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.
Is slavery dead? Honestly it isn’t
Those of us who conform are stuck within a prison
We follow celebrities and we wear their clothes
As if they are Gods and we are mere mortals
As if they are shepherds and we are merely sheep
As if they are they are the strong and we are the weak
We quote their words and become their clones
And if we break their trend, we are left alone
And as they pass, we shower them with gifts
Money, so they can go and get their face lifts
Fame, so they can go out and conquer more slaves
Power, so they can destroy those who call them fake
They’ve brainwashed us so much we’ve gone completely numb
We openly cheer when the hero pulls out his gun
We don’t understand that we’re all completely mindless
We’re overjoyed only if the screen shows senseless violence
Nearby a police officer fights for his life
As a drug dealer tries to stab him with a butterfly knife
We’d call for help, but we’re busy with our own stuff
Discussing how the movie was good, but the killing wasn’t realistic enough
Our emotions are gone, we are all just droids
We don’t cry when we hear about a little boy
Who was killed in a shooting by a merciless gang
Because his father was part of the Ku Klux Klan
Instead we just shrug and respond “That’s the world today.”
“His father was an idiot,” is all that most people can say
“Things happen for a reason. That’s the Lord’s way.”
But that night, for that boy, everyone forgets to pray
We watch a few minutes of the news, not because we want to know
Coming up next is the new hit reality show
We’d rather watch girls dancing and grinding on each other
Instead of observing a woman work two jobs and be a good mother
And if disaster strikes, we observe the destruction and pain
The details of the damaged are extensively explained
But money only comes to charities with writing on the bag
The money must be packaged with a rich man’s name tag
So when the people see, they will remember what his mask looks like
He only cares if he’s quoted saying, “They will be all right.”
And with that, his money, fame, and power grows
And in the next election, it could even win him more votes
Learn to break the chains, learn to set yourself free
Your eyes are open, but you must learn to see
Don’t drink their potion. Don’t let them inside
Don’t stare at the pendulum too long or you’ll be hypnotized
I awake with the sweat of a distant dream....
Thinking of what I'd seen
Remembering what was in my mind's eye
Such sad, sad thoughts of a time gone by
I remember the heat of the desert and the dangers of camouflage men
of small remote villages.......and the people within
I recall a child.......I can still see her smile
Black was her hair, her hands they were oh so small
I can still see her face.........I remember it all
Erelah, yes that was her name
and ever since I met her my life's not been the same
She'd come to our station almost everyday
coming for her hunger, always to play
running round and round, hiding from us all
I still can hear her laughter........ I remember it all
Such a small girl, born into a ruthless world
A world where men prey upon men, and life is simply discarded like sand to the wind
Sunlight and shadows
One illuminates while the other falls
As days become weeks, distant voices call............
Messages of distress come over the wire
speaking of death, fire
of a small village, of evil men who rape, murder, and pillage
Cloaked with the tools of Azreal, the tarmac erupts
Awash in wind and sand, we're elevated into the air
Nap-of-the-earth quickly, mountains, valleys pass by fast
Distant souls burning, we ascend upon the village at last
Pyre smoke engulfs the senses, as it swirls around and around
Hovering high above, we descend swiftly to the chard ground
Toils of men are revealed in the dawn's light
The departed are scattered about as we scour for signs of life
From one burnt structure to another
We find nothing but hopelessness and despair
Only the dead and the dying, Iblis has been here
A familiar door, one I passed through many times before
Reluctantly I peer in, and to my great sadness I'd see
Little Erelah laying by her mother, still deep within a "dream"
But from this "dream" she'll not awake, nor shall she ever play
Both her innocence and life were taken
Never to learn to read, never to learn to write
Never to run and sing again, due to man's mindless strife
I promised to protect the children ever since that day
And always defend them against man's evil ways
And never ever forget her
That angel from above, or her simple message
LOVE.........
To me she was a moment of Spring, in a lifetime of endless Winter
She is but a dream..........
Bone-drained, there is no respite, no split second of peace. The “sundowner”, a hyper-active toddler in a man’s vehicle, never sleeps nor sits.
