Long Masses Poems
Long Masses Poems. Below are the most popular long Masses by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Masses poems by poem length and keyword.
The Century’s Wake
by Michael R. Burch
(lines written at the close of the 20th century and introduction of the 21st century)
Take me home. The party is over,
the century passed—no time for a lover.
And my heart grew heavy
as the fireworks hissed through the dark
over Central Park,
past high-towering spires to some backwoods levee,
hurtling banner-hung docks to the torchlit seas.
And my heart grew heavy;
I felt its disease—
its apathy,
wanting the bright, rhapsodic display
to last more than a single day.
If decay was its rite,
now it has learned to long
for something with more intensity,
more gaudy passion, more song—
like the huddled gay masses,
the wildly-cheering throng.
You ask me—
“How can this be?”
A little more flair,
or perhaps only a little more clarity.
I leave her tonight to the century’s wake;
she disappoints me.
Originally published by The Centrifugal Eye. Keywords/Tags: new, century, wake, new year, new years day, celebration, party, Central Park, firework, fireworks, song, display , winter, December
We live in a world once peaceful
Look at the world
Once it was so peaceful
Look at the plants
growing with no grudge
Look at the animals
They got no shelter plan
Nor food plan yet both they never
Lack with nature
Look at the sea
So blues never dries
Look at the mountains
Look at the sun
Look at the stars
Look at the moon
All so well from a
Peaceful nature
Oh look look look
What do you see
Look at us now
Look at our governments
All over the globe
Look at the system
Look at the masses in
Chase of needs
Look at our roles of life today
Look at yourself
Tell me if all is well
With a peace of mind
That nature requires
Oh look look look
What do you see
Look at our politics
Look at our moral lost life
Look at our new trends of lifestyle
Look at the ghetto
Look at Africa
Look at the third world
Look at our media
Tell me if life is
Suppose to be
The way it is now
Oh look look look
What do you see
Look but see
If you see beyond the
Eye
Then you can feel
it was once a world
So peaceful
I wonder what happen
If you got some cruel
Let it out
For peace we need to save
Now
For as in the beginning
We live in a world once peaceful
Stick together people
the elites
are gleaning power
from the seeds of misery's garden.
they're dividers of the masses
nothing more-nothing less
they smother smiles - voices. happiness
hoping to keep us in our safe-less spaces
for eternity.
every media outlet is brimming with
half-truthers-distorters-liars
phallic symbols for political parties
erect with hate-void of integrity
highlighting the ogres of society
breeding fear
spotlighting the freaks of society
wanting us believing all white people
are grand wizard-hearted
that black veins are filled with thug sludge.
corporations are feeding piles of green to the media machine
forever stomping the bent backs of the plow horse class
planting hollow-souled politicians in our garden of democracy
but in time
all devils will expose themselves
stumble over their own fetid script
in time they'll soon forget their own lies..
slit their throats-hang from ropes
of their own making
stick together people
unity is the purest form of diversity
stick together people
soon enough (with help of God)
we'll turn evil to crumbs.
Deep in the forests of Galloway and Kielder, there is a hush.
Secrets hidden in the form of moss-covered steps………shush!
The silent ruins are not well known by most; confidently hidden.
Camouflaged by ivy, and woods, faeries sense them, well bidden
I had no knowledge of them until I was adopted by the fey.
They brought me to Scotland and Ireland, and showed me the way.
When the secure unknown that used to be known was revealed
An instant connection, my soul recognized their secret battle field.
As I walked up the steps, with the faeries, elves and gnomes at my side,
I saw what the elements had done, understood why these treasures must hide.
Reincarnation is feared by some, terrifies a large part of the masses.
Yet my “knowing without knowing how I knew” pranced in my brain classes.
My imagination at full tilt, I went from Galloway to Kielder, in a hushed state.
The reverence needed, the honor of being included, made me feel first rate.
I understood much more about Scotland and Ireland, the land of my kin.
These ruins are not easily seen. The faeries and goblins decide if you get in.
Fury for the masses
neon pulses bleed into the damp air
screens flicker
frantic fireflies
spitting chaos
into living rooms, void!
