Long Elite Poems
Long Elite Poems. Below are the most popular long Elite by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Elite poems by poem length and keyword.
It's been a year since that dreadful and unimaginable episode of Special Action Force occurred.
44 is indeed unacceptable in line of elite force where they called the mission planning assured.
It is not only a couple of weeks nor months but years to scrutinize the said mission they've been ordered.
Specialized SAF Troopers was compromised to that "OPLAN Exodus" just to make our Nation secured.
But why our fellow brothers left behind? Ten hours is quite too long to wait for reinforcement.
Betrayal is such a morbid word for them who doesn't deserved at all for that kind of assignment.
INJUSTICE is nevertheless but an irrational, unbearable and not even a requirement,
To Specialized Troopers who accomplished their mission and knowing what they've done is an achievement.
JUSTICE we cried out to our fellow Troopers who sacrificed their own lives for the sake of our nation!
We will never stand down to seek JUSTICE until the end and truth shall prevail to that agitation.
Because you SAF Fallen 44 Heroes and Survivors relevantly deserved JUSTICE and your sacrifices will be an inspiration,
Not only to the whole world but most of all to the orphaned children who left innocently with a question....
Some would say,
although not LaoTse,
and maybe not the Lakotae,
certainly not Animae,
or my Aunty Mae
on Mary Jae,
Egos just wanna fight or flee
or something strangely Other
than with or against
ego-viral identity.
But Taoists
healthy-Yang with wealthy-Yin display,
In-between fight and flee
lies our more ambiguously WinWin transubstantiating Way,
already there,
for those who Left with Right see
what we could be
with actually quite a bit more integrity.
Synergy between opposing Elite/NonElite emotions
need not necessarily end in quick-sand
UnHoly Spirited chaos
of alien ambiguous Other,
mere positive or negative or not-not double-boundup intentions
hiding on Other side
of ego fragmentation--
Integrity remains Earth's original eco-interdependent
RightMind intuition
of and for creative dipolar apposition
between active fight and passive flee
non-abusive
non-neglectful
non ego-narcissistic
non anthro-hubris
WinWin RealTalk communication,
too non-violently curious to fight,
too non-aggressively courageous to flee.
Sometimes,
between fight and flee
and you
and me,
I prefer to listen to divinely majestic mountains
and whisper through Earth's HolySpirited valleys
promising to return
to our originally democratic
blue-green surfing sea.
OBSESSIVE FUNK TALK
OBSESSIVE FUNK TALK WITH HYPNOTIC WORD SPEAK/ FIRMLY STRUCTURED SONGWRITING WITH A DREAM POP BEAT/ OK STEP IN MY BROTHER WITH YOUR DIGITAL THUMP/ YOU CREATED A EMOTIONAL WORD HIP MARATHON WITH THE DEEPEST AND DARKEST SPARKS OF BUMPTY BUMP DE BUMP/ YO DOG …. YA THINK YOU TUFF?…./ JUST TRY HANGIN’ FOR A MINUTE WHILE SMOKIN’ THAT HEAVY RIGHTEOUS STUFF/ YOU TRIED KNOCKIN’ THAT C&C WHEN YOUR MAMA CALLED YOUR BLUFF/ SO YOU GOT YOUR DIGIT’S AND RING UP GEORGE CLINTON AND ASKED WHAT’S IT ALL ABOUT/ HE SAID GET ON THE MOTHERSHIP BRO AND DIG ANOTHER PUFF/MAN YOU BE FADEIN’ ALL DAY ON THAT LOW DOWN HUNDRED PROF/SO YOU GET HIGH AND FUZZY AND WRITE SOME CRAZY NIGHTMARISH OUTLANDISH STUFF THAT SENDS THROUGH THE ROOF/ YOUR MIND IS A JUKEBOX TO THE ANTHEMS THAT YOU DREAM/ YOUR DIPLOMA IS YOUR MACHINE CONTENTIOUS YOU LEARNED IN THE STREETS/ YOU BE SPITIN WORDS THAT ARE QUOTABLE AND CRITICAL OF THE POWER ELITE/POLICE BRUTALITY AND RACIAL INJUSTICE/ YO, WHILE WHITE AMERICA SITS BY DAY AFTER DAY IN RETREAT/OUTTA OAKTOWN CAME THE BLACK PANTHERS, TOWER OF POWER 415 AND RICHIE RICH/ NO SOCIAL MEDIA TO BLOW THE MAD OAKTOWN SCENE?