Long Mistrust Poems
Long Mistrust Poems. Below are the most popular long Mistrust by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Mistrust poems by poem length and keyword.
Youth, eager to ignite passion's flame;
does not stop and question if love is true.
For their need to belong outweighs their fears;
a desire so strong it's hard to ignore.
Lovers blinded by the aura of love;
shun all reason as feelings zero in.
For fantasies and possibilities;
tickle libidos, muting silent screams.
Doubt dissects dreams with a scalpel of truth,
as reality tears your world apart.
And your heart bears the scars of betrayal;
inflicted by promises, rife with lies.
The pain that love inflicts is troublesome,
debatably, more to shun than embrace.
And yet, under the surface of mistrust,
hope resonates with the beat of your heart.
We are eager and much willing
To find progress in forgiving!
Long as we the future living
Reap the fruit of our own digging!
Stop the bloodshed and the killing
Heed the call and hear the feelings
Do not ignore or practice grinning
We are relentless in our bidding
Rugged, aimless not quite sinners
Think of us assumed caregivers
You will serve, worship, deliver
A stern warning for those who quiver
Through the bitter night that's turning
Underlies the rage that won't stop burning
Are the questions of their forming
Huge mistrust and reckless learning
Their wretched thoughts within them roaring
Thickening soup of malice churning
Now light and darkness in them blurring
Starts the signal of societies falling
'Bless the young mind!' said the screams
Touch their skirts and gird their seams
Feel the hems within their jeans
As they bring forth these lofty ideals
Is it wisdom or foolish extremes
They resort to usher in peace
Rip through curtains, burning machines
Find a vaccine, sweep the streets
There seems certainty in the air
Fog of heat and dense dispair
Of the future that lies bare
For all the citizens of this square
Still the rantings would play on
Such as a never ending song
Hope is future, lust is lost
Youth is freedom, wisdom be gone
Existence
"Everything has beauty, but not everyone sees it."
– Confucius
Time carves through me, a blade precise,
splitting the soul in swift, sharp slices.
Beliefs dissolve in apathetic mist;
I see ingratitude, a marvel that persists.
Nowhere, no one offers trust’s clear voice.
The vast hands of the Almighty stretch wide,
yet I find no refuge inside.
Corona's shadow veils horizons torn,
ruin hides where nature is reborn.
Mortality whispers in miraculous tones,
while youth is sold at spring’s damp stones.
Dreams, once sheltered by the moon’s embrace,
lie evicted, mistrust has razed their place.
Who speaks now of joy, of women, of friends?
Green grass weaves homes for insects instead.
The mind, consumed by vengeance's flame,
burns in Shravan’s crimson rain.
Love’s river runs through ashen streams;
the conscience falters, betrayed by dreams.
And still, I stand—modest, yet yearning,
with wearied heart and fire still burning.
An immortal hand rests on my shoulder;
I know—
Beyond these clouds, the sky is golden.
**Shravan- is a month of the Bengali calendar – mostly monsoon season.
Please write me a letter, tell how are you
Think of me please for a moment
You might not be interested but this is true
Without you life is a torment
I’m so devastated you wouldn’t believe
I can’t think of anything other than us
How did it happen that you chose to leave
Why did you display a mistrust?
I tried to be tactful as much as I could
But maybe you were so uptight
And tired as well, that you thought its no good
To continue with me every night
Maybe you laughed, thinking I’m still a child
But what if we are, to a certain extent
Little children, and maybe this helps to survive
Although we don’t see if it can.
Please write me a letter, forget what you feel
Bad always shows more than enough
You’ll be surprised how its easy and real
To write me a letter of love.
when i was little i thought love meant kindness and sharing.
i thought it meant smiles and sweet words.
when i got a little older i thought love meant kindness and sweet words and being naked.
when i got even older i confused being naked with love.
not the kind of naked where somebody wears their heart on their sleeve or lets you see their soul as though they’ve turned it inside out for you.
i’ve seen small lies and big lies and what lies beneath the people you trust most.
i’ve seen trust broken and trust bent and trust never initially set.
i’ve seen kindness and sharing and malice and possession but i have never seen this kind of naked.
i have seen nakedness with strangers during 3am calls and loneliness.
i’ve seen loneliness turn into leather seats gripping my calves in a taxi on the way home from the club crawling into somebody else’s bed.
i’ve seen mistrust placed in me by the same naked that lies within those sheets.
i had only ever seen the naked that lies in bed next to me, not in somebodies soul.
i had never known nakedness could run deeper than an evening.
i know now nakedness is in the way she reads my body, not what she does to it in the early hours.
i know nakedness is how she looks me in my eyes,
not how somebody admires them under cigarette light as ash falls onto bed sheets.
nakedness runs deeper than my skin, and she taught me that.
nakedness is how she shows me herself,
the darkness and the light and everything in between,
it’s in the way we speak,
the way we cry,
the way we laugh,
and all of those things happen with my clothes on.
We assign no meaning to bliss that hums,
brought forth when polarities tango dance,
for though we’re complete it seems soul becomes,
the light of Self, free from hypnotic trance.
Bemused by illusions and lost in lust,
the ego is but a blood sucking leech,
so cravings of body-mind we mistrust
and the grace of God earnestly beseech.
Ceasing thinking, relying on feeling,
we befriend silence, resting the thought crutch,
that Holy Spirit may begin healing,
our deluded soul as we learn by touch.
