Long Justifications Poems
Long Justifications Poems. Below are the most popular long Justifications by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Justifications poems by poem length and keyword.
#She's_not_the_first_but_she's_definitely_the_last
She's not the first but she's definitely the last, I swear, diamonds were just never meant to lay bare on the ground, to be discovered by every passerby, it's patience and being a slave of hope that I too, find myself here today. Confessing what I know not of,
maybe its a forever, I have been prepared for, by this life, her kind of forever, in my life.
Been crossing this street for the past years but my instincts just never listened to my heart ache. Need I borrow nor hire the best band in the land to help me celebrate, for this heart of mine, alone just can't contain this elegance inside,
maybe I should ask her, her name and tattoo it to my heart, to mark this day, as the beginning of my better lesson, a lesson of being in love without fear and conditions, a start for love not drama and justifications.
Can I just have a seat, need to collect my lost years of pain and betrayal, gain strength to be a better half, a lover, long had I been a fighter, in a world of lovers.
Let me love better, learn better and lead a better love story, at least take a better and positive proof to my grave, that i too have loved, in the living land. She's not the first but she's definitely the last
#Poetic_Ink
“we look for that that does not come and go
it cannot be organic form, subject to decay
thoughts and beliefs are fickle, how little we know
yet come what may, our inner child continues to play”
The 'umbilical cord',
hereby symbolic,
its severance
where
initiated,
a soul of three,
and then much more.
Growing up was an
in-depth shared
furtherance,
whereupon,
directives were encountered,
either embraced or tossed aside.
Time and again, instant moments,
encouraging considerations,
imbued ponderance,
whereto,
we tether ourselves
to a sizeable pole of justifications.
Hail to a fitness club, or a cab to a McDonald's,
intermittent intervals, slim down or fatten up,
choice batters about a pole that remains,
until life expectance,
leans awkward,
wherefore
for time indulgence,
slacks a major facet as the pole evolves minor,
for one's immediate concerns, lies elsewhere, a priority.
All the while, the pole was steadfast but never silent
taking a backseat to the urgencies of the moment
significance tallies the hours near,
wherein
one now realizes that time is fleeting,
wonders how one's pole has shaped itself, was it worth their while.
At that instant, open their eyes
and see the poles that are
standing around them
bedside so they can
measure their
worth truly.
Where
we mete
out ourselves
to whom we truly
Blessed Assurance.
Mists show vaporous idiosyncrasies
emotionless crying
over the essence of the dull sky,
same as a gentle walking unsophisticated steed
embrace a forceful nature,
delicate yet totally vulnerable
With the onset of twilight
the impiety appeared to be oddly astounding,
there was no witless snarl
and it's a smooth tone,
predawn conceals
quell the loco share of color moods,
Starlings rewind their impeccable wings,
early mooring paths for a sailboat
through wildly shifting flights,
a measurement for rating sight
for slowed down dreamers
When it got dull
fall into the stream
In a swarm of happy tones,
utterance grows softer and deeper
Grin impersonates amazing harmony
marks the epilog of a tranquil day
the gleam of the evening,
woven into an unending blanket
Inward supplications
go to close justifications
as the embedded kiss creates
everlasting recognition,
apex moans calmed the room
for a couple of moments,
underneath a shelter of trapped gems
Written: September 16, 2022
BRIAN STRAND PREMIERE CHOICE Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Brian Strand
10/14/21
Everything follows you home,
Your skin is denying,
The usual monochrome,
For grip marks applying,
The shell of your catacomb.
Parts are tempted to find out,
The severity of,
Anything I’m forced to doubt,
For the sake of our love,
Entwined in roots yet to sprout.
Gesture or reason won’t sway,
Expel every sentence,
Justifications convey,
Your pleas for repentance,
In the complete wrong way.
You’re useless as a disgrace,
And cliché as lovers,
I don’t need to see a trace,
Your dress barely covers,
Areas that aren’t my place.
This betrayal severs my spine,
My newfound awareness,
Lowers me down from your vine,
And into the bareness,
Of a concrete chalk outline.
Quintain (Sicilian) - Emile Pinet
It's been millions of years since humans began the evolutionary journey of being. At the end of the age, our collective measure of wisdom will have produced many historical pages of needless suffering endured throughout the human plight from survive to thrive. And so it goes that we humans, possessing the knowledge and understanding of science and technology, ultimately chose to define our being as builders of great and mighty walls. Chasms of separation serving as our self-imposed dividing lines for us as individuals, as a nation and as a species. At the top of the food chain, given countless examples by many other species of the planet, we disregarded the value of unity to our survival. Foolishly, we built our walls between us instead of around us, guided by the wisdom of our greed and self-righteous justifications.
Our walls kept us trapped like rats in a cage of ignorant pride, where we, the last great evolution of the human species throughout all civilizations, completed the journey of being human, from the cradle to the grave by ultimately drowning in the blood and swill of a political battlefield!
Wow! This is a highly disappointing end of our legacy!
There's still time to change...the end.
Two beings feel like they are divine pairs..
Met each other...so very compatible in every way...
Feeling never expressed...
It was all said by the unheard music from universe...
Their union was more than merging into the absolute...
Such immense pleasure...adrenalin is not known about ..
It's all love potion...
Then ...sorry...the next one standing there on the other side ...
Seems to be God chosen one...
Ohh must be fate...
Suddenly poor loved one is discarded like a rotting banana peel...
Lies and coverage know no bound to possess the other...
Hunger for the flesh was never so raw...
Passion is alight...anything for that.
