Long Equals Poems

Long Equals Poems. Below are the most popular long Equals by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Equals poems by poem length and keyword.


Premium Member Still Praying, Blm

Black Lives Matter is a statement of love not statement of hate 
So, please erase the confusion from your face
But they can't hear because they're too busy spraying mace in my face
They keep yelling: s who needs them, nigga please, black boy black girl you don't belong
Today I read murder s on a random wall
Someone tried to spray paint over it, but the hate was still legible
They try to sweep racism under the rug, but the people living in that house still keep the hate at their side at all times
Taking lives at all times, so much so it has become a full-time job, and they love overtime
Humans are not animals but sometimes I wish black people had 9 lives like a cat
Then maybe one of those we could live out who we were meant to be
Or maybe we could be a dog, you heard the cops call us treats, 
Right?
Justice where has it gone, people will say it's just the times
But now it's 2020 and Justice is more like just them all the time
It's not fair, it's not right, it's not love, and to everyone who gets hurt standing up for the air being sucked out of our bodies continue to stay ten toes down
Because we is a selfish term in America
Freedom is a selective term in America
The grey line takes up most of the space in America
Right is looked at as wrong in America, and some still choose to ignore the true colors of America
Red is my blood stolen from the boys in blue, that sadly can be defined as a white American most of the time
The red should really symbolize the fire raging from this hell on earth
That makes the world blue, well some of us
White culture eating white cake from the recipes of slaves
Wanting to experience different things
Wanting to participate in our lifestyle 
Stealing traditions
Without the ritualistic red dot constantly pointed at their back
But when a black person wants more for themselves, they have to start with a wall against their back
While carrying the cross their ancestors hung from 
While trying to make change, positive change should not be as hard as looking for a dropped charge 
Awareness and action is the key, but there are many doors to unlock until Justice can start to have the appearance of a just world
We can be more, we can do better, when we start to believe that no one is better
We are all equals, this is not algebra its addition
love + human=unity not hate, it's simple
p.s. I'm still praying...


The Curse

How long will this suffrage last?
Painting the dark picture of a darkened past.
My people are supposed to be blessed,
But we are cursed in this foreign land.
My people are supposed to be royalty,
Yet we are slaves.
The seed is supposed to grow higher and higher,
But yet it withers away like a dry flower.
Just accept it, that the curse is with us,
How long will this suffrage last?

If only God’s commandments were kept,
There would be no ignorance or plague,
No death or lost identities,
No religion or slaves.
There wouldn’t be another Egypt
that would take us far away from the motherland.

How long can we survive the curse?
Will it be forever and ever?
Will our beautiful queens continue to receive pain
While baby daddies are the ones to blame?
How about the separation of our families
causing broken homes?
Is it the curse of our ancestor’s blame?

How long will we rely on this oppressive nation?
The king over us that has no regard of our struggle.
Their nation became unstoppable, 
They rose higher and higher.
But my people plundered lower and lower
since the days of old, from slavery to civil rights,
And all them stories untold.
We are the tail but not the head,
We fought for our rights but we still are not equals.
How long will this curse last?
When will the shouts cry, “Free at last!”


This is the curse,
A curse where God has shamed us,
From generation to generation,
Leaving our enemies blameless,
While they steal everything we own
And make it their possession.
Our people are the creators,
Yet it is unknown.

Almost four hundred years
the plagues has risen like a swarm of locusts
Devouring the blessing because of our scattered nation.
We were like the stars in the sky shining,
Until our numbers dwindled
from the slaughter of the beast’s wrath.

If only the ancestors stayed obedient and humble,
Maybe our lives would be a blessing.
We would be living with silver and gold,
But instead we were uprooted
from the land that was promised.


My brothers and sisters wake up!
We are living in a curse.
From poverty to persecution,
Watching death catch more bodies.