When I succumb to that one precious moment of rest; I am awakened to a furnace running full blast in a freezing cold house and on a nineteen degree night. A butter knife has removed a window; the culprit and dementia-mind panics; he’s terrified of being trapped in a fire. There’s no arguing with dementia-mind; it’s best to play along with the his ideas.
Another day of madness and I awake to a frantically screeching doorbell; it’s his nurse. I've revived in the floor. A migraine faint pulled me down; I’ve had no sleep for eight nights, you see. Sweet respite…she says she’ll, “sit with him”, so I can lie down a bit; a pleasant miracle; such happenstance is a rarity.
Dementia-mind has no solutions, only hallucinations, delusions; absence of mind and aggression for the “sundowners”. I watch at breakfast, as he pours his milk upon the floor; he has no clue of what he is doing or why;
he stares, mindless. When the eyes go blank it’s obvious; he’s not in there. A robot gone haywire, used to be my Father. The last thing to go, were his mathematical skills. Dementia-mind has forgotten so many people; how to swallow, but recalls numbers…
“Who is that man?” he demands, pointing at himself in the mirror. My exhausted mind briefly forgets and I mistakenly reply, “You dad.” The firestorm is initiated; he calls me a, “liar”. Self recognition has failed him now; the flame of his mind is burning low; soon to extinguish.
He’s fed and dressed, but I’ve no time to eat; if he should sleep an hour today; I must cook for the week. It’s the only opportunity I have…when and if he sleeps. I must not go to the bathroom; he’ll break something or fall. I must hold myself until my sister arrives.
The “passives” are painful to watch, as they deteriorate, but the “sundowners” are constant exhaustion. I was in the ER, almost as much as, he. You see, there’s no one to care for the caregiver, but themselves and when they can’t, exhaustion and malnutrition escalate. Dementia-mind is round-the-clock work and two doing the work of six people, takes its’ toll. The disease never discriminates; it destroys everyone.
(My Father died with dementia, a form of Alzheimer's in 2003, after a 15 year battle.)
She needs to feel in love to drive aside the night,
I love to feel in love, ONE source of joy and light,
When love is not at home, she’s sad to be alone,
When love is not in sight, the world is mine to roam.
Beginnings bring disquiet, thoughts that might implode,
Anticipation puts my heart in singing mode,
A friend’s departure makes her shadows fall,
But I hear stranger’s voices lighting up the hall.
Experience has made her doubt her heart it seems,
While all my failures just enrich unending dreams,
Her mounting fear makes her the slave of every rule,
My foolish faith makes me a 'dead' God’s guileless fool.
She stands alone in following the crowd du jour,
While I’m more fascinated by a life impure,
Imputes blame to the victim’s of life’s latest farce,
While laughingly I stoop to kiss God’s ****.
Responsibility can’t live behind her door,
It must be me, (I know I’ve heard this line before.)
One lesson learned (defining sensibility),
Seems all that happen’s my responsibility.
So childlike in her need to feel that all is well,
It fills my soul to tell her, ‘Things are going swell,’
And though it’s true her doubts at times can cause me pain,
I hunger for the chance to tell her so again.
Oct. 12, 2014
Poet's Notes:
Man's redeeming strength, woman's affirming weakness! What makes the world go round! I find it works for me! Even when it's reversed! Viva la difference, viva la diversity! May we ever aspire to the giftings of those we love without jealousy, men learning that bending is not always a sign of weakness, and women learning to trust the strength that comes from God.
The lines...
1. My foolish faith makes me a 'dead' God’s guileless fool
is meant to be tongue in cheek, i.e., even if you thought you could prove that 'God is dead' I would continue to believe in God, your proof of no consequence. I am a questioning but mindless devotee I am afraid. No God is worse than death!
and
2. While I’m more fascinated by a life impure
simply means I take to heart Christ's teaching that no one has ever reconciled himself to God through his own effort, i.e.. justification by obedience (except Christ). If God/Christ can love the sinful you and I, shouldn't I? So yes Merov Tac (PH's resident Troll), that means I feel called by God to love even you, even though I personally hate your behavior.
This Poem was submitted for the poetry contest "Jamie's interesting contest 1" sponsored by Jamie Pan, for theme #6. Reflections in a window.
