Long Martyred Poems
Long Martyred Poems. Below are the most popular long Martyred by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Martyred poems by poem length and keyword.
Born to;
Born to rule
Born to die
Born to live
Born to cry
Born to reap
Born to sow
Born to watch everybody grow
Born to see
Born to be blinded
Born to live free
Born to live confined
Born to be sheep
Born to be slaughtered
Born to cry wolf
Born to be martyred
Born to be experimented on
Born to be told not to go outside
Born to become vitamin deficient
Born to grow sick
Born to go to the hospital
Born to be diagnosed a hoax
Born to be injected with poison
Born to be silenced
Born to be cultivated like numbers
Born to be put into concentration camps
Born to be told we’re not human
Born to fall victim of legal genocide
Born to stay quiet
Born to be told not to rise up
Born to be threatened prison, will be for those whom have a voice
Born to sleep weary
Born to grow tired
Born to become vengeful
Born to hate the corrupt
Born to condemn the elite
Born to realize we were lied to
Born to understand we are the product
Born to know the product is costly
Born to wake up to the idea that evil is apparent
Born to love but learn to hate
Born to know that Politian's never actually debate
Born to know this is all a lie. If you still think this is about a virus, then the wolf will eat you alive.
She had many sad stories,
they were filed away, labeled,
color coded;
tales presented as apocryphal bibles.
He would listen as she pulled them out
of her droning breast,
intoned then as if reciting
poetry to an acolyte sponge.
Her stories festered the air
with pitiful sorrows,
scratched yet more stigmata
upon hide-bound woes.
White paper moths would fly up to his eyes
as if to illustrate her narratives;
tissue thin, he would see within them
the many skeletons of her living ghosts,
bones free now of all minerality,
fish-wet and wriggling
in the gel of a long preserved plasma.
He often closed his ears
to make his lips numb. The nasal gnarl
of her broken voice
coated his tongue with sticky commiserations,
a jejune sympathy
that had the texture of mildewed goatskin.
Her words mechanically ticked off
every injustice and persecution
ever heaped upon a martyred mind.
Eventually though, her deep well of mopes
dried to a blubber of sighs.
Then all those emaciated moths
would flutter around her
anointing her echoing skull
with a seeping urine-like substance
she called love.
Life in the “Ghettohood” is finger licking good,
All souls in their folly keeps my coffers full and jolly
Anger hate and bigotry’s the best kind of energy.
Loud ruthless gangsters, young naughty pranksters;
Keeping up with the Kardashians, those vexed unholy citizens
A pleasure to see, their shiny gold turn to greed.
As Your strong wills yields to the thrill of the kill.
Awwwhhh Great Glory to me. My name will be history.
Oh the pride, the pride, the arrogantly foolish;
See your selfish lust fall victim to the lazy.
Be thy noble minds martyred violently crazy
Mmmm tasty, tasty, tasty ¬_ cakes and pies;
Delicious is the filling of steamy deceit and lies.
I savor the flavor of the strong, weak and old.
Don’t listen to the fables of those stories told!
I will suck the marrow from the bones of your babies;
Then tiptoe through the tulips, the roses and daisies.
For every time you lift a little finger of foe;
The energy of negativity helps me to grow.
Go on forget about me, I’m not so bad of a guy,
You’re all on the menu, the bold and the shy.
I’m just a mere villainous vampire.
Feasting till you completely expire.
Aye! The eating is marvelously good in every Ghettohood!
~~~w11152019
Last call for alcohol, embargo
on the cargo headed for Fargo?
Bootlegging articles of?
"ConfederationNow",
Boot logger, droned Over all? Foggered... Froggers, sprawled. Farms attacked by competing vows. ++
Blood drained Cows.
Imagine, Gaia hype- our brainwashing, a
sacrifice to a Paul Bunyan Nephilim type, "Savior" moonshining wormwood tea in exchange for Sheep. Believing them to be. Stoned blind in Texas, right wing.
Liquid Media medicinals, points for eveyone West of, Diagonal the Allegheny, best of show, suggestion,
allegiant, allegory. (Oh...allegedly.)
As The King of the North fights zombies that believe the Game of Thrones just fantasy. Conspiracy_ Storytellers of propagandolf, minds of Sauron to keep
eyes Wide-Shut. By Aristocracy.
To "pass" on the proof of those stoned blind in Texas, shekeled, bought, brought a Rose, of Sharon,
from Ticked Karen's, in their own Eden.
Those non-Citizens,
"Christians of the un-Enlightened" l"unacy of Old',
thoughts? NoahmadicHeathens!
Of the tide turning; going South.
The dark side of the moon,
a journey scape of wet dreams in swoon.
To partake the half empty side of drink.
Salt of thirsts.
Cup of wrath of the Directional Winds.
A piracy bloodbath of Nationhood in martyred demarcation zones.
Cusp of swilling blood of the swill,
Apocalyptic feel, fills,
notes of the unveiling of the Whore who Rides the Beast on the Seven Seas. Leviathan is leavened,
rising, ready to eat.
Now, there is censorship on speech on the internet,
then is, when, is then en-Tyrely.
The Gatekeepers at Fallens keep,
keeping freedom, voices "Crying in the Wilderness"',
Peeps out of reach.
