Long Egalitarian Poems
Long Egalitarian Poems. Below are the most popular long Egalitarian by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Egalitarian poems by poem length and keyword.
There’s no tread or scuffing hinted,
By that tough father-like figure,
Painted red, gown not flung on,
But a thoughtfully configured picture.
Bright red, vibrant with energy,
For each kid, loud, silent or bewildered;
Wanting to give them all enjoyment,
With heart, love and feeling rendered.
All are included, none left out,
Coloured, tall, disabled, skinny;
Loved, lonely, fat, intelligent,
Sporty, introvert, nerd, bubbly.
That red velvet met by white fur,
Exploding with purity rather explicitly;
Entitled to be warm, that morality,
That pillar of nurture and equality.
There’s not one gift or present, but many,
A plurality for each face that lights,
For each smile that justifies the giving,
To let parents quietly adjust their sights.
But kids must be good and kind too,
To merit that spark of interest from Claus,
Because that’s the condition of giving,
The hinge of the egalitarian laws.
A bright symbol of societal progress,
That’s so loved by the generation gap;
Love wrought through dispute, disagreement,
Worked out through a family’s cold tap.
When your child has an intense interest,
And your faith impedes your reason,
Father Christmas begs that you submit,
By thus calling your child a small person.
Not so as to render him an adult,
Or consider her older than yourself,
But to admit that their hobbies,
Only come from society’s shelf.
Santa Claus has a moral point, a focus,
Hints politely to those who lack the personal,
To embrace the child’s joys and pleasures,
At Christmas, when you may be feeling neural.
Under the mantle of night, full of hidden meanings,
Where stars dance their stories in silence,
There lies a world where vocations drown in shadows,
Children with grand dreams, trapped in dusty golden cages,
In the name of egalitarian humanism, they disperse in the cold wind.
Schools, temples of logic and unfeeling iron rules,
Bury geniuses under mantles of conformity and doubt,
Sacred callings, intoxicated by narrow ignorance,
Begin to perish, bound in invisible chains, under a dark sky,
In an orchestra of silences where the echoes of spirits fade.
Children, who once dreamed of universes untouched by time,
Learn to suffocate their wings of free thoughts,
Under the weight of the gray everyday and norms devoid of magic,
Their dreams merge with the dust in the old corners of rooms,
Where the light of the candle of knowledge struggles to guide.
Under the yoke of the official world, contemplative spirits groan,
Trapped in the web of formalities and mental closures,
Entire universes, swallowed by the blackness of daily monotony,
Wells of creativity dry up under the sorrow of indifference,
In a world that refuses to see the magic born from within.
Oppression begins in their fragile childhood,
When magnificent ideas turn into painful silences,
Geniuses wasted in vain, like dust on waves of unforgiving time,
In the name of equality, their freedom becomes a shadow,
A distant illusion, lived in a dance of shadows and extinguished dreams.
But in the deep darkness, hidden under layers of routine and forgetfulness,
There is a light that cannot be extinguished, only temporarily muffled,
In hearts filled with longing for transcendence and pure knowledge,
The song of silent revolt is born, magic revived from the ashes,
For the genius of truth, no matter how oppressed, always returns to the light.
Wordsmithing and living
are like communicating and loving
through a camera lens
when you could just lay down your language-camera,
to step into face-to-face space,
rather than stepping aside from present co-arising,
co-relational empathic moments of opportunity
and co-gravitating issues,
to choose instead to speak
sing
dance ex-cathedra
In what is an increasingly accessible
rhetorical climate moment,
but decreasingly LeftBrain reading
writing
rithmatic tic tic
emptying-out
echo-palace for noble and graceful
and unpaid poets
Our sageconomist gods
and musecologist goddesses
with their anthroprivileged sacred meanings
and mundane busyness purposes,
to chat amongst our win/win selves.
Only nature photographers
and soulful philosophers
take muses seriously
as performance artists;
not just under-commodified
and over-domesticated
giants of useless
unentitled industry.
