Long Orientate Poems
Long Orientate Poems. Below are the most popular long Orientate by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Orientate poems by poem length and keyword.
The labels, some serve to award with honour
and others are just straight up meant to demean
The much sought after accolades and the prestige, ever so enticing
lend a tender sweet stroke to massage and pamper the ego
The reproof and the infamy delivers a gut wrenching punch
to the sternum that tears down dignity and dampens the spirit
Stick with the labels and divide the masses in the end
Crammed into tiny pens, forced into little spaces, misfitted into misshaped places, often left bent out of shape, square plugs rammed into round sockets even
We've all at one point felt the burn of the pressure to seamlessly fit in and thus bore the burden of unwanted labels while nursing clamped mandibles at the same time
Some dying to fit in to only end up stuffed into a labelled pigeonhole
Others tagged with derisive tabs that turn them into social outcasts
Might be enthralled at first but soon enough you'll be trapped for life
Your path paved by caste and class and your fate sealed with a label
Now it's yours to carry, a solid identity they say and you nod and say yay to the labels
Some flattering and others just straight up disheartening
A much needed crutch for some, a means to an end for others and a desperate need for hierarchy for most
A burden to the free souls, a hindrance to being unique and a means to control the masses soon enough
Spare me the labels asseblief
I'm here trying to figure out how to be human first and foremost
I need a moment to orientate myself now that my shackles and blinders are off
I am more than enough just the way I am, of this I'm sure now
Labels might interfere with the path I'm meant to take to evolve
Form:
Not a house
Not a garage
Not a place for tools
I shouldn't be prescriptive
Yet these have to be the rules
A chair, a lamp
A heater
A kettle is the max
A place of peace and quiet
So that nothing then distracts
I will allow a volume
I will consume the words
I will restore my whole
With poets and the psalmists
Strive to elevate my soul
Turn away all of the gadgets
Turn connection down to null
Turn my mind to still and quiet
Volume up on natural
Orientate myself to try it
We all need a sacred harbour
We all need that peaceful place
We all need to sit and dwell
To pursue the 'inner sanctum'
So internal noise will quell
Do you hear me when I say this
Do you sense the inner call
Do you long to calm the din
Find that place and don't deny it
For that space is deep within
The camera inside the picture
concertina's time-lines into exclamation points.
Antique tripods brace themselves,
their quaint brass fittings
help minds to adjust.
Some turn a grooved infinity sprocket.
Some cave paint on the arching
bones of elk heads.
If we are to discover what is out there
we must board a ghost train,
plot a milky way over a whiteboard -
orientate to relate.
Spirit, that invisible violin
in a trio of appearance,
is a lone lover.
The third lover arrives at night
walking across fingertips,
while a pale moonlight
moves hands around
a clock of want.
The other elements
of frequency modulation
are the sex machines
that transmits power to pressure,
they are small devices
that molest moments into prayer.
Lastly there is
the whistling tinker man.
The rattle of pots and kettles
behind his moving caravan
enchants all we children
of much lesser gods.