Long Mean spirited Poems
Long Mean spirited Poems. Below are the most popular long Mean spirited by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Mean spirited poems by poem length and keyword.
she described her work as creating creatures
using her efforts to summon the greatest fear
of people
she wanted her audience to believe her
and she wrote with an effort to
envision the deepest and darkest
feeling of fear and loneliness
the author paints the canvas
so that a world might see
the monster as she wishes them to
see it
she once said this person was
so easy to exploit that she could photocopy and paste his image
on whatever she wished him to be
and those who hated a creature would back
her efforts from her doings
gossip would generate enough fear
to have people looking for this image
and finding what he did
mean spirited and wrong
even if he was right and real
she made certain issues subject of debate
and had those who were his support
unraveled by speaking of him as someone
who could influence others to be part of
his doings
she created new words and gave them definition
adding colorful expressions and jabbing
at his position
with his significant to
undermine what he wished to accomplish
they smiled and lied enough
supporting him
and at all times were ambitious enough
to find his replacement
might this monster
stand before the new beast
and war
an entertaining sort shall
find my
enthusiasm strong enough
to make issue with everything he does
i got to know
are you this woman
I gotta know: guess gotta know!
Pilgrims
Oh, so many times, feeling like a pilgrim,
standing alongside life’s road – it’s rim
watching, observing, being a part of the folly
- that being in love, one would believe - jolly
could be the ways, the highways and byways,
bringing together two as one – for always
and in all ways – forever and a day
as they live, love, talk, work and play
throughout the hours of their life – together
meeting life’s ups, downs, challenges, stormy weather.
To do so, it takes the hearts of two - to be as one
to carry them above and beyond all that life has undone.
Life for them, separate, apart and it seems neither
can find a place to come together – be as one, either,
for the sake of love, friendship or any kind of relationship
where there might never be a hurtful, mean-spirited quip
that will disillusion, cause pain, knock one to the ground,
- that in the end, distances – turning everything around.
The Pilgrim, then must become a wayfarer upon this land,
knowing love, passion, desire, dreams have no place to stand
among all the helpless romantics, all the believers
who want not, to be in the arms of a deceiver
– even if they do not understand it is a game they play –
the deceivers who can make – for one who loves – a sad day.
The Pilgrim, then must – as a wayfarer – walk alone,
doing so, - with all his experiences, feelings – on his own,
chasing that illusive Dream, the Light, of his desire
while the Cold North Wind’s indifference extinguishes the fire
that burns so hot – so deep within his heart –
turning all he wanted to be, into dust, carried in a funeral cart
down life’s bumpy road – this weight, this heavy load.
Now all is, it seems, gone – love upon him never shone !
B. J. “A” 2
February 27th 2009
Sunk comfortably aloof in his mauve reading chair
Dad's evening reverie; pipe, cheese, crackers and book
His world vanished in smoke swirling into the air
For his family; an occasional vacant look
Yet he'd take time to spin me a bedtime story
Of enchanted lands and daring schemes
Flights of fancy depicting heroic glory
Betraying his real life's unmet dreams
My dad's inner home, the one he preferred
Was far from our world's cruel, petty strife
His family and solace was the written word
Though he was good to his kids and true to his wife
This world was too much with him somehow
A scathingly mean-spirited bother
But I just remember his soft kindness now
Blessed to have had such a father
Billionaires oh billionaires
Stop counting your stocks and shares
While the workers break their backs
You need to pay more bloody tax.
It is rather funny
That you make much of your money
From government contracts
While the poor face your attacks.
Just stop being jerks
Enjoying tax deductible perks
And resist the need
For unquenchable greed.
Give money to worthy causes
Don’t worry about your future divorces
Don’t worry about IRS raids
You might save someone with HIV/AIDS.
This is something I’m sure you know
“You can’t take it with you when you go”
So make human compassion
The overwhelming fashion.
Please listen to my gentle persuasion
And go easy on the tax evasion
People won’t just like you for your wealth
They’ll be attracted to your generous self.