Sacred ecology smithing
and synergetic economizing
are co-nutritional communication and deep life-loving
through bicamerally reiterative lenses
of Left Interior Ego Landscape
ecohosted by Elder Right Exterior MusEcology Landscape,
therapy for regenerative planning and development.
In EarthParadise
poets rule Interior Ego Reigns
while permacultural ecotherapists co-evolve governance
of Exterior CoOperative EcoClimates,
politically egalitarian
as economically co-op driven,
ecosystemic space/time synergy
here/now win/win balancing
confluently elational body/mind
neurosystemic energy;
learning to speak in mindful face to face
paced time '
and algae-surfing seaside rhythms.
Writing without experience,
outside experience,
beyond and abstracted from context contenting experience,
already takes God's active-verbal name
in panentheistic vain
pursuits of beautifully affordable correctness,
omitting primal wild
dipolar dialectic revolutions,
complex fractal-spiral regenerative icons,
metasystems of time's unfolding reformation
with fertile refolding eco-function,
flowing back to Golden Elixir,
Rule,
reproportioning Ego/Eco-Balance
face to face
Here in Now
like flowing river water identities
in salt surfing seasons
Of Earth empowering deep ego energy
in synergetic Sun's wide
wild museco enlightenment.
Under the mantle of night, full of hidden meanings,
Where the stars dance their stories in silence,
There lies a world where vocations drown in shadows,
Children with grand dreams, trapped in dusty golden cages,
In the name of egalitarian humanitarianism, they disperse in the cold wind.
Schools, temples of logic and unfeeling iron rules,
Bury geniuses under cloaks of conformity and doubt,
Sacred callings, intoxicated by narrow ignorance,
Begin to perish, bound in invisible chains, under a dark sky,
In an orchestra of silences where the echoes of spirits fade.
Children, who once dreamed of universes untouched by time,
Learn to suffocate their wings of free thought,
Under the weight of the gray everyday and norms devoid of magic,
Their dreams merge with the dust in the old corners of halls,
Where the light of the candle of knowledge struggles to guide.
Under the yoke of the official world, contemplative spirits groan,
Trapped in the web of formalities and mental closures,
Entire universes, swallowed by the black of daily monotony,
Wells of creativity dry up under the sorrow of indifference,
In a world that refuses to see the magic born from within.
Oppression begins in their fragile childhood,
When magnificent ideas turn into painful silences,
Geniuses wasted in vain, like dust on waves of unforgiving time,
In the name of equality, their freedom becomes a shadow,
A distant illusion, lived in a dance of shadows and extinguished dreams.
But in the deep darkness, hidden under layers of routine and oblivion,
There is a light that cannot be extinguished, only temporarily muffled,
In hearts filled with longing for transcendence and pure knowledge,
The song of silent revolt is born, magic revived from the ashes,
For the genius of truth, no matter how oppressed, always returns to the light.
What would your therapeutic family do
with an extra eleven hundred thousand?
A surplus donated beyond perennial operational expenses
for birthing and maintaining healthy lives
and burying and repurposing nutritional death.
First,
Let's invite co-investors to take back ten percent;
a million will do peacefully fine.
I would take the first hundred thousand
to build an outside classroom,
a green sanctuary,
an outdoor cathedral
accessible to all our neighbors
to stop in
join our song and dance
then move on about their day
Or stay
to re-invest Earth-healing lifetimes
of interdependent democracy together,
liberal in unboundaried love,
conserving our most robust ecojustice investments
to enrich deepening yin
and widening yang
eco-villages,
and internal ego-sanctuaries
for healing past climate degeneratives.
