Long Indict Poems
Long Indict Poems. Below are the most popular long Indict by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Indict poems by poem length and keyword.
In magical verses weave your fated heart's request,
With metaphors holding the shy choir of light abreast,
When hearts corroded by hatred in barrenness rest,
And chains of thought whip gently the gentle flight's zest.
If you are to regain control once more,
When friends of yesteryear were but a lore,
Whose drab garments through time emphatically wore,
But forgiveness you've secreted from its core.
And if in hope you can stand upright,
Not raising armor before the liar’s project slight,
When rage whispers edicts as if to indict,
Melt it in calm, with spirit bright.
Show the world whole your portrait fair,
No masks, no regret, laid bare,
And if you dream of deep breaks in despair,
May you not become in others' lives a dismal seer.
When eternity throws its cold shadow in your corner's crease,
You should gaze with eyes that do not buckle under time’s caprice.
Every living moment in time's palm surely will not cease,
On the heart's scale, they demand to be released.
If you can listen when the truth is spoken,
Alien and shifted in a world that's been broken,
And to persist through the common lies outspoken,
To find faith beneath the frothy spray's token.
If you dare face decay’s embrace without dread,
Avoiding the gilded pleasure's feigned spread,
And in autumn whispers feel your stern fall ahead,
In the poverty of a sky that once display had fed.
Risk carrying on the die heavy, precious pearls,
Wager all that you've got for a fleeting twirl,
And then, whoever you are, learn not to hurl hopes like chaff,
Your failures become a path leading to something more sacred, more daft.
Endure, in a feeble body, remorse and persistence,
Wearing a smile as a shield, melting the tormenting ice of existence.
Cherish the moment that remains in unending instance,
With a soul lined in armor's silent resistance.
If you can fill the silences in empty spaces,
When shattered times speak with yesterday's faces,
Replenish them with fresh sparks among the disgraces,
Then you will build from seconds, unbroken traces.
And the Earth shall through you be magnified,
And all that writhes in its infinite tide,
And in this great shaken, you'll uncover as scribed,
That you're a whole man, not just a soul that's been pried,
Not part of the herd whose times have dried,
But master of the strength from your own dream derived.
The Kuiper belt with frozen realms
our eighth of planets overwhelms,
for if Neptune had not formed
that collection could have swarmed
into a body neophyte,
habitably considered quite
outside the city of tranquil light.
Suggestive of domains of ire
or hellish greed beyond desire,
those icy floating places
evoke the haunted faces
that feign affected smiles despite
their fears and tears alone at night,
outside the city of tranquil light.
We common mortals live and die
for trifles, never asking why,
asleep in mind’s delusion,
on pathways of confusion,
while cherished hopes and dreams take flight
although pursued with all our might,
outside the city of tranquil light.
None can escape the sting of strife
during the whole of earthly life;
storms of fortune fiercely rage
while the mind and body age,
albeit some achieve a height
of recognition shining bright
outside the city of tranquil light.
Our only constant being flux,
we strive yet fail to grasp the crux
and cling to this bubble world
adrift in dimensions curled,
regardless of the poet’s sleight
or savvy from the erudite,
outside the city of tranquil light.
As years go by in swift array
kaleidoscopic passions play,
till like fleeting spectral shades
the phantasmic pageant fades.
What history we choose to write
ensuing epochs may indict
outside the city of tranquil light.
In our search for instant pleasure,
have we lost the taste to treasure
sheer existence, seeming rare
in the universe out there?
Oftentimes at the brink of blight
sentient creatures awake in fright,
outside the city of tranquil light.
Happiness that will ever last
springs from essential wisdom vast
in the deepest inner states
where enlightenment awaits…
Will humankind reverse its plight
and learn to see with purer sight
to find the city of tranquil light?
