Long Deviance Poems
Long Deviance Poems. Below are the most popular long Deviance by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Deviance poems by poem length and keyword.
Written: April 10, 2024 For Edward Ebeh Contest
“Raise your words, not voice. It is rain that grows flowers, not thunder.”
— Rumi
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
In society grasp, individuals fade,
As group dynamics falter, satiation wane.
Anomie is the state in which we reside,
Void of meaning, where shell may subside.
Man dwells in the domain of existence,
Longing for purpose—a tale to share once.
He pursues punter goals, a noble quest,
To descry his sanctuary, where he can rest.
Sans clear vision—a peculiar goal to pursue,
He wanders, devoid of any discernible clue.
A protocol to follow—a structure to defray,
He seeks a clear path to lead the way.
It is in the heights—that he finds his worth,
A divine connection, a sense of rebirth.
In a world of mayhem, where chaos reigns,
A sense of chaos and rebellion in our veins.
We're in an era of disorder and hopelessness,
Where a sense of alienation thrives with idleness.
Streets brimming with an air of dread and fear,
As the supremacy of law is starting to disappear.
A land ruled by untamed and careless,
Peace and order are baffling awareness.
Durkheim unveils a modern, cosmic community,
Where people or teams cease to have impunity,
Stuck in a condition of "anomie," they dwell,
Devoid of crucial social interactions, they tell.
An individual, adrift, follows a restless tide,
Planless self-empowerment with no guide.
An aimless existence, devoid of worth,
As delight lies in future, not in present berth.
One ought to consider their inevitable fate.
The insignificance and loneliness state.
He would undoubtedly elapse insane.
Or spirit might seek the numbing arcane.
Crisis and violence, madness untamed,
Revolution's fire, the world inflamed.
In sync with events of insignificance.
Unleashed automobility, a hedonistic dance,
Individualism allure, a tempting chance,
Grip of anomie and despair erodes at a glance.
Conspicuous consumption, a fleeting thrill,
Yet unsustainable, bear beyond, still.
In a sphere bereft of spirit light,
Where meaning fades—hope takes flight.
An oddity exists in trans-political time frame,
There is no repercussion for deviance claim.
i do not fear the legislation of man
or the degradation of individual rights.
i do not fear instant gratification
as it's message more aggressively rapes every outlet of entertainment,
even in seeing how it tears into our children.
i do not fear it.
i do not wonder why the dark side has power.
i do not wonder why kids don't respect adults and adults don't respect each other.
i do not wonder why there's so much death and murder and sickness and divorce.
i do not wonder why the clubs are full and churches are empty and abortion is legal.
i do not wonder.
today is the day people are making the choice of just who it is they serve.
today is the day the family bond is broken over self-importance, power-struggles, and sexual deviance.
today is the day that those who lead, prey on those who have trusted them and disarm those who knew better.
today is the day we have to lock our cars and our doors and our hearts.
today is that day.
but know this:
no law of any government can direct the heart of man.
no restriction can limit his ultimate rebellion,
and no physical depravity, his spiritual.
you can keep a tiger in a cage.
you can restrict his consumption to strictly vegetarian.
you can train him to sit and stand on command,
and to jump through hoops
and to walk on fire.
but you can never make him anything other than a tiger.
there is a much larger issue that is being clouded with the debris of the American constitution and its amendments-
an issue that reaches deep inside the being of a human, into what makes a man a man.
it is not our civil liberties we are being robbed of;
it's our hope, our faith, our strength.
it is not our personal security that is being invaded;
it's our minds, our morals, our purity.
it is not our children's sensitive psyches we are protecting;
it's our comfort, our feelings, ourselves.
it is not fetal tissue we are throwing away;
it's our children, our responsibility, our future.
see, humanity as a whole will arrive to the destination,
but each individual will be responsible for how we get there.
consider what's more important; what you do or what you know,
and remember that out of your heart will the entirety of your actions flow.
You took me so far from myself, that I forgot who I was
A stranger looked back at me in my own mirror
I heard a little girl crying inside, but yet I couldn’t see her
What was that shadow under my dress?
Daddy’s little girl, singing a song, “You ought to been there when the Lord saved me.”
