Long Organizes Poems
Long Organizes Poems. Below are the most popular long Organizes by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Organizes poems by poem length and keyword.
What is the difference between an atheist and a panentheist?
Atheists cannot discover any signs of divinity outside ourselves
While the panentheist uncovers what organizes interior landscapes
and exterior climates.
In Buddhism we have a principle of Emptiness
and a correlated principle of Interdependence.
Atheists stop rather abruptly with the Emptiness platform
while panentheists are bogged down by all us Interdependents,
sorting through co-dependent relationships
but without the therapy bills
Emptiness feels like an unfamiliar but theoretically endarkening relief,
like co-relational belonging
before association turns into sour longing loneliness.
So maybe a LeftBrain empty atheist
is also a RightBrain interdependent polytheist,
and the two together are a panentheistic Buddhist.
There is no inconsistency here.
just two faces of eternally timeless
human longing to divinely belong,
just as time is lost to sensory review
when it becomes most sacredly replete.
Other than that, one is harder to spell
and takes a whole lot longer to say.
Love for your body
food for your well being
and love to keep you coming back
The set of Five
the notations
the status for such obvious meanings
healthy an disrupting
it speaks clearity for such obvious reasons
in every season
Per tale; questo è il motivo
amare ed essere amati
symbol at the beginning
an Emotional and un'intimità emotiva
e fisica Physical Intimacy
a foundation upon which
where the paired two are drawn
might we stand together
were "??µ???a" organizes the notes
: in a perfection of harmony
DarkGlass Microtubes
Modern Sounds Inc.
Grooves and Moves by Us LLC
Local Media and Rhyme
"In control of her emotions"
and 'Targets Of Cupid"
sampled with permission
by:
Mussoinsey and Idolmantic of
Cast and Surtitles Inc.
Upon that high mountain
Roars a lion without teeth
No one dares go near
Lest that finally reach
...the silence
When others are troubled
By circumstances that bind
He roars loudly
Just to blind the path to find
...the silence
He organizes again and again
With the precision of ease
Values and beliefs are tar
That creates the disease
...in the silence
The climb up the jagged rocks
That split helping hands like a knife
Offers ledges to sit and think
About a desirable life
...in the silence
Look over yonder way
There is a majestic lion who stands
Roaring the TRUTH of compassion
Through His children who possess lands
...in the ROAR of the silence
The overcomers stand beside HIM
Dressed in warrior attire
Untouchable by fake vibrations
That reach to assault the holy fire
...in the ROAR of the silence
We will NOT be silent
Written by Trudy Schrader on 05-29-2026
In my dreams I don’t do well,
there’s always a gremlin
that leads me through a door
marked: ‘fears.
Last night, pretty much the same,
but then the lesser god who organizes my brain
into motel stops on an insane highway,
gave me a break.
I am this great guy I always wanted to be.
The dream takes form.
I live in a lakeside house, a place
shared with a great looking dog.
Life is just great.
It’s twilight, and I take a notion to swim.
Behold! The lake is thronged with naked females.
They’re so pleased to see
my old wrinkly body out there in the moonlit water.
‘Great’, I say to myself, ‘just great’!
Then just as I am doing great,
the dream falls apart like a wet cardboard box.
In the morning, the cat has pissed in my slippers,
now it sits on a shelf licking its paws.
I can tell
that it don’t give a damn about my dream.
June 5 Praises to God Bible Meditations Based on Job 19-21
Key Verse – Job 19:26 And though after my skin worms destroy this body, yet in my flesh shall I see God.
PRAISE BE TO GOD WHO ASSURES US
THAT WE CAN SEE HIM
Praise be to God for assuring us that we can see Him by His:
Mercy that magnifies Him amidst our miseries
Miracles along His moves so measureless
Might of managing our moments
Message toward meaningful memories
Magnificence above mystical and magical myths
Job 20:29 Praise be to the Lord for appointing us, His people, His heritage:
Nourishing our souls eternally
Nurturing our spirituality earnestly
Negating our sinfulness, endangering
Not negotiating our service of selfish efforts
Nestling our salvation in His sustenance, everlasting
Needing His sanctification for stewardship empowerment
Job 21:22 Praise be to the Saviour for
teaching us His knowledge that:
Offers answers with His truth
Opts for His approval through trust
Opens to us His affirmation during trials
Optimizes His affirmation toward triumph
Organizes our activities against time-testing temptations. Amen!
June 5, 2024
My desk is so off-putting no one comes in here.
Even my boss walks gingerly, and jumps at the slightest movement
It could be mice snakes, alligators. I attract the unobvious.
I have taught two of my daughters this secret
A major life skill if you want others to not disturb you,
Not make suggestions, and not burden you with their humdrum noise.
One daughter did not learn this skill.
She cleans, organizes, and puts underpants into drawers.
Much prissier than I would ever be.