~ Harley White
* * * * * * * * *
Inspiration was derived from the following passage by Nichiren Daishonin…
“Everywhere other than the Capital of Tranquil Light is a realm of suffering. Once you leave the haven of inherent enlightenment, what is there to bring you joy?“
~ Nichiren (1263)
“Questions and Answers about Embracing the Lotus Sutra (Dharma Flower Sutra)”
I experience inappetence, yet nevertheless hunger for victuals
Mine corporeal complex edifice
unleashes convulsions of anxiety.
Lack of appetite
to savor even smallest bite
unlike Pavlov's dog,
I neither salivate nor excite
at prospect (parking) body
against table not low but fahrenheit
unfair punishment fates did indict,
whereby yours truly decreed
to suffer wraith inflicted
akin to ghastly revengeful Jacobite
asitia struck with vengeance
sucker punched pit of stomach
with furious dog forsaken might
unsavory predicament figuratively
eating away me passion
to relish comestibles day and night,
hence feeble effort to craft poem quite
lame rhyming for no reason right?
Yours truly cannot remember,
how many days, weeks, months... ago
elapsed, whereby with voraciousness I ate
(above mentioned statement veracious -
food for thought) I plainly communicate
hoop fully buzzfeeding, dishing out quandary
in fortified effort to elucidate
thee dear anonymous reader great
if newfound (albeit tenuous) intrigue
awoke courtesy mine artful ruse to initiate
reciprocity, cuz regret iz the stealer of joy
thus verbally athletic, cryptic, enigmatic,
generic, idiotic, kinetic, magnetic, opportunistic
quixotic, solipsistic (ha) troubadour
who heartily hales within
southeastern keystone-state
dares himself to reach out across cyberspace
in an cautiously optimistic effort to mitigate
and extend his metaphorical (albeit empty) plate
maintaining netiquette, an amorphous,
yeah flirtatious nebulous groovy savoir faire,
which mine body, mind, spirit triage
suddenly seems restoration of natural craving
toward sustenance doth oscillate.
What relief long starved taste buds to appease
cuz methought (courtesy obsessive compulsive
worst case scenario catastrophizing)
one garden variety guy
acquired some generic disease
A deep sigh of relief he dryly heaves!
With the Nepotism in my planet, essentially in my land, life compels
And factual morals are forgotten. Ancestors way of living are forbidden
By the rules we live in today.
What’s happening in our society?
Flash is made to capture, to imprison,
Not to poison and abolish every tale we ever had.
I sense discomfort when I glimpse defiance of young in open, forgive me but i
Feel pain when I see the future walking in distress; giving their lives in return for a good life.
Give them credit, but our lives were much easier before.
Simplicity is no supplementary.
But not everyone who’s involved wants to,
Pleasure is the case, dissatisfaction is the face, eish did I say it’s the pace?
Wait a minute
Facing my demons with abstemious eyes, doesn't add up, I need a fluid to go through
The night, where’s my pint to nip the tank of my thanks.
I’m jaded, guzzle, gulp facilitate
Slurp!
It kills me to be unable to maintain my being,
Without sentiment awkwardness,
But little voices say…
‘Just be intoxicated, without any guiltiness’.
My hero dies in vein, my mother stress in pain, and my friends suffer in shame,
I didn't do it, but the hunger for more led me to desire more.
Everyone’s scrip end is thrilled, but in one way or another,
there is a season for everything.
Life goes on, I’m a young woman. I’m different, I’m a lion and
I’m in control.
I may not be the most courageous, boldest, and smartest,
But god gave me a voice and a pen,
I refuse to be the statistic, the common, and the everyday indict,
I refuse to be them, they, us, and we, I choose to be “I” alone.
I am a woman, a lion,
This is not the time to point fingers,
This is the time to raise my left arm and say I am a woman,
stray the shy of my spry.
Heroes always live, but
Hero die in this one, because this is war.
Jeb was a veteran of the War of all wars,
When brother fought brother and families closed doors.
Wounded in battle in the year of sixty-one;
Four years before Gettysburg, fore' it just begun.
