Long Mindless Poems
Long Mindless Poems. Below are the most popular long Mindless by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Mindless poems by poem length and keyword.
Once, when life had me believing that it was a thing so great
I chose to follow its stride
Why, I lived as one of the many
I lived as all the others
I warmed my hands with friends
I chose a young heart to dream of a new start
And felt vain about everything else
Pride rhymed with my being
Yes, nothing could strike me
Nothing, not even the skies' deadly lightning bolts!
But then
I did suffer the consequences of love
Yes, love was to me, cruel
Even if I did bend down to it
Tolerate
And accept
To the point of losing my dignity
Why;
It did empower me
It did
The day I came to know of love's true face
Why,
My Beloved did prefer my best friend
Yes, he did!
Life broke up in a million pieces
No more did I see it as a thing so great
No more did I even want to follow its stride
Wanted I to cease to exist
For a gross being had I been all this time
A gross being who fell for the pleasures of this world
A gross being who did think of herself as one so vain
As nothing could strike her
Not even the skies' lightning bolt
But I did rise above it
Yes I did
See you, the skies had me all molten
Why, they opened up
And bid me to have strength
They opened up
And gifted me with an awakening
They opened up
And I smiled again
Uncaring, free, totally at peace
With myself and with the whole world
Totally mindless
Of that love and that friend who both
Did slip away from me
Yes,
It did empower me, it did have me bloom into a pure flower
Do know, please do
That things happen for a reason
Should you someday lose yourself, lose your hope,
Pray, have some faith
Know that the skies shall grant you a shoulder to grope
Yes, they shall
For that is how I did come to rise above it all!
10 June 2016
Looking out of a window
onto the world, you wonder
if there is an awareness
that soaks each living cell,
something that sews together
all life into a symphony
playing to the score written
by a single entity.
Or is everything a random
throw, discrete forms let loose
within a mindless programme
loaded with a bias
to survive, a world where
even charity and love
are attributes selected
to give the species
a social advantage, a trick
to win the game.
What then art, a sublime
song sung by the human
soul or something made
in the workshop
of a brain to keep
the human species entertained,
nothing more
than an evolutionary pill
to save us from going insane
whilst welded to our purpose.
Yet so much seems superfluous
to the mere act of breeding,
that we create books, galleries
and concert halls to store,
the evidence we could be more.
I have never seen a flower blush when I took it's hue
and held it there a prisoner captive to my view.
I have always heard the song that's in the autumn breeze
playing taps in harmony with the forest leaves.
I love the smell of rain that brings the springtime into bud
and swells my love of nature into a teeming flood.
I celebrate the cycle of the daytime into night
and find an equal blessing in the shadow and the light.
I've always felt affinity for all created things
and surrender to the pleasure that their beauty brings.
And though I could spent a lifetime sailing drops of dew
I've never seen a universe as beautiful as you.
I've often sat myself by gentle mountain streams
and overflowed the dams that were holding back my dreams.
I've breathed the scented forest on the mountainside
and washed away my sorrows in an evening ocean tide.
I've laid down in a meadow and debated with the moon
and spent some quiet moments on the surface of Neptune.
I got married to a zodiac with one of Saturn's rings
then spied a super nova and went on a cosmic fling.
I've run away to nebulae in galaxy brochures
and bathed in scenes of wonders on distant planet shores.
Every cosmos in creation could parade before my view
but I've never seen a universe as beautiful as you.
I've never seen a tree once withdraw it's shade
and deny a creature the comfort of its aid.
I've never seen any anger in the sun at noon
when it burns relentlessly on the desert dune.
At sunrise I take an oath to live with all my might
and reinforce my gratitude each and every night.
I could spend some hours riding on a crystal flake
drifting wildly in a gale mindless of my fate.
Many times I've been through trials of wind and rain and snow
then sentenced to the splendors that the seasons show.
And though I've searched throughout creation, I must say this is true
I've never seen a universe as beautiful as you.
He came with murderous intent
To the Manchester Arena he went
His heart full of vitriol and hate
With a bomb to seal their fate
I wonder if he thought at all
About the kids that there would fall
I don't believe in his hate filled brain
He thought about the grief and pain
They came to laugh and dance and sing
To see their idol was their thing
When young you have no fear of death
No thought of taking your last breath
That mindless man took their lives
Left grieving parents, husbands, wives
He took their lives but not our hope
Because we have learned to cope
We aren't beaten we aren't cowed
We are unbroken we wont be bowed
He made us determined strengthened too
We wont give up we will pull through
May the spirit of Manchester live in us all
We will stand firm we will stand tall
So send your bombs we aren't afraid
We aren't beat down we aren't dismayed
We will not hear your futile threats
You will not leave us with regrets
So bring it on let the war begin
Its already lost you will not win
Now they've come to London town
On London Bridge they mowed them down
Seven more innocent lives they shed
Eight minutes later they too were dead
Lets not forget the Westminster one
Lets not forget what he has done
Though he inflicted grief and pain
He died for nothing he died in vain
Manchester, Paris, London too
We stand together to defy you
One day you'll realise its too late
You wont infect us with your hate
Denis Briggs May 2017
#racism #love
Mindless judgement
I wonder when racism is going to end.
I hear loud screams and cries.
As if a… lightning beam hit individuals.
who seem to be walking without a worry in the world.
with smiles on their faces and with a single blink.
Every two seconds lives are ending.
“BRATATA” the shotgun goes off.
someone else has been shot down by the ones
who are supposed to protect us.
Badges on their chest to shield themselves.
It has nothing to do with just us but to crush us.
I see people doing nothing but stare at the scene
their hands weigh in their pockets heavy with guilt and sorrow.
The bleeding never stops, The greed has controlled us.
