Long Manmade Poems
Long Manmade Poems. Below are the most popular long Manmade by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Manmade poems by poem length and keyword.
How can you say
with your not quite straight face
that you neither know nor care
anything of God, or gods,
or exotic goddesses
or ghosting holy spirits?
That's like saying you don't care for any love today,
or believe in rain during a drought,
yet feel gratitude for sacred Earth's holistic medicine,
all the grace-filled rain that came some other place and day,
even if not this dry and cracked today.
Like saying you don't believe in music
and dance
and sex
and pleasure
and passion
and red and purple and pink and yellow bruised violet sunsets.
How could you not care about creative becoming?
Regeneration of interdependent life?
The future peaceful home of our prospering grandchildren?
Health care and assurance?
Social and environmental securities?
Anti-social anti-ecological irreligious insecurities?
AnthroObscene LoseAnthroMinds/LoseEarthBodies
mutually assured destroying war games
and re-creative multicultural sacred/organic gardens
pantheistically loving
peace-thriving fragrant and beautiful Beloving Communities.
How can you pretend
with that half-smirk
that this Earth Goddess
we democratically garden together
is no one you could wisely know
or deeply care about?
To co-redeem a master gardener's wildest dreams?
To love into integrity's holy nature/spirit wealth
by divesting of manmade hypocrisy,
thinking we could sufficiently name,
much less commodify, God
without re-creating passions
and pleasures of organic Paradise.
Why would you take a pass
on digging into Earth's co-passionate
fully humane mind/body divinity?
This could not be true
not really you
not the Self with polyculturing Others
past and future right now within
and without your own,
but never owned, passion
to prefer sacred cooperative pleasure's
indigenously natural wisdom.
How can you know
we're not gods and goddesses
in our health-gardening integrity?
in our potential for harvesting regenerativity?
economic and politically fertile
sync-tensegrity,
love of full-stretch multi-colored jazzy soul livity.
You know you want to dance in cornrows
and sing with bird choirs
as god and goddess
within and on,
for and of Mother Gorgeous Gaia's
embryonic wounded womb
elationally awaiting Golden Ruling garden bliss
Or, did I miss something
in that twinkling
of your somewhat straight-faced lie?
It is very impressive to go westward
in an early morning of midwinter,
because you will see a full moon
that you have forgotten for a while
in the middle of the western sky.
[The westward moon is, perhaps,
the one that Li T’ai-Po
who was bewitched by
and delighted by a moon so much
chanted poems in praise of the moon
throughout his life,
after breaking a thick frozen ice on the lake,
scooped an August full moon
that is not sunken but still floating
on the surface of water,
and pasted it to the wintry sky.]
Although the air in my car is still cold as ice,
and roadside snow is being melted from salt spray
and messy, covered with splashes of dirty water,
the moon, like a virgin still chaste,
[By manmade machine and men,
the moon, though, lost her virginity long ago,]
looks immaculate and gorgeous as ever.
For the moon
riding high in the western sky
enjoying the honor and admiration that is entitled
only to virgin girls
though she lost it long ago,
the north wind,
because of her envy toward the moon,
was wandering in the frozen waste
pleasure driving a sheer-white chariot
brings a violent snowstorm,
and heartlessly shakes the moon
that barely hangs on the midwinter’s western sky
to fall.
After so much abuse,
kicks, stamps, smacks, and blows of violent wind
that of more than she can bear
the frightened moon flees to south, then to east
with her paled and waning face,
and finally disappears somewhere
where no one will able to find her.
Total darkness covers the earth,
overwhelms to deny everything.
At the edge of this darkness
a somewhat eerie looking hunchbacked creature
[Although he was much intelligent,
yet tenderhearted, a man more sensitive
than the worldly-minded ordinary persons,]
comes and searches for the disappeared moon,
and when he finds
a segment of a shattered piece of moon on the earth,
he embraces it in his bosom with tears of joy,
and falls to the ground with his last breath.
And as a hunchback perishes
a young man with more holes
than the shattered pieces of fallen moon in his rungs,
who always whispered sadly to the waning moon
while leaning against a southward window frame,
comes and carries the hunchback’s remains hurriedly
in the cart to an eastern gateway, with gasping,
to the place where the full moon dwells, with panting.
