Long Hypocrites Poems
Long Hypocrites Poems. Below are the most popular long Hypocrites by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Hypocrites poems by poem length and keyword.
To the barbaric knobs who made the call
to cull our Brumbies, down you’ll fall.
Such a horrible death, with so much pain
what you’ve done is rotten - insane.
You murderous pricks, this won’t be forgot
shooting our Brumbies, I hope you rot.
So UnAustralian, sickening to the core
such filthy liars, corrupt and more.
You’ll pay for your crimes, the fights just begun
the helicopters will turn, so you’d better run.
People are awake and asking why
you murdered such beauty from ground and sky.
The blood that shed is on your hands
it’s you who’ve destroyed our precious lands.
Not the horses so spirited, wild and true
but gutless people who haven’t a clue.
These Horses are cherished by many world wide
they roam Kosciuszko with peace & pride.
Shame on the Government - soulless hypocrites
the world is watching, you total Dimwits!
Part of our history is being erased that’s clear
these majestic beauties now run in fear.
So united we stand, Justice we seek
we are the voices, for horses we speak.
They say:
Savages.
Savages.
SA-VA-GES.
We say:
Hypocrites.
Hypocrites.
HYP-O-CRITES.
Moral olympics were never your event -
To participate,
In.
You don’t get a say -
When your words ooze with hypocrisy,
There is no democracy,
In the role you had to play,
In BLACK BRUTALITY.
You live in glass houses,
Throwing stones will break your walls of security,
You don’t get to call us savages -
When you, yourselves are defined by hypocrisy.
Superiority has never existed in your DNA,
When inferiority is the price you pay -
For generational jealousy
Your irrationality,
Blinds your capability -
To see,
The irony -
That the fingers you point, are facing your way
To bow my head before oppression
was never written in my genetic code.
To play the slave for a miserable wage,
and pray to the god of those slave-masters
in order to taste the pleasures of prosperity,
is nothing but a nightmare.
If I do not love you,
I will tell you straight in the eyes,
like those independence fighters
born of my genealogical tree.
I hate the hypocrites,
the deceitful, the envious,
the liars, the racists, the traitors,
and those human beings who lie down
beneath the weight of oppression.
I am the expression of a humanity
freed from the burdens
of Western societal conformity.
I despise propriety
when the environment is hostile.
When I suffer,
my demons seize control of the vessel.
I have but one life,
one journey,
one dusk,
before the reaper
comes to harvest my tainted soul.
My allegiance is to Africa,
despite the chaos that has reigned there for centuries.
I will remain bound
to the cradle of humanity
until my final dusk.
The Eye Of The Storm
verse 1.
When storm clouds form;
I will stand I won't run;
Clouds cover me;
I shall break free;
For the price has already been paid;
I have all ready be remade, born again...
verse 2.
When those dark spaces surround me;
God is the light and He brightens me;
All the joy from Jesus is mine to release it;
And when the Father calls;
I shall stand tall;
The victory is ours, ours....
Chorus
Satan you've been already warned...
I am going through, going though
I'm going trough the eye of the storm;
The Son shines always, The Son is mine to claim;
I am going through, going though
No matter what mankind or Satan wants to do;
My light gonna shine, God's light is mine;
And in Him there's no darkness
verse 3.
When the politics and those hypocrites put you down;
There's no power on earth, nor no man who can judge you now;
Just focus on your inter light, let it shine, let it out;
God will lead you through it, He will see to it;
Chorus
Satan you've been already warned...
I am going through, going though
I'm going trough the eye of the storm;
The Son shines always, The Son is mine to claim;
I am going through, going though
No matter what mankind or Satan wants to do;
My light gonna shine, God's light is mine;
And in Him there's no darkness
You've been already warned...
I am going through, going though
I'm going trough the eye of the storm;
12/22/17
written by James Edward Lee Sr.
from anthology "Strong Faith
For no just cause, my quiet nature has been wrongly interpreted in
all sectors of life. As early as elementary school, teachers, kids
and peers mocked at my painful shyness, chipping away at my soul.
As a shy personality, it is often perceived as something deficient
and as a sign of weakness. The opposite is true as we take our time
to better assess situations.
Another erroneous belief about the quiet and reserved is that they
lack self-esteem and self-confidence but facts show as introverts we
are highly sensitive, bright and gifted people.
Discrimination against the meek and humble can lead to prejudice
causing work reviews to have an unsupported result of negative
feedback based on personality rather than work.
Though my resume and reference letters, details extensive
experience as a legal secretary and an asset to any law firm,
personnel thought I got the job for appearance rather than skill set.
In one firm, I was fired because my superior said she didn’t like my
personality. I quietly said, “I don’t speak so how could you know me?”
She irately replied: “I don’t like your mannerisms.”
In actuality, my quiet demeanor and exterior unjustly
characterized me. As all these outward inferences never let
anyone know the slightest bit about me.