/ OAKLAND RAIDERS WERE KING OF THE GRID/ AND CHARLEY O AND HIS A’s/ ENUFF SAID/ THOSE WERE THE DAYS OF A BURNER IN EVERY POCKET/ AND A CHIP AS A THROW AWAY? AND A CLICK CLACK TO KEEP THE DEMOB AWAY/THE TRAGEDY IN THE STREETS?/ THE MURDERS ON THE BEAT/ OUTTA OAKTOWN WAS SCREAM-IN FOR HELP BUT THE POLITICIANS WERE IN RETREAT AND LOOKIN FOR HELP IN A NO OTHER WAY/ BACKDOOR PAYMENTS WERE THERE TO STAY/KDIA ON THE AIRWAVES AND ESTHER’S ORBIT ROOM/ BOB GEDDINS BIG TOWN RECORDING STUDIO WERE ROLLIN’ DEEP IN THE CITY OF DOPE/CRACK WAS KILLIN’ BABY’S MAMA’S AND THERE DADDY’S WERE ON THE RUN/ THE CRACK EPIDEMIC IN OAKTOWN WAS A KILLIN’ ALL/ AND LEAVING NONE/ NO YOUTUBE, SPOTTILY OR FACEBOOK TO DENT OAKTOWNS PRIDE/ STREET CORNER SINGING GAVE WAY RAP AND HIP HOP AS THE BULLETS WERE A FLYIN IN THE AIR/ RAPPIN AND DOININ HIP HOP WOULD LET THE YOUTH OF THE DAY VENT THEIR FRUSTRATIONS AS OAKTOWN BURNED AWAY/ E-40,THE JACKA,SHOCK G, TOO SHORT MAC DAE JUST TO HIP YA TO A FEW/DID THE DOPEST THING/ BY BLOWIN’ OUR MINDS TO A NEW OAKTOWN SOUND/
her untamable sakura spirit
glows like sweet scents
of petrichor peace,
perfumed in jasmine water,
whilst there’s no path
to golden rays of sunlight,
she shines for the elite vines
trailing through silver
gates of heaven.
and when the sky is a sea
of lilac lanterns,
and mauve mists,
shifting amidst
raining rhinestones
etched with mood-swings,
she remembers~
God as the choreographer
the mindful maestro,
tranquilizing trees tangled
with roots of torment.
but chocolate cosmos
remain blindfolded
by pearly lilies,
as the salmon-hued
bird of paradise
blossoms from
neglected lines
of caramelized skin,
she still sprouts in solitude,
delicate but
powerfully growing
from sepia roots
of grief and regrets,
lessons learned
through wisteria wisdom
earned from
turmeric truth,
and holistic hymns of the
almighty that echo
in captivating cadence~
as spiritual songs
of sepals flourish
amidst withering petals,
there her frost-bitten
soul found a healing field
in a poetic reverie,
where lyrical lines
float above mulberry meadows,
sowing hyacinth herbs of kindness~
painting petunias in patience,
silently sprinkling
enticing anemones
as an inevitable sign
of eternal hope to freedom.
A poetic earth that shall remain
untouched amidst the cruel wind
that blow it’s way through,
while lakes of longing
emanate soulful sagas,
synchronized from strings
of moon-kissed stars,
unfurling light when darkness
dwell upon dreary hearts.
Mother-nature, compassionate
spirit,
I hear her plea for
empathetic emeralds,
engrossed with
righteous rubies,
from topaz tenderness.
here, in singing silence,
I stretch my heart to
seraphic spheres,
for she lies in solitary stillness.
Let the beating hearts
of walking silhouettes
manifest silken fate for her
divine aura.
Rivers may no longer flow,
and flowers may
no longer be fragrant,
but faith shall
never be perished,
and the wildest forests
of her heart shall forever
flare evergreen
dreams of tomorrow.
He was born and raised in Mobile, Alabama.
Soon, he was famous all over America.
He played for the Braves in Milwaukee and Atlanta.
Considered to be among professional baseball's elite,
watching him hit homeruns was certainly a treat.
Hank made the chief do a war dance beyond the outfield.
Mr. Aaron did this numerous times with each homer he would yield.
Yes, everyone would soon know this great man's name.
On the first ballot, he made the Hall of Fame.
However, I heard some bad news the other day.
On January 22, this great player passed away.
Hank Aaron (1934-2021)
The bloated politician extends a hand
to the 60-hour-a-week little man.
Tossing him a few dry crumbs for a greasy vote.
Just enough to keep him pacified and afloat.
A pearly string of empty promises will follow.
We've been played again and again and again.
Sheep following a lemming's greed.
Hope lost in the fold of the final breath.
The ego of the damned shines but is fool's gold.
Blackened tongues pretending to be bridges.
