Long Idolize Poems
Long Idolize Poems. Below are the most popular long Idolize by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Idolize poems by poem length and keyword.
I know that it is not possible, but if I were given
an audience with Barabbus, I can imagine that
he would say the following:
You wonder if I became a Christian
You think that I may have been killed
in my continued pursuit of revolution
As with everyone else, I will give account
for the choices that I made.
So, take me now as you found me in
the Biblical record--a pardon criminal.
Please. Neither idolize nor condemn me.
I disappeared in the dark night of silence.
Whether or not I ascended into the light
of God or descended further into my
revolutionary causes, for now, that matter
will remain a mystery.
Nevertheless, this much is certain:
Neither history nor tradition. can unvell
what God has hidden.
Most Canadians are influenced greatly
By our Big Brother to the South
Our cultures are very much the same
We have a common life style
Idolize the same pop icons
We dress the same, we look the same
Their dreams are our dreams
Our dreams are their dreams
Four thousand miles of undefended border
The longest in the whole wide world
That, my friends, is something to be proud of
In this age of constant flare-ups
That seems to happen almost daily around the world
May this Canada/U.S. Friendship
Forever be alive as an example to the rest of the world
How civilized people can and do
Exist side by side in perfect harmony
I am proud to be part of this unique
And enduring friendship
Long live Canada, long live the U.S.A.
© Jack Ellison 2014
Of some mad American empire
were Angels rage in the suicidal age
Of TV stars and failed billionaires
Upstart demagogues tyrannical
Wanta-bes who rule with lies on knees of glass
And feet of tin, and rings of fools-gold
tiny fists bleed tiny tears Infamy
Schemes with in schemes
Orange rage racism raw ragged
and blasphemy of science
idolize idiocracy
A mad American empire teetering on oblivion
In TVs and multimedia social society
Of Markets and networking divisions
Evangelist blind screaming for an idol falsely
Bluebirds flutter flocks like ravens
A murder of crows Die in the lite of truth
The truth is a matter of opinion obsession
False diversions a fractured nation
A false god a false profit beloved by narrow-minded illiterate ill-rational idiots
Idolize inept and ignorant orange
God, a false divinity
Raging lies in tin crowns
an overgrown tyrant
a little king without armor
a fool With bloody hands
smeared mascara eyeliner drowned
Blood and horror a mad American empire
were Angels rage suicidal age
Of faded TV stars gluttonous billionaires
Upstart demagogues
tyrannical nights of thousand lights
Mega-phone preacher of a new order
Make America some mad empire
Wanta-bes who rule
with lies and tyrannical deeds
knees of glass bleed oil orange fire
feet of glass things of fools-gold
Tiny fists clutch paper crowns
tiny tears Infamy a crocodiles lear
Schemes within and schemes without
rape of queens, dreamers teetering on oblivion
orange racism ragged raw
wall falls halls echo lies and false fantasies
blasphemy of science, idiocracy , supremacy
Drooling fools, magaits burrow in
Some mad American empire...
You Don’t Care
About My Feelings.
You Care About What
A NORMAL Person's
Feelings SHOULD Be...
In What You Imagine
You Know Are The
Absolute Circumstances
A Person Would NORMALLY
Face, From The Evidence
You're Aware Of, Sort Of
Biased By The Strength
Parameters A NORMAL
Person Would Have,
But NOT Necessarily
Your Own Weaknesses
Which You Know Are
Unique To You.
And Personal Factors
And Biases, And Weakened
Judgement Impressed By
Trauma, And Choices Made
By Those You Idolize, And
So Many Sub-Routine
Details I Am Neglecting
And/Or Are Unaware Of.
But You Don’t Care
About MY Feelings.
-Gray Squirrel
10-03-2025
Aqueous humor: she said of the buddahs hands that were
placed upon the table. Macula, and marvelous! A specticail
appealing to the eyes. Yards and Yards of lemongrass, and
beautiful bounties of Buddhas hands, the booty and prize of
chorered men willing to citriate a non citrated world.
Her caruncle shall move centered when he is revealed as
the plucking Pizzicato of Rhythm: The Obsidian Lava of
Citrusacion: from Buttes to Salton all shall speak him Great!
The Ciliary Body shall be marveled an adorned, the eye's of
Fools shall want those who want them to idolize them. Cascadia
shall be looked upon from the ages: thus each new beginning
make fools from theory, and facts shall distort there thoughts.
Those who these men wish to appeal shall refuse their want for
them and there women shall adore and love men. Hu-Buddhas'
Hands shall be bought to this world to flourish and shall
dominants the interest of people from era to era!
