Long Existance Poems
Long Existance Poems. Below are the most popular long Existance by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Existance poems by poem length and keyword.
Who put Breonna Taylor in "Harms Way"?Was it a snitch that the police trusted? We must,and it is a "Duty" of "Justice" to leave no stone unturned!Who put Breonna Taylor in "Harms Way"? The Police on that day caused real "Harm",and that is a real true fact,and that is true and perfectly exact!That was a terrible act! We really want to know who put Breonna Taylor in "Harms Way"of "The Police"? Who would do that? We who care must leave no stone unturned!"Justice is not always exact,but "Justice does ,and can see the real facts! Who put Breonna Taylor in "Harms Way"of "The Police"?Who would put their mother,father,sister,brother,grand daddy,grand mother,girl friend,boy friend in "Harms Way"? We who care must not leave any stone unturned.The Lord God Almighty sits on the Throne,and never leaves any stone unturned for any as we all will face him on the day of judgement for the good and the evil that we have done in this life. God leaves no stone unturned! We really want to know who put Breonna Taylor in "Harms Way" of "The Police"on that terrible day for "Democracy"and The U.S.A.and for Liberty and Justice for us all? "The Police"came and they did cause ""Unjustifiable Harm"!"Justice must act to "Justify" itself or "Justice makes itself unjust"!Once all the stones have been turned then "Justice can be served to all of those who unjustly acted,and to those who put Breonna Taylor in "Harms Way"!Do they still give "The Electric Chair" in "The Great State of Kentucky"for "Unjustifiable Homocide"?Justice is always tendered with mercy in order for Justice to be Just"Motion To Indite by "The Grand Jury of "The Police and "The Boyfriend".Police=Self Defense with unjustifiable Homocide "Boyfriend=The first shot from a gun fired out of "fear". When the boyfriend fired the first shot he enabled "reckless endangerment and unjustifiable homocide .Rectless indangerment is "Being put in "Harms Way"!!!! Who really fired the first shot? Jistice can be served by finding out who fired the first shot to cause "Harms Way" to come into existance!!!Unjustifiable Homocide requires "Justice" to "ACT" ,no matter who fired the first shot so that "Justice Itself" can "Crush,Plow Over,and "Pulverize "Evil Flesh,Evil Spirits,Evil Minds,Evil Bodies,and Evil Souls.Will "The Grand Jury" "Act" to see all of "The Facts"? The "Motion is in Place"!!!!
how many people in your life that have been murdered?
probably none
my grandfather was a war herp
coma tosed
to have his wife a cripple
so i could run away scrambling from bs people for the rest of my life
11 tragic deaths in my life,
my family and friends
and their family and friends dropping like flies
the bills sent for the ambulance ride
leave me wondering why did you even bother come
to pretend to save my life
to wake me up and send me out the door
without being able to thank the people who just kept me alive
4 suicides, and im the lucky one to survive mine
4 murders have taken place in my life
and three tragic accidents
i have no idea what it would belike to see my family smile
theyre all dead
nothing but bs people come to watch me cry
who dont know who i am
never talk to me
and have no time for someone like me
off i go back to the hospital for more poison
and brag about malpractice
my stomache that cant digest any thing without pain or discomfort
but hey off your meds i can finally achieve an ********
love music by the way
the terrorist psychological attack with my name on it
offering me reason after reason to cry
what do i need another excuse to hate you
the politicians i cant contact
the police force harassing me
breaking my door down to ransack
stalking me to hand out tickets
breaking my nose afer a hostage situation
and its the bs people who tell me
trying to kill myself was the right thing
the military doesn't care
but make things happen over night
love watching you walk around in your underwear
at my pity party to be happy for you
but im not
im jealous
i hate you for it
your bs people
like these poetry sites with no clue
nice poem huh?
what a read....
go die
maybe after i get crippled they will have the heart to shoot me
but i doubt it
been raped, and tortured, and drugged, and beat by police, and held hostage
to be cyber stalked and have my accounts compromised
off and on and off and on
for 13 years
go kill yourself
war pig loser nation
what do you want me to say?