While carving mountains into tombstones.
The elite slurping middle-class marrow in the shadows.
While goodness sips the dusty fate of tomorrow-
Joseph Pujol, Flatulist
1/6/1857 - 8/8/1945
He started working as a baker
And ended up being the same
But for nearly thirty years he
Enjoyed international fame.
Using his natural talent
For quite a long while
He entertained the elite
In his own unique style.
He could break wind at will
With superb sound control
Wore a special pair of breeches
With an appropriately placed hole
And, with a series of tubes
Could play tunes on a flute
Blow out a distant candle
Imitate a duck or coot.
He gave delight to millions
With his travelling show
Cheered and feted wherever
He was invited to go
He couldn’t compete with
The noise of the first Great War
So he retired back to his shop
To become a baker once more.
So, All hail le Petomane
The man who made of it an art,
And added respectability to,
The discreetly dropped fart.
Before crowned heads of Europe
At the height of his glory
Sadly the modern world has
Almost forgotten his story.
In the increasing constriction
Of government restriction
I offer the following observation
Of freedoms suffocation
Of daily liberties
Savagely curtailed
Of your war on everything
That has sadly failed
Of your attempts to control the masses
Becomes comical as it passes
Many like me question your sanity
Or is it simply blind vanity?
Why is it so important to control the mundane?
Why is power such a treat?
Why relish the suffering at your feet?
Do you really believe
That you’re the “elite”?
I can’t help but laugh at that term
Please forgive the disrespect
As I snicker for effect
To me it’s simply ludicrous
Because you’re such a joke
The masses you seek to silence
Are angry and awoke
I wish to simply confide
That you might want to step aside
Before the masses take you for a ride
To your “unfortunate suicide”
Are you getting the vibe?
Eric (and sometimes not)
Story telling
seems good and sufficient therapy
for those who feel not so patient
with inefficiencies of story making.
RightWing dominant telling
yelling allows remarkable capital stagnation
v fluidity
of set-back
laid-back
v rapidly
non-vapidly
multicultural health-developing
pace
Supporting v avoiding
StraightWhitePatriarchal privileged
race
toward win/lose universal capitalism
space
My EgoWealthy Yang
disgrace
in conflict with EcoSystemic Yintegral
health communication potential
place
Multiculturally intelligent
in win/win planning and co-design
humbling grace
Avoiding win/lose elite NorthWest sectoral
cornered monocultural history
inhumanely mono-faced
male supreme pectoral
Not even win/win mentioning
eco-politically camouflaged ecofeminist
SouthEast non-elite indigenous
matriarchal
enlightening and empowering
natural/spiritual churched and templed and synagogued
polygoogled BlueWonder and GreenAwe
polyculturing Heavenly Truths
YellowLight dawning our
redawning everyday EarthBeauty,
after climate's darkest ZeroSum
concluding Left v Right
unwinged disempowering hour
Co-investing, in steady shaking
win-yintegral EarthClimate bounty
re-invents ReStoried Listening
preliminaries to healthiest wealth
through EarthStory ReMaking
Rebaking Leftwing eco-health
is also rightwing's truest democratic
empowering resonant CreationBeauty
enlightens bountiful
faith-resilient
ego wealth.
We are quarreling over a graveyard of great ideas
Wandering under skies filled with flying political spears
Ideas are rotting under the soils dug by the unscrupulous
We buried our true identity and our mourning is pretentious
The commoners with good intentions are called riffraffs
The undereducated with concerns are labeled bellyachers
The elite have a sense of entitlement that exceeds their competency
The clergy have cloaks covering hands reaching out for the treasury
When Jesus tells us to pray in private, that’s when we fill up stadiums
Or that “Lord! Lord!” won’t get us to heaven, we still climb the podiums
Our inaction disguised as faith and oblivious to the endowment of freewill
We are blind to nature's blessings and God’s delegation of power for us to realise his earthly will
Amidst the vastness of our resources, blossoms a narrowness of minds
If challenges delay our goals, a compromise sprouts, as success gets undermined
Our failures don’t roll up our sleeves for more efforts but for belligerence
Our tongues have become viperous easily inciting division and violence
We are guilty of killing the messengers
We have silenced voices that threaten our favours and status
We prefer fellow tribesmen and forego what statesmanship seeks
Distrusting progress of shared thought and embracing the selfishness of cliques
More deceit continue to deface our identity
Take heed of the manipulation of verities
Individualism is not selfishness
Patriotism is not self-praise
Salvation is not prosperity
Electability is not authority
Our leaders are just a reflection of society
Changing the mirror won’t cure their corruptibility