We come and go
Nobody stays forever
But our stay leaves an impact
Full of joy, sorrow, anger, love and hatred
Time makes them all a history
Generations pass and new breeze blows
We emerge as reborn
With fresh melody and resonance
Relationships and bonds float
Universe pays what you want
But the ways may be different
The gain may appear as loss
Nature’s long and short term vision
Every so often, unfolds simultaneously
Causing overlapping perceptions
But, wisdom is bestowed upon you
To distinguish between right and wrong
And decode the ways of nature
Life repeats itself with the same
Joy, sorrow, anger, love and hatred
We do not change
We are humans, with intrinsic traits
Destined to live with them
We go as fast as we come
Life is a repetitive affair
New becomes old and old becomes new
The old and new are the norm
All goes but the heart stays
And newness takes over
Why it happens, nobody knows
Reason, logic, purpose, cause and effect
Are manmade fantasies, alien to nature,
A tale of exuberance and spontaneity
Which never begins, never ends
Just stays and endures.
So, flow with it and enjoy
The whole truth
and nothing but the fu(king truth
That laws, and math, only help solve
local temporary problems,
All of which fall way short
on the infinite needs scale
were we rely on estimates, theories,
and other manmade truths
Still here we are,
alone on a goldilocks planet
All 8 billion of us milling around,
living our lives
guaranteed nothing
other than this moment
and whatever came before
To think otherwise
would be presumptuously human
As for choice is there really any
other than try feed ourselves
and sate the instinct to survive and thrive
We are a civilisation built on
disparate societal values and creeds
Each day is an imperceptible handover
from one generation to the next,
with no guarantee they’ll do a better job
But the real problem is not truth,
It’s why!
Why anything at all,
Why life
Why the fu(k am I asking these questions
I’m apostate, No!
I have little faith, No!
I am honest, No!
A nihilist, No
It’s because I have a sentient,
curious, unapologetic mind
that compels me to ask why!
Sometimes I think
i’d be better off a sponge
floating in crystal clear turquoise balmy oceans
Soaking up oblivious unintelligible surroundings
Indifferent to mortality and the universe,
popping off a few buds every once in a while,
or whatever sponges
brainlessly do to further their species
Such basic life is so very tempting
but just doesn’t sit right
Never to experience love
however fleeting,
Never to endure pain
However crushing,
Never to feel like throwing in the towel,
Even if just to mop blood
off the floor like a sponge
See, I’ve had moments
unimaginably beautiful,
Alongside unconscionably awful ones,
Moments so real
they can’t have been synthesised
by any stretch of any imagination
I believe a God or the universe
created me as a vessel of interpretation
to perceive itself
from my unique perspective
Well not unique per se,
more a personalised handicapped view
I am nothing and everything
in the grand scheme of things
No more! No less!
One that uses swear words
language you may not like,
yet clearly understand
The weirdest part is not the feeling
I’ve written this fu(ked up poem
in previous carnations
It’s my swearing
just seems to be getting worse
By
David Kavanagh
You have been running around the world looking for a diamond girl; You have been running around the world making unfair investment and driving the interest right up to heaven.
You have stolen the gold from off shore and bury it beneath the dirt; you have crossed the line and interfere with the divine. The world is one big mass spinning around in a looking glass, it can see you from every angle and when the sun goes down and the moon rises up you will see your shadow on the wall.
You have been running around the world from Bahrain to Kuwait, knocking on every door and spilling oil on the gulf shore. You spend time romancing in the UAE in expensive hotel and mingling with young boys whose puberty is wrapped in keffiyeh on top of their head and marrying them off to innocent girls whose Virginity is stacked underneath their bed, and the old men seducing the pauper at gun point, with black tea and a jar of ice.
This morning I stood between the line and the divine piecing together the mystical trail that will get you over the rail, there is no imaginary line and I keep telling you that from time to time you have got to find the mouth of the cave that run through my grandfather land and track the connection with the gulf
.A tunnel is manmade but a cave is designed by nature to provide human shelter. It begins somewhere in Qatar and ends somewhere in the great mosque of Mecca, oh what great tragedy lies at the foot to the cave.
From the beginning of time the Arab were bold, they were skillful men with beautiful women and they had their work cut out for them. They were the best traders in town and they could build a castle on top of the mountain with a hammer and a stick and they could sweep you off your feet with their indigenous barging techniques.
They were skillful fighters and strong mountain divers; they knew the mountain like the back of my hands and they could run up and down the mountain in seconds and find peace in heaven but something went wrong when the Europeans invaded the Arabs.
They give them fifty-three for fifty-two and got a brand-new pair of shoes.
You have one more assignment to do before the mission is complete.
(Just who are the most self-righteous people on earth?)
When God created Adam and designed the fall,
To reveal Christ's glorious salvation call.
Self-righteousness, then came into play,
To plague mankind in a wicked way.
Sadly, by nature we tend to be,
Righteous in our own works, you see.
The christian struggles most every day,
To keep his self-righteousness at bay.
But, the most self-righteous man on earth;
The one most permeated with its curse,
Is the atheist in whom we find,
Through the perversion of his mind,
An evil heart that readily condemns
All who dare disagree with him.