It’s never too late to start
So think of others and open your heart
Do what the mean spirited lacks
And pay your fair share of tax.
Death is a whisper
Like a dog’s whimper
Joy awakens in our head
Happiness needs to be expanded instead, instead
Death is a whisper
Life is but a blur, but a blur
Joy awakens in our head
Cheerfulness wants to make our feet feel like lead
Dedication to the desires of my heart
Dreaming of you is good from the start
Do what you wish - inspire many
Pray away anguish - grow on like a tuilip, so pretty
Hurricane of hope
Rummages through my bewildered, yet blessed brain
I can’t cope, cope
With this rain, so refrain from driving me insane
I can’t deal with this pandemic alone...do what you wish, what you wish
Let’s satisfy we together...
I, alone, have felt your tone of voice - so mean-spirited and selfish
Things here will get better...
I’m sensitive to your energy..
I don’t like it honestly...
Just let me go....
I don’t belong here
I don’t belong here
I belong in another’s home
But not my own
But, there’s a hurricane of hope
That swept over me, so I can cope
With my conditions...
With my decisions...
With my missions...
With my ambitions...
You’re stubborn and you know it
But, I’m God’s child after all is said and done, said and done
You’re so full of it, so full of get
I give you my family love and you just wanted to have some fun
Eventually, my generation will embrace
The hurricane of hope with a tranquil trace
For 15 years I have tolerated,
calculated, anticipated, sublimated workplace degradations, derisions,
subversions towards my character,
not today, no more,
yes, my pride has become livid, swollen like a bad bruise on the heart
and I apologize not for my self defense & righteous roil,
I will address you as the mean spirited scoundrels that you are,
no more 'boss - employee' boundry, just one human to another,
No fascade & title to prance behind, no longer above reproach from the lesser,
you are now entering the shock of the 'dead-fall' ,
buck you and your low wages, buck you and your perfect policies,
buck you and your work ethic 'mumbo jumbo',
buck you and the lame insults and false criticisms perpetrated
against my innocence and motivation,
buck you with your attempts to undermine my positive leadership,
buck you and your inconsistent hours
making a God damn yoyo out of me, buck you and your bonuses,
buck you and your preposterous training videos and ridiculous high school uniforms,
buck you and the belittling psychological questionniares connected to your applications,
buck you and your little managerial conclaves
which produce absurd machinations targeting the hourly employees
that make the place profitable,
wipe your cracks with your silly 'write ups' and legal circumspection bull-slit,
I am not your 'bro.' or 'buddy' , and I sure as shout am not your 'honey' ,
not today, not anymore
I will not allow you to treat me as a tool for your benefit,
I will no longer work faster so that you can save money & leave earlier,
you will no longer be permitted to laugh at me without redress,
you are now dealing with a Man, not just another employee number,
don't worry 'boss', I'll continue to work, I'm not gonna 'quit' ,
but I will not work for you, I am going to work with you,
today is a New Day -
J.A.B. Dedicated to all hard working Men and Women -
The truth was revealed…
He knew of Covid-19;
Lying Devil’s son…
She gave fair warning,
Arrogance ignored her name;
She…Covid-19
It’s 2020
Confirmation was last year;
Named, Covid-19
You lying bastard,
Name given…Covid-19
You smirked at her name…
She, Covid-19,
Announced that she was coming;
You said, “no way……”
It’s 2020
Confirmation was last year;
Named, Covid-19
We rebuke your lie,
Truth was in her given name;
Miss Covid-19…
It’s 2020…
Covid-19 arrived last year;
You kept her secret…
Pandemic lying,
Testing November’s waters;
Truth’s tidal wave waits…
Sick pea-cock brained fool…
Scared mean-spirited coward;
Meet lion-hearted truth…
It’s 2020…
Confirmation was last year;
Named, Covid-19
2019 came;
Left dirty baggage behind
A Pandora box…
We will remember,
You ignored Pandora’s box;
We will not forget…
It’s 2020…
Confirmation was last year;
Named, Covid-19…
Pandora’s anger,
Idiot’s audacity;
Pandemonium
It’s 2020
Confirmation was last year;
Named, Covid-19
Pandemonium…
Retribution is coming;
God is on the throne…
An expedition back into the dark jungle,
a rain forest shrouded in the haze of history,
brought about by hidden enterprises.