Each pixel is a distant mind bomb
echoes of sirens shatter the night.
Feel the heart of asphalt jungles
where skyscrapers are tombstones
for dreams buried in hashtags.
Shadows reach, hungry n restless
feasting on the memories of despair.
A parade of facades
ghosts behind the glass
navigating a labyrinth of noise
thick as smoke.
Scroll past the bloodied headlines
weaving threads of dread through
the fabric of the mundane
where hearts race with every ping
each notification a flicker of the end…
Fury for the masses…
the knife's edge, we walk,
bound to a world unraveling.
Colors bleed monochrome
as love is reduced to static n ashes, tears
like ink wells in vast spaces
words caught in a feedback loop.
Desperate are voices
muffle the roar
of an endless stream
the tide of information
crashing against the shores of sanity.
A cacophony of a Thousand Lives
fury for the masses...
The night whispers
a lullaby of loss
a haunting refrain.
The fragility in the chaos
a symphony of fury…
Fury for the masses.
And beneath the glossy façade
light flickers, a candle in the storm
fighting the shadows, reminding no one!
The roar and the rage
a cry for the masses ?
in the silence of our reckoning..
Fury for the masses!
What an unfree newspaper writes
According to a leading English newspaper
the alarm is the upcoming election
will labor be back in power
like that would be different from now
England (not Britain) is meddling in the war
in Ukraine, which is not of her concern
England, which had once been a colonial power
has a long tradition in military tradition
going to war against the reluctant masses
this since the cousin of Queen Victoria's cousin
was shot by the communists
and therefore crossing the red line
which is historical
England is a small, but the Nobel classes are a baggage
of arrogance, they won, we are told about
one the last war.
No, that England is a second-rate military
might they not help but think they are relevant
Great English writers were at odds
with the upper classes hanging on to violence
but habits die hard
the noble call to arms by the noble
represented by a dusty kingdom is still
there, it is a call that can't
be resisted, we are still a great nation
not for us to be Holland
Patradoot or The Messenger 8/Many
English version by
Ravindra K Kapoor
Enchanting beauty of nature,
Would unfold its charms, on your way,
When you would take my hearts message,
For the most lovely child of the creator, my beloved.
Ravindra
Kanpur India. 15th May 2010 to continue in 9
Protected as per Poetry Soup’s copy write protections
Background of this Epic
The Patradoot was written originally by my later father
Dr.Amar Nath Kapoor in 1932. He had joined India’s
Freedom struggle in 1920 on the call of Mahatma Gandhi.
From 1920 till 1947 (India got freedom in 15th Aug. 1947)
my father was in active movement as Congressman and
Gandhi’s non violent soldier. For many a time he was
imprisoned for many months to more than a years sometimes.
During one such imprisonment he wrote this epic and sent
it to my mother secretly as a gift for her and to get it printed
and circulated among the masses to create awareness for
India’s freedom. The book was printed by my mother in
Hindi and some of this epic was circulated also, but the
British confiscated the book and press of my father around
1933. I was born in 1950 in a free India. I am trying to bring
this great writing of my father in English which portrays more
than the translation of the epic, so the world may
come to know about this otherwise lost and forgotten great
great epic and the sacrifices of my patents towards India’s
freedom struggle.
Gandhi Dr. Amar Nath Kapoor left active politics after 1947
and devoted rest of his life in
writing easy mass literature and wrote many Dramas,
Poetry books, epics. All his other literary
works were mainly written from 1955 to 1990.
He left this mortal world in 1994. Unfortunately many of his
World class work could not be published so far and Patradoot
is one of them.
Ravindra
Transliteration of Hindi poem in English- Patradoot or the Messenger.
Prakriti Mugdha Sunderta ke,
Mug Mai Nav Drashaya Suhayenge,
Le Kur Priya Dhing Hirdraya Sandesha,
Jub Tu Mera Gayega.
Patradoot in Hindi written by
Dr. Amar Nath Kapoor
Protected as per Poetry Soup’s copy write protections
Inside the box..