Accept for Government (entities) with algorithms, keyloggers, identity id thieves, imagers of the Beast.
Spell binders binding
their articles-of-New-World-Sourcery-Cheaping-Rumpelstiltskin-Seamstitchery-Tailoring-Truth- blinding-digital-mining-slaves for the Wolves,
Kings of the East, Trading Company.
Trading souls for an hour with the Beast.
In the corner of the the house, outside
At the end of a long trail of cold, shut up windows
There is a procession, a vigil kept through the night
Beneath the notice of even the smallest branch
Or the thoughts of a bird landing on a tree
There is a band of brothers slaving for their home
Lining up as fine as thread
But chained together as if forged from steel
Lifting broken leaves, a crumb of bread, a sugar crystal
They're heaving cars, boulders, buildings
Silently bearing their burden, they hold a torch for each other
Tiny miracles in the night, performing feats of magic
A struggle that defies ages past carries on- invisible
All for their children they walk, martyred often
While future generations of their families
Hang in the balance
Jeremy Martin 2/19/13
June 2024, in Borno state, Nigeria,
three young Nigerian Christian men,
knelt with hands tied behind their backs,
under the fiery African sun.
Then shot dead into eternity by Islamic State
West Africa gunmen.
Rev Ibrahim Abako, secretary of the Yobe State
Chapter of the Christian Association of Nigeria
condemned the murders.
The martyred men of Christ,
with their King, their Savior.
Nigeria's Christians' blood on its landscape,
the hearts of those who pray.
Persecuted for serving the Lord.
His people around the world cry out,
the Lion of Judah roars for His
three more white-robed saints of His Kingdom. ~
wife of Lapidoth
Deborah..God'appointee
judge spiritual &
secular
Huldah a prophetess whilst
whilst in reserve Jeremiah
waited by
no seal of silence
did ever,ever apply
the Lord gives the word
the women announce the news
no authority isusurped
order
not disorder still rules nearby
edification
exhortation
and comfort
prevails,as forthtold
by Joel...of old
Miriam prophesised and sang
the Samarian woman
called all to come to Christ
an apostle of His message
then&now
professing godliness
& gifted to teach
the Lord gives the word
women proclaim & preach
Tryphena,Trypgosa,
Persis ,all laboured in the Lord
Junia too
of note it is said
Perpetua,Felicita both
of the martyred dead
Go tell my brethren Mary do
with tongues afire
Phillips daughters four
Priscilla,Phoebe and
Praise God since
many many more
with heaven touched lips,nothing lack
females
the Good news
now regularly
unpack
Sleeping while awake,
The sky before me split,
Broken by a wisp of smoke
Rising snake-like slow.
A black-stained tombstone
Footprint, left upon
An amber ashtray
From a martyred cigarette.
A testament to children,
Born as smoke,
Slender ash-white
Silken strands
Allowed to wander.
They step so lightly
Into depths of air
To slowly drown.
My pausing eyes
Shift chameleon-like
To ears
To hear a shifting feint
Of chanting
Seeping from
A cracked church door
As ushers rush
To break
With only the cheapest
Of distractions:
A breath of fresh air,
Followed by a cigarette.
Ahhh! Dreams.
What they are,
You are;
What they are not,
Cannot be.
Queens flush both black and red
Walk inside kingdoms where seldom tread.
The blood on the spade from the dark-hearted
Spares no pain for the discarded.
Buried to the side no one sees
A Joker crying inside his conceit.
For in this game smiles are disregarded
The jovial man, now a clown, discarded.
Kings and Jacks rule over the Numbers
Unaware of such perilous slumber!
For their complacency they shall be martyred
Their blood and toil destroyed and discarded.
The High Ones stand in concert with stars
Above all, from God not so far.
With a stroke of chance be cast with the departed
Below the bottom of a grave, forever discarded.
Gathered amongst the privileged ones
And born into a trust fund life,
There was born to an arranged couple
A child they named Sebastian Oliver.
And though father and mother
Jockeyed for front page recognition,
And sisters fared well in high society
No amount invited this Sebastian Oliver.
The Cardinal red teemed with trophies
And glamor, his thoughts went to right and wrong
He vowed to break the cord,
And fight the war never spoken of.
This boy, Sebastian Oliver.
And it was on this one night solemn,
In the rainy cold, that this entitled boy,
Made his stand for righteousness,
This young Sebastian Oliver.
The Avenue of glitter, he ambled down,
a sight so gross to his eyes,
Turned his wits adverse,
This no one, Sebastian Oliver.
For in the fall evening, classmates all,
Surrounded a young man of color,
with curled lips of hate
In front of Sebastian Oliver.
Not of this world, but born into it,
To thwart the Devil's children, did
Human inalienable rights, exercise.
This young man, Sebastian Oliver.
And so with blood and rage,
as they trampled underfoot
a lightning struck those doers,
This man: Sebastian Oliver.
"Halt the hatred, you who despise peace
for I am here to take up arms,
For the weak and threatened,"
thus spoke the strong Sebastian Oliver.
And the story goes, that he saved one life
that night, but in truth was much more:
for they whose atrocities were exposed,
came to see the strength of Sebastian Oliver.
He died that night, after all the blood
And horror waned...
But lives on, martyred for love
Was this hero
Sebastian Oliver.