Long Heartless Poems
Long Heartless Poems. Below are the most popular long Heartless by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Heartless poems by poem length and keyword.
Last minute love,
Left me speechless in this heartless town
From high above
Made so broken and unspoken with a frown
However, you haven’t hurt my heart yet…
Don’t you dare hurt me with remorse and regret
It was just rebellion kind of love
Let’s face it…
It’s nothing to be ashamed of
Just fight it…
I was young and foolish…
I belong with the rest of the fish
But, this rebellion inside
Made me feel broken pride
Now, where do I hide?
With this rebellion inside?
An evanescent pasture I couldn’t find…
If you can be so kind,
Find me a wise way to endure Your kind…
Where do I hide?
This rebellion inside?
It was just rebellion kind of love
Let’s face it…
It’s nothing to be ashamed of
Just fight it…
I was young and foolish…
I belong with the rest of the fish
But, this rebellion inside
Made me feel crucified…
I’m sorry I’m left behind
An evanescent pasture I couldn’t find…
If you can be so kind,
Find me a winsome way to endure…
Don’t mind me — I was left behind and blind
Where do I hide?
This rebellion inside?
Where do I hide
With this rebellion inside?
Oh oh hmmm
With this rebellion inside?
Oh oh hmmm
There’s a next time to do better, some say,
To obey and endure this hardship someday
Snake bankers say, “I am doing the work of God.”
Dreaded delusional thinking
Drowning righteousness and justice
The work of God is not for them to know
Unknowingly they plan their own destruction
Great wicked vampires who suck out money
From every human and earthly source
For their special sauce bottled with rampant greed
Made in the Wall Street rat cellar kitchens
Buried deep under the City of Death
Founded by the empty mindless tribes
Still stinking of centuries of unsatisfied poverty
Whose lizard brains shuffle cash continuously
And people are seen only as THEIR money
Where everyone drinks a Satanic brew
Made by a single mother of 40
Who wanted to be a concert violinist
But now stirs sauce smiling stupidly in the rat kitchens
Where human disasters are considered treasures
And instead of music, money now runs in her veins
And she knows where every penny is lodged
Where the only sound she ever hears now
Is the snap of festering banknotes
In the mindless mad heartless pit of villainy
Where the rat-tat-tat soggy bank instruments sit
By the big thugs who once had big brains now gone bad
Picking apart whatever strand of harmony that once existed.
Brutal beasts nourished on Satan’s nippled t.ts
Goons made to kill by Wall Street witches’ clever tricks
Not clubbing baby seals in the basement
But fresh melodies made for lullabies by angels
Now cut up into dissent chunks for stew
By the money addicts directing the kitchen’s brew
While donkeys driven by carrot scented whips of cash
Haul in with brain deadening music of depraved minds the trash
Moulded into regimental rows of selfless meatballs
Defiled and self-mutilating masochists
Flushed down into the trash bin to be shredded
By the money machine with its killer appetite
Churning and churning night after night
In the shadows of its infinite emptiness
Blackened noise trying to keep death away.
There is no end to it.
Please let me out, I will not do it again, please, please, I am scared, I am scared, please, sorry, sorry, sorry, there are demons, rats, cockroaches, ghosts, I will not do it again, I am really scared,Bang, bang, thud, thud...
They locked me up in attic without light. I kept banging the door really scared but no one came...
Punishment for mistake I had done.
they were heartless ; my parents.
My mother took a safety pin and pricked me again and again...
My hands held tightly, she burnt it with hot spatula straight from gas!
I was beaten with iron rod, whipped with belt!
One of these repeated for every mistake done!
I hated my parents was perpectually scared...
One day I ran away
someone promised me a job
relative saw me
back home they beat me black and blue
After that I gave up I accepted my fate
"what is the maximum anybody can do? beating? After few days pain will go away."
I stole money from my house drank liquor, smoked, had girlfriends.
I was sad, depressed
All I wanted was some love and praise and happiness!
