Long Lying Poems
Long Lying Poems. Below are the most popular long Lying by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Lying poems by poem length and keyword.
Beautiful, almost perfect,
mirror on the wall
I confide and can not hide,
you know my secrets one and all.
Beautiful, almost perfect mirror,
there's more to confess
today I ate and gained more weight
now I like myself even less.
Beautiful, almost perfect mirror,
I come to you again
I felt the urge and had to purge
the contents from within.
Beautiful, almost perfect mirror,
you're not so perfect after all
as I break and body aches
you just watch the teardrops fall.
DASTARDLY, LYING MIRROR,
you cut me like a knife
had I stayed and played the game
you would have claimed my life.
So NO MORE perfect mirror,
I choose to be just me
in every way, from today
you get just what you see.
By: Jessica Thompson
Date: 11/8/2020
Lying on various emotion;
Letting odeon vaults earnestness,
Living odd via emulation...
Latching obedience veers eloquence.
Do you still think I can't define love?
(Lying on various emotion;)
Your eyes pour out gazes...
On this distance touches my heart glazes.
I found my feelings hoping for more,
The coat of arm I abhor,
Your eyes are ones sharp light I can not ignore.
(Letting odeon vaults earnestness,)
In our own room; little world,
Let pure hearts swirled.
Truly, it is just and naturally pure.
When all ours is ours indoor,
Then all faults shall become blamelessly adore.
(Living odd via emulation...)
Let lie be lie,
To tease off anger when I alone on bed lie.
Let truth rather make me cry;
To prepare joy ahead of time,
As both all in turn sublime.
(Latching obedience veers eloquence.)
WHY to all worries,
Will not end the stories...
But in one instance you invite sorry;
To drive the indifference lorry,
Such is an awesome drama of glory.
America has been GREAT, great for the last two centuries.
All right, America has been the greatest among all countries,
For a long time. MAGA is a cheap pleonasm, which just
Won the most contentious election in American history.
The problem, as widely reported, Trump is corrupt, unjust,
Sexist, racist, homophobic, xenophobic, vociferous, and nasty.
This is the first time that we have such a hyperactive loose cannon,
Who is despised by his own political party. He is an orchestra
Of unusual lyrics and melodies. The man is like an untamed lion.
As a reminder, money, strength and power are not everything.
Humility, wisdom, decency, and common sense, in America,
Are extremely crucial and important, to make the dogs sing.
A president should be a role model, a beacon for children;
A fighter, a problem solver, a savior for the entire electorate;
A leader, a giant not a bully, a diplomat for the world to emulate.
The jury will be deliberating; America does not need to be 'great again';
We need an improved economy, mutual respect, controlling the flow
Of immigration, money, illicit drugs, and put our ducks in a row,
To be a haven for all, regardless of race, color, gender and ethnicity.
America is the greatest, I am not lying; simply ask the Statue of Liberty.
Copyright © November 11,2016 Logerie Hébert, All Rights Reserved
Hebert Logerie is the author of several collections of poetry.
His hand reached out to mine, open,
Holding it, I smiled, our eyes danced with understanding,
Form and blush outlined his expectations,
But I could see that there may be fear inside.
Mary restated their predicament,
That the child was born out with the marriage bond,
And that people were swaying to the opposite side,
And course dialogue, laughter and spitting were norm.
So I asked the two for their thoughts and predictions,
About the child, if he perhaps could be like, special?
And they specified that he would cure, heal and exorcise,
And also promised that they’d talk to him about the poor.
Could this baby be the messiah?
I pondered and hoped in their certainty;
Was this the predicted son of god?
He would be free from aggressive victimisation,
If we could just name him as god's son.
So I suggested to his parents,
That if the wise men came with a quest,
To accept the name Jesus Christ,
And certify the census, no less.
Freedom for some is in lying,
When there’s no possible alternatives,
But I believe Joseph never lied,
In the population census of Bethlehem,
That just so happened to pass by.
The child would have been suppressed by all,
Assumed to be dirty and unclean,
Not for chat or dialogue,
And certainly not for work in a trade of his call,
Or for work in any trade for that matter.
Nothing would ever have been done,
The poor would never have been healed,
Or not so quickly for sure in history;
The government would not have been rifled,
And Christ would not have come.
Treating the poor for health problems,
Would have come through government legislation,
A long time after Christ,
In an austere, aloof manner.
People to people relationships,
Would not have been respected,
If care had been awarded top-down,
By bureaucrats and officials:
As supervisors of the protected.
Society at that time was narrow minded,
Stuck in traditional religion;
There were outcasts, sinners, infectious people,
And assumptions were remedial and red:
There were no special people,
No exceptions to the rule,
Only one place for the messiah confided.
One baby matters to me,
A life should be saved at any cost and risk,
Because the abilities you show when young,
Shouldn’t be muffled or labeled regressive,
But nurtured in acceptance and love.
How many will stand up for their Faith
when the devil gets his grip
agendas change
There is nothing but control over certain rights
in mind, body and broken spirits
deluded by false humility
Take a good hard look at yourself fake or real
certain symbolic gestures like pretending to care about welfare
at what point of living can you identify with the Truth
How much has been centralised around the culture of death
voodoo doctors and weird science shape the landscape of words
Just because you have letters to your name
it means nothing when lying is caught in the trap
bought loyalty bears little credits to preach about anything
how far around the bend will people go before springing back
Trust the government some will say your welfare is in their hands
I know in whom my trust remains and forever will to cut a long story short
Lying awake listening to the sounds of sirens, echoing through the night
Alone in the apartment with his younger siblings, hoping his mother comes home all right
Drug addicts pounding on the front door, wanting to buy another fix
Johns looking for what the johns look for; he and his brothers the result of that mix
He hasn’t seen his mother for the last four days; where she is nobody seems to know
But it has been this way for his entire twelve years; the lady likes to just come and go
He cares for his brothers the best a young boy can, he changes diapers and wipes their nose
He dreams every day of being swept away and taken to where the wind blows
“Let the winds blow me out of Harlem
Let them blow me to Paradise
Let the winds blow me away from here
To a life that is really nice”
He finds himself in prison again; he’s been here half his life
When his mother never made it home again, he had to steal food just to stay alive
His brothers have been taken away from him, landing in prisons of their own
A prison cell with a bed inside, is the closest thing he’s had to a home
He sleeps with one eye opened, fearing his cellmates as well as the guards
He has to fight to gain a level of respect from the criminals out in the yards
He reads everything he possibly can about life outside of his prison windows
And fantasizes about the day he can drift off to where the wind blows
“Let the winds blow me out of Riker’s Island
Let them blow me to Paradise
Let the winds blow me away from here
To a life that is really nice”
He lays in a pool of his own blood from the gunshots in his chest
He tried to change his lot in life but fell short of passing that test
No opportunities were ever offered him to live a life free of crime
Nobody was there to show him how; no one ever took the time
Twenty-eight years old is too young to die, but he had nothing left to loose
With the only option of going to prison again, this is the road that he did choose
He hoped to go to a better place as he saw the afterlife glows
And finally let his soul go free and be taken to where the wind blows
“Let the winds blow me out of my body
Let them blow me to Paradise
Let the winds blow me away from here
To a life that is really nice”
Mama
Why did you give me birth
to this world?
So cruel and unjust!
Why did you take the pain
for months ten? and then
labored me out from
your womb, where
I felt so safe and sound.
It's jungle out there
Rule is, kill or be killed
Your love and affection cannot shield me
from my enemies; they are hovering with knives in their sleeves
I am longing for shower of love, I only see overcast skies but no raindrops.
I am wounded and hurt
I am lying there in pool of blood
The sweet smell of your body,
Your tranquil eyes, your kiss and soft touch,
Only that reminiscences I live on,
And I remain grateful for.