i know why people drop bombs now
i truly do
put me in a tank
and suck my d ick
existance is my enemy anyway
i hope he quits bothering to live
screw you face book
and twitter is a terrorist organisation
go ask microsoft
I have wandered into a human stew of inopportunity, as my marriage/love/parental life have all come to an abrupt closure, noncompliance and final withdrawal from any real meaning. Am I dead yet? Not necessarily, but it seems that entity is not so remotely absent from my thoughts, as it once was given the supposed social tenure of our powers to control our nature, so now it seems "stupid" to even begin to engage a strategy, plan, answer to reclaim that "Lost Horizon" that will put me, us back into a Nirvanal state of eloquent bliss so aptly stated in the substantive, ****, vows we still take when we engage, marry, obligate, consumate, consecrate, and you know the rest. Grandchildren as quickly as possible. Forget the "Happy Couple" and all of their existance desires/wants/needs. Thank u socialization/domestication for ruining the fertile pastures of real love and affection. Feed the economy, we need workers/bosses, CEO's, sell, buy everything, produce, produce and produce. Keep us ever informed with all the trinkets which keep us isloated, unemotional and spur inhumanity to all that terse that tricky transient torment of T-U-V-W-X-Y-Z bytes, or in whatever compuscale u eat, that only serves to further the noncommunication life of our species. I only exist within myself in this space. Are my thoughts my own or just a reflection of what I receive? Do I exist? When I answer, am I being true or is it a stated recording of past sequences that are familiar in a patterened sense of my former being? My salience, remorse, continued presence upon this Earth is at best questionable? Meaningless? For me, the current standards of being have become to contentious; the stupidity, too overwhelming; the ignorance, too unbearable; the incompetence/divisiveness/poor judgement/antiquated/uneducated thinking/acting/feeling, our illustrious president, his supporters, henchmen, cronies, nepotism, DFA and their anything-but-a proactive approach to problem solving for the benefit of us all, leaves me in a lackluster quandry of whether, "To Be Or Not To Be? Believe me baby, that is MY question! My God, and I am not a religious person, but in the fin al analysis, you will reap what you sow!!!!!!!!! And I will laugh. I like "mushrooms" with my atomic grilled steak. No waiting.
a man of three words,while the sunday bird sings
hoping he"ll say those three little things...
you look into his eyes and it feels like a dream...
cause the existance in your presence, is hard to believe...
you cross each others path, with no questions to ask,
cause what you feel is so real,with the moments you have...
you kiss, you hug, you never give up, you flirt in the day, at night make love...
is this it for me, you slowly cant breath,
cause the love from an angel made you complete...
you laugh you cry you both act silly,
you tell him he's handsome, he tells you your pretty...
months pass bye, you catch him in a lie,
you hold your head high, but it hurts inside...
you give him a chance, he gives you romance
he looks into your eyes, and grabs you by the hand...
he says...i made a mistake and dont know what to do...
she says...i will forgive you, for our love will stay true...
they live,they laugh,they roll in the grass...
He asks her to marry him, she feels free at last...
he cheats on her, and beats on her, and never comes home...
she's weak, she's scared and feels so alone...
he apoligizes in sorrow but its no longer the same...
cause he mentally abused her, and caused her much pain...
you give him a chance, he gives you romance...
he looks into your eyes and grabs you by the hand...
he says...i made a mistake and dont know what to do...
she says...i will forgive you,for our love will stay true...
they talk,they walk, they watch the sun rise...
he tells her he loves her, she believes his lies...
He starts to get sick, coughing up blood,
from smoking and drinking and so many drugs...
she takes him to the hospital, and patiently waits...
the docter comes out, and softly says... he is no longer awake
they took him away, for the last ten years, you were living with aids...
she balled up and cryed,cause she lived in a lie,
he never did love her, and left her to die...
if you think your in love, you better, think twice,
cause loving some one can ruin your life...
if you know for sure,that its true love,
then hold on tight, and never give up
no matter your decision, no matter your fears...
no one can see INVISIBLE TEARS! :'(
Dear Universe,
Today I talk to you as you are
Today I talk to you for who you are
I talk to you about the things you have witnessed
All that happens under your skies and above your soil
I talk to you about your ability to tarnish a palace of gold and silver
Into specks of mere dust in matter of seconds
Today I complain and I thank simultaneously
I want to know
I want to know how you wreck a havoc on a soul in a way so subtle
Somewhere, somehow, a person withers away and it goes unnoticed
No questions asked
No crowd to honour the battalion
Everything vanishes into thin air and peope go about their business
As if nothing ever changed since the beginning of time
How do you make me torture myself?
How did you let me go so far in the search of purpose of life,
That i forgot all the reasons to live
When did my own life became a background scene of someone else's movie
Why do all the voices talking to me sound like a babbke of a distant crowd
How did all that I ever knew became just a vague memory
And I see how you make your works look like a cosmic role of dice
Your events, the product of spontaniaty
When you and I both know that its not
Nothing that you do is a conincidence
Everything is a part of a bigger plan of yours
The plan to which you intend to keep us oblivious
The plan in which we are playing puppets on your strings
And all I want
All I want from you is to merge my past ,present and future into one
And burry it away
Somewhere far away so that noone ever finds it
All I want is to STOP.