Jeb got a Medal of Honor two years ago;
Six months later he buried Anna in the snow.
A mason by trade, local tombstones his forte;
A loner by night, a master craftsman by day.
He lived in an old, clapboard excuse for a home,
Making his living, chiseling hard bedrock stone.
Each stone custom crafted with names of the deceased;
From a quarry, in the town's dangerous northeast.
A rocky splinter of land carved out of coarse stone,
In a place called Diablo, better left alone.
It was here that he'd come, first thing every morn,
When the daylight was with him; the day's mist airborne.
Copious creations completed correctly,
Any work Jeb finished, it was done adeptly.
None to be shipped until the final okay, and
Then only after, he firmly packed them in sand.
Jeb had always hoped that Anna would bear him an heir;
Now alone, there was no one with whom he could share.
Fortune never shined on this kind-hearted old man;
Knowing in his heart that death, could not be outran.
It is said that one day the dark reaper came, and
In the early dawn in the slippery upland,
Jeb fell to his death on an iron wagon below;
The old stone mason landed head down in the snow.
His skull was split open with much gory detail -
Birthed the Stonemason's Legend - a most morbid tale.
Folklore surrounded this magnified tragedy;
As the specter each night, retraces its journey.
You don't want to venture to the quarry at night;
You may find yourself slip with no one to indict.
The townspeople close their windows, just before dark;
Fear the Stonemason - his journey, now to embark.
August 5, 2016
There is a beat to the world,
it burns and bites, it can calm & comfort,
it will arouse and it will anger, it is a romantic rhythm,
immutable and immaculate,
an unselfish music it is, life provides this sensative song
and we all perfom a dance of danger, delight,& determination
as a humble gratuity for it's majesty,
how could any rational person contend that Nature is imperfect,
who dares accuse life of wrong doing,
how does such turgidity exist, minds on meger budget,
oh but they do, ugly creatures of hollow heads have argued so pompously
to indict the cosmos with error like how fowl beggars cavil
about quality of charity,
huffing, moaning, and squirming in their rationalizations for feeling indignant about life
inglorious as dirt on silk,
wrangling like gluttonous mosquitoes, vile & clumsy,
if they were to admit life's absolute perfection
then more self accountability for actions need ensue,
how could they slander Deity without blame,
I spoke to a religious zealot, pious as pain to wounds,
he said, oh no, life, including human discretion cannot be perfect
for there is sin and gross debauchery,
I discussed the matter with a scientist, calculating as the I.R.S., he replied,
no no, you play semantic games, nature is immensely imperfect,
like the price of fame,
I politely requested an example of imperfection from him, he smugly said,
" genetic mutations ", what unabashed ego I thought,
his response seemed word game,
I debated a logician on the subject, thorough as an army ant this one was,
she remarked that the idea of imperfection
could cause imperfect reality,
I said, if anything occurs it must be, otherwise it would not happen,
imperfection is that which should not happen,
all that becomes real is present time impeacability -
J.A.B. %
Poetry on trial?
I’m going to indict poetry, for infecting my soul
Does it serve any purpose, or has it lost control
This may seem quiet strange, perhaps unorthodox
Peruse this if you will, whilst it’s head layeth on the block
No need for a foundation, build it in the clouds
But it does require structure, interwoven by shrouds
Mocks me with Humpty Dumpty, as my life falls to bits
Sends me down a path, of bifurcation and twists.
Yes poetry is stealthy, it attacks from every side
Attempting to outflank you, then pounces in surprise
Soon levity returns, it wants to chill you out
Where did this come from, shaketh your head in doubt.
Bow before it in deference, or leap into the sky
Cut to pieces on razor wire, see the birds that flyeth by
Pit Romeo and Lothario, in a competition of charms
Find a new born baby, dead in its mother’s arms.
Send shivers down ones spine, Hairs stand on your neck
Deal out a winning hand, then rearrange the deck
Be a photon of light, amongst trillions on our sun,
Reminisce ole times, when life beheld such fun.
