Long Manifesto Poems
Long Manifesto Poems. Below are the most popular long Manifesto by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Manifesto poems by poem length and keyword.
Simply to put text that we cannot cover anything complex
There was a simplified version of every object-- an annex
The loss of everything to put it understandable; loosing context
Was like cutting all of the trees just to portray land like Lorax
Though, where we put things behind the bars is just the manifesto
Everything could be described out and reasoned with a memo
I was warned by Spinoza, that not everything fits out and can be a reductio
So, would a man be reasoning out of everything killing complexity would be a maestro
A virtuoso indeed, to be smart that it leaps every precautionary never stumbled
Wish I was that man to hide complexity, to assign simplicity-- oversimplified
But, I would lose the essence of dopamine in searching question categorized
As I would never understand if short text means something to unconcealed
Form:
Beyond the visible world,
I go searching
for the first darkness.
In the womb of creation
I have lit
the deathless
wick of consciousness-yet still,
the fierce fire of being refuses to die.
Within the procession of light
I carry
this exhausted mortal form.
Let decay fall away.
Let the unfinished manuscript of failure
be erased.
Come-
let us become one
in the silent manifesto
of our shared existence.
Into the womb of time
let the accumulated grief of centuries
sink without a trace.
Within the stillness of stone
may the primal nucleus of life
begin to pulse again.
Across the stellar canvas
let a colony of light
take root.
May the ancient eyes of humanity,
forever astonished,
learn wonder once again.
Let every black shadow of ill fortune
dissolve beyond the last frontier
of the universe.
Upon the eternal soul of humankind
may boundless mercy
fall like gentle rain.
Through the abandoned courtyard of the heart let an unseen wind arise.
May every grain of falsehood
be carried away
by the stainless waterfall of truth.
Let the arrogance of wealth bow to the dust beneath a rain-soaked, broken roof.
May the rich and the destitute
find shelter together
beneath the indivisible sky.
In the fire of purification
may every stained heart
be made whole.
Within lifeless stone
let the chlorophyll of silent grass
awaken.
At the restless windows of the world
let dawn's first geometric bird
unfold its wings.
May the oldest walls of division
be swept away
by the fierce current of eternity.
For a human being is only human-
not a universe,
not a monument of immutable truths,
but two warm breaths, standing close enough to become one.
How did it come to pass that
belonging to a religion is now
considered a stupid act?
And when being anti-American,
a sign of superior intellectuality?
When no respect for our laws on
the books are heeded?
When, did it become popular to
kill newborns, supported by
women dressed as female body
parts, marching in the streets?
Worse, to express any and all
Conservative political opinions,
as for this may mean you will be
avoided or physically beaten?
The most insulting of all, to have
mass murders, allowing the killer
to live, we just need his Manifesto
to justify it all?
And howling politicians dancing on
the graves of the dead like wolves!
Just to get into the White House?
Ungodly shameless, is all!
August 4, 2019
4pm PST
In retro-wave glow, in twilight haze,
He rewinds the reel, lets static blaze.
Her voice returns like a phantom hymn,
Crooning of freedom, of shedding old skin.
Plaid jackets, cracked curbs, neon sighs—
They skated hard beneath pixel skies.
She was chaos, kohl-lined and cruel,
Spray-can dreams, a punked-out jewel.
Every scar a track, every slight a song,
She played it loud, dared the world to be wrong.
He watched her whirl like a comet unbound,
A canary in glass, too wild to be found.
And when she tapped his shoulder, said “Hello,”
The headphones split their worlds in stereo.
Her smile—an echo, her tape—divine,
Two rebels synced in magnetic time.
So let the boombox wail,
Let the vinyl crack and fail.
They’re dancing through the skips and hiss,
In every note, a stolen kiss.
No regrets, just sonic ghosts—
They haunt the chords they loved the most.
They dreamed of Saturn, of Parisian lagoons,
Of slaying monsters beneath twin moons.
She bled into ribbon, he into rhyme,
Together they bent the beat of time.
Now he’s grown, with plans and weight,
But presses play to recalibrate.
Does she linger in the hiss and hum?
A manifesto wrapped in drum?
Her voice still burns, her rhythm flies—
A spark beneath suburban skies.
So let the boombox wail,
Let the needle crack and flail.
They’re dancing through the skips and hiss,
In every note, a phantom kiss.
No regrets, just sonic ghosts—
They haunt the chords they loved the most.
She’s the flame in his cassette dream,
He’s the echo in her rebel scream.
Skateboards, static, cinnamon lips—
A love that lives in tape-deck skips.
So blast away the loneliness,
Let punk anthems cleanse the mess.
Like canaries in a coal mine song,
They warned the world, and still belong.
Phases of Moon on inscription
round the Earth on revolution
will be marvelous memento .
Just a simple manifesto.
Moon is our nearest neighbour.
Closest companion of ours.
It awakes inquisitiveness
about Universal vastness.
extending curiosity
to seek human identity .
Search for Cosmic explantion
since start of civilization.
Attraction of Moon from the Earth
continues from humans' birth.
Event of human Moon landing !
The Great Grand Success : Outstanding.
Memento to leave, we deserve -
' Phases of Moon' - as Earth observes.
