Long Information Poems
Long Information Poems. Below are the most popular long Information by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Information poems by poem length and keyword.
Our beauty is hidden in our words!
Rumi (M. Mafi, trans.)
Our content in contentment
hides within commitment toward integrity.
Our beauty is hidden in our words
said only toward ourselves.
Barometers of mental health
for how we are and are not feeling
beautiful,
good,
fair,
balanced,
just,
harmonious,
confluent,
content,
graceful,
like good mentors without external hypocrisy,
and sometimes not such good mentors.
Mentors with words redolent of harmonic peace,
or maybe sometimes too much non-violent peace,
passive aggressive surfing, searching back and forth,
or even violently imagining unworded diverse futures
of yourself,
those around you,
generalized economic and sociopathological
and therapeutic
States and Species of thrive or demise,
and planet Earth,
and our Universe,
sometimes a metaphysically closing system,
sometimes more beautifully opening
although with considerable stress
tipping points,
trimming tabs and scissors,
adjusting balance, halves of ecologic,
within our internal voices of environ-mental health
as hope for cultural beauty.
Humaned nature adds economic
and cultural
and psychological freedom to evolve
kindness of mutual subsidiary intention,
an active love of peaceful mind.
Nature is only limited by absence
of regenerative orthopraxis,
caring and nurturing,
economically and politically powerful values
exercised within the classroom of each day.
Ecotherapeutic voices in our nights
and days of reconnecting consciousness
create our daily practice
of natural systemic design,
this song of synergy,
creative universal intelligence.
Cooperative kindness and competitive unkindness
are capacities coincident to all of nature,
a polar range from regeneration through decomposition,
from synergy through negentropy,
Kindness and love self-optimize as "Truths of Beauty"
when we freely choose sufficiency of contentment,
with full will and ecojustice intent.
My words surf my beauty and hope and synergy,
in and out,
back and forth,
listening for my listening gracefilling bicameral heart
and comprehensive consciousness,
discovering contentment within my content,
form within my information,
ecobalancing function within form,
fractal frequencies within bioregenerative
self-optimizing function.
Surfing echo frequencies,
Earth's words of microwaving grace.
I am fascinated by space science because it is so divine. I am fascinated by space science because everything it entails is sublime. Human operates machine and machine work for human; human input the information but the machine regurgitates it.
Its AI and automation against human invention, e-commerce and job outsourcing in reverse. If you cannot pay me let me go to those who are willing to hire me, but please don’t use me and then you discard me. You lurk behind the screen saying that you have run out of money and you cannot bring me back to fulfill my dreams.
I don’t join games because I don’t know to play them, I don’t play games because am not good at winning them. I don’t play games because I don’t know the rules and sometimes it leaves you confused. I approach everything in life in a pragmatic and realistic manner.
You place the burden on the commuter saying that it is giving the order; computer is not human and someone must operate it to transfer the information to you, oh what silly deprivation. You are trying to elude reality and not living up to your responsibility, the ship will be at the surface on time and you must give me what is mine.
You have built more than a dozen space ship with words dripping from my lips; you have sent missions to the moon with words burning from my finger tips and vinegar is draining in my lungs; with swollen fingers and broken palm words flow from my heart into the computer gut before dawn, and then you slice it up and serve it for breakfast dinner and lunch and disrespect my painful sacrifice, and you call it AI.
I work day and night and because I don’t know how to fight I continue to stretch myself to fulfill a mandate for the moon. You send me into the space to explore the galaxy and look into the black hole to see where gravity is bold and the space around the corner lit up with billions of stars flickering in the night, oh what a wonderful sight.
Will machine eventually take over human lives after decades of painful sacrifice? Will machine takes over our lives and leave us without a dime? Nights upon nights the human brain toil to fill the machine sitting on the throne but sometimes the gripe is so strong it vomits out on the land and my eyeball spread the words all over the human race and squeeze matter into tiny space. It man against woman and one woman working with computer.
I WAS ROME - MING THROUGH TIME.
WHEN I PASSED THROUGH A DOOR.
I WAS PART OF THE CLOUD ,
OBSERVING A WAR.
FREEDOM RIGHTS AND PRIVACY
WERE HANGING BY A THREAD.
LEGAL PROPAGANDA
BEING DRILLED INTO FOLKS HEADS.
PRIVACY IS A FRAGILE WORD.
ESPECIALLY WHEN I KNOW ,
EVERYTHING YOU EVER SAID ,
THOUGHT , HEARD OR TOLD.