How can Minds be so narrow? Instead of finding the actual criminal hustling Xanax and ecstasy.
they find the most innocent out of the bunch and munch them till they crunch.
Once they’re through they have no remorse, the police force lead to someone's demise
I worry about this continuing will there be a difference in the nation's population?
In the back of our heads the word MIGRATION
It will be just like a vacation.
that will never end.
Donald trump will be happy with the idea right? He enters the room to a standing ovation.
In his eyes The U.S will become “great” and bright but instead he is just instilling us with fright. He carries nothing but baggage.
As the count decreases so will our intelligence.
What did Malcolm x and Martin Luther king jr. die for?
It pains me to see the people of my color going extinct.
I worry. Am I next?
Am I not safe anymore?
As my blood pores on this paper, I feel like I’m climbing a non stop mountain.
sweat drips.
1, 2, 3
I can’t breathe.
I hope to god one day this beautiful earth will be filled with all the colors ever created.
I want to see kids playing, waving. It would be amazing.
I want to see grown ups sitting on chairs on the beautiful grass and sharing laughs just having a blast.
Even if it means that I have to be in the sky high looking down at the once horrific universe but now if you observe it is more well rounded and grounded.
I pray, it becomes that way.
In the mid 80's, I took a job as a receptionist for a wholesale floral company.
Encased in a glass claustrophobic space, I answered their busy phone lines
as I gazed at the warehouse walls of greenery and the production staff scrambling to fill their daily delivery orders to florists and offices.
The days began early. We punched in at 6:00 am. I arrived in a mind fog,
downing my caffeine until my body's sluggishness wore off. It was a mindless
job and I stayed a mere six weeks at most but during that short window of time there, I had two very prophetic dreams involving co-workers.
The first and less memorable involved one of our delivery drivers. I dreamt that the police had caught him drinking while driving and he was subsequently terminated. About a week later, this dream came to fruition.
The second and must more poignant dream involved Jerry, a young flower
salesman in his late twenties. I dreamt that Jerry had fallen thru a sliding glass door. He was holding the hand of a small child, perhaps two or three years old.
It was very graphic as I saw the shards of broken glass scatter as they hit the floor. With in a few days, Jerry ended up in intensive care after a car accident with his truck. I was extremely rattled by the dream and also concerned about his welfare, although I barely knew him personally. I approached Heather, a secretary there and shared my dream with her. Heater told me that Jerry had been previously married and that he and his former wife had a child that passed at a very young age.
I might be mildly intuitive but I have never had such poignant dreams since that job. Is it plausible that I was being influenced by my green house environment there? Could it be possible that plants have always been open to communicating with us but that we humans remain mostly inattentive to their messages?
Oh, would that all be silent
Save for those that ain’t
And those who cannot write
Be left alone to paint
As I struggle with the syllables
Shouting that “I cain’t”.
But then again
Some noise is fine
Not so much yours
But more so mine
Perhaps, a twisted “turn of phrase”
To set a lover’s heart ablaze
Or stir the listless, idle mob
Into a chanting, mindless rage
For all our words are double barbed
Depending on which edge is carved
And who it is they wish to hook
With twisted lies, and yellowed book
For if silence be the loudest tone
We all become the garden Gnome
A clown to fill an empty spot
For we once were but now are not
Yet silence is a sacred thing
But without voice it cannot sing
Call a lover’s name or shout
The rope just broke,,,,,LOOK OUT….LOOK OUT
How to take a leak
Marcel felt quite an urge when he set out to purge understanding of how to when
we view misconceptions of who is taking the piss now never thereafter and then
A fountain trickling urinal porcelain pissoir on display impressed me no doubt in
treacherous confusion of images since relief in museums constitutes phallic sin
When streams of revisionist consciousness meet with surreal ‘truth’ of ablutions
seeming paradoxes cleanse body and mind in contextual and continent solutions
A fragmented human condition does not improve with rigid caged in perceptions
in which mindless dogma clearly resists benefits of antiauthoritarian disinfection
Are glass ceilings real are vessels of thought and flush toilets congested or empty
do ivory towers reveal liberation and freedom achieve status of fully cognoscenti
Nothing what it seems is Duchamp's message in a showcase of lavatorial pride
colonising minds need disclosure critique confrontation urinating against the tide
When cognition feeling and action with knowledge have reached full critical vision
I reach for a fountain pen so whether this is a poem or not remains your decision
16th May 2017
A life with no flavor
Is an empty tin can;
Waiting to be kicked,
So it can have
At least, one adventure.
Mindless metal
Rusting in dewy grass;
A lonesome ghost of its former self;
it hides its pain, too well.
What does it do with its forlorn self?
It’s lost the capacity
to seek flavors around it.
Life is an ongoing challenge.
When the can is kicked,
Adventures are there;
Will it realize each
New direction?
Seek each new experience as it rolls
and rolls again?
Flavor is everywhere;
Waiting for the seeker to taste.
When ordinary is in control,
A can can’t tell the flavor it once contained;
Unless it’s kicked hard enough
Go ahead; motivate the empty cans around you;
flavor’s worth a kick in the rear.
Whereas hearts are led by loving's blindness
and feral moans drift idly on the wind
rendering those stricken deaf and mindless
their voyage - sweet beginning of no end
Full sails, distant horizons, cresting seas
winds rippling the canvas short of gale
a shiver of timbers - buckling of knees
a crumbling of vows they wouldn't let fail
Yet hearts encompass a passion - a will
to scream at the night - to curse their own tears
to challenge the wind until it goes still
to cherish the mast - to conquer love's fears
The taming of the feral heart must be
to love and in the loving set it free
10/4/2020
Love Sonnet Poetry Contest