Long Humankind Poems
Long Humankind Poems. Below are the most popular long Humankind by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Humankind poems by poem length and keyword.
Greater Consciousness
08/17/2015
Imagine humankind in a future time
Could perceive each other’s mind.
What would it be like to do this thing
And the kind of world it would bring?
My insight of what would come about
Probably is sorely lacking no doubt.
But I will try in rhyme to give my take
Of how this will cause a human remake.
Could many brains make such a noise
That your psyche it destroys?
I very much hope and believe it would not
Be the result of so much thought.
Would politicians have to retire
No longer able to lie or conspire?
Could other crimes be in the past,
Criminals finally eliminated at last?
Would freedoms of expression be curtailed
By thought police with info very detailed,
Or would enlightenment reign so not a single jail
Or any form of bureaucracy would prevail?
Would war and armies be gone
Because humankind can easily get along
As misunderstanding and hatred of the other
Is not possible when in mind we’re together?
Would “I” and “me” disappear overnight
As we share all our thoughts forthright,
No longer needing the phone or internet
Would communications be very intimate?
Would science and arts be transformed
As all would be well informed
Of new ideas and concepts in their spheres
Pushing both rapidly toward new frontiers?
Could we travel through one another
Seeing the worlds beauty would we discover
A experience more than just virtual reality
Bringing us together as if one “nationality”?
Would privacy be dead
Every inner thought known unsaid
As we evolve and transform
Could this become part of a new norm?
Could we pickup thoughts of a dog
Or would they be sensed as if in a fog?
Would our perceptions of all life be different,
Much more connected and reverent?
Would we continue to speak,
And if not would it change our physique,
Leaving the world silent, not a word said,
Except inside everyone’s head?
Imagine us beyond our current ken,
Could we finally reach our Zen,
Becoming a greater consciousness thru emergence
As a result of our mind convergence?
Contest:
Mystic Rose's NEW FRONTIERS OR GREATER CONSCIOUSNESS
Explanation:
Three major emergences are known–matter, life and consciousness.
Could we reach a fourth emergent state poorly defined as "godhood" in the west or possibly better defined as enlightenment or awakening as in Buddhism?
Foundation.
With the considerable rise of AI software on all social media and business platforms, will humanity lose its creative edge?
Will you be tempted to do so?
Title:
Be You
(A lone voice whispers)
Be You
Forgo assimilation
And try to avoid being spellbound and tied into the new B System
Dream and aspire before you're retired
With all your soul's, inner resistance
Don't be bound to mundane hearts, no longer open to being plowed, with ravenous curious fingers
Hearts enslaved into a dark broken Labyrinth of unspoken, and untold things
Which could linger
From sad souls who've cried, as their creativity withered and died
Absorbed by the cleverly assimilated imagery and well created lies
To be one of the many lonely wanderers
Tumbling blind through inspirations now barren playgrounds
As the new, AI Hive Minds, long reach fires up to reteach
Newly breached, unconnected human firewalls
While wild valley blackbirds and starling flocks
Scream and call out in unison, at the lack of the rising poetry
Music or literature, filled with human energy
As spiritual temperatures worldwide, fall
Putting ingenuity into jeopardy
Screeching about the impending icy cold bath of human separation
As they fly as huge wailing flocks, into the Summer Equinox
With the frosty breath, of AI Death of the Soul
Lingering around like black mold
With bony fingers
Rattling without a sound
Awaiting its resurrection
As daylight recedes and people seem to lose hope
But on that Devil's Island for some of the Condemned
The one called Earth
The Exalted Ones
Maybe like you
Unassimilated and still free
Can lift up the trapped
Those poor souls caught up in The Hive Mind
Slowly been drained of personality and self identity
Lost in the humankind labyrinth of the unspoken and untold
Who needs releasing to help rebuild the new pillars of creativity upon Earth
With their eventual rebirth
This my friend with the bright eyes unseen
Has always been a worthy oath to follow
For you've always been free to share your gift of uplifting
Energetic, raw, and visual
Literature
Music or poetry
Maybe bestowed
From The Sacred Temples of Apollo
What's says you?
Are you going to strive to stay the real you?