In timeless time, past tendencies refined,
pristine presence becomes divine aligned.
Pristine presence becomes divine aligned,
enabled on head melding with the heart,
whence playing our life role as God assigned,
ego dies as fears and desires depart.
As cravings recede and love takes the lead,
breath by breath we watch form metamorphose
and as bliss pheromones begin to breed,
we exude the scent of a fragrant rose.
Living internally, we yet exist,
without agenda, vibrant and carefree,
our luminous presence now a bliss mist,
pure awareness unshackled from mind’s tree.
Thus without any doing done at all,
shining as the light of Self, we stand tall.
Shining as the light of Self, we stand tall,
resplendent in the glory of God’s light,
centred always in love’s benign bliss squall,
we merge with the source that births heart’s delight.
Though life’s pulse is dual, our eye’s single,
thus we are within but not of the world,
heartbeat a bliss spasm, we feel each tingle,
delighted as flag of love is unfurled.
In this lucid dream already impulsed,
magnetism being flavour of our muse,
as light is imbibed and darkness repulsed,
scent of love from our pores begins to ooze.
God’s divine magnetism in our heart strums;
we assign no meaning to bliss that hums.
I see in his eyes
A guarded steel wall,
The mysterious darkness
Hiding an unknown fall.
His words are quiet
And sometimes lost,
He comes and goes
Just like winter’s frost.
The grapevine speaks
Of a troubled past,
A broken moment
With a permanent cast.
A sense of mistrust
Hides the emotions he feels,
Buried deep inside
It’s his past he conceals.
The dark of his eyes
Draws me in,
Making me wonder
What motivates him to swim.
With calm reserve
He walks through the store,
Only buying what he needs
And nothing more.
The air around him
Filters courageously strong,
And no obvious label
Promotes his past wrong.
I see in his eyes
There’s so much more,
But he hides it all
Behind a locked door.
"Where love rules, there is no will to power;
and where power predominates, there love is lacking.
The one is the shadow of the other."
Carl Jung
Active love co-arises power-with,
articulating poli-economic co-intelligence,
and not fertilizing power-over.
Wisdom smiles through Poetry's Muse
showing reasoned narratives
in Earth's meaning-filled nature stories
exploring unseen spirited purposes,
dynamically developing creations,
recreations,
sacred transubstantiations.
Science, Research, Industry
and Poetry
and Creation Stories
emerge from natural embodied roots
in primary full-octave color frequencies
of receptive investment in perceptive production.
Natural Law beliefs flower from Spiritual Trust/Mistrust/Distrust
as Facts emerge from resonant/dissonant Feelings.
Win/Win hopes and Lose/Lose historical v herstory facts
Resilient health narratives
co-arising natural/spiritual indigenous roots
of and for Wisdom's regenerating panentheism,
rebirthing herstory,
stretching toward Love's abundant warm harvest,
free of freezing fear.
History of economically wealthy Harvest
as deep listening earns healthy political Love,
birthing CoArising EnLightenment.
Longing begets belonging,
halfness begets wholeness,
so too
win/lose opposition begets win/win
as colonizing monocultures beget creolizing polycultures.
Local Leaders cannot neglect wisdom to sustain health power
as EarthTribe faithful Followers,
CoMuses of life's lovely belonging therapy
and suffering traumatic loss experiences
CoArising Earth's neuro- and eco-systemic wisdom
cannot impatiently abuse deep sensory co-passions
to win wealthyMind/healthyBody co-hosting power
win/win with
and not win/lose overpowering
irreligious
disassociative systemic trauma.
YangPower is fertile as wild yeast
as YinWisdom evolves poli
and poly cultural
panentheistic feast.
Profoundly depolarizing
ego downsizing
inclusive EarthTribe Love
is to holisitic Wisdom
as Yang is to Yin,
crown/rooted within AnthroMind/EarthBody's warm womb,
of sacred historic HerStory.
Monotheistic love is to panentheistic Wisdom
as win/win spiritual wisdom co-operates EarthTribe
natural law love.
EgoMe born of and returning toward EcoWe,
EchoWe.
You may have never heard of Clausewitz,
But you’ll hear of wars and rumors of wars
Via propaganda, gossip, and disinformation.
You’ll witness the struggle through a drinking straw.
Explosions will drown out the voice of truth.
Whispered atrocities spread fear out of context.
False flags cast suspicions meant to weaken morale.
Psyops sow confusion and mistrust of the media.
But modern technology and open-source intel
Can peer through the haze on the battlefield.
It counters misdirection and stiffens our spine
To prosecute our campaign against tyranny.
We have the capability of piercing the mist
Sufficient for encouraging our will to resist.
THIS SPACE RESERVED FOR
MATTHEW 24: 6 AND SYNTHETIC APERTURE RADAR
In my dim-lit realm of sleep are my dreams
Where I paint her face with my long yearning
Then languished in shades dark with silent screams
Until my eyes leave trails of tears burning
As I was a friend and one she could trust
Never a thought of her lover to be
She often spoke of the love's she mistrust
And how her heart always needs to be free
Time passed in life's timeless motion of years
While clouds drifted across ten Autumn skies
A door opens she suddenly appears
To say her final goodbye with her sighs
This night of return was a lonely kiss
And one she gave for me to reminisce
7/3/20 contest The one who got away