Long Immoral Poems
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I contemplated, trying desperately to recall,
when I'd changed and my humility took a fall.
Wondering how I managed to be so greedy
instead of thinking of the poor and the needy.
I was ashamed of the person I had become.
To fellow men I had grown blind and numb
then became a caring giver instead of a grabber.
I commend others, no longer a back stabber.
In my imperfections I was tempted by lust
and because of this weakness, I lost the trust
of those I once held in the highest esteem.
Love and lust are opposites in the extreme.
They're Ying and Yang with connected forces.
Through each of us such contradiction courses.
When love is true there's no need for carnality.
Lustfulness after marriage is immoral mentality.
I pondered past relationships about control.
That's a grievous word that I cannot condole.
There is no honor in domination. Nothing good.
It's disrespectful and as wrong as a falsehood.
Better to have equal balance without surrender,
in which no one has to be the callous offender.
Avoiding conflicts is sometimes difficult to do
when 'turn the other cheek' policy is not for you.
A metaphoric slap in the face is an abusive deed,
but cursing and fighting won't rid you of the need
to feel you've gotten even by venting your rage.
There's no rule to embrace but it may assuage
the craving for vengeance and suspend the fight,
leaving darkness behind as you seek the light.
I've denounced the demon, the father of the lie,
the one whose wicked ways I shall never comply.
He'll goad you to sin and when you're trapped,
your faith will be shaken until it's been zapped.
Truth is the enemy of Satan, but understand...
It's weaponry to deny him. Wear it as an armband.
With reflection, I would urge the need for unity
across the entire globe, as a worldwide community.
"Impossible," some cry. "There's war on each frontier!"
Sorrowfully, it's been death and doom year after year.
It's due to the avarice of men who exceed their need.
Now, I've gone full circle because I first wrote of greed.
Rotate Consciousness Polarity Contest
Sponsor: Unseeking Seeker 11/09/22
She looked ancient when I knew her.
I knew no one who befriended her.
I knew no one who bothered her.
She was bold and fearless;
Annoying, but not disrespected.
It was duly noted by me that
My grandmother did not like her.
She was not a transient but a resident.
I never heard from where she came
Nor where she went when she left.
In our community were haters and lovers.
We were moral, immoral, and immortal.
We were drunkards and tetolers.
We were Christians, sinners, and hypocrites.
We were abusers, abused, and amusing.
We were gamblers, hard workers, and hustlers.
She was a first class high ranking 'Holy Roller'.
She was harmless but always alarming,
When we heard her shout, 'Holy!'.
Earth runs by mural
Grows on soil alluvial
Is more communal
And less commercial.
But all work illegal,
Love for such is official
All equal tasks disloyal.
But at Money’s arrival
They treat us special;
Bliss and bless us total
We are never trivial
Comes position initial.
Money is more disloyal
Will leave you at trial.
If one is in life’s trial
Success of Money final.
If you want to be ideal;
No value only Money vital.
Agree or not Money is real
As with it we are acquittal.
Don’t be completely asocial
No practice of immoral,
It leads to God’s dismissal;
As we are never trivial
Comes position initial.
What makes it okay to bomb a nation?
Kill so many who don’t have a station?
Destroy a country, cities and families?
Women, babies, children and men—all tragedies—
Who never chose this war… suffer again and again.
Across the globe, a catch twenty-two
Do what I say, not as I do.
What happened to the Fifth Commandment?,
In a world where religion is prominent?
They will kneel in mosques, temples, and pews,
Preaching love while heralding news.
Holding holy books high with blood-soaked hands,
While dropping their bombs on sacred lands.
Using their people as sacrificial lambs.
Caging each other with judgments and damns.
?These false messiahs in power prevail,
While dragging us down to a desolate hell.
Overcome by greed, immoral pursuits,
watch as Truth and compassion uproot.
?Those who lust for control and command?
Crush our spirit with their own iron hand.
What gives the leaders the power to say?
Who lives or who dies, and who’s led astray?
We are not pawns, not war machines—
Our hearts are breaking behind the scenes.
But no one will ask, they refuse to see—
What gives them the right to speak for me?
Will Allah weep? Will Jesus cry?
Will mothers scream to an empty sky?
What about angels when the rockets fall?
