Long Malfeasance Poems
Long Malfeasance Poems. Below are the most popular long Malfeasance by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Malfeasance poems by poem length and keyword.
Loitering in the lair of incontinence without askance
Chaufeured by alter ego looking for any appealing circumstance
Besieged by an uncontrollable libido that craves a licentious remonstrance
Bridled by an insecure complex that insists on a meaningless dalliance
Bethrothed a licentious title by my consort's malfeasance
Bartering for a brokered, fatuous, amorous romance
Initiating a coarse, trite parlance
Scoring a lusty, lively, lurid dance
Surrendering to the leveraged buy out with due penance
Shearing, shackled inhibitions for a night of undocumented remittance
Shackled by a conscience that bears the reproach of my debauched demonstrance
Shielded from the mediating law of recompence by my willful ignorance
Surrounded by the guilt of my insatiable intemperance
Struggling to find the source of my carnal provenance
Sheltered by a boorish pride that stifles availing repentance
Separated from a mitigating mercy by a lingering recalcitrance
Sequestered from a graceful respite because of my strident indifference
Shamelessing skirting sanctifying succor through my froward inconstance
Stubbornly languishing in the throes of an indomitable, fleshly resistance
Shaking as I continuously ponder the deeds of my immoral exuberance
Spontaneously trembling as my jaded psche haunts with an eternal vigilance
A waning aura no longer flamed enough to flicker a surrender. Decomposes, decompresses like mummification wrap.
An anti-resolvent-fume-
of-infest-chokes-out-integral-yield.
Thick as molasses, blackstrap.
Blight is apathy, and apathy is blight.
A Void, a claim farming the abyss.
Marketing it's lie, on sale.
Though it has a monopoly.
PolyEntropy.
In the garden of life; an empty field of dreams,
lays unintended on its side,
untended save for the shadows
that yield a mock harvest.
Decay on display of manifest.
The sky, descended as a Judas Ascendant,
it's belly gorged with malfeasance.
Exotic particles curse the ground
like wormwood in ritual burn, cache of ashen incense.
Libra sells you back your rye, mildewed and palmer wormed, to bore in at the destitute
at double price, double dealing
with the wages of Sin and Death.
Doubled down.
Doubled over.
So the pendulum swings
with the rusty blade of misuse.
The rose of passion unbloomed.
Ploughshares turned into warmachined torture device. Moreover.
"...and the feeling is dead, and that's the Ultimate Sin."
~Ozzy Osbourne
[They attack the Family... and the Poets are silent.]
"...and that's the Ultimate Sin"
In Nigeria, obnoxious decrees seal my lips.
Edicts made and interpreted by rubber stamps
are enforced by judicial merchants and chief whips.
I risk going to the gulag and confinement camps
if I don't sugar coat fudging and deceit.
I must sugar-coat and seal my lips with sugar,
with the sweet lure of toadying that makes me bigger,
or unveil malfeasance and have my abrupt exit.
Each prerogative denied comes with a reward;
The prerogative of elusive energy
The prerogative of the residents' award
The prerogative of the school leavers' Energie
The prerogative of entitled wellbeing
The prerogative of mandatory instruction
elude all, but benefit few by decreeing.
Toxic decreeing of rationing and privation.
The misery of all benefits a select few;
A chosen cabal in the radar of government's view.
Boston Legal raises jurisprudence burdens of proof to a more realistic level
Observant fans of Bergen, Shatner, Spader, David Kelley could be seen as rebels,
Savoring games of assault and battery on real life large and small actualities
Testifying every act negligent or malfeasance and trivial grotesque fatalities.
Opinionated obscure minds, open up objectionable hearts and bankrupt eyes
Negligently embracing the politicians easily spoken but perjured lies.
Larceny lessons from history's changing more lenient laws is unmistaken
Evidentiary episodes expunge the human condition without real exoneration.
Guilty grievances gain feelings of raw emotional desire for monetary recovery
Arresting allegations appealing callous affidavits of due process inspired discovery
Legal litigations of ridiculous actions sequester every man's cross examination.
