Long Oath Poems
Long Oath Poems. Below are the most popular long Oath by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Oath poems by poem length and keyword.
The height of ignorance
sleeping when we oath
to be awake
laughing when we need
to think
pretending when we have
nothing
never creative in a time
of necessity
always blaming when we
could stop the curse at the
first place
tell me how far is this ignorance
the height of ignorance
lying when the truth is
the solution
lavishing when we oath
to save
having fun when we need
to work
never want to be told the truth
comfort in illusion
comfortable with lies
always doing same thing
to same result
so please answer me
how far is this ignorance
the height of ignorance
misquotation of spirituality
lack of wisdom for spirituality
no knowledge of universal connection
yet we own a lot high schools
certificate
less chance to love
invoking what we don't understand
above all refusal to accept the truth
now again i ask
how far is this ignorance
I spent 6 years terrified you'd find me in my slumber.
Petrified I'd come to find.. that death had called my number.
I spent 9 months in hiding so you'd never know I'd conceived.
Coming to the realization that I'd never be free.
From you...
I felt your hand around my throat, under my shirt, in my hair.
I felt the tension in your grip and the hatred in your stare.
I flinch under the running water when I remember how it hurt.
I remember crying on my knees as you told me the little of my worth.
I saw a glimpse of you today...
The bile rising just behind my tongue.
I felt the shaking in my hands and the fire in my lungs.
I kept my shoulders back so you'd never see my fear.
I never looked directly at you...
But your bitter voice was crystal clear.
I nearly choked giving my statement, I spoke louder than before
I recite how you'd abused me and under oath I swore.
you tried to speak to me but the judge was quick to interrupt.
Your silence was like a blades edge...
he just didn't know you well enough.
You tried to manipulate the court,
You tried to plead your case.
But when you admitted to those crimes....
I knew you sealed your fate.
"that's true but there's more to it" you said like it was something you could deny.
I knew right then I'd won and felt the tears gather in my eyes.
Granting the motion in my favor..
After everything I've been through...
With a sense of safety... I know....
There's nothing more that you can do.
Form:
The sprout of momentary illusion,
the voyage of a derelict dream in place of a lie,
the lure of April, the deceit of May concertized in December,
in wintry snow, mocked,
miscarriages of a well worn organ,
the grin of February,
suspended in September,
the burden of unconquered Lust,
the armies of censorial secret "bedders",
begging for the abandoned rottenness on my path,
obsequious frenzy of the hasty oath at Ikoyi,
the stealthily lure of a defiled bed before the oath,
the desperation of "a wanna be" by crook,
hurried by the mascara coated looks of a postponed "dowried hariotery,"
A bedfellow from the red zone,
an unrepentant Gomer,
The armies of bias exes overwhelmed the gaze with suspicions,
compelling through diurnal and surreptitious escapades in dark corners,
allured by unfinished lust,
to the city centre for a quickie,
And myriads of men hides in ambuscade save one,
with threats of kill for suspending their “off home” secret lush
The public mistress unfit for their homes, Yet suited for their Lust by turns
she warmed our beds they say'
purloined for your Fall of a few days,
The bawd roamed unrestrained,
'Don't talk to me' she says.
Unbridled concupiscence her forte,
forty plus years in the trade,
well versed in the art
The sneaky nights,
the secret calls,
the Stygian services,
and countless gift of libidinous frivolities.
Yet their victim must remain mute,
as truly the drama unfolded ,
all appeal rebuffed by arrogance,
as they taunt with permissive perverse Laws
convinced on the first day.
Converse for four weeks,
conscripted in one week
“conbedded” on arrival in same day,
Correction of a fool,
concluded at the Court.
Then in retrospect, Delilah revived.
I want to dream your worst nightmares for you
While taking you to every place you ever dreamed
So, knock down your unbreakable walls and let my arms take you away from the pain
And don’t be scared to trust because I will show you how to trust through my actions every time my hands say I love you
My hands will save you when you can no longer hold on, comfort you when stress is heavy, fight for you every day like we are meeting for the first time,
and then I will never let go
I promise my hands will protect and provide even when death separates us
Because my love and promise will never be broken
p.s. I want to be the body guard, lover, doctor, and man of your heart…
Restless hand of poet rejecting moments of idleness,
start writing and empty the unbearable heaviness:
and as the splashing waters of the waterfall plunge down
the precipice for an escapade into the distant ocean,
they must leave the deepness of intellect
and become a realized concept!
