Long Minds Poems
Long Minds Poems. Below are the most popular long Minds by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Minds poems by poem length and keyword.
While getting lost in a familiar place
is a pastime one would rather avoid,
there’s just no other way to find solace.
Adrift, it's impossible to embrace
inevitably looking paranoid
while getting lost in a familiar place.
Doubling back on the past, the steps retrace
is a typical strategy employed:
there’s just no other way to find solace.
Squandered time and energy, colossal waste!
It’s far too easy to become annoyed
while getting lost in a familiar place.
How to recall that which our minds erase --
events and whole conversations destroyed?
There’s just no other way to find solace.
Charting a course so difficult to face,
one without you here, deep hole, strange void,
while getting lost in a familiar place
there’s just no way at all to find solace.
The naive believe that,
Earth is the only planet, with intelligent life.
Mortal minds just don’t process infinite knowledge well
and in this way, it is limiting to growth.
However soul mind, that essence residing somewhere in
knotty grey goo; can tour infinity forever.
Living too long in the physical plane
limits knowledge;
something that soul mind prefers to avoid.
Soul mind simply sees no limitations,
when it’s on the red path.
Science is a product of the mortal brain and
soul mind sees what science cannot, will not.
Sciences naiveté’ halts real progress.
When mortal animals learn to absorb soul mind’s wisdom;
life will be paradise.
Power and Form
Are the two elements of a human life
Our words are sweet and sometimes sour
However it’s a deadly trace throughout the human race
We say yes too often to satisfy our so-called rational minds
Is the life of a poet/poetess more fulfilling than a farmer?
Are we the expression of nature?
Or victims of a regimental affiliations
We are as you know impossible and unpredictable
Because we all are crazy species
Power and form
There is no more secret society
The secret of man is publicize under watchful eyes
The world looks into our families’ photos
Looking for the perfect quota,
As each and everyone one of us partake in online revelry
Like an disciplinary cavalry
However, within our soul lies the truth.
I lost one year, one birthday
I rebirth and lost my power and position
Atlas! I am in the lower realms
Now I am in heaven
OH YES...IT IS WELL...
I now know you as you are known
to be known---as in the beginning
when wisdom posited
riveting pellets of revelations
strengthening fertile minds---etching
fearless determinations---bounding
the oneness of mind so essential to survival.
I now know you as you are known
to be known---and no false claims
of Armageddon can excuse you
from you inhuman genocidal deeds.
No capricious apology or innate fear
can generate a forgive---forget syndrome.
Remember to remember that Judas
was and is---forgiven:
for Truth---never forgotten nor
desired to be---is his deed.
May God forgive me
for allowing you to freely rape
and abuse peace, love and justice.
May The Supreme forgive me for allowing
myself to drink the wine of deceit
and bite into the fruit of fear---to forget
to remember: you cannot love the tree
and hate its roots; that you cannot fight wars
in the name of peace; cannot build justice
and equanimity on a foundation of injustice.
To forgive and forget? May The Most High
forever forgive me and never forget
to remind me of the profound effect my fears---
veiled, shadowed choice that I have had to make:
Relentlessly springing into fiery actions
when not needed; failing to initiate
community actions when I knew I should.
I now know you as you were known
to be known: hate---the fraternal abortion
from the belly of the womb; the un-sanctified one---
Indeed, with satanic blades you may murderously cut down briefly
the tender trees of the Garden of The Most High; but remain powerless
to uproot the ever anchored and growing roots of our supreme
beginnings here: in this wayward land that is bequeathed us.
Indeed, in Amazing Grace…shall we still rise…rise…
and rise again; and may our portion be to hear and echo:
well done…well done…all is well.
Snake bankers say, “I am doing the work of God.”
Dreaded delusional thinking
Drowning righteousness and justice
The work of God is not for them to know
Unknowingly they plan their own destruction
Great wicked vampires who suck out money
From every human and earthly source
For their special sauce bottled with rampant greed
Made in the Wall Street rat cellar kitchens
Buried deep under the City of Death
Founded by the empty mindless tribes
Still stinking of centuries of unsatisfied poverty
Whose lizard brains shuffle cash continuously
And people are seen only as THEIR money
Where everyone drinks a Satanic brew
Made by a single mother of 40
Who wanted to be a concert violinist
But now stirs sauce smiling stupidly in the rat kitchens
Where human disasters are considered treasures
And instead of music, money now runs in her veins
And she knows where every penny is lodged
Where the only sound she ever hears now
Is the snap of festering banknotes
In the mindless mad heartless pit of villainy
Where the rat-tat-tat soggy bank instruments sit
By the big thugs who once had big brains now gone bad
Picking apart whatever strand of harmony that once existed.