For - Your Favorite Habit-Forming TV Show - poetry contest
Thank you David E, Kelley- creator of shows like Ally McBeal and Boston Legal. you stinker.
GOOD MORNING
I wake up crying
The birds are not flying;
All kinds of strangeness
From the sun that once
Sustained us.
When I first shook um...
People were drowsy
''Good morning. New day.!
I said: I am not here for pokes
Likes, or as a comic relief.
Poets down played my message.'’
And my belief ‘s.
‘’ God, I gave you my soul to keep’’
In 2011 when I first hit the scene
Much could have been avoided then.
When I came, I came in straight shooting
Exposing malfeasance in
their lousy schemes, 2016.
We constantly are afraid of dying.
Pertaining to ‘’Putin, and all the looting’’.
Now, we all wake-up crying,
About who’s on the take.!
Once again, ‘’I lay me down to sleep.’’
That is, ’if we even dare to wake’’!
Children of the 50's speak…
Copyright © Vicki Acquah | Year Posted 2020
November 21 Scripture Meditations Based on Colossians 3-4
Key Verse – Colossians 3:2 Set your affection on things above, not on things on the earth.
MY GOD, THANK YOU FOR SETTING MY AFFECTIONS ON YOU
Thank You for setting my affections on You from earthliness
Midst fiery hell’s awful destructiveness
Toward heavenly pursuits with salvation-blissfulness
For my soul’s redemptive fruitfulness.
Thank You for setting my affections on You from vanity
Midst dreary emptiness’ perilous futility
Toward meaningful vocation with honour-dignity
For my eternity’s worthy beauty.
Thank You for setting my affections on You from discontentment
Midst stressful frustrations’ oppressive discouragement
Toward satisfied sufficiency with provision-bestowment
For my spirituality’s fruitful fulfillment.
Thank You for setting my affections on You from transgression
Midst filthy defilement’s sinful intrusion
Toward holy goal with character-transformation
For my sanctification’s righteous function.
Thank You for setting my affections on You from fright
Midst horrible terror’s angry blight
Toward courageous testimony with supplication-might
For my serenity’s peaceful delight.
Thank You for setting my affections on You from arrogance
Midst worldly intellectualism’s haughty malfeasance
Toward humble surrender with meekness-temperance
For my submissiveness’ gentle vigilance.
Thank You for setting my affections on You from solitude
Midst hopeless loneliness’ bitter attitude
Toward joyful service with faith-fortitude
For my worship’s praise-filled gratitude.
November 21, 2022
An anti-resolvent-fume-
of-infest-chokes-out-integral-yield of humanity.
Thick as molasses, blackstrap morass of emnity.
Blight is apathy, and apathy is blight.
A Void, a claim farming the abyss.
Marketing it's lie, on sale.
Though it has a monopoly.
PolyEntropy.
In the garden of life; an empty field of dreams,
lays unintended on its side,
untended save for the shadows
that yield a mock harvest.
Decay on display of manifest.
The sky, descended as a Judas Ascendant,
it's belly gorged with malfeasance.
Exotic particles curse the ground
like wormwood in ritual burn, cache of ashen incense.
Libra sells you back your rye, mildewed and palmer wormed, to bore in at the destitute
at double price, double dealing
with the wages of Sin and Death.
Doubled down.
Doubled over.
So the pendulum swings
in shadows deep, a soul did sleep- in
Crimson and Clover, over and over, so over
the Lords of Plunder.
Its essence lost, a memory weeped as it counts
the costs.
Whispers of sorrow, a silent scream,
in the Wilderness-
under project Blue Beam/Warp Speed.
In the void, the soul did dream of cover
by militias of truth needs to redirect the beams.
The sky, a jumbotron of betrayal and lies,
false witness to commercial treachery
portrayal in its thespian guise.
Cursed particles dance in the wind,
like venus flytrap babys breath.
A haunting reminder of the wages of sin,
the touch of death.
The scales of justice are unbalanced and frayed,
black judgment, jury, executioner-DOJ.