The Pizzicato Pluck shall began the entrance which
included a rhythm sound of melonic opera, Structural-
Improvements to the Unix Flauxer shall bring anew start to
worded harmony. Women who beleive in (NFP) shall be endearing
Mielle Creco Pelo
and shall wed. Y2 + X , 4 and -4, each improvement 4 2 X= 16.
(Non for Profit-pussy)
There's a reason that our paths' they cross
Some kind of purpose, gain or loss
Throughout our lives there's many we'll meet
But only a few we'll truly greet
There are those that will always be by our side
The ones that to which we will confide
And those that only try to destroy
Tearing you apart no happiness, no joy
You'll meet some that you idolize
They give you hope, help you visualize
And some you meet and you don't know why
But somehow your life they amplify
It's an oddly strange world that we live in
A journey on the path we're given
But throughout our life no matter what
The people we meet are never forgot
I’m leaving you
I’m sorry
Forgive me
When you find this note
This silly piece of paper
That can’t possibly carry
All the little fears
That are tying my heart
Into knots…
Don’t hate me!
I’m leaving
Because….because I’m afraid
You’re too perfect
Too kind
Too gracious
Too loving
Too protective
It scares me
I’m not used to being loved
Genuinely
Truly…for who I am
And not for what I do
Or what I give!
I’m leaving
Before I mess things up
And break your heart
And shatter your dreams
Before I drive that knife
Of doubt
Into your soft beautiful heart
Before I become needy
And demanding
And impossible to live with
I’m leaving
I’m afraid of my feelings
Afraid I’ll idolize you
Do your every bidding
And so lose myself,
That you will find nothing in me...
To entice you
To tantalize you
To keep you wanting
And craving
Nothing that will make you want to
Continue to explore
My soul
My body
My mind
My dreams
I’m leaving
Because I just love you way too much….
To stay!
Eileen Manassian Ghali
Lady,
I call you Lady,
never met a bit of you,
not in a painting, not in a photograph,
not on a street
nor as a reflection in water or glass.
I see you though,
you're the very youngest
and the most ancient,
you're a tree of prayers
every branch of you a secret bloom
only lips may open.
Don't ever think of me as seeing you
as an idol to idolize.
You are the flesh of dirt
and the blown lungs of a stale wind
just as everybody is,
but none of this lowliness
rules you, for you whisper into
our blood and mud,
but lady
your beauty is not for seeing,
your love is not for stealing.
I lift the hem of your skirt
and see my sunrise there
a shining plantation of all my desires.
That place behind your knees,
that sweet hollow where worlds nest
so worthy of a kiss from reckless angels.
Blindly
I send you the crumbs of my mind
for your fingertips
to gather and feed upon.
Anarchy incited by consciousness divides deeply
rather than conquer those already sleeping
evermore the same, those who have, who have not
shills at a game of chance fill the room, persuasion the game
populated backstories idealize and idolize submission
turned up volume can’t let me think I can do anything about it
take my word for it...you’re mine...heartbeats synchronized
oh, how sweet it is to be loved by you...
Poisoned in the great well, Lucky Charms soothe
I remember, I forget and so the wheel turns...those
who do wake up sometimes it seems go back to...
my heart, if really mine, saddens to think the gold is only
water paint and it too shall run away...
I wrote this after reading about Osho...what happens to our Guru’s or beings
of great spirit? Does our society mock and loosen their fabric of gilt? Does it become the fabric of guilt? I know not...I wish I could see from this vantage point beyond the illusion of this world...from this protected innocence...I crave knowing the truth...
...They told us to hate those people
who take a risk to make profit,
that instead we should idolize
those who say they’re socialist.
Bu t I look a their history,
and it’s utterly insane,
just blood, and death, and prison camps
wherever their ideas did rein.
Twenty-five million Russian souls,
sixty-five million Chinese,
and all they brought to those who lived
was oppression and poverty.
Even within our own cities,
where the far-left runs roughshod,
we see feces, typhus, and decay;
once great towns now just left to rot.
Detroit has become a ruin,
San Francisco smells of dung,
Los Angeles covered in trash,
the Golden State has gone all bunk.
That’s what they want me to worship?
It’s a plague that should be abhorred,
besides that, it’s immoral to
have economics based on force.
The capitalist freely trades,
both sides agree or it’s no-go,
price itself becomes a language
so all of the people can know
how much something may be valued,
what is and is not in demand,
giving them a general idea,
so they can make a living, plan.
And the mass of competition
responds to the people’s needs,
does not need to be ‘ordered to,’
it responds automatically.
It’s what lifted civilization,
there’s no arguing with that,
without it we’d still ride horses,
and electricity we’d lack.
Those fools want us to reject this,
when it makes our nation great?
I’ll save my rage for leftists that
dare try to tell me who to hate.
Those judgments are mine alone.