Without an imagination of expressive power, you lament is ceased by anguish,
and will lay here voiceless in its impatient oath,
not bursting within its walls of imprisonment,
to find its evasive freedom and finally succeed in imparting wisdom:
when readers rather focus on their content,
than on the richness of their words that don't ravish...
Restless hand of poet, never write in impetuous haste,
to impersonate another voice in an impersonal tone;
be prudent in choosing the right ones that are plausible,
not impinging on the impeccable thoughts of others,
challenging them to innovate their ingenuous taste!
Restless hand of poet, improvise your incentive ideas
from articulate feelings without implying or impeaching gall;
impetuous cries can and will cause a rage so implacable!
Be impervious to each plea, reflect and understand
the importance of patience when something may impend;
immortalize that event with images that idealize,
ignite, inspire, delight and describe experiences that humanize!
Take your attention away from the hour-glass,
no days from can be removed from your purposeful existence;
rebuke your idiocy and mend your self-confidence!
Copyright 2008 by Andrew Crisci
I twist a cross in my palm, a compass of hidden silences,
Old watchmaker keys creak in the bone of the seconds,
Graves gently open, the air smells of raw moon,
And I see the place of my deeds, like a stained glass window in blood.
I am blind with heavy dreams, huts of smoke in my pupils,
Nights look at me inside out, with stars blinking in vain,
On my screwed-in sky, an abyss screw in my temples,
Inside me, emptiness laughs, inside me, coldness buds.
I mock myself in a carnival of ashes,
I drink my breath on frames, the film of a cry,
Between two tired mirrors, time gnaws its nails,
And says: be the passerby who counts his steps in sleep.
Perhaps I become immortal, only half-lit,
A semicircle of the future, delayed in orbit,
A clay bread kneads the dry rocks from ribs,
And my hair stands on end, an antenna to cosmic whispers.
I am not going to Heaven, I tell myself, not today, nor tomorrow of wax,
Screams from behind the scenes want to impose light on me,
I flow through darkness like through a river of salt,
With a skin boat tied to a mute bird.
The moon bites into me, a crunchy crust of truth,
A bite that gives energies of blue lightning,
In the nape grows fear of fear, a blind man with a cane,
And I slowly feel my life, like a map of waves.
I twist the cross again, in the exact direction of hope,
And I hear in its axis a cry learning to sing,
When my body is a lock, the soul becomes the key,
Opens the final frame: a door to my own name.
Under the plaster of the hour, a heart beats in stone,
A clock removes its teeth and utters an oath,
To leave on my tongue the ashes and honey of silence,
To pass among stars like through the snow within me.
God gave me from my mother a deep fear,
A cup pouring darkness into acacia flowers,
And yet, from it, I drink slowly, until I feel it becomes
A sticky light at the tips of thoughts.
I twist the cross once more, until time grows weary,
And falls like a sleepy bird on my shoulder,
Then I lay my head in the lap of the clay night,
And wait for my wings to grow, equal with the silence.
5/16/21
It's been an ugly couple
Of years and a yucky struggle
Stomping in muddy puddles
With bloody knuckles
Before smelling and picking honeysuckle
Got to wise up, and make the money double
Despite the stress and hunger pains in my tummy muscles
It's seeming stark
Occasionally I'm seeing stars
Far away like Mars
As I'm proceeding in the dark
Yet another human being's art
It's always beating, yet now it's a bleeding heart
Usually staying low-key instead of playing the leading part
Meanwhile people working with or without a cleaning cart
It began, passed or soon the meeting starts
It was a free-for-all or there was a seating chart
Accidents happen whether in or out of a speeding car
Some people eating carp
As it either did or didn't reach the freezing mark
Might've made others, but never made myself proud
I'm alive, but inside feeling dead now
Head in the clouds or head down
Burned through much more than ten pounds
Dusted myself off and got up every time I fell down
Often I was working on the next round
The drink I failed to set down
Expectations low, from here to the next town
It makes me upset how
Continually I am let down
Stoned and angry, eyes are bloodshot red now
As I get around with a Hellhound
They're so quick to tell me that I am Hell-bound
Meanwhile they're all spellbound
Towards an oath people never did or they felt bound
People staying composed or having a meltdown
I've done good and I did wrong
It's odd
The opportunity is gone
From being far too withdrawn
As I continue to live on
Over the years, helped out a lot of sick dogs
Our hearts agree, if we should meet death this night,
then death shall find, we do not heed its sense of doom.