Lost and Found
Mandy
Battle weary am I, war warn.
To shreds has my heart been, torn.
From my middle Daughter, only scorn.
Mouthing hateful words, my soul doth morn.
My heart laden heavy by the icy coldness
from adolescent, peer mimicry, its boldness.
Living with fear of love lost, of lost intimacy.
I feel I have no more, as a father, legitimacy.
My heart, my soul tortured by all the pain.
Echoing off the barren, jagged walls, of my terrain.
Monsoons battering these walls, with heavy rain
saturating every synaptic cleft of my shattered brain
with the death of my tears, as they become lost
in the quagmire of life, what a disastrous cost.
Does it come from her head, I might have a chance.
From her heart, it will destroy this parent’s dance.
All this dread, drenches the trenches in my head.
Does all of this mean, to her, in her mind, I am dead.
It seems, as her parent, her father, I have lost any chance.
The price I have to pay for standing up, taking a stance.
All the lies culminate with the loss of belief.
Deceptions, con games, from them no relief.
Lost faith, loss of trust only offer one, grief.
Respite from all of this heart ache is so brief.
These hateful, mean spirited words resonate
disrespect, rebellion, verbal abuse that state,
this war I wage, with such rage, will go on and on
until a light comes on, on a new day it will dawn.
B. J. “A” 2
May 8th, 1998
Epilog
Twenty three years have slipped by.
The Daughter, once the apple of my eye,
I no longer hear from or get to see.
Phobias, anxieties, that is all she be.
Revisited, Revised
November 1st, 2021
HANDMADE FROM (the genes of) BOYCE AND HARRIET HARRIS
(poetry my atypical mode at introducing myself).
How apropos and divine to stumble (merely by happenstance) across a chance to claim my (virtual) fifteen minute fragments of fame just in the click and nick of time.
Although gainfully unemployed (do to a series of unfortunate events that now finds me receiving social security disability), I can still vividly visualize utter despair and vouchsafe to acquire the requisite trappings emblematic of psychic misfortune.
Indelible, permanent and unfading abysmal damaging domestic dynamics got etched deep upon the memory of this erstwhile individual! The general gist in the form of quick brush strokes (namely written) of psychologically traumatizing recollection now follows.
I can attest to malevolent mean-spirited objections by my father (and late mother) in regard to my grossly unacceptable attire, deportment and work ethic.
Form:
Don’t Stop, A Letter To My Wife
Dear Barbara
I have attempted to shield you from uncaring and mean spirited people, thinking that I was helping you.
I have tried to coral and box you in, caution and counsel you, thinking that I was helping you.
I have often sought to change you, delay you, detour you, thinking that I was helping you.
I have since discovered that when I step aside, just letting you be you, I am helping you.
You give so unselfishly to me, our children, and their children. You must not stop.
You continue to prepare those festive meals, unmatched and memorable. Don’t stop.
I frequently protest saying, “Cook less”; but you never cease to give your best.
You make great sacrifices for your family, often going without. Don‘t stop.
The way you reach out to people, giving them all you’ve got. Don’t stop.
The confidence you build, the love you give, and the prayers you pray. Don’t stop.
The dear ones you befriend, when their welcome elsewhere has worn thin. Don’t stop.
That same smile that captured me 45 years ago, that you continue to give to others; Don’t stop.
No doubt, from time to time, I’ll continually do things, thinking I’m helping you. If you think I'm out of line, please pay me no mind, and simply continue to be all God intended for you to be.
11122015PS Contest, 101 in a Row contest 5, Poet Destroyer A