Brutal beasts nourished on Satan’s nippled t.ts
Goons made to kill by Wall Street witches’ clever tricks
Not clubbing baby seals in the basement
But fresh melodies made for lullabies by angels
Now cut up into dissent chunks for stew
By the money addicts directing the kitchen’s brew
While donkeys driven by carrot scented whips of cash
Haul in with brain deadening music of depraved minds the trash
Moulded into regimental rows of selfless meatballs
Defiled and self-mutilating masochists
Flushed down into the trash bin to be shredded
By the money machine with its killer appetite
Churning and churning night after night
In the shadows of its infinite emptiness
Blackened noise trying to keep death away.
There is no end to it.
Great were the old times
When we first met eye in eye
Green was the grass everywhere
Sorrows we had not in our minds
For memorial stories we shared
Our hearts beat with entire joy
Now as dreams have evaporated
Life has become acrimonious
Worries have grown in our hearts
Great has been the created distance
Between us yet we are close
Sleepless nights we spend
Nobody knows but siblings think
Our bond is mounting naturally
Yet love is virtual as lies hamper
Now broken are these weak hearts
That no more beat for each other
And so both our feet are wobbling
I feel hugely let down for
Surprisingly that gipsy guy
Has stolen your striking sight
By creating perfidious smiles in you
And his unwise sweet words
That make you feel mine bitter
It is hard to digest that disloyalty
Making me lose my only paradise
My land with a limpid well between
That used to quench my arid thirst
Evaporate the cold in me
To keep my body and soul healthy
Although you no more hug me
But let me die of cold dreams
Fainting to kill your emotions for
Unrealistic promised untrue worlds
I am certain when the day wakes up
The sun will shine for true love to revive
Poem by Mugisho N Theophile
KINGDOMS OF POWER
man - with his little sphere of influence,
claims mighty power, in his smallish hands.
mini empires, like stars from the universe,
like microscopic atoms - they march on -
stomping, squeezing, squashing, squelching - mere men.
they think, it will shut them up, dismember time.
movies hail them with majestic symphony,
shuffling through narrow streets – clanging harsh.
~~
on quiet mule, (a little braying – perhaps),
a humble man, a meek child bride – travel.
heaven’s spotlight upon them - star of Bethlehem!
angels gaze, wisemen seek, shepherds shake,
as a virgin gives birth to a unique boy
one that, if he chose, could play with this earth.
this infant king is bigger than life itself,
“Adam’s breath” received from His own spirit.
while little men sleep, in castles of gold,
the sinless Savior lies in a manger.
~~
the puppeteer pulls the strings, supposing
he’s in control - chops wood, prepares nails -
draws blood, sweat and tears. on stage, all appears
lost. hope is buried. a huge stone is rolled,
blocking entrance to the holy of holies.
but wouldn’t you know, God can tear it in two!
innocent blood was spilled on this spoiled earth
claiming it back, redeeming us, and pow…
the power and majesty of the living God
shows up, shows off. Light raises the dawn.
~~
once again, He is quiet, biding His time
giving kingdoms a chance to change their minds.
to arrive at this conclusion – you must be saved -
lest you die, an eternal death! not wanting
anyone to perish, He holds back his sword.
if our tongues would do the same, and believe,
confess, instead of curse, just believe, and
be saved, because His majesty WILL BE praised.
