Long Demigods Poems
Long Demigods Poems. Below are the most popular long Demigods by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Demigods poems by poem length and keyword.
NEW YORK NEW YORK AGAIN
When I go to the Service as soon as I get up
I listen to Frank Sinatra's song
“New York New York”
The city that never sleeps, as me
And I with pleasure, like Liza Minnelli
Making a profane cabaret
Where could win an Oscar.
I so much and good
How do they say they did it
Persian and Apuleius.
If it's hard for me to do it
Immediately burst into a thousand dicteries
ting on the mother who gave birth to me
How do the new parturients
Let them stop without an epidural, bareback
Shouting at the husband:
-You could be here giving birth, damn.
The comes out to the beat of the song
(Unparalleled daring is to say that I ):
"I'm going to New York
Could be Chicago (Yeah )
I want to be part of them.
My desire to as a bum
It has had an effect.
I want to wake up in the city that never sleeps
Blaring the toilet bowl
I wanna be king of the hill on top of
Like the kings of Madrid
In the Palace of Aranjuez.
So many farts contain our asses!
How long have I been ting here
You have seen and heard it.
When I pull the chain
The will be gone
Like the sins in the giant censer
From the Church of Santiago, in Compostela.
I'll fix it:
If I can here in New York or Chicago
I can do it anywhere
Up on the rooftops
As the ancient fables of the Greeks tell
What did the gods do, demigods
And all the fine mob.
The water from the cistern will transport me
As the famous Nile did
To the lies and hoaxes
That daily life contains
Until they incite me, again, to
Virgil and Ovid
Two big jerks, as me.
I'm your competition in showing affections.
You found your queen, of love's chess game.
Our singing voices will heal our afflictions.
You and I are often seeing how we are same.
I'm your companion with you in every nation.
You found your western "Indian" princess.
Our poems prove it is not mere infatuation.
You and I made for each other, to impress.
I'm your colleague in this school of life.
You found a fellow peer without comparison.
Our wisdom from lives keeps us from strife.
You and I shall co-author for all that's been.
I'm your consort through Samsara with you.
You found me again, because I promised
Our love shall be eternally eminent and true.
You and I are demigods finally so blessed.
The powers that be, undefined, ruthless, opaque authority
Shapeless, bodiless, upstanding folk, coercing the majority
Overseeing applications, supplications, ensuring conformity
Specialists in quagmires, minefields, esoteric bureaucracy.
The powers that be, model citizens, high ranking royalty
Peerless above the law, protected from a droned society
Scratching each other’s back, freeloaders, freemasonry
Funny hand shakes, codes, wink wink nudge nudge faculty.
The powers that be, puppet masters, answering to nobody
Church going pagans, planted within god fearing laities
Penchants for young hookers, high class swinging orgies
Masters of the universe, demigods, self serving deities.
The powers that be, off the radar, shirking accountability
Magnates, judges, ministers, businessmen, your attorneys
The A listed, elite, endemic, prevalent, shrouded in mystery
Wrong side of these people, you’ll disappear no conspiracy
The powers that be, yet another victim, where’s Khashoggi,
Are his killers really in prison, more likely given new identity
Some ask too many questions, Maltese journalist Daphne,
Blown up in a car, getting too close, unsettling the fraternity
The powers that be, its not possible I’m losing it completely
Because I believe a certain ilk, walk amongst us with impunity
Live behind walled estates, big donations for political parties
In return, yes sir three bags full sir, here’s to your anonymity.
By
David kavanagh
Prayers descend like acid rain from
oligarch-soaked manchurians, stumping
for elected office, praising hybrid
demigods, passing out vouchers to the
peasants.
A slow rumbling-
part of the night-sounds-of-curfew;
descends like fire ants.
Cleaners of the guilt, hidden in plain faith,
unable or unwilling to walk, feign
blindness, darkness helps.
Cellphone towers only reflect scripted
light, as memories of real sunshine, fade
to black. A good cup of coffee is hard to
find, all the fine beans were swept away
early on, replaced by dancing bears,
politely ignored. Thunderclouds, imagined
in shapes of our founding fathers,
encourage the deluge, slowly ascending.
Underground-
a grim band-of-believers watch (again)
a pirated tape of their favorite '80's movie,
'They Live' from the fabled city called the
new capital in 'The Postman' Minneapolis..
while the tormented sounds of-
plows
scraping overhead, and
hydrants,
bellys full, feeding power washers,
cascade
over hardened
faces.
05/11/14
minneapolis
© All Rights Reserved
The pretty campus damsel
Is on the rove this nigh night
She easily ropes in loaded men
As she gyrates her curvy bosom
Her Torrie's remind one of nivarna
And you can see Catalonia peaking
From the little black dress she wears
She undaunted that we are on campus
With girlies being on plentie Barbie rules
And ensnares with ease and natural charm
She's a beauty to behold and loves dances
On the dance floor she easily baits boys
Be they boys or men her nature easily snares
As long as you're pickups are loaded
You are enroute to this exiting encounter
Falcon heights are soars and shores you win
With her you will sure taste the allures of
Zamzam that beautiful city of beauty
Tasting what is the reserve of demigods
Hoping you are not eternally damned
For love is but a divine thing and sensual
Sensualized forbidden pleasures she wares
The universe has seen the entitled ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦
¦¦¦ whining ways of kings, ¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ waning moons many
¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦
what is left is the discrimination of souls ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ rewards for the royals, ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦
the skies with putrefied lies from its anxious beginnings
ancient alibis ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ starting wars ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦
The sky is painted putrid brown, ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦
with spoken words ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ becoming ¦¦¦¦ in medieval dungeons
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ appointees—demigods with ice cold hearts
¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ the venue shall show evidence ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦
electrolyte mix, lemon water, granulated salt, a family remedy
¦¦¦ sadness aside, ¦¦¦ crowds search ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ reason
¦¦¦ tears don’t roll down, ¦¦¦ fears ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ installed within them
Let the side show begin, ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦
as the world watches sorrow ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦
¦¦¦ a dooming star ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ brightly colored with answers
it dulls with ¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ the peace longed for
a ¦¦¦¦¦¦ shadow performs casting confusion and can’t be caught
nor ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ innocent escape ¦¦¦¦ it, death ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ who near it
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ the habit of lying, the unwritten script
not ¦¦¦¦ of transparencies, ¦¦¦ a bad performance flipped
against King George III ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ they say apply here
¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ disregard for laws, ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦
¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ on the throne of frustration is the sorest loser ever seen
(Blackout of potus speech review)
-
ENERGY- Destruction precedes creation, quoth Picasso
ATMOSPHERE- Earthen demigods, this is the way
Has no one informed you?
