Long Duplicity Poems
Long Duplicity Poems. Below are the most popular long Duplicity by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Duplicity poems by poem length and keyword.
Society getting worse cracking due to stupidity
Impropriety online so terse lacking any civility
Notoriety as attacking the diverse with hostility
Perverse aloof piety sacking truths no humility
Climate crisis averse backing fossil fuel futility
Oligarchs ransacking coerce with total impunity
Fracking to fill their purse another commodity
Snacking on the universe… despite its fragility
Hijacking but won’t reimburse any community
Whacking any protest…disperse in perpetuity
As hacking bots traverse at every opportunity
Migrants a curse sent packing as no immunity
No backtracking won’t reverse just absurdity
Won’t converse smacking those in impecunity
Kayaking above while immerse us in toxicity
Stacking Mother Nature on a hearse duplicity
BUT
Democracy averse just gerontocracy senility
Sacking due to perverse hilarity over polarity
Chapter & verse stop the slop no complicity
Won’t let curse of divinity go on for infinity
Clarity only charity ends gravity of depravity
Be a friend and nurse so can end the sterility
Go on rehearse and then will find tranquility
Don’t be adverse beyond lies some serenity
Intersperse with small wins…such simplicity
Happiness love & kindness is the holy trinity
Don’t hate frivolity has ability to create jollity
Does enhance...Americans say happenstance
Generosity and lovely luminosity of curiosity
A delightful dance of chance I call Serendipity
What beliefs within that do you define
the adversary's lies or Gods Truth divine
like a child absorbed what you've been taught
have you examined the things that are thought
In the stronghold of your heart and mind
the vast majority of information you will find
is designed to impair accurate thinking
because six thousand years of deceit are drinking
The Word of Truth is made for our correction
to tear down the the entanglements of defection
to expose corruption and self deception
the barriers and veil to the Father connection
People believe in angels but seem to forget
that the armies of Lucifer are still here yet
a deceiver and lies are his pathways
to deaden hearts where clouded thinking stays
Is the easter bunny a truth or lie
and when children grow up and do ask why
in the Truth of God they haven't believed
because like a fairy tale it is received
Just another story as it's understood
like the fables to show evil and good
that the outcome and end can't be serious
because they believe the Truth is mysterious
The paths of Truth lay within simplicity
and it's clarity does overcome lies duplicity
Gods Kingdoms children and such like ones
speak a single Truth not Babylon's tongues
Like the fiction of fairy tales lies reside
in religious doctrine whitewashed graves hide
by pomp and pageantry Jesus teaching denied
and the indoctrination of demons Gods Word belied
Fiction upon fiction are children fed
so like those tales Gods Truth made dead
why take it seriously when one is grown
all stories end happily in heaven is shown
What is important is what they get now
for death doesn't exist for eternal soul anyhow
Beliel and Satan and prophetic prediction
they can just chalk it up as another fiction
One cannot teach lies and be a spiritual Jew
by teaching of Jesus can only speak what is True
to be a Son of God with all lies must brake
for Holy Spirit must heart and mind remake
The Word of God should affect all reason
and clean out all thoughts that to God are treason
Jesus may have died to save all from sin
but that won't help if not reborn within
Behold I am coming quickly says He that is True
to cleanse the earth and make all things new
broad the path to destruction those chosen few
they have believed Gods Word and whats holy renew
COPYRIGHT © 2009 C Michael Miller
Baneful Invitations
by Odin Roark
With so many invitations offered
He often graciously refused
Even as the ones he accepted
Colored him wary of power’s enticement
Seldom did he recognize the shadows
So caught in the obvious seduction
That cloak of safety
Forever capable of disguise
By allure’s chameleon
Into the years of light’s duplicity
The darkness that strove to rule
He wandered
Bereft of judgment
So unakin to wisdom’s path
Until
Worn sandals of search
Became unneeded
As the rutted paths
Washed out roads
Mapped futures
Disappeared
Such became his epiphany
That becoming one with
The nymph of his freedom-quest
Life’s tenacity
Like his own
Found solace from solicitation
Reclining amidst the tundra of austerity
Where honesty
Not manipulation
Integrity
Not duplicity
Flowered his blanket of comfort
Requests became gossamer
As his view from on high
Amidst fragrances sublime
Blinded eyesight’s temptation
Deafened hearing’s regret
Lifted the sense of being
Outside the once enticing prison
He could but gaze with wonder
Down there
Amidst the throngs
Invitations continued multiplying
Just as acceptance
Continued gorging itself
Poet Dimples
How can I please?
