Long Losers Poems
Long Losers Poems. Below are the most popular long Losers by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Losers poems by poem length and keyword.
Careful
What our mouth says,
can take down whole
lifetimes of dreams,
topple possibilities,
and short change
the faith of
true miracles.
Somehow we think,
because we are close,
family, or friends,
that there is freedom,
to be cruel.
Words that fall from the sky,
“I am not happy and you are fat.”
Deeply look into the mirror,
the one,
you keep hidden,
beyond the
Curtain of Oz…
You gained weight.
You stopped trying.
You are nothing like,
the man you were…
before you said I do.
You are fatter.
You eat too much,
because you are blessed,
by a wealth of stupidity.
Gained things,
can be lost.
You are on the road,
to Vegas now.
They know all about
losing,
and welcome
losers with open arms.
My candle is lit for hope and the future
we need to stop acting as total losers
Stronger than the greatest military power
decorate the Christmas tree with love and flowers
We have all failed our dream of the earth
count your blessings ... a new glorious birth
Tomorrow breaks a unworn and glorious morning
Gilded bells in fluffy threads as adorning
Merry Christmas
20.12.2022
Sun :) - A-L Andresen :)
Copyright © All Rights Reserved
it seeks to gather people might they wish to see the challenge and contest of Wrestling Professionals!
Gritty Charter
-------------------------------
By:: Adagio Stacco
are we united
yet might you ask of
what cause: to have me
figgetting
to find the proper words
to suit such purpose.
------------------------------------------
timplementation and performance for
she sought the advice of a chored professsional
someone seasoned and wise.
Her idea was to bring together many people
to view contest of wrestling.
Her need for professionals
who loved to wrestle and entertain
gave her the idea to coin the phrase
"exceptation of delivery"
where the performer are asked and required to
perform as wrestlers and atheletes
not just brawlers and Vagant types
We want a pure move for move
chain wrestling classic
move and counter move
where credit is givien to each
performer
------------------------------------------------------------
"The winners will prosper
might poverty make a joke of the losers
Spoke Heremes and Mercury
The stadium shall be choosen
with vendors and Venders
audiences shall wander in, fill seats
and create the purse for the winner
and losers
might the evening see
the truest
in Contest!"
Capitalism
is an economic strategy
and/or theory
that harbors no inefficient room
for unconditional democratic love,
to live generously or die trying
(and not slowly fade away
not trying)
and for concomitant
co-arising
communications co-relational
cooperatively correlational
ego+eco-relational
co-passionate
wealthy polycultural values.
Polyamorous democracy
incorporates a synergetic culture
with an ecotherapeutic systemic plan,
a politically healthy theory
rooted in cooperative intent
and robust multicultural
winSelf+winOther preferential values.
Expectations of cruel
and unusual win v lose punishment
strategies for kleptocracy's
disempowering
undemocratic injustice
is what runaway cascading capitalists
dream of drowning in
each blighted night
of winners v losers devolutionary
patriarchal caste supremacy.
Anticipation of kind
and natural+spiritual win+win
nondualistic
nonviolent communication rewards
for restoring Earth's healthy green justice
is what global democrats
wake up to
each co-arising economically buoyant
panentheistic dawn
Of ecosystemic peace
prevailing over
anthropocentric LeftHemisphere dominant restlessness
about competitive capitalism
v cooperative communion
health empowering transformation
of polyamorous communicating patriotism
rather than continuing with business as usual
monoculturing capitalist fealty.
the reader of the stars devours the past and redresses the future
sees in crystal balls the flames at stake kindled by misperception
as slumber is kind for once I encounter the woman of my dreams
a princess no doubt a Cinderella who never wished for any shoes
they called her a witch ignoring that the gypsy had appropriated
that sinking feeling when drowned in a pond of pain and bigotry
she glows in the dark but her broomstick does not cease to the fire
propels a few Tarot cards as if to prove her guilt and kind wisdom
like a ghost of knowledge she swings on a pendulum above ashes
rises like Phoenix above mocking spectators and clutches the curtain
not a single thread of benevolence has come apart at what seems
like defeat yet carries resilience and truth for giving up is for losers
20th August 2020
Trapped in a box of the oppressors mind
A paradoxical sentence where we don't get to survive
Silence a promise to a world outside
Compliance a prison confined till we die
Discombobulated choices
Either way each decision an enemy
A fight for survival
The endgame autonomy
But freedom is a prize - unsure if we will win
When survival equals suicide
And resistance is treason
A lose - lose situation
A competition that'll never end
In life and in death
Peace was never our friend
Narrative controls our fate
Power manipulates the truth
Dead or alive
Our voices are of no use
A truce is not an option
When equality they hated
They needed reason to stay relevant
To feed delusion and an ego complex
What is a decision when there was never a choice
Where our fate is decided, yet are told we have free will
Like a game of Chinese whispers
Used to mess with our heads
No clear path
Just a warped road ahead
How do we who are black ever get to rest
When a world so heavily dependent
Decide our torture will never end
Or maybe it's just instinct
An ancestral trend
A legacy carried through the oppressors generations
A paradox so tangled a struggle to undo
A game of tug and war where both sides are losers
As long as their hate exists
We'll always be stuck as players in a game we were forced to play
A game created where being black solidified your status
In a game built on racism - will we ever have any black winners?
Frozen Dreams
Poverty
with a view
Wilderness
in the stew
Icebergs set
aflow
Desolation
row
Every day
a choice
Searching for
that voice
The one
to set me free
And melt
— this frozen dream
*****
This Day Forward
Giving up
on tomorrow
Rechristening
today
The blessings
before me
As presence
they lay
Regret is for
losers
Of which
I’ve been one
But from
this day forward
Today
zero – sum
*****
Door #3
We don’t write
to uncover
what’s right or what’s wrong
We write
to discover
— ourselves
*****
Bottom Line
Writer’s write
as dilettante’s talk
Writer’s write
and poseurs they squawk
Writer’s write
with dandies in tow
Writer’s write
— so others may know
(Dreamsleep: June, 2026)
Falling deep, Sam did not even pout.
In a dirt hole he could not get out.
Then a thought came to him,
and it was not so grim.
He formed stairs from the dirt –escape route!
Also Sam's friend got stuck in a hole.
He was helpless as Sam, yet the role
that he played was to sit,
and with no thought to it.
Quitters need to determine a goal!
May 14, 2021
For Margarita Lillico's Quitters Never Win Poetry Contest
(At the suggestion of a fellow poet, I decided to add on a second
limerick, which I hope is ok to do. This poet thought I should write
about the other man in the cartoon!)
They walk, separate destinations in the wrong direction.
Aimlessly drifting throughout various vocations, too idol to master what they need to succeed.
A rat pack of losers in a game they can't win, they can't because they won't, they refuse to begin.
Putting up the with the worst because that's all they deserve to themselves.
No hope for the future no thoughts that are profound.
Each day is the same as the last and tomorrow will be the same.
They live how they live and they feel the shame.
One day the regrets will come thick and fast and they'll wish once more for a chance at the past.
Too little too late they will say and keep living the rat race from day to day.
they stood at the starting crease
poised for the gun to be fired,
hundred meters to run and ease
then that gold that heart desired!
morning sun set their skin aglow,
flags of nations with hopes raised,
black, white, all body shades we know,
pride of event, differences erased!
9 seconds at best is all might take,
winners, losers in fractions of scale,
how a few seconds can a winner make,
with years training, some yet may fail!
Life is a long race that we all run
that often starts with our own cry,
there is no gold when it is all done,
a few tearful thoughts at final good bye!
Life’s race is not a race at all,
should you really think about it,
time bound journey of body and soul
wisdom gained at fate’s gambit.
I travel alone, have no one to defeat,
If you want to win, just pass me by,
at final rest, one day we shall meet,
no winners or losers, we did all try!!
Written 18/06/2023
rhyme
Syllable counts from 7 to 10.
Not for any competetion- there is no race!