Long Malice Poems
Long Malice Poems. Below are the most popular long Malice by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Malice poems by poem length and keyword.
Within the heart of everyone
There lurks an evil mystery.
Undermining good intentions,
Spurring on to malefaction.
God declares, our hearts are wicked,
defiled by sin and selfishness.
Yet in our sight we are upright
With a modicum of malice.
Sinning for the sake of sinning
Not just occasional misdeeds,
But delight in sin and evil,
was Augustine’s apt conclusion.
Solzhenitsyn clearly saw it
As he lay in Russian gulag.
The line between good and evil
runs right through every human heart.
Even gangster Mickey Cohen
thought he was a decent fellow.
With no need for transformation,
Or God’s gift of soul salvation.
Deny not the evil within
Treat it as a venomous beast.
Plead like Paul for God to free you,
Give you grace, to eschew evil.
Written: June 18, 2023
______________________________________________________________
In the heart of darkness, life starts poor,
A flicker of hope, but nothing more.
A world of shadows dreams hard to suppress,
Yet in this chaos, there is a journey to success.
The story goes from poor to rich.
Forever told is a tale of grit to switch.
Through trials and tribulations, we strive,
To break the chains that try to deprive
In the depths of hatred, we find repugnance.
A bitter taste, a venomous dance.
Scum of the earth, with hearts so callous,
Living amidst us, spreading their malice.
In the depths of the drain, darkness prevailed.
Where forgotten dreams and hopes were jailed,
A place where light dared not tread,
Where forgotten souls had been misled.
In the realm of shadows, where hunger resides,
A soul so weary, in the darkness, abides.
With weary eyes, it scans the barren street.
A heart that yearns for sustenance to eat.
In the realm of dreams, where stars align,
A luminary graced the stage with divine
With shimmering sequins, his armor of might,
He wore glitzy gowns, a mesmerizing sight.
In a world of laughter, where jesters reside,
There's a man who conceals what's deep inside,
With a zany facade, he hides his true face.
A master of comedy, full of wit and grace.
According to the dictates of Suzy Berlinsky,
a Hello Poetry sibilant chargé d'affaires
female equivalent, sans Grand Poobah
aye surmise she deems my preference
favoring lower case, especially taking
a figurative page from thee poetic play
book of e.e. cummings, (not to be con-
fused with Elijah E. Cummings, thee
American, and United States Democrat
representing Maryland's majority dark
skinned precinct of Baltimore County
seventh congressional district), whose
shadow of fame diminished, but flagrant
flapping flaunting Puritanical principles
tantamount to in traducing taboos up-
ending ala revolutionary lampooning
his trademark imprimatur guilt frisson
faculty of his to delve into controversial
material blatantly candidly devotedly ex
pressing thoughts, sentiments, and re-
flexes skewed asper an irreverent teas-
zing exuberance flouting orthodox re-
finery by playfully making mince meat
of long cherished, fixed, and insulated
mores as shock treatment technique to
exhibit parsimonious, opprobrious, and
noxious malice lobbing fondness for
writing without heeding thy fondness
NOT CAPITALIZING the first person
singular pronoun, i, an upside down
exclamation point, whose dot eye see
clearly despite the fierce maelstrom!
Please, tell me, for you, it was not a total waste,
Thirty two years of our souls entwining.
Tell me there was warmth and joy you embraced.
Like the love of our lives , our precious two,
morphing four into one, without even trying.
I wish I had their strength but I don't think I do.
Tell me for a time, for at least a short moment
that your heart beat for me and your smile was unerring,
Tell me your words were a fervid investment
not hollow discourse just meant to appease me,
or placatory sentiments of habitual murmuring
expressed without meaning, an embittered plea.
Tell me, please, through our contrived, inane reasons
you must have found cause, at least some simple thing
that kept you next to me, for so many seasons,
for the hope of renewal as the time slipped away,
more than our passion and more than just clinging,
until the feelings faded from fact to cliche.
Tell me it's not true as we sit in this room, without malice or greed,
the judgement is final, dissolution of marriage,
"Best of luck to you, with your divorce," he decreed.
The words yet linger like the executioner's bell.
Fourth floor, section B, room 2, where we were kept hostage,
until we stepped through the door, as our past we expell.
11/26/2022
She is a red-headed witch he was told
But she does have an interesting mind made of gold.
Oh, sure. Smart but not pretty he thought.
He was not a warlock easily bought.
I’d pay for your supper they said with a wink.
She probably was uglier than a Thanksgivings day sink.
He hated being this way, but looks meant a lot.
To this warlock who was more shallow than they had thought.
No thanks he said, I am too busy washing my hair.
He said it without malice, giving it not one more care.
So he did not get a date, and his mouth was never kissed.
If you look up at this photo, you will see what he missed.
We are eager and much willing
To find progress in forgiving!
Long as we the future living
Reap the fruit of our own digging!
Stop the bloodshed and the killing
Heed the call and hear the feelings
Do not ignore or practice grinning
We are relentless in our bidding
Rugged, aimless not quite sinners
Think of us assumed caregivers
You will serve, worship, deliver
A stern warning for those who quiver
Through the bitter night that's turning
Underlies the rage that won't stop burning
Are the questions of their forming
Huge mistrust and reckless learning
Their wretched thoughts within them roaring
Thickening soup of malice churning
Now light and darkness in them blurring
Starts the signal of societies falling
'Bless the young mind!' said the screams
Touch their skirts and gird their seams
Feel the hems within their jeans
As they bring forth these lofty ideals
Is it wisdom or foolish extremes
They resort to usher in peace
Rip through curtains, burning machines
Find a vaccine, sweep the streets
There seems certainty in the air
Fog of heat and dense dispair
Of the future that lies bare
For all the citizens of this square
Still the rantings would play on
Such as a never ending song
Hope is future, lust is lost
Youth is freedom, wisdom be gone
living in my truth without hesitation or regret
dispelling lies and betrayal that I surely outwit
living in my truth without malice revenge or hate
forgiving all of you that think you control my fate
living in my truth there's no other way I rather be
no masking accepting all of me so now I am free
living in my truth that I am not for everybody
no expectations or validations from anybody
living in my truth without carrying past trauma
steering clear of heartless envious peoples drama
living in my truth expressing the arts of my heart
internally creating works in different genres of art
living in my truth and purpose to live love laugh
authenticity compassion not learned from a graph
living in my truth allows me to sometimes just be or do
allowing the rhythm of life is why I have a bold bright hue
The hole is deeper than one can imagine yet
& still they want to dig
Put down the shovel & avoid the trouble for the
whole of the game is surely rigged
An enemy seen through wise eyes can never be
viewed as a friend
Their disguise has been uncovered as you've
discovered the source of hidden sins
This is a warning for those that come against with
ridiculous reasons for wicked acts
The All is seeing what's behind the scenes so there's
no disputing solid facts
An act of malice will be rewarded in kind by an
unforgiving higher source
In that moment hopefully they see it's a direct result of
their show of force
This course of action must be averted in order to
avoid the darkened path
Maybe they'll see the light at the end of the road as
they recover from the aftermath
The math isn't mathing & it's adding up to more karma
to be paid by indebted souls
I wonder when they'll see the juice isn't worth the
squeeze & the latter is served bitter cold
Not every judge uses a gavel & some are cloaked in
unassuming robes
Please pray for the souls that lack the sense & don't
know they're digger a deeper hole
From egg to larva or caterpillar
emerging to pupa or chrysalis,
comes nice butterfly : process seems thriller.
Transformation termed metamorphosis.
Womb to birth : next phases of life to pass
fooled by deep delusion or illusion
on continued efforts to surpass
ignorance, reaching illumination.
Sometimes life floating or sinking in lust ,
embowered by selfishness and malice
waiting for full formation to out burst.
Consciousness to wake, not being enticed.
When misdirected, going through crisis,
Blessings from above are sure to shower.
Cosmic cycle on metamorphosis.
Universe holds energy and power.
Like free butterfly to suck pure nectar:
After demise, soul on bilocation,
sips divine wine in different sector :
Metamorphosis with evolution.
oh there is this voice in my head that echoes
sometimes whispering venomous, poison insults
and at times screaming negativity... grasping my heart
twisting my spirit to tatters and ruin
a parrot mimic, chattering in the dark corridors
of my mind, hiding in all my inner private spaces
plucking and yanking, killing my tranquility
STOP your endless speaking and your crippling malice
I cry, for there is another voice murmuring
a voice softer but much stronger
this voice is courage and will nullify your condemning
in the hush-hush of night I must listen to both voices
and my insides are aching . . this is what I have to say noxious voice
I wish to be an eagle flying high and not a parrot caged in my mind . . .
______________________________
January 13, 2019
Poetry/Free Verse/The Poisonous Parrot
Copyright Protected, ID 19- 1104-553-02
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
Written for the contest, Plucking The Poisonous Parrot
sponsor, Maureen McGreavy
Third Place