I am lost at sea!
I don't want to write poems,
that simply, are not me.
That's pure duplicity.
I won't sell out on me!
And, I am human, after all.
I do hear that non-stop siren call,
"Be popular", that's all!
That's the dichotomy,
I find myself in.
Like being in a circus,
Trying to make the crowd grin.
This poem so wonderfully
direct and simple,
It creates creases in my
attractive, poet dimples.
So, I find iif I, only accept myself
as is.
And if others just cannot?
Well then…..it is, what it is!
1/3/2024
Could it be the state of tranquility
Despite the times they are being loquacious
Or this event of serendipity
For meeting this person quite so gracious
Is it his presence is a sweet lagniappe
Or their bond that caused an epiphany
The fact his absence feels like a cold snap
That her feelings are a polyphony
It’s personality in plethora
Which is refreshing just like petrichor
That sets off in her mind an aurora
Depicting sensations of her ardour
It’s that he treats her with delicacy
That sets off these great feelings blossoming
She puts words to them with hesitancy
For her fear of the others gossiping
She hides in a place abyssopelagic
To veil that he is her panacea
As if emotions will leave like magic
Is that not just the dumbest idea
Who’s she kidding they are diaphanous
A statement that she says with some languor
Practicing a great deal of ascesis
When really they should be allowed to soar
But he gives a place of felicity
A place some might say is just limerence
A thing that is quite the duplicity
She knows that she can see the difference
Her affection can appear galactic
But to her it is just a silhouette
Perhaps giving her an ataractic
Will dim her down and she’ll cause less upset
To him she is just incendiary
An explosive she is the quintessence
A fact becoming evidentiary
In it exhibiting its fluorescence
She wished for a soothing elixir
They sent her a voice so mellifluous
However it’s not his job to fix her
Whilst she is in this state of pensiveness
And now she senses a quadrivium
There is an insight into her psyche
She is praying for her elysium
For her own life to end in syzygy
Inside her room,
Inside her vase, my flowers stand
straight sheer in sight
lilac, magenta and saffron’s delight
bunched up in a bouquet, neat and tight
For I considered her my flower girl
even in sickness and vain
I anticipate from the 25th until the 15th or yell-
inside? outside?
higher,
No.
lower,
as they draw the Ace
away my eyes water and
suddenly flower and flour are the same thing
but why do I wilt whilst you expire, Teddy
Voila! kidneys are found in the back,
your hand rests at the bottom.
scribbles inside of the brain and a stabbing in the chest is forgotten
Instead I roll up my tongue.
When I was a child, I would run on a street in the back of my heart,
"Run faster, jump higher, test smarter!"
The street burned with the tongue lashes of a scar ridden backside,
Running from National Geographic videos and voices of suburban derision.
This street screams, "bronze," the color of my skin and a candy store of so many
flavors,
Dark secrets buried beneath a feigned ghetto accent; only the Lord knows.
On a yellow brick road of acid trips and false smiles, "There is a man with no
guile!", says the Lord.
God met me halfway.
My Great Great Grandfather was a rapist, a harlot, a slave driving coward, a
firebrand charlatan.
Only the Lord knows.
My skin is Bronze, and so is my daughter's.
Along the way, voices distract as I struggle to find my place in this dream, but
there aren't enough colors.
This street, in the back of my heart, America, beautiful and fallen, noble and
fabricated.
On a yellow brook road of doubt and duplicity, Jesus met me halfway,
And abolished in his flesh, the enmity between me, for to make of himself of
twain, one new man.
My skin is bronze, the color of a rising son.
On this street, I gave up on a dream and found redemption.