The world is so absurd
people think their wishes Trump
true freedoms
honourable freedoms
They detest
education
women's rights
minority rights
Science, vaccines, empathy
freedom of children not to be shot in schools
They distort and lie
and lie and lie
Their tin foil hats of hate
the manifesto of all extremists
who need guns to be men
Beware someone who screeches "freedom"
then takes away yours
Those who care so much for the unborn
do zero for the born and the needy
socialism is against their freedoms
Western nations laugh as they proclaim
dire sadness
at the ludicrousness
of the Taliban and USA
allies in repression of freedom
in the name of freedom
Born May 5, 1818, in Trier Germany
to Heinrich and Henrietta Marx,
sans the third of nine children
(and second oldest heir)
Karl Marx thinking begot incendiary sparks,
asper his two most controversial publications
titled The Communist Manifesto,
and Das Kapital
which political philosophy
incubating seeds of self destruction didst birth
doctrines of class struggle,
historical materialism, dearth
of equitable wealth, and inherent
contradictions of industrial capital
distributed unevenly
across avast swath of Earth
thus inviting his perspective
(conveniently exploited,
mined, and usurped) advocating
the working class (proletariat)
to expedite organized revolutionary action
to topple capitalism and bring about
socio-economic emancipation,
where wages of sin exchanged for labor bled
fingers to the bone life source, viz proletariat
till slaving laborer nearly became gratefully dead
despite being cased in 12 point
Times New Roman garb, who incessantly fed
insatiably maws of production,
(no way to get a supportive talking head)
particularly highlighted
within schema of Capitalism),
a predominant paradigm
stratifying society led
to internal tensions engendered
between bourgeoisie red
dilly controlling means
of production codified as said
as die a critical approach Marx coined
as historical materialism,
where figurative landmines forced one to tread
gingerly, thus above stated philosophy
would supposedly lead down the road
where self destruction wrought marriage
birthing Socialism offspring from shot gun wed
ding, thus coaxing eventual establishment
of classless communist society meant
to establish free association of producers who spent
exchanging merchandise amidst classless
campy population hood pitched a tent.
In the endless kingdom of time, where clocks are silent and years dissolve,
Existence weaves smiles with the mirage of immortality, faultless,
Man, a traveler towards the infinite, through melting icebergs of moments,
A dancer at the eternal ball, where age is just an echo, a simple meaning.
His gaze towards the horizon, pure, like the ray of sun through clear glass,
Dreams of boundlessness, where not a grain of sand is squandered,
But reality is a wall of shadows, with each dream, a part is unforgivingly torn away,
And life's tragic theater, ageless on its stage, is divided in acts unjustly shared.
Treading through the gardens of days, his soul traverses the ocean of thoughts,
This boundless inner cosmos, where youth and old age grapple,
The burden on shoulders unyielding, battling the maladies that cast him out,
And he perseveres on the path to stay, with a deluge of expectations, struggling unbroken.
In this voyage towards the lost eternity, he intertwines his chimera,
With a heart full of longing, he concludes contracts with the stars, trading empty illusions,
Hope, that specter, strides furtively like an early migrating bird,
And each day is a rose petal fallen, from the life's bouquet that burns in the distance.
But peace, a silent coffee at dusk, in the company of an open book,
Is the manifesto of the timeless soul, which, deep within, always dreams,
Though various perils are laid in his path, immobilizing steps towards the heavenly,
This man, age-old and resonant, remains alive in the heart of each moment, eternally.
What we want is -
Not always what we need
But what we need is not
Always what we want
Which is more so important
Do they actually go hand in hand
Like if if we did not recognise bad
How would we know what is good
Like one believes god or the devil
Like having a plus without a minus
Separating one from the other?
Seems a bit of a head doa, at times
Decisions yeah all these decisions
But is it possible to really separate
Your wants from your needs?
When you want something so bad
That you are willing to do anything
But what if you need something
You then have to stop and think
About what it is that comes first
Your wants or is it your needs?
Probably makes no sense this idea had for some time though Im going back on
old writes updating a bit with this more of a manifesto but also trying not to ryhme
unlike others or though with some others like fate and coruiosity suck to a diffrent pattern
same as with you ill be and others currently working on mother earth some of the last few writes
ive taken or drawn from a big epic one i wrote that I put on here before chrismas but scapped
at time as I thought to much content so my last few wrirs are drawn from this
ut if i had not of come on soup in first place then probably would not have had the insperation to go back on old writes
And of course write anything new WRITTEN BY MY SELF DAVIDSCOTT MARCH 2013
OR THOUGH IDEA DISCUSTED WITH FRIEN BACK IN JAN FEB 2008,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,wants and needs
In the gist of the Jester
The jiggle doesn't match the jangle
The tester bangle is not at the right angle
For the name tag should be hanging on Esther
Three cribs over in the newborns you'll find her
By the ancestor of the jester called Sylvester
He's at 180 degrees to the kid named Lester
Just to fester the find of the whole manifesto
Of this ridiculous idea about the bangle
On Me not Esther who had the jangle
From the bidding of the ancestor of the Jester
Named Sylvester at 180 degrees to Lester
Because Dear God my name is Ralph!!
Picture #1
Written 5-25-19
"Baby Face - Whats You Thinkin"
James Edward Lee, Sr.