Once while my mind was drifting through a cafe fenestration,
Whence my cappuccino cup carouseled round a mindless spun spoon,
A presence within a reflection's penumbral lines broke my lack of concentration:
A woman stood between the clash of shadows and pale light of the moon.
She stood there in the street resound on the glass,
Dressed in a pomegranate gown which melted to the ground.
Around her the air shuttered and shook within a glowing gas,
And she stared at me through the glass, although her head was not around.
Looking around to see if anyone else could see her too,
The busied bodies around me kept on being, undisturbed.
I rubbed my eyes and shifted to erase her from my view,
Yet she stayed put in the window with her body unperturbed.
"The horseman is a marewoman" I thought, fancying myself clever,
"And she is headed to a ball and forgot her head;
Perhaps we've been telling the story of Cinderella wrong forever"
The thoughts from inside my attention deficit head said.
I stopped, when suddenly, the phantom in the reflection crossed her arms,
And I imagined her absent head shaking in disgust.
Having unwittingly insulted a ghost, who haunted me in a foreign town of farms,
I apologized in my head to this woman whom I was beginning to distrust.
Guilt was replaced with anxious fear as I realized this woman was in my mind,
Hearing my thoughts and reacting to them appropriately.
Sweat trickled down my neck and dropped into the cup of espresso grinds,
And I averted my gaze from the woman and noticed the barista looking at me.
Having noticed me staring intently through his window,
He looked through to see where my sight dove in to swim,
I looked at him look and then looked where my eyes had showed,
When the woman lifted her arm and pointed right at him.
He dropped his demetasse, which cracked in half upon the floor,
Spilling a machiatto onto the granite beneath his feet.
He looked back at me whilst everyone looked as he swore,
As he quickly cleaned up his mess to make it, yet again, neat.
I immediately went up to him before I had time to think,
And asked: "So you saw her, too?"
To which he said with a wink,
"Saw who?"
2/15/17
My heart is pounding in my chest real loud
The moment we met eye to eye in a crowd
Expressing myself in bizarre ways you don't understand
Obsessing with the past and I've lost my head in a long lost land
Mere frustration,
Taking advantage of me
Kill lamentation...
Rubble of trouble
Is what I tread on these days
I'm a grief puddle
Try to change me
Be careful, I might bite
I wanna be a part of your nightmares and haunt you with spooky glee
I might explode
Don't try my patience
Fighting an uphill battle
Racing with a thousand cattle
I'm not a good blood anymore
You are the mysterious island I explore
Speechless all the time
It's distressing honestly
Collecting gross grime
Forgiveness I need
I pray for humility
To get rid of greed
I cross my heart and I pray to God I'll be with you as long as I live
You keep telling me your insecurities and downfalls...and I'm submissive
I wear you in my memory like a tattoo on rough skin
Stay with me forever, I don't want this night to end - you're my friend and kin
I died a thousand times, trying to figure out my purpose in life
Tragedy in reverse cuts me like a jagged knife...tearing me into pieces of misery and strife
I need your sympathy and your inspiration right now
Life ain't easy, I get it, but I'm falling apart somehow
I look at you and you are the desire fire that begins to burn
Forgiveness is what you give me in return...I watch my oceans of tears churn
Is it my turn to be by your side when you're fading away?
You and I are drifting into our mindless fantasy
Faith and praise I owe
To God Most High, my Father
Who has gracious glow
Neglecting His Word -
I'm sorry I was in vain
I'm a caged-up bird
Diligence in prayer -
Haven't accomplished it yet
Angry...in error...
You walked away
You vanished suddenly
I lost the race today
Slowly, recharging my bravery
I didn't mean to start a riot
Compared to you, I'm nothing special
You were the warrior that was fought
While you're on your journey, I'll be standing tall
Pound to the rhythm of my heart
Pound to the rhythm
Pound to the rhythm of my heart
Trying to forget the shadows of you,
Deeling with fealings out of the blue
Deeling with fealings that are revealing my true colors...
My wild, reckless natures...it's hard to find emotional cures
Why can I not write?
I am overwhelmed
By the minutiae of everyday life!
