Long Manipulative Poems
Long Manipulative Poems. Below are the most popular long Manipulative by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Manipulative poems by poem length and keyword.
"as an entity in the dream we conjured
we know not we are both the dreamer and dreamed
how then may we wake up when we are in trance
in bondage to illusions we ourselves stream" ~ Unseeking Seeker
D r e a m s
when draped by the dreamed,
connected to the inner consciousness,
is a manifestation~
of etched m a g i c,
composing songs of the soul,
tied to the heartbeat of the Universe,
letting awareness be the curator,
no longer a victim of fate,
but rising as the artist that paints~
peace and harmony,
from pristine pigments,
through blissful brushstrokes,
to recreate a landscape of love,
oblivious to the illusions
that veil our visions with vanity,
confining us to caves
of perplexed perspectives,
with hazy hieroglyphics engraved
in superficial gold
from Cleopatra’s jewels.
And I trace lifelines amidst moon-rays,
grasping the luminous light,
laced with enlightened beams,
waking up from lucid lies.
My thoughts have long floated amongst
brushing off salt-soaked blues
that soaked my skin in oceanic mists~
surreal sea-urchins
that whisper manipulative mantras,
anchoring me to an abyss
that floats with nothing but darkness…
I see through the marine mirage,
the truth that no longer
is trapped in euphoric melodies,
luring me to dance and dwell in delusions,
as if I am a victim of my own thoughts.
So I close my eyes,
let my mind wander through electric fields,
designed to resurrect
the sleeping stars adrift
in my veins, lost in material longing,
blind to the seraphic glows
floating through the air~
Tonight, I taste flavors of freedom,
to attain eternal nirvana,
unchained from hypnotic reveries
that dared not unravel
colors of clarity,
and spices of zest and zeal,
engrossed in mindfulness
that emanates candle-lit flames of truth,
illuminating twilight skies
with dreams drawn
from fingertips of f a i t h,
seeking spiritual clues
to conquer cosmic castles,
detached from the deceptive dreams
we’ve spun with greed and apathy…
For we are;
the dreamer and the dreamed,
the lyricist and the lyrics,
the poet and the poem,
the painter and the palette
the musician and the melody.
We rise and soar
across celestial gardens,
absorbed by the light,
silencing conflicting cadence~
within inner chaos,
forever adorned in sanguine stillness.
There's a point in your life,
When you have to take a step backwards,
And think Is this what life is about?
All the tears and heartaches,
All the games and the lies,
And you wonder and ponder,
What has my life come to?
When people are allowed to be,
So destructive and manipulative,
So uncaring, so cruel, so evil,
And you let it happen.
You allowed her inside your heart.
The one place you felt so secure,
And now she has broken your heart,
Into millions of tiny pieces.
All I can do now is hideaway,
So no one can find me,
So no one can see me,
So no one can hurt me,
Just me crying in the corner,
All by myself.
Look closely, feel the harmless heat
enveloping black-diamond
petals in the glistening
garden of glossy geraniums.
There, sprouts rosemary dreams
from an untouched silhouette,
eager to be seen beyond
her perfumed pigments.
Her universe was sprinkled
with starry streams
of gleaming rays,
as she swayed to symphonic
serenades filled with hazel dust.
They may gawk with greedy
glares as wide as the night sky,
marking her with lecherous
objects that only please
shameless eyes.
She was never
in need of a sixth sense
to understand iron glances
that travel in nefarious packs,
with sugar-burnt hunger
washing all over her
unblistered flesh,
judging her concealer
as a manipulative facade,
seeking uncalled-for affirmations
that she never solicited,
misconceiving her thin lines
of red-river lipstick.
Her summer physique allowed
no consent for invasive intrusion,
yet carnal cravings become
unwelcome toxic trespassers.
Their immoral thoughts
believe shallow words
give them wanderlust wings,
while sinister stars in their sky
label her a soulless mannequin,
objectifying her
cinnamon-glazed skin,
sun-kissed hair,
and pecan-powdered~
caramelized voluptuous flare,
with their vehement
voracious desires.
Swinging penetrative thin blades
of opinions from miles,
oblivious to the fact that
she is the sanguine strength
that strolls in silver silence
across spiky swards,
suppressing the pain her
bones have endured with
every whiskering
whistle they wolfed.
There, if the mauve moon and
crystalline constellations look closely,
they would find versatile
mirrors of meaning
reflecting the times
she parades a smile too
comfortable to wear,
for they have concluded
her bed to be a shrine
of blenders and
overflowing thickened blades,
cursed by the biological
sins of Adam's ancestors.