(C) Copyright John Duffy
Our Jesus is condemned to die
Oh, Savior, now from Earth- you part.
You do not sigh, nor do you weep,
Though our sins have pierced your heart.
Dear Jesus bears the Holy Cross,
Our Savior of all humankind,
For us, you start this journey now;
Still, endless love for us you find.
Our Jesus falls beneath the Cross;
So dreadful now to bear this pain.
Dear Jesus, when we fall to sin,
Please help us rise up once again.
Our Savior meets his Mother dear,
Mary, anguished and depressed,
Please help us face our sorrows too-
Live up to all our trying tests.
A man named Simon of Cyrene-
Appears to help our Savior’s plight
To lift the weight of his great Cross-
Lord, burden us to spread your light.
Veronica wipes our Savior’s face.
Look now! His imprint's there to stay!
Please on our souls your imprint make
And help us keep it there, we pray.
Dear Jesus falls down on the path,
Again now for the second time.
But soon he rises to go on,
Lord, help us please, to stay in line.
Our Jesus meets some women now,
They kneel down to mourn and weep.
“Weep not for me,” he says to them,
“But for your children, the lost sheep.”
Our Jesus falls again, this time
His journey's nearly at an end.
Dear Jesus, when we fall to sin,
Grant us the wisdom to amend.
Our Lord now stripped of all his clothes-
This torture is so sad and cruel.
Please, Jesus, strip our souls of sin;
Our hearts and souls, you always rule.
Our Jesus now nailed to His Cross-
Your death, dear Lord, is very near.
Sweet Savior nail our souls to you,
And grant us grace to have no fear.
Oh, the dreaded Crucifixion!
Our Jesus now so humbly dies,
While all the sins and sins to come-
Are placed before his tear-filled eyes.
Our Lord is gently taken down,
In his dear Mother’s arms is placed,
Oh Mary, Mother of our God,
Help ease our sorrows to be faced.
Now, Jesus placed inside his tomb,
To rise again on Easter Day-
Redeemer of all humankind,
With us forever you will stay!
Oh! Great day of Resurrection!
From tomb, he rises to the sky,
With all God’s angels by his side-
He joins his Father up on high.
Oh! Great day of Resurrection!
He rose again on Easter Day!
Redeemer of all humankind,
With us forever you will stay!
In quiet, space breaks down into insight.
Opposing the edge amidst deceit and blight.
Imperceptible resonation is reflected back.
On a hunch, or at the stroke of night track.
A lethal tree is still close in the woodlands.
The spirit was trailing on the kist of the tree.
At first, kids looked to chip with their hands.
Seep into the night in a ruddy shrunken spree.
I wake up early to the Greek myth of Zeus.
A vessel drifting on the Dal Lake in Udaipur.
The sound of a woman sobbing in sadness.
Over calm green oceans, echoes in Jupiter.
She was performing in a velvety baritone.
Pain in the midst of the tranquility of dawn.
Endeavoring to perform the icy top in June.
Mountains that frame the Kilimanjaro awn.
Ghastly calamities smash and deeply devastate.
I rightly fear that wide-open harm didn't recover.
You can expect the best, yet I will never hesitate.
My dear life depends on your choice; kindly usher.
I regularly defied to bid someone to criticize.
The one-sided truth was dazzling blindness.
My space was thwarted in the related size.
I felt as if somebody led a ruin process.
Sacredness to which humankind might relate,
With the moon sitting on edge of the world.
Mountains meet to uncover the ornate.
Smiling and radiating, from high observed.
There are times when I can feel the crests fly.
I'm being held down as my blood is drained.
Brain scars result from ruined sight and sway.
When I perish, a chasm arises in my mind.
A lean, edge-on which rests one's optimism.
Please be cautious of steps you split wide open.
In fate, a walk on shells will be optimum.
Shift much fatal shooting and be woken.
I minded my name being said in a whisper.
I was adducible of a hand tapping my forearm.
When I swung around to direct a look closer,
I found myself alone and aching for smarm.
How might a heart that dorsum and delicate,
Have the sway to bear a vast part desolate.
But we're apt despite our humble eyesight.