GOTTA LOVE WHEN PEOPLE SAY,
THERE IS NOTHING I NEED TO HIDE.
THAT'S UNTILL I EXPOSE THE TRUTH
YOU SIMPLY CAN NOT DENY.
INVASION OF YOUR PRIVACY,
GOES BEYOND THE SCOPE.
MANIPULATION OF YOUR THOUGHTS
HAS THE SAME EFFECT AS DOPE.
IF YOUR SUGGESTION CREATES IDEALS
THAT BENEFIT THE CORPORATION,
YOUR SURELY GOING TO GO ALONG
WITH NO NEED FOR EXPLANATION.
INVASION OF YOUR PRIVACY,
INCLUDES THE FOODS YOU EAT.
IF BIG AGRA SAYS IT'S GOOD FOR YOU
TO JUSTIFY , YOU REPEAT.
OWNING WHAT YOU NEED TO GROW.
CORPORATIONS PATENT , AND SELL TO YOU.
GOVERNMENT , BLINDLY , GOES ALONG
AND THE POPULOUS , HAS NO CLUE.
KNOWING THINGS THAT FRIGHTEN YOU
LIKE HATRED , WARS AND CRIMES.
GOVERNMENT HAS TO PLAY ALONG
IN THE FORNICATION GAME OF MINDS.
INVASION OF YOUR PRIVACY
INCLUDES SETTING PEOPLE UP.
IF ORGANIZED CRISIS ARE EXPOSED
THE COMPROMISED COVERUP.
ANOTHER WAY OF INVADING PRIVACY
IS STEALING PEOPLE'S TIME.
THE COMPLICIT AND COMPROMISED
CREATE CHAOS OF YOUR MIND.
MEANING THIS AND SAYING THAT
CLAIMING WRONG IS RIGHT.
WHEN CONSTANTLY BOMBARDED
DEPLETES YOUR TIME TO FIGHT.
WHEN WEAK. , TIRED AND GIVING IN.
METAPHORICALLY , THE SHIP IS SINKING.
YOU WILL RELINQUISH "ALL" PRIVACY
DRINK WHAT THE REST ARE DRINKING
ONCE DEPENDANT ON CORPORATION
THERE IS NOTHING YOU CAN HIDE.
CORPORATIONS NO LONGER NEED YOU,
YOU BECOME RAWHIDE.
IT STARTS OUT WITH YOUR PRIVACY
WITHOUT NOTICE , YOU LOSE YOUR RIGHTS
THAT'LL BE THE END , OF SOVEREIGNTY
AS HUMANITY, GIVES UP ON THE FIGHT.
ARTIFICIAL INTELLIGENCE IMPLANTS
FOR SURE , THERE'S NO WAY OUT.
DOESN'T MATTER WHAT YOU SAY
THEY'LL OWN YOU , WITHOUT A DOUBT.
YOU'RE PRESENTLY IN A LIFETIME ,
GUIDED BY SOCIOPATHS.
IF YOU DARE , DISAGREE WITH THEM
YOUR DISCARDED JUST LIKE TRASH.
ARTIFICIAL INTELLIGENCE , DELETES
AND SENSORS , VITAL INFORMATION.
IN OTHER WORDS , THE PSYCHOPATHS
CONTROL YOUR DESTINATION.
Michael E. Harris
01192023
ENOUGH!
I felt deaf from the ‘noise’ of information,
constantly butting, buzzing against my mantra of:
“The quieter you are… the more you… hear!”
At present, my lifestyle felt media manipulated:
tv, radio, newspaper, mobile, computer.. ad infinitum!
Besieged by endless emails, monopolizing mobiles,
beset by frenzied yaps from apps!
Enough is enough is….. ENOUGH,
I have to escape from the unrelenting hullabaloo.
Can the human brain endure so much information
and who am I, an individual thinker or group dancer?
However, relief sat just around the corner
as next morning I boarded the flight to Reykjavik.
A three-hour taxi journey with a taciturn islander,
people and communication diminishing by the mile
until finally a twig of a boat out to Ellidaey Island.
Boating and bobbing towards the uninhabited …hideaway,
an isolated jigsaw piece of land
off the southern coast of Iceland,
I appraise a small-boned building clinging to its side
with ‘RIDICULOUS’ scribbled all over it.
Someone had said Iceland was a niceland
where you could float free, peace and tranquillity!
But someone hadn’t warned me about…Mr Loneliness
Who was soon tapping me sharply on the shoulder.
So here I sit, three days into my week’s stay
in the island’s lodge, dubbed the world’s loneliest house,
where the only neighbours are passing ships and puffing puffins.
