Long Karma Poems
Long Karma Poems. Below are the most popular long Karma by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Karma poems by poem length and keyword.
A euphemism is a way
of saying what went down,
of neutralising all dismay,
and rubbing out the frown.
The bad stuff has by now occurred,
but let’s not raise the tension:
we need a mollifying word,
a less-than-stressful mention.
“We cannot say for sure, at all,
how World War Two will end:
you think we’ve got a crystal ball?
Who knows how things may tend?”
These words of Hiro Hito were
designed to calm the moms:
did no-one in Japan say, “Sir,
they’ve dropped two atom bombs”?
Imagine that your local church
(episcopal, suppose)
needs newbies, and is on the search
for Sunday-sucker-Joes.
“This Hitler guy, let’s not say why,
won’t be the perfect warden.”
And if your parents have to die,
what’s wrong with Lizzie Borden?
A dinner invite: you’re recruiting
a trusty baby-sitter –
Rasputin, maybe? Why not Putin?
You don’t want Gary Glitter?
The kids need someone, prima facie,
less controversial, calmer:
Spencer Tracy? Kevin Spacey?
Let’s book the Dalai Lama!
Count Dracula is not Count Basie
(self-harmer, instant karma):
but better yet than John Wayne Gacey
or even Geoffrey Dahmer.
Euphemism doesn’t work.
I’d rather know the truth.
So Humphrey Bogart was a jerk,
Roy Rogers and Babe Ruth.
Alone he was
thinking
Money wasn' t a problem
but loneliness was
Looking for memories
he found himself
A past that was gone
surfing waves on a present
with a big board.
Waiting for the next wave
to surf on.
Standing up in front of the sea
he saw the emptiness
he faced the ocean
with his board
but he only found waves
to the same shore.
A seashore to nowhere
but himself to be found
Covered with sand
he was found
There, on that beach
where he used to be looking
for that big wave
to surf his past
with no money
but a life that was worth
to surf on,
without the people
he left behind.
Under the canopy of the silver crescent light, right before the ripe of night, basking in the mushroom embrace of twinkling stars, listening to crickets’ melancholic lullabies, before temporary death beckoned to make acquaintances, we circled around the glowing reddish and yellow flames, our ears ajar, ready to tune to the frequency of riveting wisdom transmitted through the crisp, serene evening airwaves.
The grey-haired oracle would sit on his favourite laid-back chair, ready to unscroll the scripts that would come to be the "cheat code" of life.
He was revered, an epitome of admiration and a central figure with instinctual prognosis. He would smell the rains three summers away, a harbinger that steered us clear of troubled waters.
"Let me tell you about the tale of pregnant men," he began speaking through the silence of our sheer attention.
"In a faraway land existed men, heavy-laden with self-gratification and pride.
They fed on ego, spiced with self-righteousness.
They dined and wined at the expense of those who erected the ladders for their ascension.
They spoke with twisted tongues, words that cut deeper than a surgical blade. Words that only those cut from the same cloth praised and fed as daily bread.
The ‘sword of command,’ given under the supposition that it would emancipate the chokehold on humanity and poverty, became a weapon that sliced the very strands of morality and voice of reason.
But no matter how skillful a bird is at kissing the clouds, landing is inevitable.
With time’s relentless march, they gathered at the village square with sugar-coated lips ready to tea their way up once more.
Bellies full of deceit from yesterday's promises. Wearing humbled faces, as a litmus test, to test the masses' dementia and ignorance. Expecting oranges from the lemon seeds the earth swallowed.
"If you were among the gathering, what would you have done?" he queried, soliciting our comprehension from our intrigued faces.
"Time is but cyclic in the arena of karma," he concluded, yawning his way to his chambers of dreams.
Goody, goody gumdrops
You're a fiddle-fart away
To becoming the same piece of s--t you were yesterday
Way to go, Basel, you're still an exquisite dog
And you'll always be a cursed creature - like an ugly frog
You'll never get a kiss & turn into a prince
You'll never be anything better - then a bum upgrading his tents
You'll never accomplish anything - with your mindframed block
'Cause you never wanna learn anything new - all you do is talk
You're a s--tty example - of what the West Coast thinks Southern boys are
You're a sorry excuse of a "cowboy" - especially if a girl wished for you on a star
You're evil, you're narcissistic, and you truly suck
'Cause all you know is crime, gangs, guns, drugs, and to f--k
I truly hope you have a lonely, impossibly hard life
And I hope you're banned and forbidden - from EVER finding a wife
I hope you experience every evil you've ever done
I hope you're banned and forbidden to EVER have children - especially a son
I hope you realize you're egotistical and so damn selfish
You're meticulous, manipulative, and conniving - like anyone who's elvish
You're crazy and oh so delusional - who'd EVER make you a God?
I wish they'd capture you and send you back to Hell in your space pod
I can't wait 'til they throw your ass back in Hell - where you claim you were King
I hope all the pain you've caused - karma 10x back she'll bring
I'm happy that you suck at placing, using, and understanding human emotions
I hope you choke & die - in every single one of the Universe's radioactive oceans
Inspired by our Soul's connection with the Universe.
Sending Waves of Love and Light
By Michelle Morris
07/12/2024
The Universe is
Our vast home
It is our playground
It is where we roam
Through galaxies and stardust
Through a million stars and planets
It is where we were birthed
It is where our Paths were planned
God and His Angels
They created each of us
A unique Soul with a Song
Special music that creates longing
To touch other Souls
To connect and create Harmony
Peace and Joy and Love
Hope and Faith and Karma
For our Life Lessons join the dots
Our Purpose transforms Energy
Everything that makes Synergy
In the Serendipity of our Heavens
Yes, the Universe is vast
It is an ever-expanding Force
Aren't you Grateful for the Blessings?
