Long Insults Poems
Long Insults Poems. Below are the most popular long Insults by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Insults poems by poem length and keyword.
when a monster is born
a savior shall be born
to slay him
must we wait
as the warrantee
awards himself further,
led astray, the seduction
of Aaron’s golden calf?
Guaranteed moral reduction
when the world is upside down
which way is N
o
r
t
h ?
H
a
r
m
o
n
y
stay free
from uncertainty
stay right here
stay right now
thin the eye of the eye unseen
in their hate
thus what does it mean
…to be alive ?
I shine brightest,
as bright as the moon’s radiance
when I come to you at sunset
I embrace
in every slur cast upon me
stammering
are their lyrics & notes
I rejoice
in the moments shared
even in the envious
& their mockups
with you my lover~
at sunset
my soul moans with a myriad
of questions
& countless emotions
war indemnifies
yet I am not afraid
for my heart
& conscience
come alive,
their insults forgiven
when love comes
to visit,
at sunset
The poet, like many in education’s grip,
Faces another summer with pockets stripped.
In Eckes’s poem, two forms meet face to face:
The unemployment office, a dreary place.
Insults and banalities fill its lines,
An object of necessity, far from fine.
The poetic form stands firm and tried,
Resisting demands that are not true.
No easy answers will I provide,
Humor and pleasure within I hide.
Despite my state of what is real,
I dare to dream, to think, to feel.
As the poem now unfolds, it starts to show why most can't show.
The life that’s possible, the seeds that grow.
Not just survival, but living free,
Beyond what the bureaucratic form can see.
I have captured the struggle, the raw, the true,
The grim realism of what poets go through.
In the clash of ink, a truth is found,
In poetry’s embrace, my heart's unbound.
The rod you choose
The jokes you made
The insults you gave
Where only the bruise of my pass
The pain you inflicted
The tears you saw
The secrets you hid
Are the shadows that keeps knocking at my door
The fear you instilled
The lies you told
Are the demons that torments my soul
The cane you use to cause my wounds
Are the stains that are splash against your window pane
The scars I carry
The heart that is broken
Are the tale that I cannot bury
The life I live
The streets I walk
Are the burdens that the mind carry
The strain of it all
Make me want to fall
I think its time
I made that call.
They found her today, curled around a dirty blanket under an overpass. The coroner estimated her age at 78.
She had been an aged, unhealthy homeless woman, living on the streets, seeking sustenance from whatever source presented itself.
While alive, when seen, most passersby had turned away in disgust; Youths would yell: “Get a job”, or hurl insults at her.
But … who was she … who had she been …?
--==-
She abandoned her dreams at an early age, and elected to follow the dreams of the man she thought to be her champion and life long companion. More than once she uprooted her life and accompanied him in pursuit of some passionate dream he embraced … and did her best to help him find it.
The “star” on which she had hung her hopes and her entire future abandoned her, with their child, in a bus station in Georgia. She was 28 at the time.
Wear of the years and hardships had taken their toll on her, both mentally and physically. The times and opportunities had passed in which she could have engaged in furthering her education, and it was these things she had put aside to follow “his” dreams.
It was not she who failed, but rather, the “star” she had believed in. The mirror of hope and aspiration she had longingly gazed into when she was fifteen, he had shattered. A lifetime was lost, and its’ shell she wore as tattered rags.
She did those things she had to do to survive, and her child, taken from her, was somewhere in the morass of government bureaucracy, assuring she’d never see him again.
There were days of solitude where white tracks on her soiled face could be seen from her eyes to her chin, as the legacy of her memories.
Her days were filled with foraging. Her eyes had been dulled by disappointment and defeat. Her body was dirty and scarred. Hope to her remained only as a memory of a word of no substance or possibility. She was completely void of any expectations and lived from day to day driven only by the most basic of instincts … it’s what’s left when dreams are callously destroyed.
I was too late, but, today, at last I had found my Mom.
Emotional scars tend to stay,
I can't take your past hurts away.
And though love holds no guarantee:
I ask that you believe in me.
Failing to reconcile old fears,
you associate love with tears.
And erect emotional walls,
ignoring the truth when it calls.
Doubt dominates your every move:
as if love has something to prove.
And as rage denigrates your mood,
acting insane, you get unglued.
You scream you're being ill-treated,
convincing yourself: I've cheated.
And sounding completely deranged:
insults get angrily exchanged.
You don't give love; only receive:
and in truth, constantly deceive.
And you play the wounded hero,
nursing your battered, bruised ego.
When will you trust in me again,
put yours aside, and feel my pain?
For feigning feelings of regret,
you're not showing any respect.
no (apparent) rhyme nor reason
(satisfactorily) explains academic
disposition, ideally suited
(swiftly tailor made,
and harried styled)
unflattering venomous wicked xhenemy
(fill in choicest expletive) damn cruelest
"meanies" always in season
winter, spring, summer, or autumn,
psychological rabid
bullying and teas'n,
which only exacerbated
ma deathly coffin and wheeze'n.
Avenging beastly, eagerly,
and hungry knuckleheads, rip-snorting,
analogous to Doctor Zeus
characters, vis a vis stomped,
and trampled upon my wuss
self, who appeared as
a listless, passive, puss
see footing, and
timid complex edifice
christened Matthew Scott Harris,
who regularly got pushed,
shoved, and verbally gored
in utero potential quintessential
no salvation from Unitarian lord
ugly vicious wretched
insults liberally poured
(pre snapchat, instagram,
hash-tagged age) roared
increased spell of losing measured
necessary pridefulness scored
requisite susceptibility toward
brow beating, name
calling, plus tossed
brickbats staged early life, viz
psychological schizoid state courtesy
hateful nemesis within
corporeal lodge warred.
malevolent habitués received
permanent residency thence
"green lighted" status
since birth I cannot sense
sub billy understand
(near) total recall
particularly names
no matter offense
of classmates and/
or teacher's, hence
especially dumb
founding since defense
less "boy" did not
shine as a star student
as is if he (me)
took emotional absence.
plus to add insult
to injury, my mouth
stayed hermetically shut,
near invisibility designated nut
tin beat pluperfect
"scapegoat de jure,"
such intimidation found me
feeling thrashed in the gut
where (stellar) qualifications
only made cut
ting worse, (essentially attributed
to genetically inscribed
behaviors, characteristics,
habits, et cetera)
immediately designated yours truly
most puny, and
quietest convenient but
of any atheistic, ethnic,
and/or idiotic jokes.
People who see you down and laugh,
suffering pain they feel they’ve had
smile at the misery you now have,
display traits of a psychopath
People who look down on you
will not hide it’s what they do
compare without a reason too
know it all while you’ve no clue
People who will make excuses
come and go as one chooses
live a lie because they’re useless
learn nothing forever clueless
People who are self absorbed
believe they live to be adored
though in truth they are ignored
time with them will leave you bored
People who were born attractive
suffer those they interact with
insults fly from bitter lips
lips that then say get a grip
People who see you their rival
compete obsessively as if it’s vital
with a darkness in their eyeball
hurting you they feel delightful
There are few who care for you
those respecting things you do
don’t just take but give back too
so rare so golden and so few
People who obsess are less
want to prove they are the best
all you get from them is stress
keep them around become depressed
I can see it in your eyes
your brain ticks over
search supplies
the lie with fall cover
Because mother always used to say be aware of those around you
their reaction to your actions giving clues how to act with them
so I did but it didn’t flick the impulse switch off
appearing distant as if I don’t look
assured I wasn’t tell me off believing I wasn’t
yell at me too need to look already was
now I looked hard saw what I shouldn’t
suddenly impulse takes control
I look so quickly at lying eyes behold
dishonesty or truth the 2 sights sold
see through whilst my impulse confuse
actions speech diverting you
insults words no filter just blurt
yet within all this I still observe
every week my psychology observed
experts spoke to my parents helped me learn
conversations of why I don’t concentrate and learn
adhd gave me selective interests
psychology one where calories invest
I was impressed my hyper mind never rests
find focus and psychology progressed
disguised by impulse so natural
paying attention looking as though I wasn’t at all
made me realise I’m unreadable
and it confuses so learnt to use this tool
random strange so you can’t work out my brain
I'm looking insane whilst I calculate game
focus on situations
knowing their intentions
what motivated seeing their options
string the circumstances
how and what is their rewarding destination to pace on
leave no chances I'm ahead
stop them became so good tease and seem close no problem
make them a fool
you think I’m cruel
avoiding a brawl
make them look small,
them target me retardently,
but I’m weird cus I get psychology
so I fight physical now psycho probably,
but if men didn’t challenge my alpha status
I would live normally,
it’s them but you blame me not their insecurities.
I was 7 or 8 when I first learnt psychology
smart people only use it in defense you see
If I see scum manipulate for selfish gain
I beat them at their own game
Ahhhh! My heart!
She said one word,
And it shattered my soul,
Once so strong,
My diamonds are coal!
Ridicule, disdain, and disgust
Are all her testy mind can must!
I am stupid,
Indignantly so!
How ever with such insults
Shall I properly grow?
My heart! The pain!
The sting of one word!
Tis an ache one looks on
As grossly absurd!
Though as it were,
I must grow tall,
For such a mere word
Shant possibly end it all
I shall laugh—HA HA!!!
And instead I shall dance,
For life is quite great,
And I still have on pants!
Tis I, a gentleman,
Tried and true,
Whom shall never be less,
E'en when I am with you!
HMPH!
Why are all these hash slingers
Constantly there on my TV?
When did the ability to cook
Become reason for celebrity?
Eating for me is just like
Shovelling coal on a fire,
Just adding fuel to keep
Your energy levels higher.
It’s a bonus if it tastes good,
An even bigger bonus still
If it quietly does that and,
More importantly, doesn’t kill.
As for that fine dining lark,
Fashion apparently demands
They poke and finger it about but
Seldom seem to wash their hands.
I’m just a lower class peasant
But one thing I loath and hate
Is having to send my food back
To be properly served on a plate.
And as for the prices they charge,
Why are those in the catering trade
Constantly quoted in statistics as
Some of the lowest of the low paid.
I really don’t wish to be seen as
Pouring insults upon insults
But shouldn't these foodie quirks be
Confined between consenting adults.
Give me a roadside burger van.
You can almost guarantee it’s clean
For sure as heck a Food Inspector
Will not too long ago have been.
See a bunch of parked lorries
And your checking is complete
Had it been below our standard
They’d have voted with their feet.
So, you compile your list of
Good honest eating places
And in time come to recognise
Some well known familiar faces.
A quick greeting as you slip in
Courteously switch off the phone
And get ready to join in with
The latest rant or moan.
A bucket full of coffee,
A bacon butty in hand
And well before it’s time to go
Solve the problem of the land.