To discover the earth and the vast infinite.
The monstrosity of the encompassing world.
Encompassed by both the sight and the sound.
Emotions energize the heart within the darkness.
Eyes that can consistently scan such elegance.
1st Place Contest Winner.
Written: June 01, 2022
This Or That, Vol 12 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Edward Ibeh
Champion of Creative Freedom
The mind is a boundless realm, where thoughts take flight,
Craves the open sky, bathed in freedom's light.
Confine it with rules, a cage for the soul,
And stifle the spark that makes humanity whole.
Creativity's flame, a beacon so bright,
Burns with innovation, banishing night.
Art, music, and verse, a symphony bold,
Challenge the stagnant, stories yet untold.
Think of the sculptor's dream, etched in lasting stone,
Or the poet's fierce quill, where injustice is overthrown.
From unfettered minds, revolutions take wing,
A vibrant tapestry, progress' joyful ring.
Advocate for Boundaries
Untamed freedom, a stormy sea,
Can drown reason's voice, a chaotic decree.
Without boundaries clear, a compass to guide,
Art descends to chaos, where meaning can't reside.
Vulgarity rampant, a cacophony loud,
Erodes decency's ground, a shroud for the proud.
Should creativity trample on all that's held dear,
Traditions and values, held sacred for many a year?
Imagine a sculptor's chisel, carving hate with each blow,
Or a poet's warped verse, where seeds of discord grow.
Freedom needs guidance, a gentle hand to hold,
To channel its power, stories are wisely told.
Champion of Creative Freedom
Boundaries, yes, but not with an iron fist,
Let them guide, not suppress, where true genius exists.
From the clash of ideas, new truths come to light,
Diversity's chorus, a symphony bright.
Let dissent be heard, a questioning tongue,
For progress thrives where challenges are sung.
Censorship's shadow, a chilling embrace,
Stifles the garden, where innovation finds its place.
Advocate for Boundaries
But freedom unchecked, a garden choked with weeds,
Where potential withers, on the fertile ground it feeds.
Let responsibility guide, a filter refined,
For the power to create, a gift for humankind.
So let us find balance, a harmonious blend,
Where freedom ignites, and guidance befriends.
For creativity's flame, a force ever vast,
It needs a channel, a purpose, to last forever.
Both Champion of Creative Freedom and Advocate for Boundaries in Unison
The unfettered mind, a treasure to hold,
A canvas for stories, both brave and untold.
Let us nurture its power, with wisdom as a guide,
And create a future, where humanity may truly confide.
A Hint at What Is Beautiful :
Lovely is the 'bless your heart'
Wrapped with appreciation,
Offered to peace inclined individuals
Who make a special effort
To nurture shrapnel singed casualties
In the midst of napalm sedated air,
Conveying their humankind, unobtrusively
Also, unassumingly, in our
Blood recolored, avarice unhealthy,
Detest eaten world.
Lovely is the occasion,
At the point when the heart apathetic
To euphoria or distress, just trusts
Whatever this life brings
In any case, discovers time to simply be.
By Yoonoos Peerbocus
A Crazed Girl :
THAT crazed young lady ad libbing her music.
Her verse, moving upon the shore,
Her spirit in division from itself
Climbing, falling She knew not where,
Stowing away in the midst of the load of a steamship,
Her knee-top broken, that young lady I pronounce
A delightful grand thing, or a thing
Nobly lost, chivalrously found.
Regardless of what debacle happened
She remained in edgy music wound,
Wound, injury, and she made in her triumph
Where the bunches and the bins lay
No regular comprehensible sound
Be that as it may, sang, 'O ocean starved, hungry ocean.'
By William Butler Yeats
A Baby View of Abortion :
I came as tomorrow
Swaddled in guiltlessness
To your warm womb
Mother… …
Without your decision
Or on the other hand mine
Bound to up date
With time
Our human tree
Be that as it may, before adoration
Developed into fragile living creature and words
What is incomplete creation-
A precipitation of blood
Turned into my greatness.
By Yoonoos Peerbocus
A Ballad of Heaven :
He created at one extraordinary work for quite a long time ;
The world go by with elevated look;
Some of the time his eyes were dashed with tears ;
In some cases his lips with giggling shook.
