Long Disservice Poems
Long Disservice Poems. Below are the most popular long Disservice by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Disservice poems by poem length and keyword.
Is this life really worth it? I’m nervous
Every morning as I peel back my curtains, I look for my purpose,
I have everything I’ve ever wanted, but do I deserve it?
And if I end it all right now will I be doing myself a disservice?
Still looking for that reason to care, that fire, that magic,
If you think I’m overly pessimistic and life is pristine,
Allow me to set the scene,
My spirit is lower than it’s ever been,
So is my morale and self-esteem,
Right hand is writing this, I’m wondering what the other hand will do,
Everything around me is falling apart,
Those closest to me have a panoramic view,
I’ve always wanted to be the center of attention,
That’s vanity though,
Cut myself off from everyone, living like a recluse understandably so,
All of my problems I’m exposing,
I let some parts of my life see through the light,
Leaving the rest frozen,
If it isn’t the anxiety or depression,
It’s the self-loathing
Thoughts on Saturday
I saw the Queen of England on TV it was her birthday and people
were out waving flags. I dislike monarchy in any form
but the Queen looked splendid in a blue sky dress
and there were proud men in fantasy uniforms
riding on beautiful horses; no one does
pageant better than the English.
But my heart was not in it, I still lament
the death of Bourdain it was like losing a brother
like me, he was a chef that broke out of the kitchen
and ventured the world.
I have written a poem about my brother`s struggle
with depression but hesitate to publish it
as it might offend his children. Of course, I could
have avoided the absolute truth, but then I would have
done him a disservice. I`m still in Algarve, the removal van broke down,
it will take a few days to repair it not that I mind moving house at my age is difficult.
O well, I have to relax and take it as it comes.
This isn't happening
Why would it happen
Today of all days
I want to pound the dash
Pound the table
Break something
It couldn't have happened
How can I do better
I feel like I can't and I won't
I would do anything so I don't have to
So I don't have to worry about doing better
Because to do better would be a disservice
A disservice to memory
I can't do better
I need to cry
But to cry is to fail and shout
"I CANNOT MOVE ON
AND I DON'T KNOW WHAT TO DO NOW"
it would admit
That it happened
And it hurt
But it did happen
And it does hurt
It will always hurt
But I can live
I can move on
In the whispering silence of a moonlit night,
where stars wink like old friends,
I drift along the river of my thoughts,
an unbound stream of consciousness,
Flowing through the landscapes of potential and purpose,
where dreams dwell like forgotten treasures.
Most of us,
shadows of our true selves,
live in shallow waters,
afraid to dive into the depths,
Creating busywork,
weaving webs of distraction,
as if afraid to face the stillness of our own souls.
Oh, how we toil, like ants in an endless march,
building castles in the sand,
Not because the work is urgent,
but because we do not know the art of being.
We are craftsmen of the banal,
architects of the mundane,
lost in the frenzy of doing,
When all we yearn for is to float,
weightless and free,
on the river of life,
to be carried by its gentle current.
Imagine a world where laziness is a virtue,
where idlers are the sages,
Where shaking off the chains of duty is a path to enlightenment,
To bask in the golden glow of a sunset,
to savor the sweetness of a moment unclaimed by time,
To relax into the embrace of existence,
to find joy in the art of simply being.
I do not preach a life of total inactivity,
for such would be a disservice to the soul,
But rather a life where each act is a dance,
each gesture a poem,
imbued with meaning and grace.
Let us not be prisoners of our own making,
bound by the chains of needless toil,
But the artists of our destiny,
painting with the colors of purpose and passion.
For in the quiet moments,
where the heart beats in sync with the cosmos,
We discover the true rhythm of life,
a melody that calls us to slow down,
to listen, to feel.
To be busy is not to live,
but to be alive is to flow,
to ebb and surge with the tides of meaning,
To find the balance between action and inaction,
to dance on the edge of potential and peace.
So let us embrace the wisdom of the river,
to be lazy in the pursuit of joy,
To be idlers in the garden of dreams,
to cultivate a life that blooms with significance.