I sang well, yet I was still waiting to be saved…
Don’t you all see me, drowning in hurt being strangled by darkness?
What was that shadow under my dress?
Daddy, daddy, daddy… But you’re my daddy
Fathers sell not your daughters as whores, for if you do your nation will be turned to
Whoredom…
Daddy, daddy, daddy… But you’re my daddy
What was that shadow under my dress?
Being led around by darkness bound by the invisible leash of my innocence
Nothing was the name that he gave me…
If you love me you won’t tell, was the silence of that song he played for me…
What was that shadow under my dress?
Reaching around in my world of darkness trying to find something, anything to hold on
to…
Beyond the point of feeling blue…
Each day, molestation was nothing new…
What was that shadow under my dress?
Asking what more do I have to take before being left alone…
Confusion choked me…
Why?, Was the only food I could eat…
Why didn’t anyone help me? Why was I left alone?
What was that shadow under my dress?
Taking a bath was like bathing in the lake of fire…
Red raw rashes, whips and lashes where the clothes that he gave me…
It was actually a relief when he only beat me by a tree…
What was that shadow under my dress?
Cursed from the day I was born, being taught before I could walk how to pose for
****…
My panties pink with flowers, being pulled off of my body every midnight hour…
Sexual deviance being sown into my DNA
Innocents told me, that’s just the way Daddy’s like to play
What was that shadow under my dress?
Time has passed and Daddy’s gone to and been released from Jail…
Over 22 years he was locked up a sexually violent predator civilly committed never
supposed to sleep outside of a jail cell…
Throughout my life those who have heard my story considered me blessed…
Yet I still struggle and pray one day I can truly understand what that shadow was
under my dress…
Form:
Him
Beautiful - Handsome - Androgynous
Charismatic - Understanding - Unifying
Knows your pain...
Your desire to belong - Yearning
Want for something bigger
Your purpose... Meaning
He will fulfill all the desires of the faithful
The avarice... The political seekers... The powerful
The meek
The poor in spirit --- The elect
He knows God’s laws --- God’s word
Deep familiarity with Jesus
He brings light
Bears light
A new light --- A new way
Appeals to the minds of men
Curiosity
Carrying prophesy
Holiness in his left hand Deviance in the right
A magnet-To-Soul Iron filings
He is
Once disrobed
Much too late to recoil
The ultimate
Numerology master
Twister of wrong for right
The man of perdition
The
Antichrist
(c) 2025 Emily C, Archer
One autumn's morning I headed outside for a walk
The road was long and the day
Within the comforts of tantalizing tease
I, myself was settled within my mind
Taking in the day, the beauty
Even the mechanics of all things
Working in unison to form a collective of unity
The road lead far through the wood
Spanning a great deal of meadows and trees
Rivers and streams and field after field
Of wild flowers and daffodils.
Day after day I'd take this walk
And every day it touches me the same
The familiar breeze to finger through my hair
The shimmering ripples on the rivers face
Play like the fireflies of twilight
However, today has become different than all the others
Today I find myself standing with indecision
Usually I would have turned back miles ago
Yet for some reason today, I felt compelled
To continue and now I stand before a split in the road
To my left I see normality and all things familiar
Continuing into infinite existence
Where to my right I see causality and all things unknown
Yet I could see the end and at that point stood a door
Alone amidst the solitude of new things.
I found myself with pause, uneasy to continue
I was unprepared for this decision and unwilling
To choose either
Just then another person approached, stopped
Looked at both roads and continued on the road of normality
I stood here for hours within the ponderance of my indecision
As the time passed I witnessed more and more people
Coming and continuing down the road of normality
I then decided to follow in the footsteps of others
Everything here was familiar, nothing new
With all the comforts of knowing what was to come
However, I soon came to realize some intriguing facts
No one here was of their own, all of us on this road
Was of one mind, everything known, nothing new
Slaves to normality. Individuality?
There was none
We were all compelled to be the same
Any deviance from the norm was illness, anarchy and treason
Being here is like not existing
Suddenly there were others gathered around me
I was given the impression I was not alone in my thoughts
Of difference till one spoke out from the crowd
"You are ill and must be treated"
~
By: Darren J McMurray
January 23, 2012
She seems afraid to say too much
and not listen enough.
