Long Jealousy Poems
Long Jealousy Poems. Below are the most popular long Jealousy by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Jealousy poems by poem length and keyword.
Sally wasn't as pretty as Kelly,
they had two different personalities;
one was hard to love, the other was
gentle and surrendered easily.
I shared the love of two girls
who battled to have me desperately;
they fought and pulled their hair,
showing endless rage and jealousy...
they couldn't put an end to their animosity!
I was torn between the two for years,
and finally decided to keep Sally
who was truly faithful and had
a genuine, not a sarcastic sense of humor:
Kelly was rageful and showed insanity,
she sent me to hell, then stalked
me and Sally until she realized her madness!
Sally wasn't as pretty as Kelly,
one had stunning eyes that charmed,
the other a beautiful smile I adored;
I was a lucky dude, but also an unhappy one
breaking up their fights, wiping their tears
and getting slapped a few times...
even though I never took sides in their quarrels,
and watching them being helpless I felt so silly!
Sally wasn't as pretty as Kelly,
but they had a big effect on me;
I didn't need two jealous babes to please me...
all I was looking for was total honesty!
.
Tongues stall kind words to say -
planes with wheels on a waterway-
A relentless chase of light bulbs above wondering
minds and breaking the switch everytime
it's caught. In something.
Mercy, grief, fires within
choke on smoke forsaking
hallucinations that geraniums are my favorite
blooming within the weeds of a diary
where trust breeds like bacteria and scales
on fish skin are just as beautiful and preservable
as any composition.
Where humiliation and pride collide over whom
I should assist by comparing whose bones are
grayer and graver underneath their hole of self
destruction labeled with misfits. Figuring out thoughts
more fragmented than a stained glass puzzle paralyzed
in the pencil shavings of a rough draft by drunken angels
who usually sculpt the outcome of nightmares.
So many rags my body has constructed to soak up
the outpuring of suffering that they dug up with years of
cemented, pulled back, brittle fingernails and forearms
covered in filthy apologies that don't even hug me,
but accuse me of self absorption.
And misdirection, lying naked, like a dehydrated compass,
wanting nothing more than guidance by an optional savior
whose footprints are undefined to conceal the number
of followers he refines through choice of circumstance.
Still, I pray. For them. Perception has me demented.
Angrily unmovable. Impenetrable in the range of sanity.
A brown-nosed sorcerer, picked to pieces for parts needed
for an insecurity blanket to shield a reflection of madness
or jealousy or a seamstress to help them put it back together.
Although my darkest reasons for anything are just as genuine
as the shadow of a dying leaf barely gripping for it's life
on the limb of an oak tree.
The scars upon my soul have yet to develop a conscious
communication of their own.
I apologize when I do not speak.
Sometimes I believe solitude is more forgiving.
Ned Shepworth lived in a small, frontier town,
that just three years before had been empty ground,
he tried to keep up with the latest style,
and worked as a clerk in the mercantile.
Now Ned was in love with fair Hattie McGwinn,
but she had already said no to him,
Ned was nothing special, that was the word,
didn’t carry a gun, a real coward.
And nothing to look at, the women said,
could barely afford a place to rest his head.
Hattie was a beauty, with her choice of men,
but pitied Ned and said that they could ‘be friends.’
Hattie had two suitors sniffing around,
Elton Call owned a ranch, outside of town,
Jay Myers own the town’s biggest motel,
with either of them a girl could do well.
But Hattie was like so much of her sex,
using her charms to keep the two men vexed,
until she could take the time to decide
which of the two men she would let inside.
When she saw Ned she would chat idly,
about the two men that she wished to see,
though Ned kept his cool, inside he did burn,
and in his head dark thoughts began to churn.
Then one day Ned came to Jay’s back office,
said,”Hattie sent me, told me to say this:
She made her decision, an she wants you,
but she fears finding out what Elton would do.
“But at four she’ll be at the livery,
wants you to take her to Stillwell to marry,
she thinks Elton will try to interfere,
that’s why she sent me to find you here.”
Jay got up quickly and began to prepare,
Ned took his leave and went right out of there
to a horse he had waiting, away he went,
rode to Elton’s ranch, his mount was half-spent.
Ran to the corral, where he nearly fell,
and to Elton this breathless story did tell:
“Hattie’s in trouble, Jay has kidnapped her!
He proposed marriage, she laughed at his words!
“So he locked her up behind his bedroom door,
said she’d be his wife, or she’d be his whore!
You cannot just let her suffer this fate,
please, you must help her, if it’s not too late!”
CONCLUDES IN PART II.
I just feel full of frustration.
I am unable to get a hold of this situation.
The hostility present has become too much for me to ignore.
I can't pretend to be strong anymore.
My thoughts are overflowing with regret, failure, and sorrow.
I just want to lie down and forget about tomorrow.
I just feel full of frustration.
It hardly has any explanation.
I'm not depressed.
I'm only distressed.
It feels as though I'm running in circles endlessly.
A contributing factor can be jealousy.
I just feel full of frustration.
Perhaps I should try to engage in some conversation.
I'm longing for something I've never owned.
I can't help it. I'm already numb and cold.
The dream I dreamed seems impossible as time slips by.
And I can't do anything except cry.
I just feel full of frustration.
Everything seems merely an illustration.
I feel unimportant and useless.
There seems to be no end, and I'm clueless.
I can't really express my problems in lines.