STRATOSPHERE - The earth was broken before there was light
Everything comes forth through the birth canal
Pain before joy. Tuesday before Wednesday
BIOSPHERE - Resistance is futile. Denial is cliche
Stop asking
Every talented sophomore cannot be He
Rendering creation as vulgar
KINGDOM - Friction heralds the fruit to come
Friday’s blank page intimidates
The white canvas pisseth on your palette
Indeed, upon all who dare step up
Is everybody listening?
CONSCIOUSNESS - Listen to the unborn voices and do your job
Water the seedlings pining for your attention
Quit ticking them off with sundry excuses
Because their affection for you ends on Saturday
And don’t get angry, this is your Universe
Draw nigh and look busy in front of it
CONTEMPLATION - A Creator has created Creators
In His image He has created Them
Life is art, quoth Goethe
All art is a self-portrait, quoth Wiley
The painterly sky is clarion on Sunday
When I say He, take it personally
This is the way
The Masked Ghoul Mr. CinChief
Fear mongering and peddling crude dirt politics
Is his favorite tool of trade at as this moment...
The one they do call time and again Our able leader
One who hides behind vain smiles
And assurances of half ridden truths
With cleverly disguised yesterday’s lies
Carefully disguised as today’s half-truths
Has mesmerized the ignoramus masses
Into believing that he can still can deliver
Smiles and church assured appearances
Pleas are sworn then handsome handouts
With his nice looks can you fault him
Many are embittered thou they bought
Into this ninjas folly and gave him votes
Daily now is their lament and disillusionment
This had the Gen-zees pouring into the streets
To agitate against the Red Black and Green State
A country that has sold the future of its youth
To the demigods of greed and kakistocracy.. thou
The many youths believe a bright dawn beckons
With the coming of the promise of a new dawn
The rising of fresh leadership rooted in pan Africanism
With a fresh dose of non-bowed African renaissance
Revolution anthem the street resounds with the masses
This the price of revolution is in agitation
The awaited new dawn will deliver our people
Against the overwhelming feelings of hopelessness
Against a background of the portrayed greed
Against deep rooted neo colonialism in leadership
Into a pretty beckoning future of economic liberation
#Code254_AfricanReneissance
When I visited
Lagos,
the city
of demigods,
I walked
through the wealthy streets
of Banana Island.
And there
I met
Aliko Dangote.
The richest man
in Africa.
A man
who built mountains
from ambition.
When I looked
into his eyes,
I saw fire.
I saw resolve.
I saw a man
still climbing
after reaching
the summit.
In a gentle voice
he said,
"Nigeria
is a sleeping giant.
And Lagos
is its first step
into destiny."
The city
never sleeps.
The markets
never rest.
The streets
breathe business
day and night.
"If you seek
entrepreneurs,"
he said,
"go to Nigeria."
For in Lagos,
survival comes first.
And survival
teaches wisdom.
The men of Lagos
dream with open eyes.
They build
while others sleep.
They risk
while others fear.
Then Dangote smiled.
And softly said,
"The men of Lagos
understand multiplicity.
They are sleeping lions
beginning to awaken."
I answered,
"Some say
Nigerians are criminals."
His face
grew thoughtful.
Then he replied,
"And what of
the mafias of Italy?
What of those
who rob nations
in daylight
while wearing suits?"
For a moment,
silence spoke.
The kind of silence
that history understands.
The sun
was setting.
And the city lights
began to rise.
Then I knew.
The men of Lagos
are not merely
the future of Nigeria.
They are part
of the future
of Africa.
As we shook hands
and prepared to part,
I said,
"Dangote,
you are the
John D. Rockefeller
of Africa.
The Mansa Musa
of our generation."
He smiled.
And walked away
into the evening.
While Lagos,
restless,
hungry,
and eternal,
continued dreaming
of tomorrow.
The Enipeus Valley
Listen as the lesser gods utter.
Beneath the veil of Nyx, entities.
Are dark spirits. Surrounded by
Erebus, the underworld just below,
Flames flicker.
Meanwhile, these hunters in the snow;
In trails of chaos, plead for Prometheus
protection, these demigods traffic where
Shadows call from Thanatos, who harvests
The souls of the dead, kept tormented souls
begged to be released.
Their eyes were in a glow.
Because of Epimetheus's foolish mistake.
And now the black Enipeas river below rages.
Yet dawn will rise again in Aether.
From the son of Erebus, the dark underworld.
Where the hunters were led.
Before being escorted into the ethereal
atmosphere into Hemera daylight to reach
The forest of Mount Olympus.