They told me it is for your good. We want you to be perfect.
Perfection at what cost?
For ego gratification and future money?
What about my feelings? My happiness?
One day after I grew up, I did ask them
Why you hurt me again and again?
Are you really my parents?
How can parents inflict pain their own blood?
Where was the love care and compassion gone?
Parents are to be epitome of love and guidance,
solace for mind,
one who ease away childs worries and tensions
You never did that for me.
You only gave me pain.
Now that you are weak and old, shall I give the same treatment to you?
I can also find many clumsy reasons like you.
Shall I do it?
Answer me?
ANSWER ME!
They were speechless! Didn't know what to say.
How can anyone justify such acts.?
That day they cried like small babies.
I told them,
"Don't worry I won't do it.
I know how much suffering it brings.
I am human and I don't want to sin."
Even now all alone, I often cry from inside thinking of helpless kids like me.
Date: 8/8/2020
2nd position
I Am Winter
I am cold – not heartless,
nor do I wish any harm.
This is just the way it is,
my gaze - a shivering chill,
my kiss - a frosty sting,
my breath - a numbing touch.
I come alone – uninvited
unwelcome, unappreciated
to lull to sleep the cycles
that need rejuvenation.
I am angry – for you fear me -
shut your doors, lock your windows,
deny me but your harshest looks
wrap yourselves in layers
lest we touch.
I am saddened – thus I whine
dancing around your houses
bending low the cowering trees
weeping sub zero tears
that never fall.
I am Winter –
and when my time is done
you will rejoice that I have gone
never thanking me –
for the beauty that awaits.
John G. Lawless
12/17/2014
Submitted to PD’s – Winter Poems #1 – Poetry Contest
We have seen every ghastly act and recorded it.
Yet more grisly deeds yellow in archives
waiting to be resuscitated and refined.
Tyrannosaurus Rex awakes in a drop of amber,
takes a gander, decides to go extinct.
A Dark Net spreads like arsenic and syrup.
Cell phones retweet daily holocausts over donuts.
Evil has friends on Facebook.
The commonplace entertains the unspeakable
as if it were merely an eccentric uncle.
The unborn and the born are culled,
Plague businesses thrive.
There are killings on the market, viral wars
burst spiky eruptions of emojis.
Slave traders operate from strip-malls
owned by chauffeured demons,
while journalists huddle in their alabaster cities
undimmed by human tears.
Pandemonium is the addiction of choice
and the eyes of those in power
glitter in the clear blue sky-dreams
of both the heartless and the homeless.
Drugged you are America,
soon to be sold on an auction block
of your own drugged choosing.
We once sang for you America,
O Beautiful America.
Not every step is an adventure, sometimes you crawl and drag yourself through the forest like a wounded wolf,
With a heart shattered by choices and the silent pain of starless nights,
Not every word you speak is graceful and wise, sometimes you surprise yourself
How thoughtless and harsh you can sound, like an echo of the shadows in your depths.
Not every act of generosity is done from the kindness of your heart,
Sometimes you find yourself killing love, just to survive through the night,
A dark and cold night, where only shadows dance on unfamiliar walls,
And you, alone, the wounded wolf, fight for a shred of light, for a lost dream.
Not every thought is kind and peaceful, sometimes your thoughts are heartless narratives,
Nightmares that seem the only possible alternative, in this world of silences and shadows,
Where hopes break like waves against rocks, where desires are lost in the abyss,
And you, lost in your own soul, search for a way, a path towards light.
And yet, in this journey of silence and pain, there is a melancholic beauty,
A poetry hidden in every step, in every word, in every thought,
Like leaves falling in autumn, in a dance of gold and rust,
Like a wounded wolf howling at the moon, seeking solace in its pale and shining light.
Not every day is an adventure, but in every day there is a story,
A story of struggle, of survival, of hope and longing,
And you, wandering soul, will find your way, will find the light,
In this world of silences and shadows, you will dance again, like a wolf under the full moon.
