Long False hope Poems
Long False hope Poems. Below are the most popular long False hope by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long False hope poems by poem length and keyword.
When I’ve gone
to the place
where my fathers’
have gone before me
and the last tribute
has been paid to my memory,
may my singing words
crack the silence with clanging echoes.
May the clanging echoes
excite starving eyes
and taut wrinkled eardrums—
both to awareness—
guiding them
to actions of liberation
yet to come.
May clanging echoes
wake-up sleeping souls suffering
uncertainties of tyrannical rule,
slobbering from political absurdities,
drooling from mouths of misguided evil
diagnostic odysseys—peddling false hope
to precariously lost wanderers.
May my clanging echoes echo ringing
bells of freedom that can’t be unrung:
“Oh death where is thy sting?”
“Oh grave, where is thy victory?”
Poets will die;
but the ringing chords
of their words will live long lives:
Echoing clanging echoes…
Birth in a world of drama, fear, chaos, and confusion
Which dominates the masses to cast a sickly illusion
Looking pass, beneath, between, beyond and above
Deciphering the codes of life that left out pure love
Seers see it all; its not about gifted to see the the future
Seeing through the veil what I labeled the matrix suture
What is this thing called a planet, the world, or earth
Disagreements over if its flat, round or what its worth
Are we here to love, learn or created as slaves for all trades
Fights over culture and race, purposely created in all shades
Hermits seek truths; its not only about a loner or solitude
Receiving answers from the Source with depth and magnitude
Labyrinth of life can be painful, spiritual, comical, and stillness
Teaches wisdom, strength, balance, courage, and wholeness
It can also be played as a deceitful, shady, and backstabbing game
To those chose money over growth in exchange for fortune and fame
When you have no soul growth your fortune from fame can be snatched
Trusting and grouping with rouge type people being codependent or attached
Here to learn about the soul with no honest transparent mentors
Most switched focus on the financial game and profiting centers
Those choose to slave for lifestyle, pride, monies and status
Waking up to be trendy influencing false hope, attitude callous
There are some who give transparent truth for faith and hope
Encouraging their followers not to give up and get help to cope
A lot of division has been casted through several forms of envy and hate
I take a personal responsibility to speak and teach unity; its not too late
I ask those who read this to take part, play a role to speak up and out
No matter how small the action is, it matters without shadow of a doubt
I will continue to speak, teach, express love for myself as well for others
My journey was worth the healing and lessons was to help those who suffers.
You wonder what you offer me,
Thinking I will experience better, want more, forget you.
But a life with you would not be a compromised existence: the opposite in fact.
A life with you
Is,
Can be,
Will be one day
All and everything I
Want,
Need.
You are better, you are more, you are unforgettable.
I hope I don't worry you.
I hope I reassure you when I say,
Without pretence, false hope or pride,
That I
Do,
Can,
Will,
Wait, indefinitely.
If I am the one you want, you
Can,
And do,
Have me.
I don't need you to give me the world,
Simply because it's not the world that I want.
It is you.
Always will be.
Why do I hang onto your every word?
When I know I am merely the shame you play
The controlled part of the wanting to be loved game!
The ever changing rules,
keeping me tethered close to my false hope
Me the cup of empty that fills you up for a while
I know you want what I want,
but you want it from somebody else....
So I pick up the bread crumbs of your attention,
ignoring the being ignored part
The "not tonight I'm too busy" part
The "You can come over later and be with me" part
Then there's the clinging onto you till morning part
When daylight comes you can't pretend I'm him
You shower to rinse away the achy dirty feeling part,
Those feelings seemed less relevant in the dark
That pleasured pain that somehow tears us both apart
Me the proverbial fool
Taking
Needing
Accepting
Settling on less than nothing
Knowing that if he changes his mind
I will vanish, disappear, evaporate like the sweat from our bodies
Like the stench of our desperation
So I hope your pathetic wanting will merge with my own
I keep waiting and hoping
Dreaming and pretending
That somehow
Somewhere behind those vibrant eyes
you do
Really want me
Even though in my soul
I know
This is all I will ever have
This not enough bit that I cling to
That voice that knows one day you'll be gone
Hopefully not today, for without you I fear my tomorrow
Oh how I wish this heart wanted something else
anything else
That there was someone else
other than you
Why does it have to be you?
Don't be concerned friends, I have the one I want!
For Alfred Vassallo's "How does it feel to be Unwanted" contest.
Biblical Insanity
You might of said you might of seen .
It doesn’t mean to me.
You think you know it all.
You don’t know jack about me.
I will go down in history or i will go down in flames.
Misdirected ill advised misdiagnosed ,Labeled, numbered, restrained
left to rot Inside a pitch black, ice cold padded cell.
I will never be who you want to be.
I am product of the system you created.
My hopes and dreams incinerated.
Arrested ,labeled, numbered, sentenced, incarcerated.
I cannot help what I be
I have seen and witnessed things no Man Woman or child should ever have to see.
I have met my maker only to find out it is me.
Only with closed eyes can one truly see.
I am the only who can truly judge me.
I am the joker remaining hidden amongst the deck of playing cards.
