Long Misdirect Poems
Long Misdirect Poems. Below are the most popular long Misdirect by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Misdirect poems by poem length and keyword.
1st commandment "have no other god except me"
Should there be, He is impartial referee
2nd commandment "do not make idols"
It simply makes the two seem equal
3rd commandment "take His name not in vain"
If thou shall make out of it gains
4th commandment "remember the sabbath day and keep it holy"
For him to make all the 6 days struggles wholly
5th commandment "honor your father and your mother"
Also the elders and that shouldn't make you a smother
6th commandment "you shall not murder"
Like those before Corona herders
7th commandment "you shall not commit adultery"
Don't make it turn out to be your economic treasury
8th commandment "you shall not steal"
The worst is trying the whole lifetime to conceal
9th commandment "don't bear false witness against your neighbor"
Only God can help h/her with such labor
10th commandment "you shall not covet"
Not even pieces of paper inside the ballot
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11th commandment "follow your heart"
That's if you think it is smart.
12th commandment "rethink with your genuine mind"
To know how worthy if the kvetch affined
13th commandment "let go"
When at will, none is ready to burn down ego
14th commandment "living with the tragic"
But no one dares hold you if you turned it a magic
15th commandment "saints also do sin"
The difference is that they learned how to give in
16th commandment is "walk in-out like a stranger"
You will sincerely be given respect like danger
17th commandment "no one is perfect"
Even pastors do misdirect
18th commandment "you should place a tag"
But don't dare try to brag
19th commandment "no one has ever return with heaven's video tape"
Not even a single audiotape
20th commandment "be empty of worrying"
After all, no one can tell of himself foreseeing...
If there’s no god, why show respect
for pain that’s felt by an insect,
for doesn’t that in part deflect
from order’s natural select
which did from soup somehow infect,
cajole or otherwise confect
life as we know it, and inject
complexity, until bedecked,
upon the scene comes Man, erect?
A pain-free god’s what you expect?
It seems creation's architect
is oft accused by means direct
(an argument they resurrect),
of child abuse, pain and neglect,
a charge to which I must object.
Though I'm not needed to protect,
still neither shall this go unchecked.
Although I mean no disrespect,
I think when one is circumspect,
allows not logic to defect,
to fancy, does not genuflect,
and stops carefully to reflect,
they, too, will see the disconnect.
For when they do, I do suspect,
unwittingly, Godhead bisect
(it's rare, if I may interject,
that they might attempt to trisect),
considering not, in effect,
that though there are three intellects,
their wills, communal, intersect,
their overlap complete, correct.
Now you may ask what this affects,
but what it means is all aspects
of common will and dialect,
are locked in a direct connect,
such that when one of them elects
to carry out a plan perfect,
none are diminished, none henpecked,
nor subject to a misdirect,
nor actions that might disaffect,
nor any sovereign state rejects
(hence child abuse notions are wrecked).
I have the scriptures to inspect;
in these I cannot recollect
attempts from truth to redirect,
so I eject as incorrect
the notion that God did elect
to avoid pain, to disinfect,
but rather, chose pain to connect
with life, with us, and with respect,
through Christ, and not in retrospect.
The Truth
I am here to make you...
uncomfortable.
I am the truth,
the whole truth,
nothing less than,
but there is more.
The problem is you never look for it.
You never step outside your zone,
your place of origin,
your home inside,
where you hide.
The world is not passing by,
it is coming this way,
like a freight train without tracks,
able to misdirect and confuse
the course of action
that has already been taken,
will be taken,
and will be "took".
Ask yourself,
who or what do you believe?
Ask yourself,
critical questions,
before you end up in
the emergency room,
fair game for experiments,
that might go wrong,
who knows?
The streets are not safe anymore.
The schools have been overtaken by unicorns.
Homeless heroes are treated badly,
less than the scum of the Earth.
No homage to their personal sacrifice for all,
at all.
Rotten Politian's that suck the marrow,
from the citizen's bones,
bask in the moment,
but will pay a "measure" in the end,
in full.
Preachers,
pastors,
oath breakers,
and simple plain takers,
will be the makers of their own demise,
the sin of which is blacker than
darkness can be.
This could go on,
and it may never end.
But it stops here,
with a fear,
for the ones that dwell on the lie,
of the apple pie,
and eat until they are truly content.
The witch asked the children,
what flavor candy they loved most?
She did so to make a gravy,
a sauce,
for her dinner,
that night.
It was the last question,
she asked,
and she wanted a
truthful answer.
When I was a kid, I know, long ago,
We scrumped apples from neighbours orchards,
Climbed trees, scared bees, skinned our knees,
And once, quite daft, built a raft on the river exe,
Which upended before I knew about vanishing stability,
Or indeed, even my own ability, to do important stuff, like swim,
And my parents felt in charge, unaware of that near insanity,
Life was adventurous, often dangerous, pleasant calamity.
After all, boys will be boys!
Now today, I hear folk rein their children in,
Its considered a sin to even think of doing wrong,
Like pre-pubescent fun fair balloons,
Modern minor loons are floated on virtual strings,
That report everything, each step, each minor misdirect,
Social media monitored, mobile device ahead of vices,
No chances to learn how to exist around even minor risk,
As parenthood clashes charged glasses, after classes,
Why boys cannot be boys.
We learnt to stand firm in a boxing ring, ears ringing,
Whilst on the rugby field we were stamped into shape,
Little gingerbread dough boys, crusted up into teenage loaves,
That may not have been to everyones politically correct taste,
But no matter the blame, we learned to stand, just the same,
And despite accusations today we were neglected,
I grew up in a World where our parents were respected,
For we leant quickly the need to hear them often say,
But officer, boys will be boys.
