Long Misrepresentation Poems
Long Misrepresentation Poems. Below are the most popular long Misrepresentation by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Misrepresentation poems by poem length and keyword.
Elemental formulations of healing for the soul
Consequential co-ordinations as we resist growing old
Monumental calculations from a mind in the scientific cold
Fundamental indignation from a heritage that has been cheaply sold
Inspiration from an underground rebellion against corruption
Congregations gathering peacefully while they plan the next outrageous eruption
Elevations of encouragement reserved for the next humble induction
Consternations of conscience as they deliberate the latest disruption
Elated Birthrights of grace that alleviate the suffering of man
Conflated sights of misplaced rights that insight the oppressed to take a stand
Berated knights of armies that fight for the underprivileged lands
Outdated insights from the furtherest from right that cannot reach out to take their neighbours hand
Sorrow amidst the grieving leaves of the oldest oak lined tree
Tomorrow rids the meaning of the boldest manoeuvre to be free
Borrow a reference from those streaming the coldest point of view even though they cannot see
Chateaux of Buddhist Mist resists those seeming as though they understand what it means to just “be”
Retrospective Franz Kafka, Kubrick and Van Gogh are turning in their respective artistic graves
Genuflective baroque bursts out in the streets and illuminates the belligerent and brave
My perspective resists the twists in the narrative that perpetuate the misrepresentation of knowledge in this dying age
Defective subjectives invoke word detectives as contradictions alleviate words from a sage
Retreating from gender and bigotry , racism, discrimination and persecution
Completing a consulate meeting while avoiding contamination of your verbal elocution
Deleting the render of fascism, recrimination and avoiding electrocution
Competing the bender of catachlysm while intimidation forces an absolution
Give peace a chance while you look at him askance and allow a new world to now form
Live through this strange dance while the privilege prance and the poor remain utterly forlorn
Forgive the wanton violent stance of those who are existing war torn
Outlive the demise of the good in disguise as a baby cries after being born
The End Copyright Elizabeth Moroz
She gazed at the looking glass, but the mirror refused to grant her a preview of what might happen, a clear picture of where she had been and if she existed at all, the spectre of the moment seemed to be disguised from inspection. Coming to terms with having absorbed and condensed too many of society’s norms and demands had seemingly been her duty and the prism of requests on her image of beauty had failed her inner Self. She drooled onto the spitting image of nothingness and the slobber ran down to the frame that upheld phlegm and contempt before it trickled down onto the baseless floor founded on hardcore delusion. Diet pills and dark shades had not relieved her from a succession of errors of reason and emotion and when she had blindfolded herself, the blinkers tore deep into her misrepresentation of surrender and cosmetic denial.
scanned in revulsion
vacant echoes burst the sight –
shards of glass splintered
So many fragments pierced into her eyes, that dry tears covered the pulverized viewing and heart-blood sprayed all over her soul. A point of no return, because if she failed to stem the flow and bandage the wounds, gangrene would set it soon and salving the lacerations would only speed up infection and purulent grime. The wall in front of her blurred out of proportion and there was nothing she could do about it other than retrieving bristles and paint from the storeroom and gloss over the shiny remnants of disrepair. And therefore, she entered into a journey of the unknown, drew rose petals and thorns onto broken canvas. Before she knew it, she decoupaged disintegration and fractures, glued a mosaic of imagination to mirror what should have been there in the first place. Sweat dripped from her forehead and smudged aquarelle shades which reassembled self-worth and confronted demons and abuse. An inner voice shouted, ‘all you need is a mantra to caption the artwork which you truly are.’ That is when she wrote her first poem and became free of doubts, oppression and cynical critique.
blame discredit reproach
failed to appease me in vain –
reflections can change
26th March 2021
Brass balls & eyes with a sliver of sin
Hence, where do I even bother to begin?
In fragmentation out on its desolate isle
We will know all the more in a great while
In sesation we get desperate & loneliness sets in
Enflamed by passion from within
Marked on its blotted page yet clearly intact
Working too hard can give anyone a heart attack
Today I want to soar to a place that is much better then before
Some our eager to contemplate history
The final line embraced in eager desire
Through a barrage of misrepresentation
Yet still today I long to soar to a place
That is much better then before
To embrace the inner swell of pain
While the entire world outside is totally insane
Through a closed window
Yet for the moment only one can speculate
Through the closed window one can barely see
A very vibrant yet different way of a reality
In swift decisions that must be made
In a painful thrust & shortness of breath
Most only tap into a very small portion of brain
Through a closed window one can barely see
In some sorted variation in a dream
We then wander aimlessly as in some nomadic tribesmen
In desperation flirting with fire in the brain
In pillaged torn rhetoric decorum
Through a closed window
One can claim an inner sense of hidden solitude
We are all in the same cage here
Why do the guilty go free?