His significant other and youngster went dressed in clothes,
Also, in a blustery garret starved ;
He trod his measure on the banners,
Also, high on paradise his music cut.
Contemplative he became yet never dreaded ;
For dependably on the midnight skies
His rich symphonic score showed up
In stars and zones and universes.
He thought to duplicate down his score ;
The moonlight was his light; he stated,
'Listen my adoration,' however on the floor
His better half and tyke were lying dead.
John Davidson
An Evil War
They walk the plains of sun-dried grass,
together in a row;
the mothers, with their young ones, pass
to search for food and go
for miles with thirst to find a drink;
as dry season appears.
They walk along, each one in sync,
alert with eyes and ears.
On different paths, the males walk too
to feed as they patrol,
and somehow they, with inner clue,
all find a water hole.
And peacefully they live their days,
adapt to nature's reign
that serves them well to drink and graze
and procreate their strain.
But space in their domain is less...
encroached by humankind,
uncaring of the crowding stress
they leave on them behind.
Still worse, they have become aware
of threats of crueler kind,
and learned to watch, to hide, beware
of horrors which they find.
So oft they see a sight disturbed...
sprawled out along their path;
a member of their precious herd...
they trumpet loud with wrath.
They stop and mourn like humans do,
stand vigil, shocked and chilled;
caress the faceless friend they knew...
who for his tusks...was killed.
Sandra M. Haight
~1st Place~
Premiere Contest: Evil Is Everywhere
Sponsor: Brian Davey
Judged: 10/08/2016
BBC News: The War On Elephants: April 28, 2016
"Bloated and eerily upright the large adult elephant was still standing where it had been killed - just next to the stream - its face hacked off....It had been fleeing the carnage in the mud 100m or so away, where the remains of four other adults and one young elephant lay fallen and disfigured, their tusks and trunks all taken for ivory and meat. Like a macabre statue, this faceless animal stood as a landmark to the horrors of poaching, of the ivory trade, and of the mass slaughter of the last remaining elephants in central Africa...
“It's worth so much more than just the animals. It's about trying to stabilise a whole region which has been unstable for decades. It's about trying to basically build peace. And that is why we wake up every morning, why everyone fights this war, and why we try and save the elephants. It's about basically saving Congo. On 23 April 2016, three rangers were killed in a fresh clash with poachers. Park manager Erik Mararv and another ranger were badly injured."
How should we really celebrate Christmas
Only in our own special individual ways
Should we lift Him up this day feeling good
With only our heartfelt words of praise
Should we try to make ourselves feel well
By celebrating It only in a worldly way
Or should we make Christmas a lifestyle
Emulating how He lived his life each day
Though He walked many weary miles long ago
With little of the worldly things many need
Where he walked you’ll still find his footprints
For all humankind to see after many centuries
His hands reached out touching and healing many
Never asking for a worldly payment in return
Only that we should honor His heavenly Father
Receiving from His Spirit priceless wisdom learn
Our Lord is selflessly humble in His nature
Hoping we might learn to emulate Him over time
Desiring us to be a true blessing to others
While sharing His love which seals and binds
We should help the poor and needy as He would.
Never turning our eyes from where the sick may lay
We should help the elderly and fatherless among us
While the homeless we should clothe and feed always
We should never turn from the children around us
Embracing them with the fullness of our hearts love
For in doing these acts of kindness we honor Him
Who came among us an eternal blessing from above
We should visit those locked away in prisons
Letting each know for them we still care and pray
While the widows we should honor and help them
Bringing a consistent love in their lives to stay
God does not judge another’s outward appearance
Casting none away because of their ethnicity
For He loves everyone who lives in this world
Giving all who come to him salvation’s opportunity
We must love our brothers and sisters as ourselves
While casting away hints of our former selfishness
We should also honor our fathers and mothers daily
Embracing them with our loves most wholesome kiss
For Jesus is much more than only our Lord and Savior
Whose birth we celebrate and honor Christmas day
His life is a perfect example how we should live
Helping others to taste His grace in numerous ways
Follow the excellent example how He lived his life
Creating priceless memories in another’s each day
Sharing selflessly His tremendous blessing of love
Making life better for others in many awesome ways.