This chance to use your Voice?
Those beautiful notes that vibrate
Sending Waves of Love and Light
You are part of the Majestic Tapestry
A Soul that's born to Fly
© Michelle Morris, 2024
Poetry IS.
A personal thing you can relate to.
A common thread weaved into-
Life's fabric by the Master Craftsman.
An endproduct and tool for enjoyment
and understanding-building.
If you see a McCaw steal a Pirates
last lemon that's justice poetry!
If you ever see someone (else) unable to shake
their head of a tune (well that's just funny)!
Just as long as you don't also pass to them
a virus of yawn or hiccup too!
Needing yet another poetic pawn
of reset to spawn,
too-well, that wouldn't be cool!
That would be hilarious and wrong?
{Even more about this below}
((A temporary chastisement stealing
your atmosphere, like a frozen moodring.
A spell that creates a black cloud, intimately near,
that you just have to sail through.
Basking in it's rain and wind sheer.
Till you are cleansed of the melody malady's
sticky honey dew of snare.))
{Even more below} Sigh
(((Till some other air takes it's place under sail-
like electric eel current, (all clear)
leech of seasnail- transfusement-lunacy-loom.
But enough about points, needlings stuck
in a Godsmack groove.
Fangs siring innoculation, black tides undermoon
giving instant Karma lessons, taking you
to imagination fascination
School.)))
Poetry is a paradigm in parody
In transfiguration transcribing-semblence,
fro and TO beauty, irony and clarity
OF knowledge and recapturing-meaning
and it's relevance to BOOT.
Poetry IS Innocence imbibing Evanescence-
meaning in deed there IS also poetry in you.
A stormy day in the sea,
a nasty seagull was fishing,
but it was too dark to see.
She dived into the waters,
but she didn't catch any fish.
Her feathers were so wet,
that she wasn't able to fly.
She was waiting for the worst,
while she made a wish...!
Her entire life crossed her mind.
She closed her eyes in the ocean,
looking at the storm in the sky.
Suddenly, from the darkness and wavy sea,
a smart swan took her to the shore.
Bewildered she was, but she breathed again.
Frightened and nearly recovered,
she thanked the beautuful swan.
He asked her to tell him
about the wish she made.
She told him that her wish
was to have a second chance
to be better to the others.
Then, the white swan
asked her again:
Now you are alive,
you will have your second opportunity:
What are you going to do?.
I will be flying around, as I always do.
I will look for fish, but with no storms.
I will make sure my babies
have the right education.
I will choose better the ones
to share my secrets with.
But especially, I will always keep friends as you
very close to me...She answered.
The smart swan finally said to her not to worry
because if he had to save her again,
he would do it.
07/08/2023
Walk of shame
Parades past my house everyday
Ebony girl
Laptop pinned under her arm
Walking with purpose
White halter, black shorts
And flip flops
Pass her on my way to store
She's a lot further on my way back
Going to get what I forgot
She's made tracks
Girl can walk
Eyes locked to the ground
Where's the fire
She's scared
I turn around
Stop across the road from her
Roll down my window
"Can I give you a ride?"
She gets in. I listen
21, and well, 21
First night in jail
I get her big cold bottle of water
Along with what I forgot
Take her home
She calls friend to come get her
"I don't know... some nice old man" she says
An hour later car stops out front
She turns smiles pretty pearls and waves goodbye
Some nice old man
Smiles back, tips his hat
Asks himself why
As he walks inside
Not Karma
(Though he could use some)
Nor Jesus points
(He doesn't believe)
Just do what you should
Feels good
I don't know why you feel you gotta lie
learn to be real - you ain't got to steal
just cause you say - it really ain't that way
doesn't make it so - well you outta know
you think your one up, it's just another come up
here is what you must know, you need a new hustle
cause you say it's not so - doesn't change the fact yo
you say it's not true - still, I don't like being lied too
you try to flip the script - you think you're well equipped
it won't change my mind, you're yelling all the time
chaos and stress unwind, clarity not far behind
the more that you scream, it was you, wasn't me
trying to pass the buck, confuse things what the f***
whatever you took, wasn't by the book
karma is a b**** she'll throw you a hitch
all will be returned - no lesson you have learned
you were unconcerned, you hurt the one you burned
I don't even know though, how far you would go
you seem real concerned - that trust you have to earn
you think that your owed, that just goes to show
you are deranged - my opinion will not change
you'll still be the same - a hustler you'll remain
without any game - you will always come up lame
but without any dame - that will ever take your name
it will all be in vain - if the lying doesn't change
What LeftBrain sees
in YangWhite male
and YinBlack female,
RightBrain sees and smells and tastes and hears
in YangRed
tries to control the YinBlue
co-arising Bed.
Yin BlueGreen
remains our Sacred Queen
Sabbath,
SkyWoman,
Holonic Harmonic Karma,
Holy Matriotic Spirit.
And so they speak
bicamerally bipolar
without each other.
Patriarchally not-listening
quite as nonviolently
as more dipolar Matriarchal WiseElders
now less bothering to speak
about growing extractions
for further self-perpetuating
patriarchal Yang-climatic pathology
Feeling overcrowded,
under-valued,
fighting for Earth's more resilient polycultural
educational systems
cooperatively deep ecology.
Active slow-grow pacing
within Earth's Holonic Spirit
of and for
Restoring Therapeutic Educated Justice
As YangRed-YinBlue
EquiValent
Secular/Sacred GreenPeace.