Why do the heathen rage?
Why does the sun still shine?
As painted faces lost in time
Were all in the same cage here?
It's just I want to know
How a most beautiful flower does grow
Through its frolic ambiance to unfold
In heights of soaring tears in sight
Still the river still flows out in some peaceful sway
Within tempers on fire yet still some ardent desire
A pilgrims process one can claim
It is so good to know that I'm still in the game!
his mouth was wide open like a whispering heart
‘bring me sex drugs rock and roll back the years’
but prayers went unheard and the little blue pill
failed to arouse healing and he went flaccidly home
from the bawdy house at which he exhaled a curse
still passionate he grasped a manual on hot love
marvelled at positions that took courage and strength
suppleness of body and mind and stealthy resolve
a picture book of inspiration he centred his spine
reflecting on tantra and a magic carpet holding on
to the yoga mat in search of rejuvenation and flow
his mates mocked him when pure Philia took over
'too incestuous' he decreed for 'I can do this myself
I want Eros' but Freud recommended killing his Dad
and bonking his Mom in classical misrepresentation
of Storge under cover of analysis and moist dreams
his lips were parched and he longed for a lover
or at least some dark web site for illegitimate lust
searching for meaning his book case collapsed
and the bottom shelf reached to the top of the pile
how to treat haemorrhoids did not appeal to him
neither did the DIY guide to aphrodisiac verses
Nietzsche suggested that all religion was dead
only Karl Marx appealed to all communal desire
when he considered surrendering to his old age
abandon the vacant vacuum pump he had become
and accept that the highest form of amorous joy
was to bequeath his two rubber dolls to charity for
recycling of a karmic wheel and selfless nobility
he was pleased after a quick look in the dictionary
that such impartial transmission actually existed
and when he wiped irreverent seeds from his loins
became firm in the belief that Agape was for real
19th April 2021
Agape Poetry Contest
Sponsor Regina McIntosh
I said it before and I’ll say it once more-
fool me like this I’m slamming the door!
I thought we had an unyielding connection,
but all we shared was perpetual deception.
Trickery you played and yet you still stayed
to prove to me all the damage you made.
I miss the romance, the fond connection,
now it’s misleading guile and imperfection.
Can you honestly say that you really loved me?
I think my veiled eyes were too blind to see.
I never knew my heart could break like this,
we used to be encompassed in love’s bliss.
I feel like I’m living in a nightmare reality,
all your artifice and fraud with hypocrisy.
Two-time double-dealing misrepresentation,
years full of empty promises and dissimilation.
Strategies against me to break my heart in two,
in the depths of my heart I thought I knew you.
Did you ever feel for me a passionate sensation?
Or was your love just out of temporary obligation?
You swore vows of forever, yet you left with ease,
oh tell me God, when will this anguish cease!
I thought I was strong, but you are the weak one,
all the deceit and lies, you played me for fun.
Tonight, after you left I fell to my weary knees,
weeping because of your dishonest disease.
Although I am still tormented this is the end-
you fooled me once, you won’t fool me again!
Fool Me Once Contest
Rhyme Scheme: A-A-B-B-A-A
Brenda Chiri
August 24, 2018
Is there absolute truth found in complete fabrication,
or is sincere honesty just a form of misrepresentation?
Veracities and falsities can be seen by the naked eye,
when the human soul sees the depth of the truth or a lie.
Nothing can change what is or what is meant to be,
but we can change whether or not we live in honesty.
It is a fact that the sky turns blue during a sunny day,
and in the center of a tempest those blue skies turn to grey.
But is it true that when we live in complete prevarication
we forget about the One who gave us our creation?
Deception is as legitimate as is conviction and certitude,
and indeed, amity is as tangible as isolated solitude.
God has given us free will to choose if we do good,
or if we believe that evil is something misunderstood.
For there is no axiomaticity in a lie told with ease,
and truth be told if we falsify our active soul will cease.
When we intentionally fib are we a person of inspiration,
or are we really someone who lives with a sinner’s temptation?
When we mislead and misinform those who believe in hope,
we are actually withholding their ability to learn to cope.
Righteous is our God who lives in absolute truth and integrity,
for I believe He is the only reason for decency and morality.
When proper candor is bestowed out of love and compassion,
we confer our honor and virtue with ingenuous passion.
Can we ever be trustworthy with so much sinful animations?
I pray we learn absolute truth is our active soul’s authentication.