Be scarred by it’s violence, Drawn into the mystique,
Blown away by the punchline, The havoc it can wreak
Drown in melancholy, or bathe in its delight
Overcome tragic heartbreak, awestruck by it’s might.
Empathize with the poor, in their cornucopia of dirt,
Curse the wealthy no better, in their hubris of self-worth,
Surrounded by loved ones, on your terminal breath,
Then Cryo-frozen in a machine, trying to forgo death.
So yes I’ve tried poetry, it was given a fair trial
Now to pass sentence, and do so, with some style
I condemn it to life, with no chance of parole
Simultaneously I grant pardon, for it’s me who lost control.
By
David Kavanagh
mr. buffet can’t believe that
so much “inequality exists
without people really getting upset” &
as he & some of his richest friends in the world
start to give up some of their moola
to cause that they see fit,
the fact remains that
enough are not upset---
it is time to get upset
it is time to get in the streets
it is time to do more than occupy
it is time to refuse to settle for the
crumbs
it is time to get more than
upset
it is time to get this empire to
squeeze more than blood from the stone
it is time to stop ignoring people who
are sick of being ignored
it is time to listen to ALL the voices being screamed
at night time & in the day
it is time to indict those who run the empire
it is time to squeeze the rich dry
of what they have gained from stepping on the rest of us
it is time to stop pretending that putting bandages &
ointments on our wounds is going to heal
the gashes inflicted by the history of classism,
racism, ethnocentrism, sexism, homophobia &
flat out violence to those who may seem a bit
different
than the rest of the abiding, ridiculous, flock,
baaaaaaaaa-ing the whole time
whilst breaking their backs for the banks of others
it is time to put an end to all that has been
unsettling the majority
it is time to put an end to all that has been oppressing
the majority
it is time to break down the walls built in front of those
just trying to survive,
smothered in the belly of the most threatening empire on the
planet,
who wields the club upon the domestic population as well as
the international---
it is time &
you know it,
to be more than
upset.
Don't point your finger
and indict me as a spoilt child.
You made me this way; you built me
with your blueprint.
I've seen you mistreat people around you.
You've spewed poisonous bile
in my presence so many times,
and I learned to do the same.
I've watched you batter and bruise mother,
now I've learned to abuse the opposite sex
You've raised the rod against me,
now I've learned to be abusive.
You never gave me much encouragement,
or reassurance when I needed it;
I never received atta-boys I deserved,
now I wallow in pessimism.
I've tried and tried to please you, to no avail.
You've never exercised or taught acceptance,
and I grew up to be cold and distant.
I'm a copycat. I learned from the best.
So it's funny you think I'm a disappointment
to you, I suggest you take a close look
in the mirror, Dad, and you'll see
your reflection. We are one and the same.
Note: This is pure fiction, written from the perspective of a maladjusted teen.
Date written: 03/14/2021
Our physical world that we travel upon,
Showers our senses with volumes to understand.
Yet there's a wide range of comprehension,
That often tests realities hand.
For example, our tactile sense, that we
Fumble and grope with, through skin, thick & thin.
Just as we may touch a flame that burns,
Or find the comfort of a warm wind.
We often listen to the sounds of nature,
Providing a calm and peaceful respite.
Whereas others, may hear only danger,
That they would avoid and indict.
Since much of our perception would be visual,
This sight creates the biggest discrepancy.
While often flooding the mind with images,
Causing confusion, and even an emergency!
Now when a scent or odor becomes apparent,
The olfactory moves to a powerful offense.
As some seem to have a nose for trouble,
Others, can smell the roses with no expense.
Here, a common end may be seen as taste,
From the food and drink we all consume.
Where the tongue is specially suited, to
Allow for the salty, bitter, & sweet to loom.
So with all this magnificent variation,
Its no wonder that our perceptions are askew.
Fortunately, the majorities usually find some
Agreement, and what's perceived has a common clue.