Long Flatters Poems
Long Flatters Poems. Below are the most popular long Flatters by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Flatters poems by poem length and keyword.
Once, they claimed to hold the torch,
To light the world with truth and reason.
But the West’s media empire—
Was born not in truth,
But in treason.
From BBC’s royal scripts,
To CNN’s manicured myths,
From Fox’s fury-laced fables,
To NBC’s polished distortions—
They were trained, not to inform,
But to perform
For the empire's applause.
Every lens tilted,
Every headline coded,
Every silence calculated—
To shape the world
In a mirror that flatters the North
And shames the South.
Africa—your beauty drowned in dust,
Your children shown in flies and famine.
No word of your wisdom, your gold,
Your thinkers, your songs,
Your revolutions and sacred soil.
Only "chaos," "war," and "tribe"
Like shadows on a cave wall.
Asia—painted with dragon breath and fear,
Latin America—forever "corrupt,"
Middle East—where "terror" walks with every name,
And yet no mirror turned
To NATO's blood-soaked hands,
To sanctions that starve,
To drone strikes in dawn’s silence.
The Global South has turned the dial.
We do not listen,
Not because we cannot hear—
But because we now know.
We are not fooled
By the Oxford accent of a liar.
We are not convinced
By statistics that reek of empire.
We see your scripts,
Your cutting rooms,
Your photos cropped like colonial maps.
Truth is rising in Timbuktu,
In Caracas, in Kerala,
In Harare, and Hanoi.
And you, Western media,
Are being archived—
Filed away in the dustbin of history
Where all fallen empires rot.
The world is watching,
But not through your eyes anymore.
Debilitating laughter
at the hands of a master
a dirty minded b@stard
who knows what he’s after
The ever subtle asker
he caresses and flatters
his clever patter shatters
cares that should matter
Finally, we moved to extract her
the wobbling girl from Nebraska
from a drunken fraternal disaster
and the junior poised to shaft her
Uhh, sorry to interrupt
Anna, pick her up her stuff
We gotta go home hun, get up
Hey, you touch ME and you’re f-cked
Hun, you’ve had too much rum
when tomorrow comes
if you still want to slum
you can still bed the bum
We’re waiting for an Uber
Are you starting to sober?
No babe, you didn’t screw-up
Ughh, yep, she threw up
Neon’s radioactive glow in a window,
offers the cheap promise of pleasure.
Like a hypnotic, fluorescent serpent,
It flashes, blinks and winks - “Welcome”
It fairly slithers on rain-slicked boulevards,
it warms like moonlight on cold unfriendly nights,
It signals cool, ready fun in the summertime.
We dress our vices in silky, pastel colors,
gamblers choices of Disney flavored whiskies.
It’s the soft, velvet glove that hides brass knuckles,
oh, you’ll feel those bruises in the morning.
The world’s a dark alleyway with an electric blush,
whose color flatters the lonely, desperate,
and makes sin look like something you could fall for.
Neon is perfume for the optical senses.
In that light, everything seems possible.
Isn’t that girl smiling at you? You see,
beauty is easier to trust than the truth.
Neon imperviously reflects off regrets,
and glitters brightest on broken dreams.
Of course daylight is harsh, but honest.
Didn’t we come in here to escape it?
.
.
Songs for this:
The Ballad of Mac the Knife by Sting & Dominic Muldowney
Any Old Thing by Swing Republic
Way down deep in their heart
the wicked's voice speaks transgression
no fear of God have they at al
seeing no need for their confession
Evil's never a no go area
plots trouble always even in bed
their words come with deceitfulness
ceasing goodness loving iniquity instead
But the precious love of God
it's fathomless and so steadfast
His faithfulness is utterly firm
with His power standing to the last
May this steadfast love stay
for those who truly do know thee
the God of this precious love
drink up this delight so free
Pray that no wickedness take me
keep me in this eternal fullness
never let my way lie fallen
always be risen in thy goodness
(Psalm 36
Transgression speaks to the wicked deep in his heart; there is no fear of God before his eyes.
For he flatters himself in his own eyes that his iniquity cannot be found out and hated.
The words of his mouth are trouble and deceit; he has ceased to act wisely and do good.
He plots trouble while on his bed; he sets himself in a way that is not good; he does not reject evil.
Your steadfast love, O Lord, extends to the heavens, your faithfulness to the clouds.
Your righteousness is like the mountains of God; your judgments are like the great deep;
man and beast you save, O Lord.
How precious is your steadfast love, O God! The children of mankind take refuge in the shadow of your wings.
They feast on the abundance of your house, and you give them drink from the river of your delights.
For with you is the fountain of life; in your light do we see light.
Oh, continue your steadfast love to those who know you, and your righteousness to the upright of heart!
Let not the foot of arrogance come upon me, nor the hand of the wicked drive me away.
There the evildoers lie fallen; they are thrust down, unable to rise.)
Psalm 36 (ESV)
I get weak everytime we talk, my walls come crushing down without a thought ,
My heart flatters at your voice,
Though we've never met I don't feel any paranoid,
I put some distance because Iam scared, What if I fall head first and break my neck, What if I spend another few years trying to convince you Iam worth loving, that Iam worth it,
So many what ifs rushing through my head,
Iam naive in my actions and you make me lose my vocal cord,
I refuse to tell a tale incase I jinx this,
See, I don't mind having you as my own,
I don't mind loving you without a thought,
I mean, Iam already vulnerable,
See, I have come across many men but the type you are, I have never, the type you are is quite rare.