Stop what? I dont know
But today I thank you too
I thank you for pulling back my reigns
I thank you for putting shackles in my feet to remind me of who I am
I thank you for making me a creature so sensitive
Sensitive to the touch of fire and a gust of wind
To the light that kisses me in the morning
And to the darkness that enfold me at night
It indeed is a blessing and a curse
But above all the rants and gratitude, I honor you for pulling me back to my reality, my only truth
Thankyou, for all you did was necessary, rather vital to my existance
Thankyou for breathing life into me like a fire breathing dragon
Even though it burns and scalds my soul, I atleast know that I am alive now!
Should my home catch flames; ABLAZE
simply one collection shall I salvage
to spare my brain waves from becoming a maze of craze
ahhh...my beloved Poet Trees shall survive...as to my soul they arrived with much thanks
but NEVER from clever, contrived, silly, pink think-tanks
rather; they gather where my third eye winks then blinks
and just as the silly mind sinks to sorry new lows
a brand-spanking-new tree's seed grows
keeping me on my two FEETS' toes
fueling my soul with free flows; chill as "Chili Fritos"
freeing me from creaking sinks and freakish stings...allowing me to sing where the air
lends friends that bend, like ten thin yogi's zens and the wind blows like Hurricane Hugo's
saving grace in the face of disgrace, I increase pace, to beat Hell's fire, in this race
my Poet Tree's divinity, lies within tiny limbs and hymns weighing in on the decision keeping Rosy posy prosey in my vision
instead of hording my corny flicks n' flings, or rings n' things, like holy-cannoli rings, or roly poly bling, that I surely do not need or eat like knish treats or fish meat
so while it may seem strangely neat to see me refrain from placing fame on games n' things like Gnip-Gnop and my freakin' flips n' flops...I say "Let them flames burn red instead till they don't stop!"
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***Note to reader... the "POET TREES" mentioned in this piece are a depiction of an extremely insane catalog of thousands (nearly all hand written) original poems I am fortunate enough to have written in life. They are absolutely the only physical possession of true value to me, as they are detailed visions, dreams, and documented journeys I will NEVER take for granted! Mankind often tirelessly politic, fuss, discuss or argue about ability to "be a poet or a real writer" within academia and other literary circles. I make a living as a humble writer and I say, who the hell cares! This is NOT a talent, it is a very vivid experience and I am merely a journalist, just like all of you. I encourage each one of you to listen ONLY to the "WELL SPRING" placed within the guts of our existance~~~~~~~~JSLambert~plant your seeds and read the Poet Trees!~
I am
Still I wonder
Who I am
Am I who
Am I what
Am I where
Am I here
I am
Yet I am not
My words travel beyond myself
I am made up of small and large
Sometimes broken discarded pieces
I am not
Who you think I am
I am one who lives between the spaces
Of those words you choose to describe me with
Perceptions gleaned
Through abbreviated sentences
Those moments I bored you with my existance
You were too busy being yourself
How could you ever know me
I am the one who can see
For I am a watcher
I am present in the silence
I am quiet
Do not confuse silence with weakness
I am who I choose to be
I am not a slave to the trivial
I am not one confined by convention
Those things I am supposed to strive for
They hold no allure for me
I am a free man
Free to think as I think
My thoughts remain my own
For your questions rarely greet my ears
When they do
I answer
I am willing
Yet you are unable to hear
For you think
You alone hold the answers
So I smile
For if nothing else
I am pleasant
I am polite
I am not thought of as bold
I am to you
Who you think I am
I am
For a time
What I want to be
Other times
What is expected of me
Sometimes
What confuses
What limits me
What shrinks
What trancends
What I hope is good for me
I am selfish for generous reasons
I am willing to give lavishly
I am what and who I need to be
Today I am different than yesterday
Yet at my core
I am still me
I am where I've been placed
For the time I'm needed here
I am at the intersection of belonging and alone
I am temporary and eternal
I am living where angels fear to tread
For I am human
I am flawed
I am willfully questioning God
I am on the verge of disappearing
Only Jesus truly knows who I am
He knows where my thoughts travel
How I have used who I am
To coerece others
To see me
As different than I am
More perfect
Less fearful
Confident
Insightful
So I say
Here I am
Naked
Exposed to your elements
Willing to risk it all
Here and now
Will you look close
Ask me your questions
Reserve your judgement
I am meant to be
Here and now
For in knowing who I am
You can begin to discover
Who you are!
For Frank Herrera's " I Am" contest.
I refer back to my descendants with ativistic charcteristics,
Hit the beat with a punchline and regurtitate on it's existance,
Where did Skitzo arrive from, is he a miracle from the Heavens?