@Andrew Carnegie, Wiltshire, January 2017.
If you would like to know a bit about me and my poetry please click this link below:
https://youtu.be/Ic_V7aX4xbk
She lays in the long grass of the meadow,
Taut with anticipation,
Tired from the hunt,
Remembering the hurts of the past and the lessons learned.
The deceptively soft nose twitches; five directions at once.
Catching scents from yesterday and today.
Picking up the passion scent
from within the stench of broken dreams.
The knowing of things
The collector of information
Of scent
Of sound
Of the indefinable knowing that is instinct.
The direction of the wind upon her coat
Does it’s best to misdirect and lead astray.
Sounds echo around in a discord of noise.
And yet each note is heard clearly and distinctly
Signaling the nature of those who howl unknowingly at the moon.
Pretending that they understand.
Her padded feet contact the soil
And feel the rhythm of the earth
That signals each approaching possibility.
Vision is the last.
Encompassing that which has been sensed.
Information into a kaleidoscope of sensory perception.
That spins seemingly patternless
And the murmurs of a million secrets.
To one who heeds the intuition
Formed from experience
And freed from hindrance
By the possibility of dreams.
Take me
Shape me
Misdirect me
You always want to see me
Down on my knees
For ever
And ever
I will always
Be there in front of your face
Screaming
For years
And years
I have been obliged
Followed your rules
Without doubt or question
It is time
for change
MY words
Echoing in YOUR ears
Fear no longer exists
You will always
Try to break me
But I'll always be there
Infront of your face
With eyes wide open
With a mouth wide open
And a fist raised
High up the air
This time
I won't
Sit back and watch
You kill ever last inch
Of me
I will
Do whatever I can
To bring you down
And I am not alone
You will fall
Enough of
Your lies
Your dirty and filthy lies
You are always in disguise
Nothing but a coward, who will soon die
I'm stronger
With stronger faith
I have multiplied
And always will
I am the vox populi(1)
You will always
Try to break me
But I'll always be there
Infront of your face
With eyes wide open
With a mouth wide open
And a fist raised
High up the air
(1)Vox populi, a Latin phrase that literally means "voice of the people"
Oh sing yon violin upon your strings
and play harps and lutes melodious things
come sooth my soul and for our losses
and shatter pain upon our bed of mosses
Dost thou dare to stay our hearts entwined
do cast your light and airy within our mind
so also to our agony do make us blind
where in time we shall life kinder find
Do misdirect my thoughts upon a fairer course
lead me now away from paths remorse
fail not to impart joy and from its source
and to the courts whats odious I do divorce
and there expire bitterness and mans afflictions
unto the burial sites with their benedictions
the ends of tribulations on the morrow
as I have some aspersion to this sorrow
Come twist your ropes do wrap in harmony
the golden strand in archetypes that be
fluid in the cups elixir we do drink
to shelter from woe and misery we sink
Clasp the inner man intone your song
return to us the living among our throng
embrace the consolation and hold whats dear
for upon us all this place draws ever near
COPYRIGHT © 2009 C Michael Miller
via Duboff Law Group LLC
these carnal desires will see me expire
inseperately stained from this foul game
of avoiding the smallest pricks of pain,
growing rage for making me play
with these machinations inside my brain,
artificial aspirations alienate the cause
and effect, misdirect these things we call laws
it's so flawed, I can't move on
I'm weighed down by noiseless sound,
of no one else around,
can't let that put us down
the drumming want to take a jaunt,
to run away with no embrace
can't look back or face regret
still managing to get upset
bereft of those I truly wept,
but on I crept, each lowley step
a constant pace and rhythmic breath,
unruly unrest, unconsciousness,
what does it mean do I exist
or just subsist on this planet,
trapped in my orbital plane,
fighting flames of growing disdain,
this dark domain will surely wane
but not without closing its veins
refrain from pulling the trigger
that figures, it doesn't help you
or me so I think I'll reconsider
trying to see this whole play through
At God's judgment, will we stand tall, free of defect?
If we could, would it be just the aftereffect
of a life lived for self, with pride’s introspect?
What did God ordain with the word, resurrect?
There comes to the soul, a day when we're subject -
to guilt as a sinner, immoral, suspect.
We can put the blame on evil’s misdirect
but our faults we must own in circumspect
bond with the God-head, we no longer reject.
My friend, at the reckoning in Christian prospect,
we'll all fall on our faces in awe and respect
for the Savior, Christ our Lord, grand Architect
who can redeem, empower, thereby perfect
stark lives that once faced death's dark disconnect.
What did God ordain with the word - resurrect?
Change, redirection from the dead, in effect.
When Jesus’ forgiveness for sin we accept
we bow the knee in service and genuflect,
rising to glorious grace as God’s chosen elect.
Zoning by micro-climates my
Yards' spaces, and then
Xeriscaping them to conserve
Water because of the drought, I can
Visualize neat straight furrows
(Under colorful vines
Trailing red, green, and purple grapes)
Saturated with various seedlings:
Radishes, squashes, sprouts, etc.
Quietly absorbing sunlight, and
Pushing roots deeper into my
Organically amended soil.
Nasturtiums, previously planted,
Misdirect insects away from my plants.
Ladybugs, and other predators, help
Keep down the hostiles that got through.
Jumping forward from Spring to Fall,
I can imagine picking tomatoes from the vines,
Harvesting football-sized zucchinis,
Gathering various root vegetables, and
Fruits from bushes and trees.
Eating unwashed sweet peas
Directly from their pods.
Cooking pies from mixed berries I grew;
Baking pumpkin bread or zucchini bread.
Agonizing again over what to plant next year.