I assume I can't really escape these dreadful times.
there's a warm breeze
and many ways to survive
take your worries
and hang them out to dry
hear me if I'm not mistaken
forgive me all I know
many loves must be forsaken
to make just one heart whole
to make just one heart whole
your wily ways
all these secrets and lies
should have no place
in your heart or mine
any thorn can be misleading
and discolour the rose
left undone, distraught n bleeding
leave me anything but broke
to make just one heart whole
drop all defense n' see the sense
relinquish resistance, be still
hear me if I'm not mistaken
forgive me all I know
many loves must be forsaken
to make just one heart whole
leave me anything but broke
to make just one heart whole
there's a warm breeze and many ways to
survive
____________
My side of the story told by someone else,
so now I have no need to say it myself,
because they heard it as if worded
by bad mental health,
all my falls are my fault as I've foolish thoughts,
How come they don't hear me and don't let me talk?
Are they thick are they dumb do they fall when they walk?
Listen to both sides of the story,
first rule, liars quickly talk,
victims need to thought sort,
the first story will be failure of all things,
the second more likely short and boring,
the first story is invented,
I bet the truths less eventful,
Liars lies are quick interesting cries by design,
the truth maybe thick but no target in mind
If it's aimed at a person to make them look bad,
think how you'd talk if you blame, not attack,
you wouldn't focus on the person more the loss,
it's annoying but we talk no hate comes across.
Supremacy is an illusion dressed in white
An itch for power, the motive they signed
All to cover up the truth of their crimes
A picture painted in the delusion of supposed superiority
Perspective is how they control the story
Their reputation depends on pretty white lies
Manipulated into unsuspecting neat bow ties
The end goal - for no one to ask why
Our lives they used, as bait they abused
We, the victims of prejudiced news
White becomes the picture of innocence
Black becomes the sworn enemy
Propaganda sways the unaffected
Privilege somehow becomes the victim
A hateful world breeds this symptom
An empire built on our enslavement -
To which they defend, by giving us the arc of the villain
Unwilling participants to a system corrupted
Yet, if we were to complain chaos would have erupted
The oppressed just wants their peace - uninterrupted
Law works in favour of the oppressor
The courtroom cares not for a truthful verdict,
Always siding with their creator, the real criminal
We never had a chance, they own ‘justice’
Shackled by the arms of a vicious system
Made to bite the head of the real victims
Will the white man change with their narcissism
Or will their insecurity control the direction
The hate they have, is the greatness we own
The stones they throw is the projection they hate to home
You weren't by my side
Subside from the inside
I've become so numb
Succumbing to the feeling of coke and rum
Who knew I’ll end up with you with regret
I'm not done with you yet, my darkened outlet
It's like a suicide drink
I sink while I think
I puke out the lies
Never wanted your goodbyes
I've become done with you
All the stuff you put me through
Screw all your intentions
I'm making my own inventions
We are sick (in our blood)
But we love it
You're like a stick (in the mud)
You're so full of it
I've become undone
When I think of you
And all the things you've done
So out of the blue
Who knew I’ll end up with you with regret
I'm not done with you yet, my darkened outlet
It's like a suicide drink
I sink while I think
I puke out the lies
Never wanted your goodbyes
I've become done with you
All the stuff you put me through
Screw all your intentions
I'm making my own inventions
We are sick (in our blood)
But we love it
You're like a stick (in the mud)
You're so full of it
Truth will set you free
You've heard it a thousand times
Envy will be your captivity
You rust in the water like dimes
Who knew I’ll end up with you with regret
I'm not done with you yet, my darkened outlet
It's like a suicide drink
I sink while I think
I puke out the lies
Never wanted your goodbyes
I've become done with you
All the stuff you put me through
Screw all your intentions
I'm making my own inventions
We are sick (in our blood)
But we love it
You're like a stick (in the mud)
You're so full of it
Relieve the sorrow
There's another tomorrow
Jealousy wears off
I think I've had enough
You disguise as happiness
You reduce me to madness
Sad to see you've gone
But, I’m moving on
Because I'm done
As she twists within,
Consuming our minds with fear and loathing,
And when we lose a petal each day because of her,
We forget.
For every time I have wept beneath the terrors of past events,
Under the shadows of his hand and my still youthful eyes,
It was pain that I feared,
And yet I had forgotten why she was there.
She just happened to be.
Yet again, the times I clenched my body together
In the hourless nights, whispering to myself
The sweet nothings of soothing secrets,
I was harking her away, the jealousy, I had lost too much.
All this time not registering her for what she was.
And when I lay on the mattress of blue,
In that god forsaken paper white gown,
Unpleasantly exposed and convulsing, time and time again
She spears my body with the force of a butcher.
And I despise her even now as she has driven me mad.
But I have grown into the dance she tugs us into,
As her knife as smoothed off my jagged edges,
Though I sob into her shoulder as we speak,
I have realised how in love I am with her.
As she is all of us.
She is my reminiscence of my old and future self.
All of which I own in the now I hold onto tighter,
As her predatory gaze lays upon it,
And it reminds me of what I have.
She only appears when I have something to lose
And does that not make me so utterly human?
So as she twirls me, and tears shed once again,
I remember that I am something, someone,
And so is she, and as we grow older, and I will fall for her over and over.
For the full healing to happen
We must first acknowledge the whole truth
156 years ago
A city, a community
Was removed from the face of the earth
Jealousy, envy
A Black man, a white woman
No one knows for sure
What we do know
Rape was yelled
A riot, no a massacre took place
30 or 300 died. Maybe
Mass graveyards made
Yet no one knows where
3 living survivors
All in the triple digits in age
We owe it to them
To get the story completely told
History that has been silenced
Must be told, and told now
Because
For the full healing to happen.....
(c)kingpen2021