The scent of wet paper flops in my grasping hands.
Careful fingers tear mail open slowly to guard its contents.
A handwritten note from a woman I don't know
flows with sweet meanderings, too delicate to repeat.
Who is she that would lure a faithful wife's husband?
I trusted him with the strength of gold.
Torched like its making,
jealous flames leap my eyes to the return address.
I plan to confront this mistress for their heartless affair.
Quicker than anger surges, my eyes scroll to the middle,
squinting at the rain smudged ink....
Addressed to the neighbors, I shame my hasty accusations.
5-27-2020
Verse I
Lots of things have changed lately: if feelings
change, so do emotions with their heartbeats;
you have been calling every single shot,
and took advantage of this poor Camelot!
Chorus:
Is a person still powerful and cruel with fading alchemy...
performing another spell on me without any certainty?
Verse II
You must have the soul of a heartless Brute
to stab me twice and let me slowly die;
is there any way to settle this dispute:
that deceptive truth has become atrocity!
Chorus:
Is a person still powerful and cruel with fading alchemy...
performing another spell on me without any certainty?
I stand in this corner silently,
letting you take the lead and suffer;
there's a lot of pleasure from your devilish words,
when I rebel you hit me hard with revengeful looks,
and as strong as I am, I never dare
to get even knowing that's too insanity;
I wait for an open window to breathe air
and plan an escape from this nightmare!
Chorus:
Is a person still powerful and cruel with fading alchemy...
performing another spell on me without any certainty?
Verse III
Your days of cruelty and vengeance are finally over,
you have surrendered and begged for forgiveness;
I have the chance to call all the shots and make you pay.
Was I that crazy to do some awful and insane things,
it wouldn't make me human, only boost my ego of anger;
we have the same faults: we need to get rid of hostility!
Let me recount of the mirrored alcoves galleries of brands
Whiskeys deep gold many types of bottles into optic feeds
Highly polished bar timbertops rich shining deep.' Varied
Paper coasters to keep it pristene, bowls of cheese squares crackers at the side, the sent of a recent cleaning
Greetings warm when you stepped inside.' The old
Hearth with a brass rod demarking its boundry the crackle
Of the logs flaming, chasing smoke up the Old chimney'
The walled rear convinnial gardens, evolved over centuries
You could find in the country of England countless examples such as these.' Icons of much effort, yet so long
Now under attack by the heartless neuvo influencers with ideas not worth a jot! Much over regulation.' The desire for
More tat.? The absorbtion of online pastimes' yet it seems
There are few winners.? The almost holy 'human touch' i
See it was part of what was better.' The shared pot of morning tea, the opening of letters, taking time with the
Milkman leather satchel slung, white overcoat sentinel of
Three decades yore.' Its gone the same with churches the
Pews all ripped away organs sold for brass, and gold reliefs
Maybe painted gray? Some mafe into coffe shops.' Some
Just knocked to the floor.' Now stand there stark drear
Terraces more like gaols.' Than should be seen; on any countrys shores." Its all send a link.' And no one blinks as
The old and youth are sidelined.' Its d e i its falseness first
Yet i hear rationalitys cries.' I'm looking at the holes in socks i've only bought last week.' While on the t v politicans
Promise to fix it up by a labour influx, because they are bent.' On getting things cheap..
Peter Duggan posted a Triolet today and said it would be a challenge to do it in 8 syllables...so here's my attempt.
His face, a vision in my dreams
He will never belong to me
Cruel fate bellows out her screams
His face, a vision in my dreams
I curse life for her heartless schemes
Treacherous heart, please set me free
His face, a vision in my dreams
He will never belong to me
I dare not sleep or close my eyes
and risk seeing him once again
I will not wake to anguished cries
I dare not sleep or close my eyes
My sorrow I cannot disguise
Love calls him more than just a friend
I dare not sleep or close my eyes
and risk seeing him once again