I anchor my soul in the middle of the sea
And big ships come chasing after me
It is the place where you don’t want to be
when big waves are riding on the sea and
You are boxed into the four corners of the earth
And the universe is slowly drifting away from you
Awake from your slumber
oh dying souls, take a deep breath and
release the stagnant air,
and replenish your soul
Depart from the woeful solitude of time
and embrace yourself with good news
shut the door of isolation in its face
and join the living human race
look for a new companion,
and let go of the manipulative one
the world is big and a hundred thousand
person is waiting to take your hand
Tomorrow is the start of a brand new day
and good things are coming your way
take a moment to think,
how things would have been
if you had not anchored your soul
In the middle of the depth.
Somewhere in the middle of the sea
something special is waiting for thee
place your heart above your head
dnd observe the passing ship
It is the hopeful anticipation that pulls
you to that special one
and destiny will take your hand
Look at the planes flying above your head
they are on a special mission to bury the dead
A multitude of crows are crusading in the skies
and the monarch butterflies are standing by
with a message from the ancestor, urging you
to cross over the border and walk through the garden
where the honeybees are pollinating the flowers
Nature is beautiful when you glimpse it from afar
so get ready for a special journey that will resurrect
you from the dark, far away in the perilous sea
a ship is anchored and it is waiting for thee.
To steal; to kill; to destroy ; three deathly traits of ‘the evil one’.
Nothing to negotiate or discuss; no bomb threats and timelines.
The stages and steps to total annihilation had begun, bathed in hate.
The evil plot was so manipulative that some of its players were uninformed.
There was the element of surprise and the execution of the unthinkable.
I have a hope that ‘Evil” shall someday finish last, and meet its demise!
We desperately wanted to believe that mortals are inwardly paved with goodness
Our hopes took wings with the fall of The Iron Curtain; but that was short lived.
We insist that given the right spark, mankind will explode into showers of love flames.
However, human history is replete with inhuman conflagrations of massive madness.
The quest for freedom is a God infused desire, but forever at war with ruthless haters.
I have a hope that “Evil” shall someday finish last, and meet its demise!!
It too was a day of infamy causing endless shock and awe around the world
Only an evil person or institution would inflict so much pain on the innocent.
Evil seeds of fear and brainwashing cause mortals to unleash damnable devastation
Strange weapons of war with guided missiles; not remotely, but manually controlled.
Were our heads in the sand, denying that ‘evil’ has no concept of togetherness and unity?
I have a hope that “Evil” shall someday finish last, and meet its demise!!!
Never again was America and the rest of the world to be the same
Will mankind ever unite in brotherhood and stop inflicting so much pain?
Will tomorrow’s evils that loom ahead make yesterday's evils seem tame?
Today’s kings, rulers, and leaders must ‘make the call’ that this is not a game.
Only this and God’s mercy can prevent the repeat of using jumbo planes as missiles.
I have a hope that “Evil” shall someday finish last, and meet its demise!!!!
07052016 PS Contest, Evil Is Everywhere by Brian Davey
We are not
Your victim
anymore
This is
sheer peace
No more
being
manipulated
beaten
and verbally
down trodden
We wanted
you to
change
But how
could you
When
you only
got
disgustingly
worse
We are
free
You hate
the other
gender
Your abuse
is manipulative
violent
and demeaning
You choose
as your
victims
damaged
genders
abused since
childhood
To reopen
wounds
with
sexual degradation
physical beatings
and verbal
tyranny
And
you are
proud of
your legacy
Aren't
you tired
of always
being
in a
RAGE
Wanting
control
with
intimidation
violence
and
verbal aggression
Raging
and
Abuse
Doesn't that
get old?
We don't
make you
do anything
You make
your own
choice
to be
a Raging
Lunatic
It never
ends with
YOU
The other
gender
is an object
to you
To be
shaped into
whatever suits
YOU
It's
never ending
ABUSE
ABUSIVE
and
RAGING
ABUSIVELY
This is our
voice
That we
are on
to you
But you
won't hear
our voice
It's foreign
to you
You only
hear the
inside
RAGING
OF
YOU!
(The sociopaths song "The Unholy" by Slash)
'Morning,
Mary!
-'Morning,
Martin
Meet
My
Main
Man
Mike. . .
-'Morning,
Mike.
~'Morning,
Mondo
Mama!
-Mondo
Mama???
Meaning??
Mary,
Mike's
Merely
Merry
Meeting
Mary :)
-MEANING,
MIKE???
~Mary,
My
Mistake,
Mostly
Merriment,
Merely
Mischievous ;)
Mary,
Mike's
Mistake. . .
-Mike's
Manipulative
Mansplaining—
Misogynist!
~Meh. . .
***
01/03/2020
Poetry form: Alliteration - Each poem in my Alliterative Alphabet Series describes conversations between two or more people while only using words that start with or sound like the first letter of the title of the poem. I’m publishing the poems as I write them on Wattpad.com, not necessarily in alphabetical order. My goal is to write at least 26 poems to cover each letter of the alphabet. I hope you find the concept interesting, maybe even clever. Most of all I hope you enjoy them :)
Disclaimer: This poem is fictional and does not depict any actual person or event. The names used are ficticious and were chosen to satisfy the requirements of the poetry form.