Do they turn away… or see it all?
Don’t speak about peace with blood on your shoes,
While you light the match for the world to lose.?
Your prayers mean nothing when children bleed—trust,
God knows the difference between faith and greed.
Let history judge what silence allowed,
The deafening roars, the martyr’s shroud.
And when the dust settles, will truth remain—
Or just more graves without a name?
Still, I believe in a higher call,
A day when justice outshines it all.
But until then, I’ll write and cry—
And ask the heavens… why, God, why?
(Revelation 22:15)
Outside are the dogs, those who practice magic arts, the sexually immoral,
The murderers, the idolaters and everyone who loves and practices falsehood.
I, Jesus, have sent my angel to give you this testimony for the churches.
I am the Root and the Offspring of David, and the bright Morning Star.
"I read these verses, and my heart grows desperately earnest."
Lord, please let my runaway cat return safely to me.
Even if she wants to come back, the world outside is a minefield;
She dares not take a step.
My cat, who was like my own alter ego,
Now cowers in fear before another cat—her niece-like kin whom she once gave sweet milk.
Chased away frantically, she vanishes into the shroud of darkness.
Lord, I pray to You with all my broken heart,
Let my cat, who has been missing for three months, come back to me!
And the Lord, at last, heard my weeping voice,
And briefly sent that sweet cat back to my arms.
Exhausted, worn out, she crawled back to me,
Finding her way to the secretive, weathered kitchen window.
As I fed her in frantic haste, I whispered:
"Hurry, eat up. They might catch your scent and attack you."
And so, I frantically smoke my familiar Dunhill cigarettes.
For filling the air with my own scent is the only way left
To shield you and hide your tracks.
"Hurry, please!"
With my tear-stained window, I finally closed the view
Of those eyes that gazed back at me endlessly.
That beautiful history of yours
Will now never return again.
History?
No, it is Herstory.
It must be rewritten that way.
Even today, I open that kitchen window,
Waiting for my alter ego.
"I am the Alpha and the Omega, the First and the Last,
The Beginning and the End."
A season passes,
The door opens and closes,
And though I desperately exhale my cigarette smoke into the air,
She never returns.
That cat was a cat of quantum mechanics.
When I open my eyes, she is nowhere to be seen,
But the moment I close my eyes, she truly exists.
New England's post election trees
shed a few teary waving leaves.
Morning sky tries to shine resilience
yet lingers in ominous grey overcast
of silent waiting through despair.
In Michigan and Wisconsin and Pennsylvania
tens of thousands of mothers
who cherish their daughters
are beating themselves up about yesterday;
longing for a do-over
to avoid confidence in false predictions
of safely voting their green ecoconsciousness,
or too quietly staying home
to rake falling fertile leaves.
Failing leaves feel their personal mortality,
too old, over-extended, to survive another bitter winter
of expatriation
while maternal nurturing root systems survive through hibernation,
deeply embedding in Earth's nutritional compost
of yeasty faith,
waiting for another Advent enlightening Season.
Not a branch,
not even a twig,
stirs from frosty lethargy
wondering Why?
Why would we decide ownership of human bodies
must be illegal
because immoral,
yet sexist and capitalist
and racist and homophobic
weaponized irreligious predation
remains legally and morally ambiguous,
as if wealth of straight white male supremacist nobility
were God's full harvest of religious moral gifts
Excusing triumphant patriarchalism
by betraying autumn's promised grace
Elite relentless entitlement
of enduring cockiness
to buy fortressed escape
from winter's monolithic misery,
EarthTribe's historical hiatus
from SunGod's evangelical campaign
of hellfire
Recovering
silent spring's radiantly enlightened morning glory
from disunited piles of leaving ballots
already composted to fertilize richer soils
in four more autumnal climate years.
Just Call Me Mr. Spy
Hello,
I’m from an ancient world, and we have never met, and never will.
However, much like presently, in my day, people lived for the thrill.
I experienced that world’s greatest tragedy, and lived to tell the story.
I am not the bravest, smartest, or most beautiful; but I made history.
People of old loved and laughed, and also ate and drank to the fill.
They bought and sold, not worrying about who would pay the bill.
They fell in love and married; and separated, adulterated, and fornicated.
They detoured from their ancestors’ standards, and greatly deteriorated.