No internet, no tv, no electricity, no running nor strolling.. water
just remote, alone and contemplating my countenance
while wondering if God is lonely too!
Suddenly, clouds bump and bruise against each other
as they race away before the darkness snarls in.
Soon, night has sent in its stormtroopers
who land and splinter into shadow groups
while wind angrily sprints up to the house
bombing it with blockbuster punches.
Then rain happily joins in, machine-gunning the house
until the building begins to stagger and stumble.
I check my face and it is still in the same place
but I sit timorously trembling, tyrannised and terrified
while my eyes follow the house’s dimly lit path
as it wags its tail to the cliff’s edge
and jumps into the void of darkness.
But this poem is a broken wrist, with a twist,
as suddenly, my bones brittle and inside myself…..I faint!
What possibly could happen now?
But there it is..
the knock at the front door!
Ian Souter
"I love you"
These are the three ripe words that
I wanted to whisper in your ears.
So, I
Fixed a date
You came
We met
We spoke
But I couldn't propose:
Though tattooed on the tip of my tongue,
at my dismay it refrained to flow out.
Then,
I packed all my feelings and emotions in a box
with a love letter clinched to it
and laid it on your desk.
Looking at the hourglass
Counted the time.
Zealously anticipating
for your arrival
But,
Unfortunately
you were on sick leave.
Poor me
Carried the box
ran and hopped into a taxi.
Impatiently sitting,
throughout the ride
yearning to meet you..
After reaching the destination
Carelessly forgetting the box,
restlessly I jumped down
Rushed to your flat
Found your name plate beside the door
Pressed on the calling bell
Faced your maid
With a fine clarification
I stepped inside the hall
Not finding you
Confused I stood.
In a while,
Got to know
that you have been shifted
to hospital;
Not knowing the address
and the exact location
I stumbled
Place to place..
In search of you
With a wrong information.
Cash had melted;
Looking my wallet
I sat on the street
gaping at your photo,
that..I had stolen
from your locker.
Hit suddenly an idea..
Thought of calling you
But,
In a hurry had left my
mobile on my table;
Recalling your number
I went to a telephone Booth
I tried and tried and tried..
With many failed attempts
I just heard the recorded voice
which repeatedly said:
"your call is not reachable"
My eye lids were twitching
prophesying something awful is to happen.
The clouds were shadowed by darkness;
And I returned back home
with a huge sigh;
Found my pillow
Embraced ,
Cried my heart out,
Lay insomniac,
whole night
Thinking
Of YOU
I stay awake
Worrying,
What might have happened to you..!
The next day morning,
I found newspaper
Headlines said:
"Airplane crashed due to turbulence"
Strange was to know..
Your name typed too..
under the missing passenger list.
Why such a shocking news ?!
Why the hell did he board the flight
all in sudden with no clue?
Myself wriggled
On the floor..
Soul paralyzed
"Losing him"
~The Untold love~
The one who capriciously
got away from me
in a very
short span
of time.
3-7-2020
Second place in the contest.
Note:The one that got away poetry Contest.
Sponsored by Silent One.
Her eyes a sapphire blue,
An awesome sight to view,
Her nose aristocratic,
She was so charismatic,
Her lips a rosy petal pink,
One had to blink,
Or been seen as staring,
Her nature a sheer blessing.
Her hair pure black like coal,
Her ears so dainty as if she stole
Them from a pretty fairy,
Her friendly attitude quite flirty,
Her peeking bosoms such a tease,
Begging for a squeeze,
Her tantalizing always alluring waistline,
Her demure look whilst sipping wine,
Her legs, toned and smooth,
The actual truth,
Those legs were the best in town,
Caire lived in a cottage down
The hill, her ankles slim and slender,
Her speaking tone ever so tender,
Her teeth pearly white,
Her nails and toe-nails bright
Red, wrists strong, fingers slight.
She was betrothed to the mayor,
Was this beautiful girl Caire,
To be married next week,
By a sandy beach near a sheltered creek,
Excitement was mounting,
Two days to go, she was counting,
Claire had ordered a Dior designed dress,
This was the perfect wedding, oh yes!
Her parents arrived the day before,
They were excited wanted to explore,
Mark’s parents acted a little strange,
There was never any form of exchange,
Of phone calls, no answer to a wedding invitation,
Future husband gave Clair limited information,
She looked radiant as she walked down the aisle,
She turned everybody’s head, unique was her style.