The beam is there , yet he sees it not,
But, 'oh the mote, it's in clear eyeshot.
From his cocksure "pulpit" above,
He promises to bring utopia and love.
He delights in questioning God, too see,
If he can set God at his knee,
Even to replace Him on His throne,
There to self-righteously rule alone.
He's been this way since the day of Cain.
The atheist, as God, will proclaim,
To be the righteous judge for all,
Obeisance to him is his clarion call.
The tyrant appears in manmade splendor,
Declaring there is no god but Caesar.
And given a little time, he'll appear again,
And we see the rise of Joseph Stalin.
Don't be fooled by this false hope,
That man in his own wisdom can cope,
With the ills lifes struggle brings,
Into our mortal transition scene.
The "seeming" right way to man, at best,
Becomes the wrong way leading to death.
As the battle royal turns out to be,
The war between my flesh and me.
Because the great danger exists,
In our deep-seated self-righteousness.
Unlike the atheist, we pray every day,
That God's Holy Word light our way.
But, the atheist will have none of this;
No matter how much "man made" pain exists,
From his self-righteous attempt to be,
The righteous judge for you and me.
With this "revealed" knowledge we should find,
Not hate, but love of a Godly kind,
For our adversary the atheist, you see,
But for God's grace, thats what we'd be.
1Cor.2:14 "the natural man recieveth not"...
Rom.8:7 " the carnal mind is enmity--neither can he know"....
John 6:44 "no man can....
John6:29 "this is the work of God, that ye believe"....
Lionel
Out of the blue on this summer day
Richie asks me if I want to swim with him across the lake
Sure what the hell and that is that
I will match the older boy’s vim and whim
Two strong boys armored with Nietzsche arrogance and Tolkien muscle
Armada of scarecrows and wrists assemble on Wally’s manmade beach
To accompany us on the two-and-a-half-mile odyssey
Across the cold and chop of wind
Dad hunches over a leaky rowboat
In hand-to-hand combat with splintered creaky oars
Dennis kneels on a music sheet paddle board
Pink baton at his bearded black throat
In we go
A wave and grin goodbye to Wally’s beautiful daughter Wendy
Richie to Wally’s wonderous wife Janet
And to our moms’ arms crossed up on the tennis court hill
For hours little did we know
Dad says Bobby! Sarah’s coming up underneath you ha ha
Richie separates and heads north not east like a slashing madman
Hey Hey yells Dennis his spotter
Imagine myself a turtle with hot sun egg frying on its back in the black water
Begin to feel the razor teeth of pike at my toes
Biting them off one by one
I stop and panic thrash and splash them away give them my toenails
Richie straightens out far behind me
Weight of the bloated world holding me up
Spaceship in orbit bellied against the Earth
Halfway across
I assume
I can only tell by the guess of cumulus clouds
My knees shoulders neck need an oiled wrench to complete each heave and rotation
Rust and barnacles growing on me
Finally I pass over the turquoise drop off of the other side
Pink mustard to my sutured eyelids
Line of shore the trees a quarter mile ahead
I think dad yells good enough good enough
Salvages me in with what chattering bones remain retrievable
Face gone
Snaps my arms and legs to the rowboat’s aluminum bench
Cannot bend this brass statue to a sitting position
Upside down the only way I can fit in
For the long trip back within my dad’s singing voice
Richie crawls hands and knees up on that beach
Holds its sand in his hands lets it sift through as a time glass
Never lets me forget that
I finished and you did not but we won’t tell the shimmering women
When and if
You the brother I never had and I get back
Teeth left like unrecovered treasure at the bottom of Torch Lake.
I stand amazed when I ponder from my weak mind a power so immense that it encompasses the universe. A power beyond all understanding radiating from God’s domain of Heaven. A power
so Holy that the Jewish Rabbis would not say his name except in rituals. A power without end yet a power with endless love for his creation, mankind. A power so vast that he knew us before we were born and knows us by name. a power defying logic and a Trinity that transcends all boundaries of imagination yet so personable that God begot his Son, though that Son, (John 1:1-3) was with God in the beginning and was God who stepped out of the God Head to become flesh and born of a woman. A power in full control of world events as evidenced when Jesus calmed the wind as in Mathew 8:23.
Then another essence of God, the Holy Spirit, who can live in man and the world at the same time,
and always waiting for the new believer to come forth and plead the acceptance of Jesus Christ in churches and lives all over the world in the same moment in time. Jesus, the Son who was willing to lay down his glory for his creation.
If not for Jesus, my thoughts alone would send me to hell. Hell is mentioned in the Bible more than Heaven.