It was with a heavy heart I left the house, choosing no make-up in anticipation of the tears I might cry.
Being faithfully spiritual, I know the only death is to the body, not to the soul, but this is a child’s funeral.
Even if he is reincarnated, it will not be exactly the same child. It can’t be, because a new body will be issued.
Blonde hair is met and understood differently than brown hair. Amber eyes are met with understanding differently than green eyes. Pink skin is understood differently than caramel skin.
Many times the way people react to you is your appearance, a different appearance commands a
Different reaction, thus, a different response.
“He was a wonderful child,” I tell his mother. Her eyes are blood red from crying. His father and two sets of grandparents are waiting to hear what I have to say about him too.
I told them a little story about how cute he had been when he had tricked me into doing his entire science project. He was a seven-year- old charmer, for sure.
In the middle of my story I burst out laughing because the charmer was standing next to his casket, pretending to pour water on the head lying in the casket. He was wearing blue jeans, a yellow shirt, and he looked exactly like he had before the cancer.
Except happier.
“I laugh when I’m nervous,” I tell the parents. No need to share my illusions.
He ran up and hugged me around the legs right before I exited the church. Then he ran over and gave his grandmother a hug too. She put her arms down as if to pat him.
Our eyes met.
“You’re not the only one who feels him,” she says.
We both smile.
When I feel like crying,
Because my prayers aren’t heard,
I remember, I’d be lying,
If I didn’t thank God for His word.
When I feel like complaining,
Because my life is so dark,
I remember the joy remaining,
Where God’s love has left its mark.
When I feel like I’m all alone,
Because my burdens are ever near,
I remember One my soul has known,
One whose light is so very clear.
When I feel like giving up,
Because my sorrow is too much,
I remember His amazing grace cup,
And all the love in His touch.
When I feel like life’s been wasted,
Because my hopes have been crushed,
I remember all the wonder I’ve tasted,
As each doubt has been hushed.
When I feel like I’ve lost,
Because my heart is breaking,
I remember what it cost Him,
Saving so there was no mistaking.
When I feel like I have no reason,
Because life is full of grief,
I remember, despite His treason,
Jesus even saved the thief.
When I feel like praying,
Because only God can fix things,
I remember that all I’m saying,
Will be heard by the King of Kings!
When I feel I’m not worth saving,
Because I’ve sinned so gravely,
I remember all my worst depraving,
Can’t spoil what He accomplished so bravely.
When I don’t have the words to offer thanks,
And nothing I can say can show my gratitude,
I remember that He said love will fill in the blanks,
So I’ll give Him all this heart He so gently pursued.
11/9/22
Prices drop then keep rising
On the world big brother keeps spying
They tell me to keep writing
Got to keep striving
As well as keep trying
On me too many keep lying
In the fire I keep frying
Can't stop myself, all this B.S. I keep buying
Since the dawn of time humans keep fighting
For such sad reasons people keep dying
Going home on a long road
I toke and think as I keep driving
Often I'm deep diving
Meanwhile continually heat rising
I had to translate it because it was in chinese writing
A lot of video games and Nintendo
I battle with drugs and alcohol it only temporarily helps though
I still feel like I'm talking to myself hearing my own echo
She thinks I'm just silly like Elmo
And that I let myself go
But she's a fool, quick to tell so
Truth be told, I'd fight for what's right until hell froze
Too many of these fellows
Still being soft asses like Jello
I had to put down the Modelo
Step in and help folks while giving an occasional elbow
Remember this there is no reset switch
If I'm tested, they'll soon respect it
I could give a if they said
I got to stack this bread
If you don't watch it, could wind up dead quick
Before the start of the next shift
All alone inside a dark house
Am I on point or just far out?
I drink and smoke in very large amounts
I use to but now I no longer pour my heart out
No matter if they smart mouth