Repent and renew your mind and spirit,
Follow His commandments until you reach further,
Back to the motherland that is soon to be promised.
Get out of your ways and you will be covered.
If not, you will continue living the curse.
© K.T. Brown  Create an image from this poem.
Form:

The Message

I'm not the greatest of all-times, but when I'm done,
I'll be an all time great in this lifetime of mine
Like the late great who came before my time
I will breed a new lifeline, that will breathe life like march of dimes
My story lines, will bring truth life; like troops who fight
Overseas, for rights of those who believe that death is life
Now that ain't right!
As the rich is getting richer, eating fillet me-non, while we barely feeding our appetite

Night after night
Survival has waged a war that gave us no choice but to battle and fight
Although, we'll be all right
They say we a dying breed, but that ain't right
Instead  we're the light to a lying greed
That will enlighten life to a brand new seed
A man of God indeed
Freed from the Son that bleeds
Like the summer breeze
He's the sum that equals the amount of air I breathe
The air that please
A satisfaction like the birds and the bees
My word's words are the keys
That will fornicate with the mind and give birth to a seed
A seed of social change, that'll change our social economy
So shall our comradery
That will bring comfort to a struggling society
A synonym...similar to a civilization seeking for unity
Unifying the physics of theory
That seeks to explain the synopsis of a dying philosophy
Similar to the Cosby
X-cept my scrip-tic will speak more about our reality
Like life's calamity
And everything else in life that's destroying us systematically

However, I've discovered a system
That can mathematically destroy ignorancy 
And turn our state of mind intellectually
I elect that He (God) selects me to be
And be that man who may lead this community
So that they (My Peoples) may commute with me
En-route to a destination, destine towards our destiny
Like we were destine to be
We were meant to be "Great" like the late great that came before we.

Because we are...
The reflection where perfection gave birth to the definition of greatness
Where great means Competent, Skilled, Well Informed, and Tremendous
Our potentials are endless
And only we not even the enemy can put an end to this
So it's time we put a stop to this
The biggest enemy of self
And that's envy and jelousness
Cause after this is Heaven or Hell and that's all there is
A promised made sealed with a kiss
Knowing this
Is the next best thing since "In the beginning"
In the first chapter of the first verse in Genesis!
Form: Acrostic

Tribes Man

I’m a tribes man born and raised,
Please don't tell me how to spend my days! 
Coming in with your western views,
Don't Because that's not the life I choose. 

I'm a man I was raised to hunt, 
But your killing my culture to be blunt. 
Taking the animals away from us, 
Trying to make our lives adjust. 
To be more like you, 
Can't you see we don't want to!
I know you think it's wrong what we do, 
But to be fair it's not up to you! 
You're coming on to my land,
Taking what you want can,
Don't you see the effects it has on my clan! 
You're leaving us with nothing to do, 
So you think we should bow down to you!
Take the jobs you've created, 
With our land which you've updated! 
Which basically means you turned into a tourist trap, 
Selling us with the gift wrap!
We've turned into circus men, 
People paying to see us as and when!
You telling us to perform our traditions, 
In order to get commission,
We no longer do it for us, 
We do it for the shuttle bus!
Can't you see, 
You're the one who did this to me? 

You're the one that's turned my clan to alcohol,
You're the one that's turned my clan to money, 
You're the one whose destroyed our traditions, 
You're the ones who've destroyed our visions. 

Why can't you see that your not superior, 
We're not inferior,
We're just different from you, 
And taking that away from us is not up to you. 
We don't want to be the same as the rest of the world, please try and not making us unfurl. 

I cant speak for everyone as we see westerners as rich, 
Many people would love to switch!
Have food on the table and water at their beck and call, 
But those people they don't speak for us all. 

Why don't you ask us what we desire, 
Instead of changing us and giving us what you think we require. 
You're not us, you've never actually lived like us,
So how do you know what works for us and what needs to adjust? 
Lack of communication and lack of consideration, too much dictation and not enough beneficial donation, which would form the foundation, we would get to keep our location with a bit of negotiation and less adaptation equals less agitation. Maybe we need some more education and sanitation but with our invitation , and your observation by living in this  population we can come to transformation that suits everyone and we will be a happy African nation!
Form: Rhyme

And Ignoble Prize Trumpeting Hubris Awarded To

And ignoble prize trumpeting hubris awarded to...

Bourgeoisie donning ersatz
overstuffed ego freezer bewigged pate
"FAKE" grotesque humanitarian
bribed corrupt judges will vindicate
jimmied cracked corn
land of "milk and honey"

red hot button he spoils to activate
countdown to Armageddon
leaving nation prostrate,
all the more reason to axe electoral college,
now holds electorate
hostage to bully tactics grate

for dead souls – zombie thriller, viz
Putin on the ritz,
whereby Pavlov's dog will salivate
on cue and pony show will titillate,
and worse case scenario, a far more terrible fate
than death by a thousand cuts

equals his refusal not to abdicate
presidency, should voters
get smart to administrate
White House with progressive commander
in chief he/she will adjudicate
decency, honesty, integrity... and acclimate

government toward amity, comity, equality...
oh,... and most importantly advocate
salutary measures affecting biosphere,
where industrialization didst devastate
contaminate by bajillion beings birthrate,
every square inch of Earth

*****sapiens succeeded to abominate...,
prima facie global warming doth correlate,
hence primary requisite mandate
to reorient modus operandi no time to wait,
where carbon footprint negligible
still preserving technological paradigm

fixing low cussed electricity to generate
courtesy renewable resources
else man/womankind will become footnote
atrophied trappings agglomerate
twenty first century civilization
damned, inundated, ossified bridgegate

checkmated, choked, chucked... wag gone wheels
das spare - tread fully tires fuming primate
jammed fruits of loins going bananas
infuriating, exhausting accelerating
no exit (sorry Sartre) to circumnavigate
hardy lee any recourse to extricate

oneself from madding crowd
self resignation minimally doth alleviate,
whereby impatient broods frustrate
inaccessible jackknifed mobility,
thence spark ignites spontaneous eruption
impossible mission to plug
crowdsource mob frenzy translate

pent up fury once loosed doth degenerate
into atavistic pandemonium cutthroat rage
snarling human logjam foaming at mouth
poised to strike ready to decapitate
any remaining shred of salvation barren feeble
slow vac hoovering, milking, and sucking
every last vestige of bondage peoples extirpate.


Donald Trump Equals Pathological Psychopath

Donald trump = pathological psychopath

Fred Trump taught his sole son Donald 
how to steal the leading way into more ass, 
though no hint given, nor prediction forecast 
in his growing up years, that would foretell, 
thru base anaphylactic cronyism, egotistical 
gall insidious kleptomania call, malodorous 

Machiavellian offal obnoxious quintessential 
skullduggery, unfair wicked yik yak zeal 
to wield selfishness, a mean mogul with brass, 
who would unstintingly live up to his surname, 
and trump every law in the books of jurisprudence 
and crass bend avast set of constitutional laws 
to feed his ferocious fealty to the all mighty dollar 

flaunting, fleecing, and flipping  the welfare 
of those (he deemed must serve him 
his insatiable hunger) to connive, dictate,
and expedite his hell bent assiduity, 
an empire fit for a King, who felt no aversion 
to mollycoddle, peddle, and wheedle 

any zealous contractual obligation 
(immediately abrogated), and concoct fabrications 
vis a vis, a visa versa MasterCard his 
American Express shun re: the art of the raw 
FitBit (if necessary browbeating, depriving, 
forfeiting meting out legally obligated pay 

whenever an inconvenient truth awoke 
in his noggin reneging fiduciary promises 
to the risk-taking, moon shining, toiling citizens 
ala Indian giving per many an unfair deal 
exuding crass with especial treatment 
to withhold wages for his (held in check) 

Polish laborers, who built his city on rock and rolling
stock – so a Starship emblazoned with 
outsize ego of an exploiter with no pay 
to his backbreaking Polish construction 
motley crue nor even mucho grassy us 
for erecting his empire now ranked in 
billions of dollars unfairly pointing a finger 

to berate, dictate and finagle foreigners 
(illegal immigrants, he would now boot 
out of this country) to carry out drudgery
with hungry stomachs growling at slave wages, 
lamentably plodding since any other employer 
might question their vlsa status, hence anger 
boils within this generic human enraged 

his wealth squeezed from every last drop 
of said craftsman, now if still alive old and 
broken men crushed by the mighty 
self proclaimed dictator of the proletariat, 
whose hollow being blind sides those 
he stares down, yet beware all that glitters ain't gold!

Schooled In Hard Knock Sufferance

Schooled in hard knock sufferance... -
soulful scribe matt er fact - seeks solemn sanctuary

Despite always pledging
allegiance to the flag
academic performance traced, narrated,
graphed... unfavorable zigzag

vertical lined spikes across
x-axis and y-axis displayed
dramatically sharper increased crag
when promoted one grade to the next

how comprehension did lag
attributed to allocating, dag
gone nabbit budgeting, crafting... productive
time usage, plus an affirmative nod,

whereby yours truly did lallygag
evincing object lesson procrastination
study habits shucked off cuz mum did nag
obfuscation regarding illegible note taking
I moost definitely haint gonna brag.

Deplorable curriculum vitae
not hearty and hale
equals pathetic academic performance
now displeases me,

yours truly did wanna fail
no matter parents told me, I got smarts
severe psychological dissonance
affected this male

in retrospect,... a tell tale
sign everyday existence
arduous, horrendous, perilous...

lifelong struggle analogous to quail
caught between cross hairs
tis pointless foregone opportunities... assail
self pointless, hence no surprise
metaphor locked within jail.

Report cards highlighted
plethora weaknesses bred
teachers exhausted markers
especially black red
spent small fortune replacing
regarding this jughead,

who practically proved deficiencies
prevailed within his head
arising and undoubtedly stead
dully contributing living
antisocially he approximated
being gratefully dead.

Search for acceptance during harrow
wing during formative years absolute zero
earning michelin equivalent laughing stock,
where mummified pharaoh
each arose out sarcophagus (cue Thriller -
Michael Jackson), a hero

cash equalling cow Jackson 5 era
before disgraced pedofile,
now keeps company with Nero
roman around within underworld
plus disembodied spirit Clarence Darrow,
who scopes, karaokes,
moonwalks... with monkeys.

Sundry dead souls heave pens, gogol,
and trumpet like Donald duck,
their afterlife I envy mingling sui generis
versus yours truly down on his luck
dismal flying colors

analogous to mire and muck
no man iz an island, yours truly isthmus
squeezing thru narrow passing lane,
this bummer doth aimlessly truck
this late bloomer summoning forth
long suppressed pluck.

Premium Member The Exile

for Prithwin

first  
      left downstroke
start from the top
  plane out
let the long anchor tip roof-line curve sharply upwards
at the stern down-end
pile it in stuffed in the centre
leave the bottom open
that’s where the studded boot rightly fits

Over billowing transmuted waters
the haze lifts now and then
winds amber green waft and skim
with the late light caught shimmering
no albatross circles the mast
guilt is pure guilt without wanton arrows
there are no signs of land
but the proffered hand
the wanderer knows no words of his own

   Reach - disgorge with your nails
   Walls that concuss entrails

Can he yet placate asylum
echo the cluck of a poaching North American coot
nestling amidst Eurasian breeding reeds
taut bunching yarrow rushes
an embattled haven
against majestic swan ships
sleek velvety rich drake
peacockish barnacle goose
come in early from the cold

Let the dards of Orion spell syllables of ease
through the congested smudge of yore
contorted fantizi ideograms
cursory calligraphic long dripping brush strokes
pale to pinyin

Simplified
the exile gasps for instant phonemic breath
under choppy waves of stuttering tongues
racy blades
extirpate langue crucify parole
mix meaning into heady synaesthesiac brew
loss of face is a loss of noodles
develop equals hair

Could René Char’s Zeit Geist
have diagnosed the myna’s Kâla-Purusha

   Reach – disgorge with your nails
   Walls that concuss entrails

Resources

1. This poem has to do with a Bengali translator’s first encounter with René Char at his residence The French poet questioned his translator on the meaning of “le dard d’Orion” in
his poem: “Jeu muet”. The translator interpreted the phrase as having to do with
astronomy and thus rendered it as “kâla Purusha” (Zeit Geist or literally as in
Hindu mythology: the Primal Being at the beginning of time). René Char then
picked a certain variety of the cactus flower in his garden and said that the
French “phrase” applied to that particular flower. 

2. The imagery in the poem also relates to the simplification of classical Chinese
characters (fantizi) by the Peoples Republic of China in the early fifties and the
alphabetisation of Chinese characters, known as “pinyin” as opposed to the Wade and Yale systems. The simplified characters produced certain semantic anomalies. 