God has no peers and is so Holy that he defined sin and set it apart so that believers and nonbelievers alike understand it. Sin cannot enter the presence of God.
Jesus is the only way, and it is through his blood and resurrection to attain salvation and not works, “Lest we boast.” Your goodness will not do it for you.
“I am the way, the truth and the life, no man comes to the Father except through me.” All other supposed ways are false gods and rotting in their graves and others mere manmade stone images leading the way to doom.
The God of the Christians is personable and when you accept Jesus as your Savior you will know he is real, for you will be aware of his Spirit. If you want to experience God, you can, just ask him to reveal himself to you and save you and take him at his word. You don’t have to clean yourself, he will clean you. You will still sin but you will strive not to.
I ponder these things and know that I’m not worthy of the promise, but I don’t have to understand, Just believe and accept the gift of Grace by faith and nothing.
They said you came from chimpanzees—
That deep in some African jungle
You leapt across species,
A silent hunter cloaked in blood.
But we have lived with chimpanzees
For tens of thousands of years.
We shared forests,
We shared meat,
We shared mythologies.
Why now?
They claim you're a natural disease—
But if that were true,
Why does nature not offer a cure?
Polio fell. Smallpox vanished.
Yet you—since 1981—
Have danced above the heads
Of even our greatest minds.
You are not nature’s design.
You are manmade silence.
You are a disease of profit,
A political invention,
A capitalist experiment gone global.
You were born in the shadows
Of white laboratories
Fueled by Cold War paranoia,
By the greed of corporations
And the prejudice of empires.
You made kings of pharmaceutical companies
And slaves of the sick.
You are not a virus.
You are a business model.
Billions have been spent.
Trillions earned.
You made markets out of mortality.
You made luxury yachts
From the suffering of mothers.
The cure?
Buried beneath patents,
Guarded by legal walls
And the blood of the voiceless.
If the world can send robots to Mars,
Edit genes,
Simulate universes—
Why can’t it cure a virus
With a mapped genome
And decades of study?
The answer is clear:
Because your existence
Feeds the engines of greed.
Because a cured patient
Is less profitable
Than a permanently treated one.
And you dare—
You dare to point your trembling finger at Africa,
The continent where life began,
And say: “There. That is where I was born.”
Lies.
The first known case?
The USA, 1969.
A teenager.
No jungle.
No monkey.
Just silence.
You demonized a continent
To distract from your laboratories.
You blamed the poor
To protect the rich.
But truth, like water, always finds a crack.
And now—
The world is watching.
The veil is lifting.
Young scientists are rising
Not for profit,
But for justice.
For healing.
For the truth.
Your days are numbered,
HIV.
Not because you are strong—
But because your creators
Can no longer contain the storm they sparked.
And when the truth stands,
No lie—
No corporation—
No empire—
Can withstand its weight.
We see you.
We name you.
We end you.
Inter connected already my friend
Submitting to peer pressure and
Responding to the Fathers Sins, who
Followed the rules and lived and died
As all the others had before
Watching children today, breathing our
Polluted atmosphere, chernoble, coal
And oil, gas blown by the wind
The world over.
Is the world over?
Has the paradise we were born into
Burnt in manmade mega changes
As we filter our passion through
Whom and what our peering Group
Of neighbours read from our actions
And if I use the recycling bins, will
It reduce the amount of plastic the oil
Industry make, or promote making
Usefull items like ploughshares
Instead of guns?
If, I ‘do my bit’, does it help you
Or ‘them’ do theirs; n’ does it
Reduce the numbers of landmines
My country manufactures, or the
Number of children with stubs for Limbs
If I turn off lights when I ought to
And make stuff last a bit longer
Or ‘make-do, fix and mend’ will it
Alter the amount of resources used
By status symbols in their buying,
Accommodating or maintenance?
If I walk instead of drive
Will it solve anything
Am I less likely to get breast cancer?
I am doing my bit
I always have been
And so have all the rest of you
So we obviously deserve
all that comes to us - its no-ones fault
Merely the training provided
and responded to and the everlasting
Landscape of one of Gods Days.
And when they said ‘wind farm’
And some of us thought ‘Jobs’
And some of us thought of dead birds
And atmospheric community provisions
And we leant upon our trained officials
For answers
And then we started fighting
Was that still in One of Gods Days
Small island off the coast of UK
Mainland, perfect for nuclear fission
New clear waste, large amounts of concrete
Easy to make mega profits to spend on
Status symbols
Why?
Apathy,. Mate, and fire-fighting and
The ever present command to
‘dominate the earth’, ‘to be divided’ and
Recognise 2 sorts of humans, male
And female….. Or them and us
Just press the button as the best bequeathment
And inheritance - life is obviously not enough all on its own.
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