Long Manipulation Poems
Long Manipulation Poems. Below are the most popular long Manipulation by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Manipulation poems by poem length and keyword.
Some people breeze through life
With no torture and strife
For others it’s a nightmare
So much that others couldn’t bare
Why is there so much inequality
Some treat health and mind with frivolity
Some genetics can cripple the innocent
Some battles are indiscriminate
Individual actions can cause issues
Sometimes no apologies or tissues
Money can buy things for some
An easy way for them to become
The broke have to suffer through the misery
Others fall for manipulation and trickery
The poor have to eat cheap food
Every rich person personally screwed
The poor are intentionally kept at the bottom
Then left and long forgotten
Life can be really tough
For those you aren’t fortunate enough
Excalibur
The sword was held aloft by the lady of the lake
She said only the mightiest of men shall wield its strength
Only those true of virtue
Only those planted firmly in their moral conviction
She called it Excalibur because she knew it could cause harm
The "Deep Cleft" it could leave gave it it's name
It was an instrument coined in hurt,
It was granted only to defend,
Yet it waged wars and leveled kingdoms.
Excalibur is a contradiction.
King Arthur should have been good.
Our man of virtue sent infants to sea to die;
He gave into his rage;
He lacked loyalty to his queen.
The lady of the Lake believed in him too much.
She thought that virtue would survive a mans power.
She believed he would hold his morals over manipulation.
The lady of the Lake should have kept Excalibur in her grasp.
Not even the mightiest of men can wield its power.
The inability to succumb to the nefariousness that comes with power;
The incapacity to choose your children over a war.
A woman should have wielded Excalibur.
Being an empath in this world is tough,
Where people use you and say you're too much.
You absorb their pain until you drain,
And yet they leave you to suffer in vain.
Your heart is soft, your skin is thin,
You feel the pain of others within.
But in this world, it's a competition,
For those who can play tricks and manipulation.
You're left alone, even though you're the shoulder to cry on,
The irony is, for an empath, this world is often gone.
Living becomes difficult, and so we just survive,
Until we find a way to thrive.
Being an empath may feel like a curse,
But we can turn it into a blessing, not worse.
So let us embrace our sensitivity,
And use it to spread love and positivity.
The only way that I know how right now,
To bring it to the surface...to get it out,
Hanging onto memories so innocent and beautiful,
Before everything became so jaded and synical,
Before judgement and chaos and death took its toll,
Before the world ripped his heart apart, and made him cold,
Before manipulation got its way,
And taught him everything about how to play the game,
Yet this did not protect his soul,
It only hid all the fears in his heart that he holds,
Too honest comes out and he cowers away,
I wish he knew these strongholds don't want him to face,,,
They want him to stay right were he's at,
Without seeing the truth or any change it's a trap,
To keep his heart far from the love he once knew,
God will always bring us back for a time to show us the truth,
Yes, that childlike innocence has left, but not gone,
Remember we become like children again to come to God,
I can see you running, I can picture it in my mind,
Not like now, even though yesterday is behind,
Your purpose in running today is not the same,
You were running with freedom in a childlike state,
With no worries and your heart full of love,
Can't you see dear brother, it doesn't match who you are,
I'm different...I've changed... yes, we all have,
But God is always in the business of bringing our hearts back again,
I'm not crazy when I look into your eyes,
Because I still see the heart of the boy I recognized,
So, do me dirty now, yet I will always see,
The heart of the boy God chose for me,
Mental manipulation,
Spreading the nation,
Broadcast on every station,
Here is a free phone,
Just for the occasion.
It's an invasion,
It's their way in,
Getting under your skin.
Planting information,
A visual manipulation,
Linking the whole nation.
Feeding the brain,
Fear, anger, and pain,
Your thoughts follow,
As they create the domain.
Training you to think,
Not caring if you sink,
Keeping you weak,
Feeding you Lies,
Building walls so no one tries,
To improvise and realize,
There's nothing to climb.
The phone chimes in.
Creating a distraction,
An energy interaction,
Giving a sense of satisfaction.
There is no need to take action,
We sit and watch it happen.
Enticed to tune in,
Amazed by the destruction,
Fears favorite function,
As adds and agendas slip in.