Today, I have just cause to be wary of other people’s perverse
ideas and ill-conceived standards. As they continue to hold
me in unqualified contempt.
Because of this discrimination for so many decades due to my
gentleness and humbleness, it is my contention that society
has handed me down a life sentence of injustice and bias.
Although, I remain imprisoned by opinions of hypocrites,
I trust that God will show His merciful exoneration towards
me as I’ve shown mercy to all who persecuted me.
Thus, I remain a hopeless victim, from those who sought to
harm me for No Just Cause!
Israel,
the lapdog
of America
and the West.
You are not
a country.
You have become
a symbol
of terror.
Fascism,
rooted in violence
and racial hatred,
has rejected
liberal democracy.
Yet America
and the Western hypocrites
still use you
to perpetuate
their wickedness.
Israel,
you have denied
others
their individual rights,
while embracing
the power
of domination.
Causing chaos
around the world
has become
your daily bread.
Some say,
what you do today,
was once done
in Europe,
until Europe
grew weary
and sent you
to the Middle East.
Now,
the East
is on fire.
But Israel,
remember this—
history
repeats itself.
What came upon you
in the past
may one day
come upon you
again.
Israel,
the love
the world
once had for you
is slowly
fading away.
And those
who defend you today,
may tomorrow
become
your enemies.
For power
cannot purchase
the conscience
of humanity.
And no nation,
however strong,
can escape
the judgment
of history.
Oh... sorry, this was supposed to be a positive message...
I can't see very good through all these dark clouds,
veils of lies,
all being exhaled
by the faceless (shadows),
and sewn together
(because hand made is always better)
by pointed tongued succubi and incubi,
But for a moment I did see a tiny bit of light poke through, so small,
but I saw it.
But, none for me...
I chose the dark a long, long time ago... It was safer there.
If I was going to always be running into demons
I figured I had better-become friends with them.
Eventually, they became better friends than the so-called "Angels".
(Right, Left, Up, Down)
Two-faced hypocrites with all their lies of "Unconditional Love". Blegh...
I think they need to go read what unconditional means...
I've only known conditional...
From girlfriends to friends, to family.
Slip off the path (their path) and get written off just as quickly.
Nope, no second chances, pretty much no chances at all.
One time, that's all you get.
Now, go... Don't make any mistakes, and don't stress about it.
Were Caesar's physique and a psyche imperishable?
Did he gain gifts from sources that were ineligible?
Hadn't all his possessions been from the heavens, rather?
Should he, then, for tributes, bother the son of the father?
Should Jews pay taxes to the Romans? This was their question.
Didn't you, as the infinite, know their foul intention?
If you say, You should give, they would ask you, You knew, Why should
If you say, you should not, you knew you'd be misunderstood.
Pitying on their stubbornness, you called them hypocrites.
Their minds, like a troubled pond, were full of perception splits.
Though descended from heaven, weren't you a human citizen?
They knew that if you wished, you could have been the sovereign.
Give away! Give up! Give back to each one his or her right
In ignorance-filled obstinacy, you said, Do not fight.
Although the fire had turned to smoke
the old poet’s lips were still.
. The architectural trinity
. in the City of Lights lies wounded,
. the greatest roof in Paris has succumbed.
Words could not express what tears conveyed,
as he sat across from me in a reverent posture.
. Sacred timbers holding back
. the corrupted prayers of hypocrites,
. burned with the fires of hell.
As a young man, he had fallen in love
with her beauty during his first summer in Paris.
. The 800-year-old icon at city’s center
. now stands damaged,
. ashes covering icons of hope.
The poet nodded affirmation to comments made,
but could not speak.
. The lady’s ambiance is gone
. as secular light casts
. unfiltered rays upon her altar.
The poet to my left wept as our leader
guided the conversation.
. The man on the TV said there are
. no trees in France large enough
. to replace the mighty beams.
All the poets’ words that fateful evening
sounded unpoetic to me.
. The President stood before the mighty walls
. and broadcast
. words of courage and renewal.
The next day I see pictures
of people gathered in the streets.
. She may be wounded by exhausted wires,
. but restoration
. knocks on her great oak doors.
A fallow season a time of trivial hungers
that gnawed like a hypocrites prayer.
It was a Wednesday, or one of those days,
with sorrow sewn into it like a prison blanket.
He had been unlocked like a gull's beak,
his cry screeched from decades of dust.
“My ghost is in your body Beloved,
no one sees our earth,
the sunset and the ocean
fall into each other this way.
Death me in your moment my love.”
An imago had surfaced,
an image joined to something,
he once passed through or touched,
or noticed not with his eyes.
Under his skin, he pours stars,
black stars, bright stars
the living and the dead are him.
“Death me, as I stand, sit, or sleep,
plant your prayers deep into my emptiness,
drug my senses with yours,
dance me with your insatiable desires,
drag me up, drag me into
this dazzling death by light.”