Long Insignificance Poems
Long Insignificance Poems. Below are the most popular long Insignificance by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Insignificance poems by poem length and keyword.
The color of love will prevail: we, white,
black, yellow, red, shall pacify the clash
between good folks and ignorant, white trash,
haters who oppress others without right!
In numbers, unity explodes like night
afire with light (like a delivering flash!)
swiftly tearing down hate with a loud crash,
silencing bigotry's bark, and racism's slight.
For none can dismantle the message of
bold, fearless Youth who challenge the old view,
and share a new worldview proclaiming love,
justice, and equal rights we never knew.
Our tribes can live in peace and rise above
as one, working together as one hue.
I say the same things - one day you will too,
'Any snakes? Is she ugly or what?' Just a few,
'aaaiiiooo! Anyone would think you're a big officer.'
'Sarcasm is the lowest form of wit' - was that Oscar?
He came for tea, earnestly, Ogden with his mint-julap,
Bent, my Danish friend, who said: 'You're the master of small talk,'
we said that, ' We keep it simple so that you will understand.'
Between all of us, cynicism paled into insignificance,
Oscar was unfazed until we reminded him of orientation,
'My dear boy, isn't it time that you stopped repeating yourself,
otherwise you surely will get left on the shelf,'
Oscar sloped off, Bent had enough, Ogden with alliteration,
above his station, with animation, me still repetition.
We drift on an island of gentle ignorance, surrounded by dark seas stretching to infinity,
And our shores are drawn in sand by trembling hands that do not know how to read the signs of time,
While black waves crash upon the shores of our fragile knowledge with whispers from unknown abysses.
Our sciences, poor candles lit in the wind of cosmic chaos, flicker in all directions,
Like blind children imagining they can touch the stars with fingers of melted wax,
While truth hides behind the curtain of reality, laughing at our sublime naivety.
But one day, when all the pieces of the puzzle fall into place with a metallic, cold sound,
When fragmented knowledge unites into a mosaic of supreme horror and final revelation,
We will look into the mirror of the universe and see the reflection of our own cosmic insignificance.
And then, in the face of the merciless light that will pierce the comfortable veil of our ignorance,
We will choose between the madness of absolute clarity and retreat into a new dark age of divine forgetting,
Where we can once again dream in peace, hidden from truths that might tear our minds apart.
Oh, sweet protective ignorance, velvet cloak that wraps our trembling thoughts,
Stay with us a little longer, until our children are ready to see
That we are but specks of dust dancing in a beam of cosmic light, between two eternities of darkness.
When You Loved Someone
When you loved someone, the world transformed. You’d shoot the moon and extinguish the sun, all in the name of that someone. The hunger in your belly became secondary; their nourishment mattered more. Your compass spun, recalibrating their magnetic pull. Family receded, replaced by the gravitational force of love.
Miles blurred into insignificance as you traversed continents, chasing their presence. Sanity, once a steadfast companion, now wrestled with your heart. “Madly in love,” they called it, as if madness and love were inseparable twins. Perhaps they were.
I rarely pen love poems; they demand feeling, not just ink. Was I ever in love, or merely enamored with an idea? The fairytales painted love in black and white, but reality’s palette is richer. Love, like accents, can deceive. Wicked tongues weave spells, and the voice of seduction whispers secrets in Ghanian Twi.
Yet, amidst the chaos, one truth remains: love drives us to madness, but true love rests on honesty. If your lovers change like seasons, they were never anchored in truth. Your house may be quieter now, but it’s a silence built on authenticity—a lie untold, because you love someone.
Summary: Love, both wild and tender, shapes our lives. Amidst the tumult, seek the truth—the quiet strength that endures. ????
You rise above me on your lofty pedestal
Cracking your razored whip
Ordering my possibilities
Leaving your intricate patterns on my back
Red lace adorns your masterpiece
I chip at the base of your column
Choosing for your mighty to fall
You are unaware of your teetering
Cracks adorn your insignificance
Your monument betrays you
True power lays waste to your beliefs
The bottom always determines what stays on top
Look into these eyes
See past your own disaster
My power resides within my compassion
I do not wish to rule your castle
Freedom lives beyond your gates
I was not born to be your enemy
Hate does not flow through these veins
Justice shall not be served by my blade
You instead scurry to the top of your rubble
Impale yourself with rusted sword
Fleeing your own salvation
You answer your ghosts
Delivered by you own injustice
No one left to mourn your passing
You believed you could go no lower
Unaware Hell would embrace you in serpent arms
After all you descended from your father
A fallen angel has no where else to fall
Verlena S. Walker's Slam Round 2 contest.
These ragged shards of breath, catching in my lungs with grasping fingers of jagged glass
Howling tormented wolves in my mind, clawing and shredding the last remnants of the last
Desperate attempts to live, temerarious in the quest to quench their thirst with blood
Monsters lurk in the shadows of my eyes, hungry for my conscious suffering
No rest, no peace, no sleep for sinners, servants to a greater ill, mindless revolutions of pain
Spinning endlessly in space, reaching for a cold and distant sun without the light of lies
A frozen, broken waste stretches in the expanse of my eyes, terror stalking ceaselessly
In every hidden juncture of the labyrinth of my mind, dark embodiments of hatred, shame, and anger
My eyelids are weighted, crusted in the sands of the blazing desert of my soul
Scraping away my retina with every blink, gasp, choke for air, smothering and breathless
Into infinity I carry loneliness, alone, unwept, unsung, swept into the vast waters of time
Drowning in the enormity of insignificance I wait, sleepless.