I grieve the woman that I used to be
The one who did not know duplicity
Who thought that friends would have a constancy
I grieve the other woman that was me
I grieve the woman that I used to be
The one who looked at life with childlike glee
Whose heart of love made her a devotee
I grieve the other woman that was me
I grieve the woman that I used to be
Who thought her claim to fame was poetry
Who met each morning with expectancy
I grieve the other woman that was me
I grieve the woman that I used to be
Who thought that justice meant democracy
Who spoke for women's rights with fervancy
I grieve the other woman that was me
I grieve the woman that I used to be
Who saw a rosy hued reality
Who gave romantic love supremacy
I grieve the other woman that was me
I grieve the woman that I used to be
Who spoke her truth with proud audacity
Who trusted people's common decency
I grieve the other woman that was me
I grieve the woman that I used to be
Who would not tolerate complacency
Who thought a dream deferred was lunacy
I grieve the woman that I used to be
Alas, that other woman is not free
The world has chained her, crushed her vibrancy
Her words no longer carry potency
She's almost dead, that woman that was me.
Eileen Manassian
August 28, 2025
“The Big Blues and Baptismal Alice”
In the land of the dirty politician
Steely resolve was borne bidding
farewell to thinly veiled conceit and division
that particular brand of milk had long in the tooth turned sour
in her red-hot mamma kitchen
A racing Greyhound on the Going Nowhere Road
forever chasing the White Rabbit named Godot
counts time from its pocketful of ticking time bomb clocks
watching Pterodactyl hormones fly in formation
eating low lying ducks in a row
while the young Velociraptor sitting in her room drawing blood viper tongue fast,
has gone all Poe
The Greyhound turns tales around
and heads back towards Emerald City
flying fast away from a plague of Bubonic Black Crows
She says adieu to those dealing cards that were never real pretty
sitting at the Tea Party Table pulling Voodoo dreams
out of the Lyrebird’s duplicity
Departure
New journey
Two tokens
One kept aside for the Love
that’s steadfast and outspoken
the other for Bee Queen standing stellar
left-field not broken
The Buzzer claims the Chance Card
and moves way out past “GO”,
The Usurper Spell is now fully broken and blown
There on the open road destiny is cumulus now known
Face turned towards Big Blue Sky and Sunshine
a new life tapestry is sewn
Mystery mist whispering over Mountains of Blue
where angels set secret prayers
on the wings of swans who only speak home truth
soaring high upon Heaven’s stairs
singing loud and clear
new dreams do bloom
through cool clean white cotton clouds
face to the sun
feet on the ground
a new day has arrived
strong magic is found
Black ink words swallowed
charcoal spits out a burnt offering
through bitterful and twisted blisters
A New journey forward -
Home is calling her to the
Forest of the Three Sisters
There ensconced in her bucolic benevolent black heath of a palace
Born again in the Big Blues sings the bushfire burning in Baptismal Alice
(Lovejoy-Burton, August 2018)
"She's Leaving Home" / The Beatles
https://youtu.be/VaBPY78D88g
"Sky Above the Clouds", Georgia O'Keeffe 1962
Influences of Magritte, Bosch
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Queen_(chess)
Singular Sound of Out
nationaldaycalendar.com
It’s November 30th, and I am
heartened that today, is
National Personal Space Day.
But, further weave into the wicked web
knits up duplicity; unravels, in fact,
other sobriquets for the same date like
National Mousse Day,
National Mason Jar Day, and
Stay Home Because You’re Well Day
Might as well be National
Ponzi Scheme Day or
World Polygamy Day, or
Hold the Oral Thermometer
Against the Hot Lamp So It Looks
Like You Have a Fever and
Won’t Have to Go to School Day,
(Which I did once, before I celebrated
National Fess Up to Your Mother
Before the Ambulance Comes Day),
Of course, none of this will be
Reported, but I won’t permit my
personal space to be stuffed
into a jelly vessel, or rubbed
upon someone’s flaky pate just to
spike up their limp doo.
It’s all faux festival, and at the end
of National Meth Awareness Day,
also pegged at Eleven Thirty,
It’s the butt end of a sham ham
invented to dope us into more
greeting cards and bobbles
Because believing is the one thing
we all seem prepared to do, given our
preferred Evening Nosebag feeds.
So, cheers to the International Day
For Tolerance which was
celebrated on November 16th
I missed it; and so, maybe, did you,
but I could hear the Nihilists
and Zealots screeching madly for the high
windows in the singular Sound of Out.