The birth place of world war II
after an invasion void of any declaration.
Stamps on history’s book by feminine hands
to ascertain the first death sentence of the same human disaster.
A time frame marked its stolen identity
signifying its absorption into the world map
when three neighbouring nations rolled dices on its existence.
Roman Catholicism is advertised by the sun
in this place where it’s the pioneer of oil refinery
and the continent’s most important reproductive clinic
to border-crossing summer birds.
The father of Europe in king Kazimierz Jagiellonczyk
married off his three seeds of fertility
who were carrying rich humus
to the germination of Europe’s greatest dynasties.
Another king flatters history when he re-based back to his origin
to honour a coronation conflicting the poles’ election.
The heart of the world of European Jews
where their rescue during the holocaust was second to none
where the first artificial language, created and sustained;
and having a patriot decorated five times on physical masculinity.
It is the home to the famous Nicolaus Copernicus
and the birth place of the globally applauded Marie Curie.
The last will and testament of the expiring country
marks the first European constitutional state.
The underground salt cathedral is significant in its global age ranking.
The Bialowieza Primeral, epitomizes the continent’s last ancient forest
and the piwnica Swidnilka ranks the first
in the pride of the continent’s aged restaurants.
Its historic medicinal use of vodkas
and the blossom to the stem end direction
of peeling Bananas ready for consumption
beautifies the grit of a nation which stood firm
even after a forty and three attempts of invasion.
I’ve got some tea for y’all,
but I’m not sure you can handle it.
This isn’t the kind you just listen to —
you’ve got to understand the weight of it,
the seriousness,
the intensity of what I’m about to say.
You once told me
that as long as I’m happy, you’d stand by me.
But right now, it’s deeper than happiness.
Being around her doesn’t just make me smile —
it brings me peace.
The kind of peace
like water resting quietly in a pot.
She once told me she feels safe around me.
And that alone said a lot.
She’s a Proverbs 31 woman, no doubt.
Not because she flatters me.
Not because she opened the door of her life to me.
But because she truly carries herself
like an ideal woman.
In my mind, that’s where she lives now.
And I hope one day
she finds it worthy enough
to sign the contract for permanent residence.
Make me a proud man among my kinsmen.
Lift my name high in the circle of my boys.
Place a crown upon my head…
And allow me —
allow me the honor
of making her my queen
To the beat - rhythm and blues
Beauteous - the cleft notes with a fling
Birds are silently chirping in sync
Relentless - Prominent thou that they sing
It's a rendez-vous - awe in glamor of awe
Then thou the beauty of the bewilderment
The calling - silent whispering in key
Singing proud the voice screams a soprano
And the pride of the inner solemn soul flatters me
I see - still having some rhythm
And at times Beauteous be blues
Dawn - The breaking point at most
The significance of morning blunts the dews
And the glamor of the rendez- vous
In my precious mind - in my head
I glance and the calm of the soloist
Reckon whispers sweet nothings in me instead
Sing - Sing proud and that of out loud
The voice is heard within my aura indeed
My soul perplexed by the beauty of the chirp
Internally awakes me planting seed.
I did not choose you easily
not when Mars burns with human hunger
not when Jupiter carries storms like crowns
but you
You asked for patience
from afar, you are elegance
a quiet sovereign with rings of light
a halo mistaken for beauty
But I have learned
That distance flatters
Those rings are not whole
They are fragments
ice and ruin
the aftermath of something broken
held in place by gravity that refuses to let go
And I understand you
How many times have I circled
What I could not release
calling it memory
calling it love
when it was only debris
refusing to fall away
You move slowly
deliberate
as if time itself must bow to your distance
while I
I rush, I burn, I break
still
I look at you
and feel the discipline of your silence
You do not chase light
You wear it carefully
in pieces
Perhaps that is your lesson
not brilliance
but endurance
to carry what remains
without pretending it is whole
And so I choose you, Saturn
not for your beauty
But for your truth
that even in broken orbit
One can still shine
I saw my shadow reflect in the cold winter's day
I looked - it embedded in my mind
The sun permeated in my head
Rays of sunshine bloomed an aura
A halo - it flatters my brain
My eyes upon it like a bud in thin air
It fades into the light fascinating me
Memories will follow my sight today
And when in the past , yet Ill find
That the day as my shadow wilted with pain
I pondered at thought again in life
And God that placed that upon me with care
I'm precious now with thought I see
I am me - I am God's child
Who shines that upon my living soul
So in God's eyes - my thoughts are pure
And I'll walk my paths with baby's breath
And amaranth will decor me when distraught
Imaginary in poetics brought me to realism
It's a pain I know at the pane indeed
And if so I shall cultivate the stressful weed
I am immensely mistaken never and at death
It's me God ! I'm alone with you in spirit
Alone in life? It's reality love can't be bought
It's my life , my reflections - I then taught
And the pain still on my face too tantalizing
Brings forth the ridicule then sought.