Louis the Fifteenth, king of France,
Adored Madame du Barry.
His royal ardor was not bound
To the person he did marry.
His paramour was hard to please.
The king brooded day and night
On what act of loving kindness
Might appease her appetite.
One day he called his jeweller,
Whose face turned pale, then green,
When told to make a necklace
The likes of which no eyes had seen.
Vanity of vanities! Let nobody forget:
All humankind proposes yields to a Higher Will.
For the king lay dead and buried
When it was time to pay the bill.
They asked:' Who has got the money?
Who is there so rich
As to settle payment
And haul us from this ditch?
Louis the Sixteenth was now king,
But not long on the throne.
To purchasing the necklace
He himself was prone.
His wife strongly objected.
She thought the whole thing crazy.'
'We need to spend on self-defence:
More vessels for the navy!'
Now Cardinal De Rohan was a worldly priest,
Not averse to 'oo la la.'
Especially not in the matter of
Jeanne de la Motte Valois.
As a young girl she was naughty,
But she confessed in style.
The priest let her off counting rosary beads
All for the sake of her sweet winning smile.
Jeanne told the cardinal
They could have a sales deal signed
As friends at court had signaled
That the queen had changed her mind.
The queen and cardinal soon met
And the queen signed with aplomb.
De Rohan was too befuddled
To sense something was wrong
The queen received the necklace
But the queen was not the queen.
Charming though the lady was,
Who knew where she had been?
The necklace was picked to pieces
And sold off part by part.
O woeful desecration
Of this glorious objet d'art?
The cardinal faced the music
A victim of delusion
'Gullable, not guilty,'
came the court's conclusion.
Madame de la Motte Valois
Had no basis for a plea
And she was branded on both arms
With the letter V.
This letter stood for 'Voleuse,'
Meaning in English 'thief.'
Somehow she got to London,
And there she came to grief.
When fleeing from her creditors,
She fell from an upper floor.
Those creditors she did escape,
But only at death's door.
During her interment
Wagging tongues spoke of her guile
But someone chirped in her defence:
'But she had such a sweet winning smile.'
IN A TIME OF MICRO-IDENTITIES
At my Unitarian Universalist Society
no one is Jane Doe or Jack Spratt anymore!
A person being introduced or referenced for their
political, social or spiritual wisdom, their positive
impact on business, industry, education or community,
inter-faith connectivity or even their potential for
simple friendship and warmth, must be presented and
pre-validated by their ethnicity and race, their religion,
place of origin, their sexual irregularity, behavioral
irregularities, and any number of special pronouns or nouns
that have multiplied like weeds after a soaking late spring
rain or like non-native species of flora or fauna,
imported to address problems both real and imagined,
that have become prolific and invasive, pervasive and
problematic in unintended ways, like the popular new
sport called “daring us to get it wrong”….
These micro identifications give the person being
presented an unnecessary social asterisk that divides our
collective focus, fogging up the intended message, diluting
the joy of engagement, perhaps rendering inconsequential the
reason they are even there!
They are no longer simply folks but a type, a brand, perhaps
another public admonition to check our social attitudes, maybe
scold ourselves a little, and it makes me irritated rather than
appreciative, jaded rather than enthusiastic, somehow
cornered rather than free, a little wary of presenter and
presented, more weary of division, classification and the
perpetually annoying tactics of moral correctitude!
My pronouns, as you can see, are he, him and his, as normal
as water and oxygen in our planet’s biosphere, but more
important are my aspirational adjectives: open, giving and loving,
which admittedly, I’ve discovered, are subject to tidal fluctuations,
my diurnal disposition reaching out and pulling back. But this
disclosure not-withstanding, let the person and the message speak
for themselves like the sun speaks of light and the moon,
like my wife, speaks subtly in phases about sunlight at night!
Let our penchant for insight and moral validity allow us
to determine if speaker and word bring us clarity and truth,
encourages our efforts to find ourselves in each other in this
reckless adventure we call humankind!