For in this dance,
this flow of consciousness,
we find the essence of our being,
And though the world may rush around us,
we shall move with the grace of those who understand,
That the river of life carries us not to the shores of accomplishment,
But to the ocean of our own infinite potential.
RUNNING INTERFERENCE
by: Acquah Vicki on Saturday, June 9, 2012 at 12:07am ·
RUNNING INTERFERENCE
I have a brand-new glow. I am feeling free of these gremlins.
Hoping to stay that way, it's called growth!
Please feel free to feast off my soul food, and enjoy with me this journey.
I will accept no invitation to your karmic party; and I cannot help you with the inevitable,
No longer running interference. Neither will I be a catcher’s mitt - while you have the bat and won't swing.
Interceding for your negative actions no more.
You have generated a storm of deplorable deeds, out of concern I’ve nurtured your corrupted seeds.
I have mended the wings of dirty birds to fly, there I wrongly stood in the way of your fate.
Getting hit with your contempt as I warded off the hate.
The universe held for you a lesson. To correct your mistakes.
You will blame and throw tantrums and say no one loves you, and become irate.
You will make everyone feel guilty, because no one feels to dance to that off-key tune.
Though you move selfishly and have no regards for the wellbeing of others, I still love you.
Only this time I have learned not to feed into your selfish needs; so, the only
karma and lesson I am dealing with now is mine.
To you I plead! When your storm is over and you've made your amends; come to me,
Come to me, if you need an encouraging word, a bit of love, or a friend.
I have learned my lesson never to interfere with someone else’s lesson;
No matter how much you love them;
No matter how you yearn to save them, your service becomes a
disservice: No one wins, and no lesson will they have learned.
So, I discern...
Speak softly to the stars. Upon the universe, whisper a wish.
My understanding is now clear, never interfere, with people and their karma;
No matter how you love them,
Be it relative or friend; in the end, you'll only hurt yourself and them!
The result will be ...
You'll only have produce another
" spineless jelly fish “!
Limericks written in Limerku form where words are counted, not syllables.
To some contest hosts, it seems to be very inconsequential
Perhaps they see poetry by a living brain as nonessential
What a disservice to the human hand
When AI poetry should receive a reprimand
Users have no shame in winning. They're positively nonpenitential
So easily now they've learned how to cheat by utilizing
the way AI allows, by using the means of humanizing
No hesitation over which buttons to click
and what they post is a goldbrick
Lines of blah blah blah, unappetizing that needs closer analyzing
The sponsors I continue to write for have dwindled low
Never would I post something that was empty of emo
Poetry should come from heart and soul
And if anyone cares... truth be told
Those who take unearned wins, I label them a bozo
Eulogy For An Unsung Hero ©
The late John Sidney McCain III,
now flies with Arrow Smith,
Babbitt, and Jefferson Airplane
five days shy of his
eighty second birthday,
taken down (to his demise)
courtesy, sans metastatic cancer of brain
defeated by an aggressive
deadly linkedin chain,
yet still earns kudos
no matter 1967 USS Forrestal fire
(during the Vietnam War)
his life source did
nearly completely drain
though purposeless prevails,
asper absolute zero gainsay,
no rhyme nor reason
can even feebly explain,
when approximately
a quarter million young men
(oh...yes, perhaps
some women too) perished
at sea, on land, or floatplain
sacrificed their lives for nought,
zip, nada nothing to GAIN
(my bald, billed,
and bold assertion,
a mere minor tirade
subpar class 1 hurricane
non-veteran civilian personnel),
nonetheless afflictions by said
United States veteran and,
subsequent Senator from Arizona,
what posthumous praise me expresses
merely mildly silly putty,
piddly, paltry and inane
as anti septic (of danger)
such as books
for children star
ring Dick and Jane
does disservice, injustice offends,
(perhaps descriptive word choices
might smack of hyperbole,
my humble apology if in apropos),
thus a more app pealing appellation,
could be Citizen Kane,
whose corporeal being got lain
to rest on a grassy hill
adjacent to the main
starting point of his storied existence,
the burial plot (right next to
lifelong friend Chuck Larson)
amidst a plain
extolling grandeur and solemnity,
where grim reaper didst slain
of Arlington National
Cemetery in Virginia terrain
concluding mine poetic epistle,
that didst wax and wane.