 ©T. Wignesan, Paris – May 3, 2009
© T Wignesan  Create an image from this poem.

Lifted

my mind is screaming
merely mimicking my lost design 
my heart is bleeding 
memories of a dissolved time 
With the scorned child, I thought gone
the next stage of life has now begun

Feeling lost within my own doom
feeling as though I'm surrounded 
Crowded within this room 
screaming at the top of my shattered lungs 
Not a single soul wavers 
no one bothered to look up 

They walk right through my scattered limbs
Leaving behind their muddy scuffs 
Dancing upon them 
Like leaves blown onto the street
Late into an autumn dusk  
Trampled upon are the ones not seen 
And on top of my punctured ribs, they stand 
As if designated to their blind feet 
This decaying plot of land 
Porous and indented 
with rubber soles imprinted 
A pathway for others and nothing more
My torso became fused with the floor

my hand stretched to the sky 
Grasping for any signs of life 
My own existence I now struggle to find 
But no plea no cry no sorrowful why 
Passed through my lips are ever heard 
Never acknowledged, not a single word
No value in me 
Do others see
So I find myself in the dirt
Questioning my own existence
And it was in this very instance
Because the thought that I do not 
was so Persistent
I prove to myself I exist
Because where else 
but one's self 
Would an owned thought live 
So self I have no matter how distant

Self equals existence
But does it prove that I live
what is life but the execution of one's mind 
Thinking about it and then creating it into time
So just maybe my problem does not lie
in the acknowledgment that I can not find
But in the value I have placed within it
And through my childish eyes
I view myself with the value I was given

And through these eyes, I see not
The value in myself or my thoughts 
Thus with time into reality i create loss
Now the question has changed 
and the new question raised 
is how do I find value in something
where previously no value was placed
Who I am need to be reappraised

My childish eyes that once gave
A view of my worth
established at birth
Into this blackened dirt
They shall be laid
With newly found worth
Love for the child I gave
For value in her, I placed
And upon the replenished earth
A foundation was finally laid 
I walk, rising from the dirt
A path that I have made 
Forever Changed

Unable To Breathe I Chokingly Gasp For Air

Far as the (ease) 
severely myopic eyes can see,
nothing but polluted atmosphere
where skull and crossbones
memento mori betokens beware,

especially with increasing chronology
mortality becomes crystal clear
existential crisis yours truly didst despair
not so much death itself, but failure
(inadequacy) at livingsocial

mine life to the hilt
plain as day everywhere
casual attitude apropos
(pertinent personal paradigm
regarding aspiring poet)
equals laissez faire,
hence the following
his apt nom de guerre
emotionally castrated docile heir.

Minimal milestones attained he
blithely professes, grants, attests,
et cetera as general rule
barely squeaked by
(think graduating high school)
weatherbeaten and rust covered cerebral tool

smartly linkedin cogs and wheels
buzzfeeding delicate threads didst unspool
above mentioned metaphor near
perfectly, quintessentially, and realistically virtual
extempore description hoopfully edifies
thee dear reader figuratively yours truly
got swallowed into vortex whirlpool.

Maelstrom pitched me to and fro
hither and yon into damndest chaos
drowned me under dead end zone
fiercest storm ever
raging across Lake Woebegone
stronger than bajillion healthy
male primates oozing testosterone
empowered with indomitable strength
downing ordinarily toxic

(even infinitesimal quantity) quinone
think beefy hulking Hercules types
built powerlifters second to none
pulsating pecks, quaking quads,
and ripped reputations
far and wide known
with versatility now
smattering of lines
constituting this poem I hone.

Invisible omnipresent nemesis,
(perhaps the Schwenksville Strangler)
appears intent on asphyxiating,
and simultaneously forcing yours truly
to experience unbearable

oppression, humiliation, and agitation,
whereby joie de vivre extinguished
provoking sadness linkedin
with remembrance of things past
agonizing, kickstarting torturing

absolute zero ability to relish the present
essentially forced to recollect
nasty, short and brutish mailer daemons
characterizing diabolical ghosts
representing nauseating, and haunting

hurtful dirty deeds done dirt cheap
courtesy my selfishness
verboten fruit tasted within recent past
now the bitter aftertaste
analogous to Scrooge
suddenly horrified about his stingy self.

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