Blasted on every station,
All across the nation,
They build the manifestation.
Holding our focus and attention,
In the intended direction,
Lessening the impact you have in...
The phone chimes in again,
Your phone rings again,
OOOHH!! a notification,
I wonder what came in,
Wait!
There's that game I was playin.
Why was I on here again?
The ultimate ineffable creator,
So, its analogous creations
Coloured with nothing static,
With the ephemeral moment
In transition.
Gray hues at dawn transform
To radiantly glowing horizon,
Altered when arrives evenfall
Then, contrasting flickering night sky
In appreciation.
They drench the thirst of Earth,
The blue ocean bliss of the whales,
Blush the stars on their reflection,
Look precisely through crystal waterfall
In realization.
Similarly mortal beings show and hide,
Emotions residing in heart
Through faces of showcase,
One doesn't realise what's inside
In confusion.
Who appreciates not charms of
Canvas of colours
Periodically visual illusion,
What humans convey
In manipulation.
I am the master of my fate - William Ernest Henley
Universe shelters deceit in crimson reflections of hope
Why and what now where to on the star studded path
I long for orange shade and purple caress
Self-soothing I take out crayons and paint like a child
Stick men craggy women and lost souls scribbled in pain
Wax melts the paper struggles to shine
Hurt pain abuse and allegations of crude abandonment
Projected chaos calligraphed in stencils and pencils
Broken charcoal putrid ink seeking comfort
You broke promises and abandoned earning my trust
Took toxic crunch to its limits lured venom into my care
Insomnia at rest you make your own bed
Toss and turn hopeful daggers into skillets of runaway prey
Actions have consequences just as causes harvest conclusions
But I am tired of picking up the pieces
As emotions feed reason and thoughts combine with emotion
The poet turns on his tap while you ooze your manipulation
Each to their own but I am the master of my fate
Time will tell whether there is a winner in your pack of lies
If dubiose credence can survive another foul roll of the die
But my own sanity rests on cutting some ties
03rd January 2020
Hashtags.
Used to promote to get more attraction to a desired cause
To create a movement , to even open doors
But - like most things it has its flaws
Used to manipulate for narrative control
Stories of real life trauma
Plastered on social media
To be auctioned of and sold
To the highest bidder- usually a politician
Their favourites, those that contain stories of racism
Not because they care
But for emotional manipulation
Used to make them look like a 'diverse hero'
Claiming to love everyone
Yet create policies for a mandatory stop and patrol
'Coincidentally' in only black neighbourhoods
Most hashtags aren't even harmful
If used for the greater good, it can be very useful
A way for slogans to become a movement
One example - #blacklivesmatter
To boost, to help go viral
To become a worldwide sensation
After all you can never have enough people
To tackle this centuries long issue
Yet human nature makes people resentful
When they aren't the centre of attention - when they aren't popular
Usually the oppressors, they can't stand feeling inferior
They'll twist a cause to suit their reputation
After all what's a campaign without deception
My borders are made of lilies.
They are a pleasant reminder where caution begins and conflicts end.
To those who know me, my borders are made with forgiveness, a kind and patient floral display.
To those who try me, they are battle trenches that are now forgotten and unmarked graves.
I have many flowers to give.
They are a welcomed display of love and an unselfish act of charity.
To my friends who know me, my flowers symbolize loyalty, patience, and kindness.
To my enemies who try me with lies, selfishness, manipulation, betrayal, malice or slander
will come to know my borders and why I bring them
lilies.
Eyes! Doleful and lonely as they quietly penetrate my soul
In their silence, I can hear clamorous rumblings of a tale that pleads to be told
Far-reaching and clamorous are these eyes
So much so that not even their beautiful abode can cover or disguise
Beautifully haunting, they are
So deep and so regally divine
I see them. I feel them.
Deeply,
Deeply,
Deeply, they touch
As they meticulously befuddle every morsel of my being
I awkwardly attempt to look away
But like a magnet, they pull me close, closer
Then they speak of many tales, from a whisper to the pinnacle of rising octaves
Sorrowful narratives of manipulation, deception, jealousy, ghosting, envy, greed, betrayal, hurt, sadness, and even the macabre
They speak of wondrous hopes and dreams in the dawn of life that were quickly and heinously turned to night