Truth and falsehood in a deadly coliseum
where devouring Lions roam.
The rose of passion, its petals torn,
as humanity's innocence is forever shorn.
As the pendulum swings, a dance of despair,
seduces in masked charade in the wings.
Hope dwindles
in the poisoned communications air.
Ploughshares turned to weapons of hate,
In a world where love is overshadowed, here,
eclipsed by the tech magistrates in monopolistic
fare synods.
The farms bought by syndicates who will use starvation as cattle prod,
obedience broad, shock and awe.
The World Economic Forum is a synod,
a syndicate of Lawless Ones using purse strings to strangle us into submission.
Submission to their Fallen Angel false Gods.
Some of us, over a period of many years, will become
the 'Sum Total' of all our many choices and decisions.
Many of these choices and decisions will be based on
our emotions and instincts; never seasoned with good
counsel and wise advice as we navigate through life.
Some others of us have already arrived at this different kind
of 'Promise Land', this place of finality, summations, and
destinations. For many, that 'Sum Total' will be smothered
in Mercy, having never really precisely reaped what the scales
of balance required. There, they will be spared by God's Mercy and Grace. There, they will discern the reality of God's Reckless Love and acknowledge His Goodness.
His Love, Reckless because it has neither rhyme nor reason;
Reckless because His Judgement will be based, not on ours, but His righteousness alone; Reckless because sins are covered, and in God's eyes, it's like they never happened. Reckless because He lavishly covers multitudes of malfeasance and wickedness with His Magnanimous Grace.
When God does His math at 'Sum Total', the scales of justice forget how to balance. At a place called 'Sum Total', 2x2 does not equal 4; nor does 3+3 equal 6. Unfortunately, many will reject God's love. But even now, His mercy flows toward everyone, giving equal opportunity for all to receive.
042021PSCtest, Open Poetry 3,Charlotte Puddifoot
Urgent Tea Party
Mrs. Jet sent out the invitations in a fever and a heat
Envelops sealed with royal wax and stamps she licked herself
The tea would be at Meadow Marsh Retreat two weeks from now
Appropriate attire is required for all attending this event
Pleated blouse and sleeves for women, tux and tie for men
“No extraneous unknown entities will be permitted
No other friends, family, dogs, or fish will be let in”
Attendees are sworn to secrecy
It must be something serious! It must be something dire!
Mrs. Jet intimated in her letter with some guile
In her subtle way by way of content details; “Oolong Da-Hong Pao and Dragon
Well Bud Tea will be prepared”, she wrote
These teas are only served in emergencies, as we all know
This must be something grandiose indeed
Two weeks later to the minute
Mrs. Jet and company sat under the ulmus trees at Meadow Marsh
Sipping the lovely teas when she stood up to make remarks
Welcome one and all to this Urgent Meeting on this urgent matter.
My credit score is perfect every time
I’m about to lose my mind
3 weeks ago my credit report was due
It was released but to who?
Perhaps they forgot to mail it
I fear it must be lost or stolen
The perpetrator of this malfeasance must be jailed
The TV says my credit score is needed
It must be repeated daily
Mrs. Jet set out to make this point
Without a credit report and score, what’s the use of going on?
Many of the honored guests were equally offended and annoyed
Some gasped. Some even fainted.
Who would take your credit score?!
One man interjected as he roared
This means war!
Summoning power, courage
To wage against torrents
Those unsympathetic to my cause
My faith
At times shaky and rhetorical
Bleeds through the cracks of despair
The porous granite of frustration
Breathing, injecting life
Where only desolation savors
Permanence and ownership
Stronger men
Have been whittled to rare pulp
Weaker men
Have given up at the earliest signs
Of misty dawns
I must be either
Blindly unrealistic
Pried from sanity's bosom
Or severely convinced
Of my abilities, zeal and destiny
That reason only knows one course
Through the poisonous thorns
Fecal malfeasance
Explosive diversity
And culpable agony
Arriving at
Surviving for
My own brand of glory.
(5/13/09)