I refuse to be a member of a society run by muppets, puppets, pedophiles and retards
stolen generations forever scarred by the hand of fate.
Religion = violence
Abuse = silence
God = hate
Praying to a mythological creature that will never pray for you.
Worshiping false idols
Worshipping false hope
Greed is a virus a disease in itself we have lost our way in the process we have lost ourselves
The Angels wings are broken, burnt and charred no gods or masters here
Only the very thing you fear the most
I will devour your tainted soul
and inhale your ghost.
for the crimes you committed against humanity.
Is this the age of hell?
Or biblical insanity?
Written by Adrian Bogdal 4/10/2025i
The morning's gone,
The sun's matured—
Not the time for the old
To be pained for not youthful,
Their fear and negligence
Has passed on suffering to descendant.
So sad!
Very painful!
We're not on stand to end this—
The same fear and negligence
That led the birth of dead hope for the living,
Sewed gown for our conformity.
Why are we adapt to pain?
Very obsessed with false hope!
Glorious ladies enter prostitution,
Promising boys enter robbery—
While the Voldemorts are happy to make the change
Yet, we think we live the promised dream.
It's gone before it's known
The left days for us
Have to be used to free our unborn children—
Let's fight for their freedom,
And make a better nation for them,
I know, even though we are no more,
We'll be called for celebration.
Smitten by unrequited love,
rejection stymies fledgling hearts.
And any chance of happiness
is lost before it even starts.
Denial comforts broken hearts
left in a vulnerable state.
While they cling tight to the false hope
that time might yet alter their fate.
Always waiting in the shadows,
smiles keep passion's flame concealed.
For exposed fantasy dreams die,
when secret feelings are revealed.
Their impassioned hearts feel empty,
like they were hollowed out inside.
And tears often swell up and spill,
no matter how many they've cried.
Desire and suppression have them
sliding down a slippery slope.
Yet, with undying persistence,
they desperately cling to hope.
The black-as-widow’s-weeds night of endless stars
was so cold...
cruel as temperature
plunged its frigid fingers feeling through my being
fondling my heart and soul without mercy
molesting me - taunting my will to live
and just when I thought
the ice water in my shivering veins would kill me
there she was
she came shyly at first
demurely spreading
her pinkening skirts over the horizon
while her blushing complexion
deftly gelded the darkness
I prayed-I pleaded-I made deals
(with who? you don’t want to know..)
that her warming smile would be my saving grace…
It began to slowly dawn on me
as she flexed her sinewy heat waves
flaunting her solar power
that I was caught
between false hope and no deliverance
for the desert sunrise-to-sunset
now faced-off and challenged me
with barren bone-dry intensity
sucking dry the new dew
and any life
containing moisture
weathered granular remains
of ancient feldspar and quartz
with eons of sifting and shifting boredom
took on a hell-raising life of their own
as the fire-breathing celestial sorceress casted spells
of smoke and mirror mirages
and magically made ridges of rippling blond sands
glisten like scales of a million skimming sidewinders
writhing in joy at my agony—
it’s amazing
how cold I feel when I have been so burned
again I face a desolate night
— deserted —
without a blanket
Susan Ashley
April 29, 2018
Widow’s Weeds: For women of 19th century England, a custom of mourning that involved wearing heavy, concealing, black clothing and the use of heavy veils of black crepe. The entire ensemble was colloquially known as ‘widow’s weeds’.
Mourning - Wikipedia
my eyes see all
and comfort me
like a kiss from
my love
as the rain falls
so does my mood
as my sight vanishes
washed away by the
fragrance of the
wild flowers my
heart is warmed
my love is without a name
though the minutes
seem like hours he waits
not to worry love
i will protect our hearts
and your dreams will
come true
love will set
us free
as our love is caged
with deceit
you want what you gave
your heart
as prisoner of love
cage for our intimacy
the warden of love
wont release the
spirit of life
eager to please
false hope
cold lifeless hearts
we have to be freed
to soar on wings of
eagles
humanity falls
clear blue sky full moon beckons
as teeth slice rip bite
my soul set free now
blood drained left for dead again
inside nothing left
Nothing changes, you know.
The weather I mean.
Its just like any other spring day.
Sunny, green, full of life.
I imagined it being much different.
I thought I would wake up feeling weak, weak in the bones.
But no. I felt, honestly, better than I have in a while.
There was not hint from the god damn weather.
In Shakespearean writings there is always weather to foreshadow a terrible event.
Foreshadowing a tragedy.
A hurricane. Tornado. Even just a good ole’ storm!
But no. You gave me nothing but false hope.
The birds were chirping,
Louder than ever.
As if they were mocking me,
Laughing at my naivety.
Even Odysseus needed a storm to tell him he was in harms way.
No one told me I would feel like this.
No one told me I would feel dead,
Dead on the inside.
In my advanced literature class,
They say to use the weather to depict the scene.
Use a sunny day when someone feels..
Rejuvenated.
Well that’s irony at its finest, right?
I’m far from rejuvenated.
In fact I feel like I'm withering into nothing,
Nothing but pure misery.
So, God, next time,
When you want to pull a “prank” like this,
Please have the curtesy to send
Bad weather.