Happy as a lark to be her beloved’s wife,
She looked forward to her future role in life,
Suddenly, police sirens heard,
The noise moving closer, how weird,
Two cars arrived and, four or five policemen,
Walked towards the couple, in fact ten,
Cuffed her future husband, read him his rights,
Clair fainted, Mark was a criminal, many nights
She often thought he was too secretive,
Which made her sad, certainly not appreciative,
Claire dear girl, you forgot, habits are difficult to re-arrange,
Mark was set in his ways, so hard for you to have him change.
Mark was wanted for fraud, millions of pounds
Involved, had cooked the books, so out of bounds,
Claire's mom and dad put her gently into their car,
And took her to their home which was far,
Claire took some time to get past this catastrophe,
Over a man she loved and about to relinquish her chastity,
Ralph a divorced writer was her parent’s neighbour,
Who soon stole Clare’s heart and her chamber!
O, what a tangled web we weave when first we practise to deceive!
Can't help but to recall this famous quote from Sir Walter Scott...
When one reads the latest revelations on the financial scandal that is 1MDB...
Touted as a sovereign fund to help the economy of the Malaysian Nation...
What has been revealed so far is a tangled web of deception for the nation...
O, what a tangled web we weave when first we practise to deceive!
At the onset of of the saga of 1MDB, it was a sovereign fund entity....
It sourced for billions and billions in cash money for seed capital initially....
Taking out monstrous loans using guarantees from the government...
No red flags were raised, despite reservations from the management...
When the numero uno signatory is the Finance Minister himself...
And it being so he is also the Prime Minister, who is to question...
O, what a tangled web we weave when first we practise to deceive!
The wheels of international justice are turning, investigations are revealing..
Convoluted money trails of obscenely huge amounts to the tune of billions..
From Singapore to Switzerland to Luxemburg to Australia to the United States..
And a couple of other countries with highly principled banking standards...
Are seeking to unravel the this global money scandal with the highest stakes..
Wall Street Journal expose is churning out scandalous information of the investigations..
While in the home country of Malaysia, political warlords brush off all revelations..
O, what a tangled web we weave when first we practise to deceive!
A single plea of innocence was well propped up with tales of donation...
As gifted from individual or individuals, ultimately from a dead Arabian King..
Stalwart political warlords were nevertheless resolute in defending...
As a much tainted political leader wisely maintains a eloquent silence...
Even as political foes and the knowing public cry out their frustrations...
Horrified and anxious over the repercussions from this 1MDB financial cancer..
O, what a tangled web we weave when first we practise to deceive!
http://malaysiansmustknowthetruth.blogspot.my/2016/05/1mdb-buck-passes-on-to-malaysian.html
http://malaysiansmustknowthetruth.blogspot.my/2016/05/leaks-show-how-bank-used-by-1mdb-jho.html
http://malaysiansmustknowthetruth.blogspot.my/2016/05/1mdb-wonderland-saga.html
How many grave sites should be prepared for me?
Just one. For Robert Johnson, there were three,
all in the Mississippi Delta: Morgan City, Quito,
and (near) Greenwood. Which is right? Do we KNOW?
Those who have taken the time to do research
believe Little Zion Missionary Baptist Church
near Greenwood is most likely. At age 27, in 1938,
he died near that town--so young, with talent so great.
In the early 1900’s, this youngster’s genius was unfurled.
As blues singer, guitarist, and lyricist, he gifted the world
with recordings exhibiting style that has been admired
widely and emulated by popular performers who aspired
to greater fame. They achieved the kudos they desired.
Muddy Waters, Bob Dylan, and Chuck Berry are among those
influenced by his style. Every admirer who knows
the legend that ambition drove Johnson to sell his soul
to the Devil for greater talent would surely say his goal
was reached without Old Scratch playing a role.
What caused the death of the “Cross Road Blues”
and “Sweet Home Chicago” performer? There are clues
centering around his unbridled boozing and womanizing.
Did a jealous husband poison his whiskey upon realizing
a flirtation or worse, just as Johnson's star was rising?
Or did he die of syphilis? These stories floated around,
and others. Thirty years later, a death certificate was found,
stating no cause of death. Some facts, we may never know.
It IS known that this musical master's climb to fame was slow.
It's nothing new that, after death, renown may grow.
Johnson's posthumous claim to fame is no big mystery.
Beginning in the nineteen sixties, the world would see
a surge of interest in his music. To Eric Clapton, he seems
"The most important blues singer that ever lived." Teams
of researchers have tried to capture his life and dreams.