Dawn comes, and I awake, but no!
I pull the covers over my head
And close my eyes tightly
Against the coming day.
I am not ready yet!
When I can avoid it no longer
I sit up and dress, reluctantly,
Take the dog out, bring
Him in and feed him,
Give him fresh water.
Give him his pills and
Spray his poor shaven rat tail
With anti-itch lotion,
(He has a hot spot!)
And put some ointment on it.
I fix some breakfast,
Wash it down with yesterday’s coffee.
Take the cats some fresh water,
Get them their breakfast,
And clean the litter,
Wipe Sweetie Pie’s eyes
And put drops in them.
I’ll comb out both Sophie
And Sweetie Pie later on.
I make my bed and
Clean up the dishes,
Get out my big green backpack
And put Doug’s clean clothes in it.
Oops! I forgot to start the laundry
I brought home yesterday!
It’s already 10:30, and I
Have to leave by five to eleven!
Spray on the sun lotion,
Check that I have my Patriot ferry
Pass and the SPF 50 lip balm
Doug asked me to get.
It’s hot and humid, but I trudge
Twenty minutes to the ferry
For the half-hour boat ride
That I actually enjoy!
Just me, the water, sun and breeze
For 30 minutes of quiet
For my not-so-peaceful mind.
Three hours to have lunch with Doug,
Bring him up-to-date with
All the news of friends and family,
Watch him in physical therapy
And learn what I will have to do
In a few weeks when he gets home!
Back to the van, back to the Patriot ferry,
And another brief time for myself.
I walk home, hot and tired.
Take Andy out, finish the laundry
And hang it out on the line.
I think it won’t rain tonight.
Run to the store for some
Necessities, cat food in particular,
Check the e-mail, answer some notes,
Water the parched garden
Take Andy for a walk, and
Then feed him his dinner.
Time for MY dinner, but what?
Let’s see. I sauté a couple of
Chicken tenders in the small pan,
Slice up a whole tomato,
Add some cantaloupe and cottage cheese,
Eat some of it and fall asleep
In the chair in front of the
Fan on its highest setting.
I wake up with a start and make
Myself get up and clean up the kitchen,
Afterwards, I watch a couple
Of mindless television shows
While I make mental lists
Of what I have to do tomorrow.
Oh it's timeout time my friend
Will you ever seek to be free
These chains will not break
For they hold one from below
That will not let one go
No matter the lies and deception
The Prince of this world no longer has a key
For the first thing we need to see
Is that you are a goat first
Stubborn mindless creatures
Running in all directions
Get down off that rock
With your head up high
Appearing as if your a shrine
In drunkenness of the worlds wine
Seeking guidance from the rising sun
Turning your back to the temple
It's been a verdict
The true light has come
But yet so many love the darkness
Lost following others in confusion
In hope another goat can explain
Why they are placed on the left side
Left outside the gate blaming others for hate
I took notice myself , I was a stubborn
Foolish , drunkard on world wine lies,
But I had to open the book of Life
Then God revealed my blindness
To what's going on around us
Being held captive in bondage
Christ has the key to release the lock
To shed off that old lifestyle
To have direction and clarity
To become a part of His flock
To become a new creation of the sheep
Which trust their Shepherd's guidance
And hears His voice from among
All the other false ones trying to mislead
Says nope I think I will just listen to this one
I can tell He knows for His words bring life
They have placed peace, joy and love within.
Seek Jesus in these times, one does
Not need others seeking glory from man
To teach one how to live for God
We have so many religions that come
From the same God separated into division
In the works of man to receive praise from man
To become in unity
We first have to see
One God, One Shepherd, One flock
Call upon Christ to resurrect His spirit
Within you to seek the mystery
Of the true knowledge and wisdom
In His word that gives life and clarity
Love y'all I only write for love for one another,
Don't take any of this as judgemental, for I was as bad as any
In not living for God, it's not within us until we seek and He
Places the spirit within to purify and mold one.
I am going to put a song in comments from a great friend that was
Suicidal, then the day He was planning his death, Christ said
Will you give me a chance and he received new breath, he had to
want to die before he could live
...One night I asked who it was,
she said,”Just a man I used to know.”