Kim Rodrigues © 2016
"The Price of Pearls"
a strange time
just as a dream
to a place of strangeness
strangers
walking contretemps' fine lines
composing invisible footprints
away from life
into the loud silence within
The Chronicles of The Forgotten
lost in the mists
oars plunging grave tomes in
The Tombs of Sad Poetry
some gently fierce
soft grey broken bad blue sky
reflected in a lake of tears
a sense of haunting
romance to allay
impending fears
acknowledging minds
for a short while
dipping deep within
the short measured
confronting uncomfortable
pools of sincere welcomes some sin
playing the forgotten
heart strings
light sensitive fingers pluck violins
reeling in the pleasure
swoon swimming the skinny time
with cool investiture
the Siren sings
dropping chords
divesting smiles, a serious business
arresting life, love and lust
sensual eyes read his
for good measure
where diaphanous
pages drop like
silken Selkie skin
naked she swims
to shore clutching
a fistful of pearls
wisdom comes
at the price of
freedom
lost in the depths
of drowning
all the ghosts
dead
reborn
in his eyes, they are
Her glistening
new Ocean
now her feet planted on the sure
Now the Lark Ascending
She opens the
locked door
symphonic pleasure
maestro is
leading
(LadyLabyrinth / 2020)
Rachmaninov: "The Isle of the Dead"
Symphonic Poem Op. 29 - Andrew Davis
https://youtu.be/dbbtmskCRUY
Vaughan Williams: "The Lark Ascending"
https://youtu.be/ZR2JlDnT2l8
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Selkie
Remains of the Day
Sometimes one has to fail: or live with a constant search for a something-someone-somewhere. Then fail. Or take more years dreaming of that old flame or the new hottie you espyed in the bookshop. Sometimes we get at least something before killing it in the sad eyes of your backladder. Or Blackadder. My snake coils through my belly hissing tongue to tail tumbling under my gutteral vertabrae.
The time is here. Of black-clad orphans singing into darkness moon shadow where I kiss the lips and mouth of love found; if not for good but for now. NightDark Witch-her title or the more casual Vampiress- Morgana. She/It meets most of my requirements minus a few unimportant items. Shattering glass with those poisonous green pupils she spooks me and I know it’s deliberate. Only having met her through the window her whispers caress my neck and I feel my throat being held. Really tightly. ‘Hail oh dear Lord you are doomed I will stalk you til your very heady death! Wait your time oh fearful yes fearful not fearless nobody’s friend!’
Chandeliers crash thrashing onto the floorboards opening her entrance the formidable one. We stalk stumbling through the grounds of the church blood-red sunset stays and shadows with lights on my body. She’s a Goddess as well. Coming for the circle of life and me.
I’m tied up and stranded. Come hither my mistress! Holler into the night..as the light remains. Falling star landing in Texas. Missed us by a second. I rest my head on twigs bound like a sack.
Waking up to her kiss and the first bird call who is received by a lover’s coo. A deer runs past the lake. It’s morning in underground hellfire. Hell here or be free over there! Quick make minds up two minutes before choking time.
I shall never believe in one other’s charms. Go forth with your dogma.
I fly out onto roofs swooping across grand hills tree-topped inner forestland I perch.
KING ME!!
"Another date you and I !!"
Sharing moments ~ "Eye To Eye!!"
Lost of words and you know why?
Your trophy is to kill,
mine's to hang you out to dry.
Testing your skill,
simmering my skills down to your level.
You play like Mr Sandman, slipping me with a sleeping pill.
You don't have what it takes to pick up the pace.
You think this is like the rabbit and turtle race.
You take up, to much time studying my moves.
"DUH~ YOU DUMMY!!"
"I pull the same ones, THAT'S WHY YOU ALWAYS LOSE!! "
In some games you have me figured out.
Due to that one corner move, that makes me shout.
Another double jump'
You got me off guard!
I love the way you show me~ NEVER UNDERESTIMATE A RETARD~
King me!
You say and I say no way!
Another game you win, when I lose my patients to play.
Every one of your moves has a ploy,
My sweet love, I'm only here to destroy.
I don't know why you think this game is LONG-TERM.
Waiting for you to move, is wearing out my new perm.
I can feel all the mass pass me by, its like watching a worm slowly die.
Sorry if I jumped twice before your piece was confirm.
But, it is very cute to watch you wiggle and squirm.
I don't like the way you bring my race with a slow victory.
It's like killing a roach without glory.
I rejects this formal game to base it on reality.
As our minds are internal contradictory.
I hope you realize you will never be better than me.
All the games you won, lets say there where freebies.
In order to play a flawless game of checkers,
you have to consider "" no winners at all ""
Go ahead and jump, this one's on me.
I love the way you tease and love me tenderly.
KING ME!
There you go with your dirty grin.
So devilish, when I let you win.
by;p.d.
dedicated to: Nate..
Who can't keep up with my wins on CHECKERS.....