Through the mist and the fog, Skitzo traveled to Earth in seconds
But he's not a person, he's a person's soul, and the person's release
Through all betrayal and agony, he walked through Gethsemane
Skitzo's a prodigy, a walking wolf in sheeps unwearable clothing,
Reverse the metaphors, like sitting in the bath while the tub is soaking
The majority of the cuts, didn't bleed blood, they inked lead,
Never scarred up just kept inking until this was no bloodflow in his head
Living brain dead, flowing rhymes more than he flows thoughts,
the Mixed Metaphorical Artist, poetry is the fight that he fought
Indescribable talent beyond unimaginable heights,
Over the rainbow Skitzo rests, while his voices tell him what to write,
Multiple personalaties speak from all different directions,
As an infant he was injected with ink, now he hands out metaphorical infections
Through rhymes I let the fury loose, like a pyroclastic flow
The type of mayhem that turns entire villages to cold stone,
Skitzo lives through me, lives recycled as I bathe in the fountain of youth
I'll live my life, then like a computer Skitzo will reincarnate and reboot
Indeed it's true, the code to his knowledge is undecipherable to the blind,
He's got a magnetic mind, trigger it and watch the Earth and the sun collide
Blinded by schools "education system" what does pulchritude mean to a kid?
Pulchritude is the beautiful techniques he picked up when he hid
Through chain reactions, making transactions with his sight and his mind,
What he writes down on paper proves he's the only one of his kind,
But what kind is that? A poverty struck poetic skate rat?
With a pen as a bat, poetry strikes as hard as a fully loaded gat
Skitzo's cerebrum functions, beyond scientific belief,
The way the I speak, you would think some one is talking directly through my teeth,
Cautious to think, always wary but paranoid at the least,
So through the metaphors, get to know me, learn the language I speak
Still going ever deeper after all these years
In rudimentary changes featured taunt in blinding fears
That soft pull of a heart will light a spark
Over head we can quietly look at butterfly's circling the wind
With ovart cluster filled with circling eagles
In summoned line formation to reach upward
A tug at the heart will light a spark
Still going deeper...
It's gravtitational pull may bring some down
Some lasting sentiment of praise withstand
To help embrace fate nor that in some cup to raise
In some darkened peril place with vile imaginative trace
Along loose lines by which to bind
Inside I still hide behind a garb filled with walls that are trapped
With hidden wounds to silence then bind to bite & devour
Shaded colors emmersed in radiant lights filtered to flourish
In many faces proned in traces looking back at me from peril strain
While the caged fury of the outside world is totally insane
Still going ever deeper then ever before...
A reckless abandonment from my fractured skull having ravaged body thrown on floor
Some shouts of peril to doom will seal your tomb along a sunset shore
A human heart is a choiced vice that can be used by choice
They are garland to grace your head
All her paths our peace yet some lead to the dead
Guard your heart amidst the perils that falter
Give me shelter to cry amidst the pain & turmoil
Branded my reflection in a sentiment of reprise
In strict adherance to the law from temporal recourse
Although a tear drop should fall sends a shiver down my spine
A fresh scent of dew will help swallow up the pine
A passage of unique fragrance sprinkled on the quaint existance
Within solace we can anticipate peace
Through a memory filtered in the state of complete retreat
Gone are the days to frolic in a haze
Today we are all second guess as a mouse is in some maze
It's gravitational pull will bring so many down
Shadows proned again into inhilation,
Heaven sent through angelic appease..
The choice of divination to some stuck twart existence.
Planted in my fragile computerized egg shell mind!
Before reading this one, please read one and two, it will help you make sense of the tale.
I became startled when the car came to an abrupt stop. Ricky reached into the bag and pulled me out again. I have to admit it was good to feel the light shining through my glass. There was also something comforting about Ricky's little hand wrapped around my neck. I'm sure if I was human that might be an entirely different experience. Ricky hopped out of the car and ran towards the front door of his home. I am not sure how to describe it. The house was more like half a house, they lived on one side and another family lived on the other. The building was not fancy, except two large picture window and several small ones the building was all brick. To the left of their home there was what looked like a vacant lot which was more a hole in the ground with a pathway rocks and trees. I could see other kids playing there and it looked like they had built a fort of sorts. It looked like a whole lot of fun.
I'm not sure when it happened, but who really does when it comes to such things. I began to hear Ricky's thoughts. Some of them were beyond the capacity of a mere Soda Pop like myself to understand. It was almost as clear as how you might see through my glass. I must say that it made my simple existance a whole lot more interesting. As Ricky's mom unlocked the front door I could see a staircase to the left and there was a living room to the right where the picture window was. The wall separating the two homes was made of concrete cinder blocks painted a creamy colour. Ricky ran towards the wall then left past a dining area to the kitchen. He jumped up on a stool to reach the kitchen tap. I don't know why but I really liked the stainless steel sink and the shiney chrome tap with a single lever. Ricky liked it because it felt like a gear shift in a car. He pushed it forward and filled me up with water. What a refreshing feeling although I must admit I missed the feeling of my bubbles and the colour orange.
The adventure of Soda Pop will continue, thanks for reading.