Perhaps fear of becoming misunderstood
and, worse, too quickly dismissed,
her moment,
even in this small-staged sanctuary,
unnoticed
under-nourished
unfed
unwatered.
She wants to share with us
her deviant dissonant sufficiency
usually seen as negative degenerating autonomy
but, occasionally, in epiphanies of positive
ecologically healthy
revolutionary ZeroZen resonant potential,
Receptive tingling silence
thumping and breathing
singly ringing singing
timelessly herstoric
within domesticating unreal world paradise,
unwombed worn integrity re-memories
echoing between nightseed dreams
and switching off her leftbrain daily alarm.
Until she smiles
I am impressed by her nothing is sadly wrong
yet everything goes unsanctuary
too patriarchally long,
Business As RightWing World gone,
anxiety about personal and political
and social and psychological
and mental and physical health issues
for future climate chaos kids
reversing integrity's robust synergetic win-win potential.
I notice then
soft teeth with nearly infinite hard work
pain
suffering loss,
alone?
Physically alone
and not spiritually unautomated
feminist suffering deviance
often in counterculturing win-win ways
to help others,
more win-lose predominant,
suffer unspoken withdrawal
defeated less.
Once
I see her primal eyes smile
and suddenly my own competitive mistrust,
my own opaque naked fear
goes away,
dismissed by curious eagerness.
Compassion therapeutically co-arises.
I ask if she too suffers
without sufficient release
from mutually withheld win-lose
zero sums of loneliness,
mistrust of fully disclosed intimacy
vulnerability
co-empathic joy.
She continues
now turning toward wealthy belly laughs
co-operating integrity
mutually vibrating abdowomen,
soul sound of synergy's vast wisdom
loudly rooting for potential global health
through her sanctuary solidarity,
still curiously becoming.
She seems fearless to listen too much
and eager to not say
and sing enough
already.
A FINE LINE BETWEEN DEVIANCE & PASSION
There is a fine line between deviance and passion
The same line borders love and lechery
The barrier is not to be crossed, not even for a second
It is not etched in sand, as that can be dissolved with the tide
The line is bold, but the boldness dissipates in darkness
This line is horizontal and vertical at the same time
Not a cross
Although a cross is sometimes used to measure the thickness of the line
There is a fine line between dipsomania and moderation
The same line separates the happy revelers from the sad sots
The gate should be kept closed at all times
It is not locked, as combinations can be forgotten with time
The line is electrified, but insulation forms in acceptance
The line is angled and curved at the same time
Not a circle
Although a circle is the trap for the poor soul who strays across the line
There is a fine line between life and death
The same line forms the edge of sin’s cold knife
The blade unsheathed reflects the disappearing line
It is a sharp and distinct line one moment and then in the next it is blurred
The line bends when we want it to bend in our weakness
The line is not infinite
Not a universe
Although the universe is too small to hold the line
There is a fine line between forgiveness and grudge
The lines of our words cross over and then return
The damage is done and then the line is broken
It is too slippery to allow us to hold on for a lifetime
The line intertwines with other lines
The line is only as strong as its weakest fiber
Not invincible
Although destruction is often the only solution to crossing the line
There is a fine line between deviance and passion
The same line borders the moral and immoral
The barrier is not to be crossed, not even for a second
It is not given to us, but is self-created in our prayers
The line enters our head and divides the mind
The line is in a book, a song or a poem
Not fiction
Although the line between fiction and truth is often hard to discern
Reasons
Sometimes we think,
Sometimes we drink!
Sometimes our mind,
Is lost in liquor or wine!
The trouble between both black and white,
Is that each see their view as right!
Let's work together for a single master,
Instead of fighting, which ends in disaster!
We could try annihilation of others,
But I ask you, who would go first!
With so much deviance in our behavior,
The human race is quickly becoming a disgrace!
With more and more conflict, prejudice, and discrimination,
What is becoming of our so-called wonderful nation!
It is not too late for us to live in assimilation,
But the longer it is put off, this leads to disorganized nations!
All of us have God-give rights,
Why can't we live together, peacefully & quiet?
Let's all work together and end this vicious cycle,
Let's stop xenophobia, before it destroys us!!!