Yes, they were civilized sometimes, but also immoral and very violent.
It’s predicted that your world will be just like mine, before the Second Advent.
They were liberated, sophisticated, and also educated in their own way.
They were warned, but never bothered to change, until a deluge came one day.
There was an old man with a wife and three sons, who also had wives.
They worked hard and loved everybody, but also lived good and clean lives.
I know all these things because I was there, observing and raising my family.
That is, until the old man brought me and others into a big boat he built for his family.
You see, I was Noah’s raven, and was blessed to go on that world’s greatest trip.
And you can call me Mr. Spy, because I was the first one to leave the big ship.
03042016 PS Contest, A Tomb of Ancient Bloom, Justin Bordner
I went to unpleasant places
where there was no mention,
or even a clear defination
of the Holy of the Holies!
Those unholy places were dens
of fornicators who condoned
anything immoral and naughty,
many youngsters became victims
being bought for pleasures;
there all sinners practiced
what was against morality...
nobody was sinless and kind!
I went to unpleasant places,
where they chanted hymns
to Hadan and sacrificed a life
on a blood-dripping altar;
that scene made me run far,
thinking I'd be the next to die!
Youthful Eros was worshipped
and at his feet they prostrated,
then they danced around him;
he had manacing eyes so grim!
" Hey, come closer, join the feast! "
They shouted, " God doesn't exist! "
I went to unpleasant places,
to a town distant from the living;
there anything was allowed
to amoral gals and fellows escaping
the harsh judgement of others,
or being lynched by the crowd!
And yet that is what,
They would have us believe
- it's coincidence only..
'Nothing to see'
A coincidence fatale,
Would you possibly
believe,
But our senses, hearts and minds,
aren't so smothered nor subdued
- that we cannot perceive,
Total control of the food
China their blueprint,
the tool and the example
Recall Naval Blockade
for Opium Brown,
Unearthing vast resources,
Technocratic minerals
so precious
are taken out and shipped
by East India Crown,
For the rest of the planet
to taste but not sample,
The Dark Continent to bathe only - in blood to drown
And yet that is what,
They would have us believe
- it's coincidence only..
'Nothing to see'
Bolshevik Banksters South Africa,
Cecil Rhodes' Round Table
- of Gold
Totalitarianism through
crippling debt to unfold
Manipulating countries World Bank, IMF
Creative funding - NGOs Lobbying 'necessary' Debt
plus coercion extortion,
Inner Circle Deception
Zimbabwe, Mugabe a pawn
to despair
Pen to paper, international, immoral signature they dare,
to wit:
Libya's 'Colonel' Gaddafi
put in place to commit,
independently solvent, perhaps
- realised too late
Any dissenters are jailed
or sanctioned to death
Aside from this, there is now hope
The Continent's cries
being heard at last..
by a majority common sense?
Other nations debate,
are now looking fast
for better, more ethical Laws that don't exactly depend on what they took,
It is after all an unpayable debt,
On the same old-Babylonian disastrous fate..
Though not yet, not yet
Astonishingly, Incredibly
though,
that's exactly what..
- They would have us believe
There's plenty to see,
if we care enough - to look.
Kurt Hubbard-Beale
May 28th 2021
During covid 19 lockdown
ThePoetTree
Awaken Poetry. Awareness Poetry. Geopolitical. Philosophical. Music. Shared
In the existential dualist realm,
with dark and immoral traits,
irreducibly distinct from the righteous strength,
human being breathed as God’s generous gift
the divine breath of fufilled life,
the source of creativity for love and harmony.
The enlivening enlightenment window
lets in the sacred sunshine of virtue,
highlights the positivity of the psyche,
enhancing the character strength,
the fountain flow of generosity and empathy
that finds the liberating pathway of spirituality.
The spiritual journey is a serene movement
from vice to virtue to high stratum of consciousness,
achieved by introspective dissolution
of the rigid concepts through transcendence,
as the separation of outside-in and inside-out dissolves,
virtue permeates the non-dual awareness.
_______________
July 31, 2022
Contest : Non-Dual Awareness
Sponsored by : Unseeking Seeker
October 30, 2022
Contest : 2022 Poetry Marathon Mile 18
Sponsored by : Mark Toney