Photo credit: rozkmina | Szczecin, Poland
When accidental
auroras stroll along
the pale highlights of
camouflaging corpses
and death blossoms
in vulturous hearts of
dreadful puppets,
she always holds
pixie dusts of
strawberry seeds within
october's obsidian quartz.
Gaze beyond those
glass-stitched horizons,
as she cracks the
carmine cocoon of
judgemental juxtapositions
and transforms
carbon-coated
milliseconds to
magenta-gold
pronunciation of
peaceful phrases.
She is a silken
cream-dove,
floating above
murky musings of
redolent rhinestone-
reveries.
As prismatic primroses
shall cleanse every
sin from the witching
spellbook, she will waltz
in whispering lulls of liberty,
emancipating from
chloroform-stained
chains of blood-
scented blames.
Her sunflower-shield
and aurous
summer-sword of
amber poesy
can slice spicy
silhouettes of
graphite goblins,
she will never
surrender to those
misinterpreting
megalomaniac minds,
who twirl along
masquerading rivulets
of manipulative
assumptions.
She is the shiniest roar
above grimoires of grief,
like an 'unassailable purity',
washing away
emerald exhales of pain,
who mutes each cosmic
raven's lament and
distils russet-white-lilies with
her alchemical aroma.
gaslight me the movie
of my underdeveloped consciousness
give me a hand
take thine arm
without the silent treatment
and a thank you
for the mind fook
hoovering is not allowed
this is not magic but it is
never seen a fly so brave
the invitation is in the mail
RSVP the art intelligentsia
or Milly`la`Foret's lost inheritance
embodyed in the stereotype
of conceptual oopart
padded by manipulative faking
whack my loot
thu nigh thy sacred book
smiell my surrender thighs
over a fabricated link
burning real Benjamins
to the sound of Marilyn Manson
pareidolia
patterns and wormholes and time loops
time present and future coexist
what to do with such knowledge
carved into the limestone
surrounding a city like distrust
lifted in grey moire
over a living ocean
rocked over engraving rollers
in the arms of a sleeping monster
whatever it is
it's right up ahead
everything weighed and measured
the metrology of red flags
illumated under ambient withholding
dreamt up into a real world
of Indian parenting techniques
dormant till spring
into the arms of the universal awakening
a kinetic toy is walking
must be the bravest sub of all
to have turned off all notifications
under a gas light on the green screen
splitting personalities
abannan soleil and mistel
disclosed and made public
spinning on the golden wheel
eyes glaring a dupper's delight
hidden underneath an unkept beard
chin up and hands down recoiling
the circuit does not always
go round and round
it comes from underground
with little steps
tip toe in the dark
the water is warmer for you there
peowetling peowian
it's not from where i am
cold in the head
cold shoulder painted red
don't pay your rent all at once
is a forever later game.
by a rinelle in Catemaco
reddish purple about the neck
innocent and unsecured
not noosed nor snared
skilled in mysteries and kindness
i mind here finely prepped
a synomyn in liminal space
past your window into another's partition
Believe it or not, their ubiquitous webs
Are everywhere; they are the dictators
Who kidnap, maim, torture and kill teachers,
Poets, ordinary folks and babies in their cribs.
They rob and ransack innocent citizens,
Steal elections and after a lifetime in power,
Categorically refuse to leave the tower.
Very often, they do everything to muzzle the chickens.
Monsters are constantly in disguise,
They are well dressed, they wear uniforms,
They know how to blend and to socialize.
Monsters, at every turn, want to control the dorms,
Manipulate the data, fool the media,
Hire henchmen and spread false propaganda.
Monsters behave like manipulative magicians,
They suck the air out of the innocent bystanders,
Befriend desperate and impoverished musicians,
Surreptitiously inveigle the nosy neighbors
To exteriorize their feelings, and they spy and lie,
At every opportunity; and at every occasion,
They bury their preys alive in the dungeon.
Believe it or not, monsters are like rats,
Their appetite is insatiable; they crawl under the mats,
Bite babies, steal millions, and hide the money in overseas coffers;
They rape young boys and girls, and destroy the future of many.
The revolution was not done right ‘cause the kidnappers,
The pick pockets and their accomplices are still under the tree.
Those raccoons, those bedbugs don't go away easily.
They outlive the exterminators. These goons are really bright.
Be cautious, because they are out there day and night,
Operating at every meeting and at every party.
Believe it or not, all bad things must come to an end:
The lies, the crimes, and the arbitrary executions of the church band.
Copyright© February 2012, Hebert Logerie, All Rights Reserved
Hébert Logerie is the author of several poetry books: