti nhy3 nnim`guase3 atare3,
Good moments predict our time to be there,
The battle of monks is like the games we don`t prefer,
Where we`ve kept fixed is not rare,
You`re the best to show the goals we deter.
I mean your dream to be an entrepreneur.
Soldiers from left comes with polar bear,
Meet our sensations though it`s blur.
Tricky sentiments born from the belly that no one can sell.
How did that occur?
Until nothing is left in the world, many don`t care.
Nkoranhy3 ne gyidie na y3 p3,
Nso ahoper3 atwi y3n afiri nia ehia ho,
Is it the best among what lovers demand to rule?
Believe the concept since no one is in good shoe.
Rain falling into ocean whiles men keep face in bad mood,
Read the chapter and flow me the point to silence the fool.
Who knows the king of tomorrow?
Medi3 wo niy3 nny3 f3 nti ma mi nky3 wo omo,
Take wash na enya meners to follow.
If you don’t believe just look through the hollow.
We need to question no soul who hate our might,
Don`t touch me for I`m not here to fight.
Grounded mind is in a flight,
Back to our route is not what they show us in the light,
Dadaa amani3 ama dodo) na ay3 tight.
Till we see our graves the sadness will remain in the night.
Is your nigga, so hold it one side…?