A thousand times we would gladly die without fright
just to taste once more the nectar of our love’s bloom.
There is but one requested answer we need know,
just one more promise, one honest vow to be made
before imminent death does finality bestow;
our mutual pledge said with sought prayerful aid
that as soulmates, our two spirits remain love bound.
We can handle death rendering our bodies hushed,
but swear our shared agony shall bear piercing sound
in galaxies echo if our joining is crushed.
We believe our hearts paired in eternities care
is a brighter eternal force than death’s lit fuse.
Our confidence asserts our love outweighs despair
and our soul-link shall survive all doomsday issues.
With our oath now sealed, we lay skin to skin entwined.
Our passionate kiss, laced with tears of sweetheart taste,
does emphasize our love’s want of life for all time
and belief that looming doom cannot our love waste.
Foundation.
With the considerable rise of AI software on all social media and business platforms, will humanity lose its creative edge?
Will you be tempted to do so?
Title:
Be You
(A lone voice whispers)
Be You
Forgo assimilation
And try to avoid being spellbound and tied into the new B System
Dream and aspire before you're retired
With all your soul's, inner resistance
Don't be bound to mundane hearts, no longer open to being plowed, with ravenous curious fingers
Hearts enslaved into a dark broken Labyrinth of unspoken, and untold things
Which could linger
From sad souls who've cried, as their creativity withered and died
Absorbed by the cleverly assimilated imagery and well created lies
To be one of the many lonely wanderers
Tumbling blind through inspirations now barren playgrounds
As the new, AI Hive Minds, long reach fires up to reteach
Newly breached, unconnected human firewalls
While wild valley blackbirds and starling flocks
Scream and call out in unison, at the lack of the rising poetry
Music or literature, filled with human energy
As spiritual temperatures worldwide, fall
Putting ingenuity into jeopardy
Screeching about the impending icy cold bath of human separation
As they fly as huge wailing flocks, into the Summer Equinox
With the frosty breath, of AI Death of the Soul
Lingering around like black mold
With bony fingers
Rattling without a sound
Awaiting its resurrection
As daylight recedes and people seem to lose hope
But on that Devil's Island for some of the Condemned
The one called Earth
The Exalted Ones
Maybe like you
Unassimilated and still free
Can lift up the trapped
Those poor souls caught up in The Hive Mind
Slowly been drained of personality and self identity
Lost in the humankind labyrinth of the unspoken and untold
Who needs releasing to help rebuild the new pillars of creativity upon Earth
With their eventual rebirth
This my friend with the bright eyes unseen
Has always been a worthy oath to follow
For you've always been free to share your gift of uplifting
Energetic, raw, and visual
Literature
Music or poetry
Maybe bestowed
From The Sacred Temples of Apollo
What's says you?
Are you going to strive to stay the real you?
(C) Copyright John Duffy
The elephants and asses are battling again.
To maintain power over the masses.
We, the people, are on the verge of colossal collapse.
These beasts (of a forgotten Eden).
Have ceased working for (we the people).
They've forgotten virtue and oath.
They bleed us dry and parch our throats.
We, the feeble, are far beyond bloated.
With government doublespeak dope.
Handouts galore to pacify the freeloader...
The media slinging race-baiting tropes.
While careening down the slippery slope.
Our forefathers taught us to fish and pray.
We've forgotten how to tie knots and fold our hands.
Now we lie down in the wrong shade of meek.
Awaiting the blade of the mad shearer.