I don't hear you..
I choose not to hear you
A great big heavy blanket
It covers entirely everything..
You allow your truth
I cover my entire being..
Underneath the heavy blanket
Your truth is meaningless to me
Your truth is unacceptable..
Your truth is literally unbelievable to me.
Your truth cannot be explained
Contains mystery and curiosity
Curiosity kills the cat..
Does not kill the cat..
I shall cover myself underneath the cozy blanket..
Go into a sleepy slumber..
Please do not awaken me..
Outside the box..
I hear you..
I choose to hear you
I need not smother myself
I allow your truth
My entire being is exposed and revealed
I need not cover the truth
Your truth is meaningful..
As I have accepted your truth..
I understand and believe in you..
You need not explain your truth to me
I have faith in you
The unknown will cause curiosity
I have embraced your truth
Allow new growth..
To create..
I shall be awake..
In my awakened state
I shall deliver..
Deliverance to all the masses..
Remembrance of a divine being you truly are..
The long hard journey through
past to progress
These day's has far few many stops to make along it's tried and tested daily route to commute
As cutting costs has so many
uneconomic station laid bare
in it's path
Deemed unsustainable via
accounting computer program
ledgers with countless bites
of memory to spare
Once filled with dumpster full
of coal and shoals of eadible
fish pulse and grain
To steel the masses for another
working day to breathe new life
into industry
To service the never ending
escalating intresest on banking
loans that prop-up wall street share
prices
In order to finance and build a new
Mall , Factory , Hotel or Flats
On the grave of our past long
before they have even been
pronounced dead
It happened to the cowboys
It happened to the miners
It happened to the fishermen
It happened to the farmer's
What paradise for a car park
And job security for my family
And an honest day's work for pay
And human value self worth
And yet and though it is with our
blistered hand toil sweat and
tears it takes to build your tower's
It will be enough or shall it enable
us to afford us to live reside inside
your castles wall's
As for us we are merely entrusted
and expected to garner you with
security
Guard your carparks
Guard your gate's
Guard your monetary wealth
Good enough to raise your children
Place them firmly in our custody
Pick them up from Ivy Schools
When one is busy out shopping
taking lunch , partying or upwardly
socializing
And all of this for the measly price
of knowing one's place and one
mistake could cost you and your
family
It's one and only breadwinner
who put and set aside his pride
to hide it deep inside a box
That signals the future is the station
boarded up you just past
Streets come alive in neon pink at night
Sidewalks drink up rains remains
In alley ways in covered shadows
Tall buildings stand too close for comfort
The cracks between the swallowed light
Hold their sins together in a somber prayer
Concrete thoughts of heaven hang
Gothic dark with solid stones alone
Housed within the bones Cathedral ready
Are the ancient relics laughing at the masses?
Nancy changes into a candy man
Becomes a hooker hanging on a chandelier
She turns the corner down the alley wet
Tricks that follow her or he forget
This is holy ground so light a candle
Cigarettes are optional if you are you or them
Strangers on the avenue are cruel
But business girls will work proforma
Stiletto-ed prophets nearly apostolic
Out to make a profit on the steps of God
Tender revenues are offered up
Bought and sold in artificial light
Sometimes girls come up from gutters
Red lips, wide hips and chewing gum
Cherry bombs and smiles selling love
No one speaks in Latin when buying drugs
You can almost hear them whisper Jesus
Who lives within the shadows of the walls
Away inside the cathedral tabernacle safe
And He never misses mass on Sundays as a rule
Fractured light through stained glass windows falls
Colorful and pretty on the altered state of sin
Night could be equivalent or equal to the imperfections
If only dark were not so twisted from within
On the subject of bricks reflecting giant building faces
Tall structures call themselves cathedrals at a risk
High Rises come incorporated where sky's the limit
They must be citizens of heaven to afford those rents
Penthouses are too ridiculous to name by name
Between the cracks in pavements are the screams
Heard over tidal waves of dirty cab ride thunder
Rolling over stinking streets while people sing inside
They hold it all together to be blessed by God