Active Soul and Mankind's Self-righteousness Poetry Contest
Catie Lindsey
June 29, 2018
"Poeta Nascitur Non Fit"
Hated decades ago
Accepted a decade ago
Glorified now
To the extent
of what we are horrified by
Painted tainted enlarged adjusted
Altered lessened sculpted tatted
A misrepresentation of our creative space
Now you are different if you are not
And the crowd screams, "Vive La Difference"!
As oath breakers call upon the Now
Learning lessons learned in the fog
To make the fog lace
We were under dressed anyway
And at odds with peace
Waiting for options
That are fail safe
Hic et nune...Hic et ubique
gardez la foi
Vox populi...Vox Dei
Gardez la foi
Or trouble will come
which will leave us asking
"Where did we go wrong?"
Quie'n Sabe?
Forgetting forgot to forget
what to forgive
and who not to
and so here we are
In a state of constant acceptance
consumed by society's need
to remain the same
in a constant state of change
Yet we are forewarned...
Not to be physically immoral
Not to be thieves
Not to be greedy
Not to be wrong
But we deceive ourselves
and submit
We disease ourselves
and admit it and live through it
and say, "it's right"
when we know it's wrong.
Do you remember
when we couldn't act
like what we weren't
Or be who we were not??
We play with destiny
and it's forbidden activity
like climbing a latter
with broken arms
Lean forward step light
Listen hard
It ain't even real to be real no more
so why try if you ain't
It ain't even real to be real no more
Now it's real to be fake.
Family isn't all about feelings, but a bond of unconditional love, despite all the difference. And with all the hate, pride and resentment you show towards each other,you're still family,whether you like to admit or not.
I mean we all have our difference,that's obvious, but it shouldn't keep us from what Christmas is truly all about, which is about love and family? And not worrying who bought what for who,or what you didn't get or who said what to who. I mean who cares.
If you can't get over the nonsense, then how can you can say Merry Christmas to anyone, even family for that matter and hide hatred in your heart. Isn't that a double standard and misrepresentation of what Christmas is all about.?
And since you guys have been family your whole lives,you obviously know that nobody's perfect no matter what they say. ?You should always cherish all your family memories no matter how great or small.
So now your telling me that you are willing to throw it all way, over some disagreement that was said out of anger and frustration.
Your family, so you need to reflect on today and not the past. Which can never be changed no matter how you look at it.
So build towards the future and don't let your last family memory be over a disagreement.?
Always remember, the only winner in the argument is the actual argument itself.
I don't want to be in your anthology I adore poetry soup and have a great respect for all the wonderful poets and their hard work and achievements for being included in these new anthologies I believe it's unfair that your anthology appears under my name when I made sure not to include myself in any of your anthologies these poets deserve their own recognition why not advertise the poets who are actually included in your anthology I'm fine just submitting my own poems from my own collection not to be included in any contest or anthology on poetry soup why not allow the poets you included in your new anthologies to receive the advertising recognition and respect they deserve radiant verses should always include Catherine Paula these are authors on Amazon actually included in your so called radiant verses masterpiece an yet their not getting the recognition you're advertising under my name I find that odd kudos to Catherine and Paula for being included in your radiant verses I don't want to be included in your anthology with all due respect it’s very misleading false advertising misrepresentation as if I myself is included in your anthology I can’t take any recognition for your anthology your advertising is misleading unfair to all the true poets that took the time to submit work to be included in your anthology
Just Friends
(friendly advances…gone wrong.)
Happy is a great way to be.
Being saved is so true.
It lifts the heart,
and makes one want to sing,
and makes others think
you are crazy.
When saying things,
“Hello”,
“Goodbye”,
“How are you today…?”
“May the Lord Bless you always!”
It is not an invitation to a life,
a misrepresentation of advancement.
It is a recognition that life,
is short, and should be cherished,
shared and celebrated.
In His name,
the words on our lips,
ever a fine whisper,
always a song of hope.
Listen closely,
to make sure you, me, we,
are ever clear in their meaning.
It is not deeper
than a personal concern
by an expressed individual,
serving…
as the Lord is always moving,
among his children.
He is unfathomable…
It is not intimate,
by a single person,
in a way separate from
His mighty sanctuary.
He is the reason we gather.
He is the reason we attend.
Do not read,
more than is written or expressed,
by cheerful intent,
or pleasant smile.
Leading a life led by Him,
nothing short of the greatest,
blessing…
found here…
on this dying Earth.
Happy is a great way to be.
Pray with your whole heart.
Be clear,
as He already knows,
the request…
and,
the answer!