King of the Delta Blues Singers, a collection of his best,
was produced by Columbia in 1961. Writers faced a test:
dealing with conflicts and gaps in accounts while collecting
information for biographies and films. While "connecting
the dots," they learned that sources require dissecting.
Death, no respecter of talent or youth, is bold,
stalking and striking down rich or poor, young or old.
Mysteries of life and death often remain unsolved,
though diligent research may be involved.
Stuff your rock stars, your heros, your christs,
your anti-christs and anarchiests.
Stuff your false idols up your ****.
Stuff your regenerative ramblings;
the spiel of a million others
spilt in diluted misunderstanding.
The generic rhetoric of another blank generation.
Born under the yoke of fashion not fascism
we walk a happy middle ground smiling contentedly.
Raised, sightless, in the sickly glow
of TV screens and neon lights.
Suckled by the fast food empires
and the bloodied abattoir's's carcasses.
Supping the milk of human blindness
with the blood of fallen beasts.
Schooled in paranoia and conformity
through magazines and film.
Body over brain! Body over brain!
Don't feed either if you want to fit in
to society or size sixteen jeans.
Passive skeletal expectancies rule over all.
We are over-looked and yet watched over;
Monitored through cameras and stolen information,
watched on screens by perverts and bigots
watched for signs of difference and dissent:
word gets around and gets arrested.
Incarcerated. Gone inside. Turned inside out.
I have always relied upon the kindness of strangers.
Spayed to the point of mental impotence:
no longer threatening. Hope is dead.
Driven as slaves into factories, offices, banks,
working to gain enough to "buy" what is already ours:
ownership as proof of existence.
I consume therefore I am.
Ownership of possessions and of people.
Taught to repress desire, to plough the rut of our parents.
Mate Spawn and Die.
Breeders laugh in mock pleasure behind picket fences.
There is safety for us all in our collective clichés.
The pursuit of pleasure becomes confused
through labour and labour saving devices
then drowned in alcohol and soap.
Happiness becomes vague comfort and escape:
Ignorance is bliss and bliss is easy.
Pre-packaged rebellion under state supervision
rattling shackles and throwing toys from prams.
Socilalists singing sweet songs of false hopes
an alternative repressive ownership,
punks so bereft of individuality repeat to infinity
even the intelligent ones just want to be another dick.
All grow old and sick together
having furthered the species and the empire,
return to the organic matter from whence we came
or perhaps ground up and fed to the pork and beef
down at Old (Ronald) McDonald's farm that we all love so much........stuffed
Form:
Learned so much know so little, feel in touch with the symbols
of the underground, profound insights into light and sound
i found, wisdom of a higher order, in the schism of the mind’s recorder.
What i’ve seen what i’ve heard about prying open the third.
I, said i’m not afraid to follow
Where the information goes my attention flows
Like the river-sky that nobody knows
Spinning round i found even deeper it goes.
Sometimes i wonder how i made it this far
Then i remember i’m an awesome examplar
Destined for greatness, reaching for stars
As visions of the future coincide with dreams of the past
i make sense of chaos, meaning of wonder
Not to let dualism tear me asunder, i cry
Why me, right here right now?
Is there any balance to be found?
In the world, dark as night light as day, listen to me when i say:
It’s OK. To let go of what you know is crucial to a brighter tomorrow.
Empty the cup, fill the heart, have a blank slate and restart
No fear, build it back up, shed a tear for your handywork
Formless like water i think you really ought to
Know what it’s like on the border between fire and ice
Yin and yang, see all things twice it’s a beautiful thang
To know eyes of gray see a bigger picture and the best of both worlds where lies will never get ya
Journey through the deep void, flying like an asteroid.
Annoyed. Ethereal like, a reality inside hidden in plain sight
Dismissed by academics, you know i just might
Have to lead a horse to water, force it to drink, if i could i’d take it to the brink
And the cutting edge of what it thinks, to diffuse, dissolve, and dismantle the bars, nets, and bonds
Holding in place illusions of waking life, stealing dreams as you sleep, intentional strife
Distracting, take no notice, center and ground, all ideas have value and virtue abound
Trust in the middle ground, flip a coin, take a leap
You never know what’s waiting round the corner, life is cheap
But time is short and is Love is brief so make the most of it
Make the right choice, despite the noise, hear the timid within
Use your voice, find your poise, be the spirit therein
Lead by example, a beacon for your peers
Chin up and throw away all the tears, negativity and doubts
Take Action. Be the change you want to see that’s what it’s all about.
© 2016 Ash: of the Grimshaw family – All Rights Reserved.