No dignity, no common sense, no values, no scrupules...
The former is the most wicked, most undesirable and can even be bartered with another man to be eliminated...
Just look into this poor soul eyes, disbelief dilates its eyes more than hurt...all the magic...gone
Suddenly the cherished ones as the just enemies...
To protect the newcomer, the apple of the eyes is called names...
Humiliation is as if not enough...
Stories are cooked for justifications...
Anything is fair to achieve this new bloom of love..
Is it love after all,
Where's that first love gone...soulmate looks just garbage now.
Weird change of heart if it changes like garment on the body.
Do I differ from a criminal
Is the difference minimal?
I want money, so does he
He just wants it more, you see
So much more that he takes it,
if there’s a rule, he breaks it,
builds himself rationalizations,
Tosses off justifications
We all rationalize,
dress our motives in disguise.
He feels entitled, so much nerve
But don't we feel we deserve?
Though we know its not right
We feel envy, rage, and spite
So maybe those knobs are turned up more
I'd like to ask him, but he'd be sore.
Is it a matter of degree?
Or is there a chasm between him and me.
Is it life's blows made him that way?
Was he moldable like clay?
Good men have done bad things
Like an angel that lost wings
Is there a lift to regain the crown
or is there just one way; and that way's down?
~~No One... of Us Are Perfect~~
~We ALL have Done Things We Probably Shouldn't Have~
~Some Continue to Do Things They Shouldn't~
~Some People Learn from their Mistakes~
~Some People Just Don't~
~Some People Believe they Don't Make any Mistakes~
~Some People...Love Everyone~
~Some People are Just Filled with Hate~
~Some People Spend their Lives Helping Others~
~Some People Don't Help Anyone~
~Some People Don't Even Try to Help Themselves~
~Some People Ask for No Help Ever.... Even when their Life a Depends on it~
~Some People Extend an Olive Branch~
~Some People Carry a Stick of Dynamite and Matches~
~Some People Spend their Lives Being Walked All Over~
~Some People Spend their Lives Walking All Over Others~
~Some People ... Walk Beside and With Others~
~Some People Blame the World for ALL their Woes~
~Some People Know the Mess they have Made... Accept the Total Responsibility of it....But just Don't know how or what to Do about it~
~Some People Lie and Say or Do Anything to Get Attention, Pity and Sympathy~
~Some People Give Others the Sympathy, Pity and Attention Desired~
~Some People are Wise to People's Drama and Scams~
~Some People think Everyone Owes Them~
~Some People Want Nothing from Anyone, But Would Give You Everything they have~
~For Whatever Reasons or Justifications We ALL have~
~~We Are All...Who We are~~
~~No One... of Us Are Perfect~~
Oh ye generation that squanders privilege before playing your role
Less man earning and more flaunting what they stole
Less girls winding up school and more winding down poles
Iniquity and offense is flooding your bowl
Consciences too weak to beckon to your souls
It is you who necessitate curtailed freedom and heightened control
Daily surveillance and night patrol
In your eyes the future is always bleak
Against what tomorrow holds your will is weak
And you scamper for all vices to make you rich quick
With justifications as balms to sooth guilt's prick
It's only the evil done against you that makes you sick
But that which you do is your artistry of a maverick
Will you in time claim that you were only young and stupid
Words will be your clamour to make your arguments valid
Shots overly fired and hardly any arrow from cupid
Watered down worth and down to be auctioned for bids
Going once, going twice, going thrice and the minute rids
For the broad way you like is less walk and more skid
May God place above your shoulders a good head
And purge the number of the living whose conscience is dead
Searchers of ease and convenience who give themselves as bread
Flee ye from spending on lust and buy wisdom instead
You don't know it but you bleed for what Christ bled
And He is able to reach you though in sheol you make your bed
K. Muitherero.
At the breakdown of ages man disappears and reappears
In the form of an easy-to-use scheme
Over the last half-century, man has been replaced
By technocratic ideas of what a man is
But the real man can no longer fit into these forms,
which have shrunk like old clothes.
At the breakdown of ages, man is left to himself.
Politicians and their servants are becoming more paranoid,
Which isn’t surprising at all, and the common
Become even more apolitical than before.
At the breaking of the ages, there is a time of no time.
Reality postulates wars, destruction
and the breaking of ties for nothing,
But simply by virtue of political games,
Their uncontrollable inertia of enmity.
Enmity has no calculated cost, and no rational reason,
Proposed justifications only multiply sorrowful nonsense.
Politicians want admiration, no matter the context,
Common people want to be left alone
At least in the negative sense of peace
Criticise us all you want, just leave us alone
If we're so unteachable, then don't teach us,
Go teach your children instead, save your time
Don't adopt or foster us, for God's sake.
Take all your money, grab us with taxes, spend it as you like,
Run secret emissions if you don't have enough money.
Declare yourself champions of the universe
In all your favourite genres, fests, competitions.
Award yourselves whatever prizes you like,
Just don't impose for the zillionth time
Your legalised insanity to us plebs,
We're not your doctors or patients.
Complain to God, MP, GP, journalist, priest
About our impenetrable stupidity, just get off our backs.
Lock yourselves in some suitable metaphysics,
Tell in the school textbooks about you, the greats
About your heroic struggle for our freedom
In choosing a bank and an insurance company.
All power ends with aging and loss of meaning.
The survivors of your era
Will go by about their business looking at their phones
Past your pigeon pooped statues
And for the younger generation
You will be just a line they’ll be forced to remember
At the history exam, settled as if on purpose
For momentary forgetting right after passing.