Written at the University of Arkansas in 1992 for Black History Month, among others, honoring the continued work of my colleague Mrs. Sandra Dupree, who married now Mrs. Sandra Goodwin, I have her letter from 3.26.02. If any questions of my wisdom, Texas continues to dishonor by not allowing to teach as of today two years after www.texasteachers.com 12.5.16 assured employment, she was highly appreciative of utilizing, when at the University of Arkansas with our Challenged Conquistadors, Inc., which many in Texas feels I am a fraud, phony, fake, etc., since not allowed to speak about Harvard University referenced wisdom, since 1997 obtained from the University of Arkansas? As Sergeant at Arms, and National Science Teachers Association member #20039, the Beaumont Library has stated I am a bully, Kinsel Motors a nuisance, Wal Mart & Star Bowl affirm bully, fake, fraud, etc.
The Beaumont Better Business Bureau has all the documentation since 12.22.17, when honesty was affirmed by Dr. Senthilkumar, MD, 409-838-4338, witnessed by Bro. Steve Buser 409-651-8778.
Tormented
A crude soul remained, of a life of a hero silent but brave. Tormented with dreams of days
gone past, tormented of lives of whose destiny didn’t surpass. It wasn’t a gun or a knife that
altered his way; it was the reckless humanitarian way. To watch kids as hard as veterans to
watch a country broke but resilient and brave. This changed the mindset of a selfish man this
changed the outlook, of a spiteful man, a man trying to survive the darkest desires of a sick
spiteful way. Not murder but genocide, not ethnic cleansing but a deviant sick mindset of a
twisted soul, breaded out to an unsuspecting nation. A nation without a goal but bloody
violence, in its toll.
How I long to see him there, standing toe to toe with those who are left reeling with they’re
despair.
The torture remained taking innocence along in its way, taking lives filling graves all for the
name which, the deviance betrayed. To be human the soul remains, when tortured and
beaten beyond repair, how can a soul remain. How can they stand tall when all that is left is
an empty black hole, with memories which once were good, all turning sour as they knew
they would, ruining life in such a sick violent way. I see those tortured souls, not giving up
not letting go. They are in his dreams they are in his past hopefully this felling of hurt will
succumb and not last.
Civil unrest remains in the heart, not in soul.
How I wish to see them there, unarmed and afraid, the same way they left the innocent who
remained, left in the darkest coldest of days in a country so broke but so brave.
Sleep well tonight for you hold the flag of your country, in your eyes, power of all nations in
your arms, for you we salute our proudest day, it was not what we done but what you gave,
this honour and resilience is what made you all so brave.
The Storm
Early in the morning mist
When the iridescent sun-rays aglow,
Pencil pierced through the dark cloud,
Touching the earth in places;
A gold like revelation,
Suddenly! the rays got blindfolded,
The far country looked gloomy,
And clump of baobab hushed to the date palms,
The covey of pigeons and parrots whispered,
To the bevy of Sparrows and Woodpeckers to pause,
With eyes thin and narrowed,
To ascertain the magnitude of the storm;
That loomed afar in the horizon,
It came like the charge,
Of thousand horse men, sand, dust,
And a resounding gust,
The trees bowed, danced and spun,
Leaves flailing madly like,
The kaftans of Muezzins caught in the wind,
In the present penumbra,
That enveloped the surrounding field,
That gave way gradually,
To pellucid air;
Far off came the soulful sound of the rain,
Pattering the roofs and pelting the window-panes,
Like a million showering crystals;
As it washed down,
A year’s dust, languor and expectation,
The ground’s dusty aroma,
Gyrate like a mysterious perfume,
And the dribbling water,
Carry along slowly through,
The sodden ground.
Now the peasants may say
For the dead dry,
And the castrated branches:
Thank goodness!
Thank heavens!
For the water of life
For new grasses that shoot,
And the Flora that bloom,
As the wind whistled deviance through the woods
And blast through the swept neighborhoods,
Hearts beat quickened,
Glances among the quietness;
As whet ears,
Listened to the crashes,
And in that soporific,
Spell-like foreboding,
Between sleep and wakefulness,
The owl,
Perch deep inside a hole
In the trunk of giant Baobab,
Waits for the storm to blow over.