Where's this years "Turkey_Pardon"?
Pardon me, where's the pardon on the Family?
Was the CCP funding too lucrative, Universities?
Any press briefing, explanations,
the WEF financial mechanisms
too carotid in artery.
I guess hunting season is still on,
"Runningman" repeats.
still a filler for
Commercial Broadcasting Disservice,
regularly scheduled reprogramming, propagandizing.
Meanwhile we are in Psalms 83 and Ezekial 38,
looming. .. 3 8 3 8 3 3..
I wonder what it means?
Too bad for that one potential lime-lighted Turkey.
Judgment is coming too Humanity.
Makes one seem crazy to report these days.
In perpetuity. One thing after another
and all against the People. For the leaders, a totally separate reality.
Why are they not arrested and questioned
by the People?
Is it because they polarized us against each other,
so that they are not the objects of scrutiny.
Maybe they will throw us a bone or a stick next,
to keep us occupied.
The question is, would it be laced with Fentanyl
or biologicals from an unsecured Chinese Lab here in America?
Or will it be one of those costly imports
maybe shipped from our Southern crosswalk.
Hey at least this year there is no ban on Church, gatherings,
as our leaders again gather mask free
with saline booster shots instead of what
is mandated for you and me.
Knowing that the vaccine was untested
(for Public transparency),
and Pfizer the only ones given immunity.
For aiding crimes against humanity, no apologies.
[Yeah, I can remember students dropping dead
on the sports field happening all the time
growing up (Saturday morning football death before
cartoons was a regular thing).
Who knew also that veins
are supposed to have long black graphene
induced clots, and young people to
die of heart attack and stroke at age 13.
Although, on a happier note,
2024 is a fresh year, for slavery.
It's Springtime eclipse a warning of disasters incoming,
vote casting,
ill Confederacy, Rhinoplasty, !CONSPIRACY!
reciting an x across the Country with 2017's.
Cancelling freedoms, Christians
and the World as we knew it to be.
Planet X mirrored,
icing, a crystal clear reveal i
n chaos waxing a seal of unmasking
our present real judgment, reality.
As imperfect humans, we judge perceived on what our eyes see
It's a mistake many of us make, and not based on a heart's purity.
A trait that shows we are prejudiced and biased against others
of different races and religious beliefs, of our sisters and brothers.
We were all created in the image and likeness of our Father, God.
To realize a person's value, we must look deeper than their facade,
but we label people by appearance without personal interaction.
Iniquitous of our subconscious to let outward looks be an attraction.
Were that all eyes were blind to a beautiful face or a muscular form
we would treat each other with a demeanor more pleasant and warm.
Too often we don't bother trying to learn what's in a person's heart
before our minds tell us, "I'm going to tear this unworthy one apart."
Shouldn't we look past a person's age, or unappealing physical features?
To hold that against them makes us small-minded, bigoted creatures.
We're guilty of doing a disservice to good people if we fail to perceive
what is undetectable to our eyes. First impressions often tend to deceive.
January 8, 2023
The Way We Look Contest
Sponsor: Unseeking Seeker
I am a human being which means
(and you’ll find all anthropologist agreeing)
I share many of my characteristics…
with you…and every other human being.
This truth, in some, evoke both hatefulness and wrath…
How, as human being, we all share a similar evolutionary path.
Which means when you or I meet a fellow human being…
It’s not the whole human we first see…
because some of our human characteristics
are hidden…inside of you…inside of me.
For like you and all humans I am many colors…
I am black, brown, red and beige…I am the colors of the stars at night…
In fact because of our melanin, a natural pigment we all share,
the only color we are not…is white.
So when some humans try to divide us up…
when they decide to categorize and segregate us…
Not only are they doing a disservice to every human…
But to those who worked hard to create us.
And when we bomb and kill and abuse other human beings…
When we say they are not welcome…when we build a wall…
we are not only damaging those fellow humans…we’re doing damage to us all.
This basic information…can be found in our science books…
where the facts are waiting for us to understand them…
provided those humans…who are afraid of this truth
have not already banned them.