She would never say more than that,
so I decided wisely to let it go.
But that night, like every other,
when midnight rolled around,
she walked along to the pier’s end
and stood staring without a sound.
I figured it was an old grief,
and did not want to interfere,
but one evening after many drinks
I stumbled, mindless, to the pier.
There I saw old Meredith
wrapped up in a tall man’s arms,
something about him just seemed off,
my drunken mind feared harm.
As I moved she turned and said,
“He does not like company.”
She shushed me and the two walked
onwards towards a quiet sea.
I thought I’d seen the tall man,
but from where, I couldn’t say,
and as I though I watched the two
walk off the end of the quay!
Rushing out, I looked below,
but no bodies could I see.
they did not lay upon the rocks,
or against pilings worn and slippery.
I raced back to the Walrus,
soon all the cops came out.
They dredged the short for three days,
but no bodies were ever found.
Some even suspected it was me,
but no charges came my way,
they combed the shore but found nothing
that indicated any foul play.
It was only later that I understood
just what I had seen that night,
the dead man in the old picture
had been on the pier in plain sight!
For so long she had gone out there,
hoping for the impossible,
it seems that in the end she got
her one wish granted in full.
She’d had no husband of lover
in the many years since his death,
but he’d come back to claim her
when she’d faced her dying breath.
Well, that was thirty years ago,
the tale has become folklore,
a thing whispered to tourist folk
all up and down the shore.
I took over the Wailing Walrus,
and have kept it much the same.
The tall, young man still hangs up high,
and there he shall remain.
But I did go to Meredith’s family,
and asked for a picture of her youth,
next to her lover it now hangs,
for all who would know the truth
Every so often some come here,
and say they saw in evening’s dim,
two figures walking on the pier,
who never seem to come in.
They say the figures just seemed off,
kind of wispy and quite pale,
so I sit them down, fix them a drink
and tell them this tragic tale.
An evanescent bouquet of skewed briars,
is how a tinsel laden tawdry essence wickedly unfolds ,
scuppered signpost to a fetid human compost,
faint light pendant on soul crushed quantum migrant,
who might chortle at vivid veil flimsy vacuum,
skirt recklessly around bogus symbols,
peer behind the squalid limp sodden hedge,
mock myopic moribund mist upon boundary busting dawn chimera,
sneer at synthetic spectrum elastic in its irritating tidal wave surfeit,
cerulean fabric‘s milky way escape plot,
in a perilous quest for that eternal tape loop mantra,
the synaptic heart of that vainglorious horizon,
self-knowledge under charcoal moon and silver cloud veneer,
or feral waste rapid fire contagion,
the indecisive day glow dither on the margins ,
of fly weight feeble frantic dash,
that velvet shadow treason daubed pettifog,
known as tangential wanton cobweb fester creed,
the mind a bloated ripple vortex numbing in its scope,
golden mirage but faux fur real concoction,
against the banal backdrop of complex-ridden superficial eddy,
from floral garland poseur stricken en train,
some vox pop indignation mere shrinking violet showcase waver,
the gleam-hued truth has this dastardly demonic derailment,
that I brush aside as spiteful oxalic sting repost,
that deceptive mint green forest of chameleon cant,
sly nuanced molten maple syrup hint,
from out of kilter tree pierce otherworld,
unseen yet bliss-edged virtual garden of firm conviction,
not just from isolated enigmatic individual script,
such as torrid turbulence or mindless scattered rim shot,
when conventions can be altered in exotic prose,
human zeitgeist has this far too often penchant,
for silkworm rapt effervescent double speak,
whilst plain unvarnished uplifting utterance,
resides within the deep crystal spring well,
of us torch aloft emerald earthling sages,
please augment the rock buttress stark phrase,
whose bluntness is a carrier pigeon of candor,
devoid of muted gray cloud blind waffle,
aromatic sprig to giant spasm of bold pluck,
quandary of human race at hearth,
frightened cliques, hidebound yes men who yen,
to swim the azure gulf of august freedom,
to the Eden where lucid tongues herald pristine witness.
where values at the centre of our being should blossom