I poison myself to endure the torments of my clairvoyant mind,
A journey littered with catastrophes and irreversible scars.
I chase nightmares I will find in hell,
My face drowned in the fleeting vanities humanity sanctifies.
I am in no rush to honor my appointment with the reaper,
Like a terminally ill patient who still dares to dream.
I am trapped in an asylum where appearances and masks
Are the mirrors of madness.
I burn my neurons with cannabis
To find beauty in the ugliness of my surroundings.
My indelible scars are searing reminders of my insignificance.
I have tamed the violence of silence
To anesthetize my demonic urges.
I trust not in human frailty,
Like a bipolar paranoiac.
The darkness of the furnaces of the bearer of light
Shines deep in my eyes.
I am a solitary soul, persecuted
By its demons and ghosts.
The melancholy of my heart has chained
My mind to the depths of bitterness.
My life on Earth has been infernal torture
Since the day I let out my first cry.
I am compelled to sow the seeds of chaos
In this dimension, to unlock the gates of immortality.
A symphony of blasphemies, to discover every fragrance of freedom.
I stand tall on the windy mountain side.
Look down on mankind’s world
And snort in depreciated disgust.
Let death embrace me in its jugged jaws.
I'm not afraid, just tired.
This flagella of torrid life,
The gross garbage of man’s past,
The insignificance of the insecure future.
Time has no meaning.
A hallucinogenic rhythm
Of the quintessence of nothing.
Bring on the rumbling war drums,
Raise up the sharp guillotine's blade,
Let the cacophony begin,
Let me dance to no rhythm
Of preconceived dreams.
For since the beginning of time
When humans invented drawings
Of men killing men, and sang
Songs resonating of rape and lust,
Of slander, conquests and plunder.
The day will come when we must
Give an account of our misdeeds.
We turn our backs on good and evil,
We just don’t really care what happens
To unfortunate beings, our neighbors.
The writing is on the wall.
The seer chants: the end is near.
Yet something in me stirs.
I refuse to let go. For look
Not far away on this cold mountain
Is a rainbow, way up high,
As bluebirds happily fly on the other side
Of the shimmering bewitching hues,
A consequence of a prism of raindrops.
One day, all our dreams become reality.
Hope reigns again and all dreams come true.
On one of the myriad bays
along the Maine coast. Keep the holocaust
at bay I said to Dave because
you’ll spend all day gathering
2,000 calories and still be miserable hungry.
An undiminished population of humans is risible.
Black spruce and balsam fir,
you can eat the inner bark
in a starvation emergency.
There’s plenty of Cornus—bunchberry—
each orange pith around the stone
worth maybe a quarter calorie.
Lots of sarsparilla but the fruits
not out yet and to date I have not
savored one. Let’s see—dandelion
of course and huckleberry but
the most important source of sustenance
would be seaweed.
Learn your mushrooms! for the protein.
Accept the situation
come the apocalypse.
I struggle against my insignificance
but it would be better to struggle
against my ignorance.
Less effortlessness, more fishermanliness.
That’s the lesson of this Maine vacation
there’s a lot you can eat when in need—
the hips of roses and the pips of grasses.
And an endless supply of seaweed—
bladderwrack, dulse, kelp and thin green lettuce.
Thoughts thrash in my weary mind, like waves of the sea in an endless storm,
Consciousness, our eternal curse, reveals the world in all its cruel splendor.
We are actors lost on an immense stage, playing roles we did not choose,
Nature, the merciless director, drives us toward an unchangeable end.
I look around and see only shadows dancing on the walls of Plato's cave,
Reality, a fragile illusion that unravels at the slightest touch of a lucid thought.
Where can we flee when we are prisoners of our own minds?
Ignorance calls to us with warm arms, promising forgetfulness and peace.
But ah! How futile it all is when we know we are but a wisp of smoke,
A lost consciousness in an indifferent universe, an ephemeral spark in the cosmic darkness.
Morality, knowledge, hope—chimeras created to soothe the pain of existence,
But the masks fall, and we remain naked before the harsh truth of the human condition.
We cling to dreams and illusions, build sandcastles on the shore of eternity,
But the wave of time relentlessly washes them away, leaving behind only the memory of futility.
We are aware that we are aware, a circular curse from which we cannot escape,
Wandering through the labyrinth of our own thoughts, seeking an exit that does not exist.
Oh, sweet ignorance, why have you abandoned us? Why did we awaken from the sleep of happiness?
Now we stare into the void, conscious of our own insignificance in the face of eternity.
The world, an ephemeral dream, a fragile appearance floating in the cosmic void,
And we, spectators and actors alike in this endless tragedy.