One day
we'll decide to co-invest a long weekend
for cooperatively budgeting
how we will reinvest our remaining nine hundred thousand
in ourselves
with our neighbors
our network of eco-faith communities,
our international confederacy of tribes and species,
residential
and share-ride commuter communities
To repurpose our existing infrastructures,
our cooperatively owned and managed communication systems,
liturgical nutrition systems,
healthcare giving and receiving networks,
nutritional wealth co-investing secular guilds
and sacred unions
to not just pray for resilient energy democracy
and future trust
and love of contagious beauty
sung and danced
planted and harvested each re-springing EarthDay
and every secular/sacred
natural/spiritual
egalitarian/interdependent
ego-healthy/eco-wealthy
sublimely incarnate night
of neurological enspiriting repair
Projects redesigning ego/eco-therapeutic communities
with an extra eleven hundred thousand
for birthing and maintaining healthy lives
unburying and repurposing nutritional integrity.
One year ago
our hearts and minds
were socially
and politically
and economically divided
about universal health care
as a restorative prerequisite
to growing unitarian wealth
of EarthJustice
through multicultural compassion.
Today
regardless of where we may find
identify
celebrate our active hope
for growing a resilient polycultural community
We feel no clear post-viral divide
between health care
and EarthTribe's social solidarity,
No great non-transitional
separation of secular caste
of sacred calling
between social solidarity
and indigenous integrity
of interdependent
naturalANDspiritual
body and mind healthcare;
No vast dualistic shadow
between First Egalitarian HealthPrinciples
and Seventh Interdependent WealthSystems.
Health care,
like social caring,
like politically empowering compassion,
like economically enlightened co-investment,
can never again return
to a pre-global pandemic view
of healthy democratic energy
as a strictly private
commodified
anthroprivileged self-investment
by win/lose might of fight
makes dominating right
singularly bright.
Whole Open EarthClimate Care
Ego/Eco conjoining Systems
predict healthy resilient babies
and a renewing win/win
bicamerally empowering
enlightening pregnant health is wealth species
Restored from a starving
isolating angry
and fearfully monoculturing
disregard for polyculturing
health wealthy
GreatGreen Transitioning EarthMother
PostPandemically restorying
Her ravenous
and cancerously conflicted womb
of sensory
experiential
passionately universal
unitarian healthcare wisdom.
Under the mantle of night, full of hidden meanings,
Where the stars dance their stories in silence,
There lies a world where vocations drown in shadows,
Children with grand dreams, trapped in dusty golden cages,
In the name of egalitarian humanitarianism, they disperse in the cold wind.
Schools, temples of logic and unfeeling iron rules,
Bury geniuses under cloaks of conformity and doubt,
Sacred callings, intoxicated by narrow ignorance,
Begin to perish, bound in invisible chains, under a dark sky,
In an orchestra of silences where the echoes of spirits fade.
Children, who once dreamed of universes untouched by time,
Learn to suffocate their wings of free thought,
Under the weight of the gray everyday and norms devoid of magic,
Their dreams merge with the dust in the old corners of halls,
Where the light of the candle of knowledge struggles to guide.
Under the yoke of the official world, contemplative spirits groan,
Trapped in the web of formalities and mental closures,
Entire universes, swallowed by the black of daily monotony,
Wells of creativity dry up under the sorrow of indifference,
In a world that refuses to see the magic born from within.
Oppression begins in their fragile childhood,
When magnificent ideas turn into painful silences,
Geniuses wasted in vain, like dust on waves of unforgiving time,
In the name of equality, their freedom becomes a shadow,
A distant illusion, lived in a dance of shadows and extinguished dreams.
But in the deep darkness, hidden under layers of routine and oblivion,
There is a light that cannot be extinguished, only temporarily muffled,
In hearts filled with longing for transcendence and pure knowledge,
The song of silent revolt is born, magic revived from the ashes,
For the genius of truth, no matter how oppressed, always returns to the light.
Unitarian-Universalist bicameral principles,
like Yin-Yang Tao governance dynamics,
are a supportive context for discovering our own economic-political,
social-psychological,
eco-neurological,
theo-multicultural Truths.
But, ZenZero Taoism is more than poly-analogical.