Much more friendly.
Weirdly enough, seems to like drop-in company
Which we other three would not abide for a second.
Natural sensory matter
organizes spiritual deep desires
metaphorically co-infested
co-invested
co-arising healthy space
wealth of timeless time
mindfully
playfully polynomial
Positives
more than equal not pathologies
naturally outside
remains not not spiritual inside
poly-estatic
panentheistic
polynomials
not not polycultural wisdom
polyphonically polypathic
LeftBrain thought
is an internally perceiving sense
Like right-brain implicit spiritual feelings
for deep inside win/win healing
not win/lose hurting
and not-not lose/lose
Yang hurting v healing Yintegrity,
colonizing v creolizing,
conquering v liberating,
controlling v freeing,
YangStrength v YinFlow,
hierarchical monocultural bandwidth
resisting integral polycultural depth
ReOpening
CoPassionate sunlight evolution
and green/blue Earth revolution
TransPartisan
EnLightenment and EmPowerment
wu-wei indigenous wisdom
Of natural sensory matter
re-organicizing spiritual deep desires
metaphonically co-infested
co-invested organic systems
co-arising healthy space
wealth of timeless time
mindfully
playfully polynomial
not not polypathically health humored
self/other optimizing wealth
of cosmically blissful laughter.
Leeza, Lisa’s 14-year-old little sister, is anxious about the first day of school. She didn’t tell me that, I’m not sure 14-year-olds talk anymore.
Now that I’m almost 21, I can roll my eyes, like everyone else, and say, “Teenagers.”
Leeza’s a jingli, all-angles, taller than I am (when did THAT happen),
redhead who’s fast becoming a Lisa-like beauty.
School starts, for her, in 11 days and every piece of clothing she owns is draped across the furniture in her room, or the floor, as she organizes her skool outfits.
There’s a pile of rejected apparel in one corner - the outcasts -
and a stack of magazine cutouts showing the clothes she plans to buy.
I wondered into her room that afternoon and she watched
me suspiciously, like I might steal her nonexistent baby.
“These might go together,” I said, holding up a top and skirt as a combo.
She winced, involuntarily, as if exposed to something distasteful.
Apparently, I’m getting old and my teen-taste is attenuated or worse yet - past its expiration date.
.
.
A song for this:
Houdini by Eminem [E]
You are not mourned.
You are recorded.
You still walk among us.
Yet history already carries your name.
When America was dark,
you spoke.
Not for yourself,
but for the beaten,
the silenced,
the forgotten.
You walked beside Martin Luther King Jr.,
hand in hand,
until the bullet spoke
what cowards could not say aloud.
You stood in Chicago,
where doors were closed,
and helped force them open—
through the Chicago Freedom Movement.
The state forgets quickly.
History does not.
When you one day meet Dr. King beyond this world,
tell him the truth—
racism still breathes,
hatred still organizes.
You wore faith without spectacle.
You spoke hope without illusion.
You knew that mercy,
to endure,
must be defended.
And through memory,
you endure.
Rest now.
History is awake.
And it remembers.
In the heart of the night, under the leaden and weeping sky,
amidst the twisted shadows of our thoughts,
we let ourselves be carried by a cold wind, cold as a kiss of death,
falling into the abyss of our hidden fears,
that chain our souls with shackles of cowardice,
a silent disease that makes us see terrifying illusions,
strange and alive, like ghosts.
We are the ones who hold ourselves back,
locked in cages of fleeting names and identities,
too scared to move, too timid to live,
like wooden puppets controlled by invisible strings,
puppeteers hidden in the shadows, manipulating our amygdala,
that small, almond-shaped portion,
the oldest part of our brain,
the ancient organ that detects and organizes responses to fear,
a stone guardian in the midst of the storm.
They do it intentionally, with movies and laws, with TV programs and schools,
with justice and lies,
a grotesque spectacle staged just to maintain control over us,
and we, like hypnotized spectators,
find in this a bitter sadness,
a dark part that laughs in our faces,
a macabre irony that watches us with empty, cold eyes.
I lose myself in this labyrinth of melancholy,
as my thoughts flow like a river of ink,
writing on the unseen pages of the night,
seeking an exit, an escape from this captivity of fear,
but I always return to the same point,
a vicious circle that swallows me, and my amygdala,
that old and weary organ, flinches at every noise,
at every shadow, like a frightened animal before a predator.
We cling to dreams like colorful balloons,
hoping they will lift us above this realm of shadows and illusions,
but we are too heavy, too anchored in fear,
and the balloons burst one by one,
letting us fall back into the darkness,
in this theater of pain and fear,
where we are so small, so lost.
In the end, only we and our fears remain,
dancing a sad waltz under the pale light of the moon,
enveloped in melancholy, seeking answers in the silence of the night,
but finding only the echoes of our own fears,
like whispered voices in the dark depths of our souls.