UnitingYin and UniversalYang prime zero-balancing relationship
is also a non-violent compassionate therapy
for rediscovering individual EgoTruth
within Earth's interdependent living EcoWeb
of all becoming health-wealthy Truths
Of AllSouls
throughout all catholic
positive democratic
egalitarian energetic
co-relational 4D SpaceTime
Born of resonant matriarchal/patriarchal DNA
0/1 double-binary intersectional
fractally binomial
and warm wet polynomial
regeneratively polypathic
fertile health wombed polyphonic
Integrally harmonic
of
and for,
on
and organically within
Earth's health/wealth regeneration.
Banking on inherited memories rejuvenates me.
As and when I remember the memories
That me and my people long to cherish
And those me and my people despise to relish
To remember not as memoirs
But as inerasable scars.
The nation, the geography, the war, the leaders
The language, the temples, the forts and those statues, and the ethnicity
Then comes an innate xenophobia
That declares me and my people as more equal than others;
And others do live in History’s mischief,
Bloodshed as part of the living
And for the living of me and my people,
And the making of the histories
That I and my people have today
As glorious moments of the past for the present
But for those who produced this wicked ‘hero’
That is unexplainable.
The unforgettable’s enigmatic inexplicable
And this makes me feel the heroic deeds
And the unheroic moments as great periods
And people who built that fort and this temple.
I only consume History.
Producer of History
Learning from the past bloopers
I reconstruct the future through THIS present.
And those present here.
There is NO present as such
For humans live in past glories
And memories that are painful
To think about the future
And the prospective futures
Those (are) perceived either in fear or in hyper ambitions.
The past seems to me
A mere wars-the wars fought
For a feudal by a feudal
Or those slaves-(Both physical and social).
Those kings and their courtesans
The numerous wives and those concubines
The titles and the moribund army.
The modern PROMOTERS of democracy
Yet the common man was ‘there’
But not living.
I exterminate all the above
Including the democracy,
The dictatorship of the preliterate,
The religious kingdom, the Islamic republic.
Egalitarian society for all- the inclusive growth
I will have equality
Where people are equal
In all but something giving room for those
Like I who would like to produce
History- future history.
I produce History
Not for History’s sake
For myself – my sake.
( A Translation of Kazi Nazrul Islam's famous Bengali poem "Samyabadi")
I sing the song of equality,
in which all obstacles and distance are dissolved,
in which the Hindus, the Buddhists, the Muslims
and the Christians have got united.
I sing the song of equality!
Who are you? A Persian? A Jain? A Jew?
A Santhal, a Bhil, a Garo?
A Confucian? A follower of Charbak? Continue. Tell more.
O friend, whoever you are,
whatever books and scriptures you carry
into stomach, on back, on shoulder and into brain,
the Quran, the Puranas, the Vedas, the Bible, the Tripitaka—
the Zend-Avestha, the Granth Sahib—
read as much as you desire.
But why do you waste your labour?
Why are you throwing spears into your brain?
Why do you haggle in a shop when fresh flowers
bloom at your roadside?
The wisdom of all scriptures and ages lie within you.
O friend, open your heart, you will find all scriptures there.
Within you lie all religions, all the prophets of all ages
and your heart is the world-temple of everyone’s gods.
Why do you look for God in the skeletons of dead books?
He smiles into the secret concealment of your immortal heart!
O friend, I have not told a lie—
It is the place where all crowns tumble and toss.
This very heart is the Nilachal, Kashi, Mathura, Brindaban;
It is Bodh-Gaya, Jerusalem, Medina and Kaaba.
It is the mosque, it is the temple, it is the church;
Sitting here, Jesus and Moses found the identity of truth.
In this battlefield, the young flute player sang the Bhagavad Gita;
In this pasture, the sheep-grazing prophets became friends to God.
Sitting in the meditation-cave of this heart, Shakyamuni abandoned his kingdom hearing the call of men’s great sufferings.
In this cave, the Prince of Arabia used to hear the divine call;
sitting here, he sang the Quran’s equality-song.
O brother, what I have heard is not a lie—
there is no temple, no Kaaba greater than this heart.
Translation date: 1/3/2016 Sirajganj, Bangladesh