Long Overindulgence Poems

Long Overindulgence Poems. Below are the most popular long Overindulgence by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Overindulgence poems by poem length and keyword.


Grand King

When I lay down on my deathbed,
Remember me…remember me forevermore
When I give in to silent slumber,
Don’t grieve for me…
I’m in God’s hand – 
A pleasant placement that I adore

When I wake up from this horrifying nightmare,
Dream not…dream not of war or violence
When I try to reach for my goals in life,
Be not afraid of me…I’ll be a success
Be not afraid of thee…He wants you to have progress

Shower me down with empathy and elegance
You sprout splendidly like a flower in the brink of Spring

Tower over me…protect me from 
Overindulgence 
You don’t doubt – 
You are one-of-a-kind and You are a GRAND KING!

When I grow weary and old, 
Don’t desert me like a worthless garden full of weeds
Don’t desert me…bury me in the damp soil like seeds
If you do decide to leave me behind, 
That would be just rude

When I have high hopes and if I’ll ever be as bold as The Lion,
Don’t take away my strength, my gift, or my gratitude

When I fall asleep on eagle and dove wings,
Don’t worry! 
Don’t worry about me! 
My heart will take divine flight 

When I approach heaven and its radiance 
Reigns upon my undying soul, 
It brings me love from somewhere quite a delight – 
Don’t reject the precious light
The precious light…

You’re a grand king!
You blossom with might and victory 
I crown you with 
Loyalty, Awesomeness, and Golden Pride


weapons

I’m a weapon of mass destruction
 the kind that doesn't appeal to societies seductions
I am all about kingdom construction
The word of God is my daily instructions
I get an unction, how to function 
Steering clear of those with no compunction 

Everyone is focused on a getting a date
Instead of walking towards eternal gates
Sextually transmitted demons 
don't come from a mans seamen
All those soul ties 
Cut you down to size
Robbing you of the gifts inside
As you drift away, just like the tide

Many are Spiritually amputated
Claiming god is overrated 
Many are Becoming Politically stimulated
While division causes opinions to be hated
Drinking from wells of  perversion 
All this chaos is a diversion 
Intoxicated by greed
Overindulgence is what they feed.


In God we trust
Who's your god?
And what do you trust?
Dancing in the dark
Feasting on your lust
worshiping the third eye
Leading your soul to die 

How can you walk when you're bound
He made a way for you to be found 

How can you be free
When you can't see
How can you dance
When you've never given God a chance.


Rants and raves
Many are hiding in their caves
Minds are turning into tormented slaves


Poisons on our streets
Destruction has a beat
Poisons on our streets 
destruction has a beat!
Get your fetty it's quite cheap,
Just a drop will knock you right off your feet. 

Superman, A saving grace
With a wink, and nod and a smile on his face

They claim he will bring peace
If you surrender to the beast
They claim there will be love
If you reject the one above
The storm is coming
The storm is here!
Injecting you with all their fear
They want you to pay no mind
To all these warning signs
They want you to pay no mind
So you'll be left behind!


By: Sabina Nicole
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member Patricks Tale

Saint Patrick died on March 17th.
So we celebrate the day with green and drink.

Patrick, was kidnapped to Ireland as a slave,
a condition he never fully forgot or forgave.

Patty (as he was known by his friends)  
was a sober, relentless, devout Christian.

As a missionary, he gallivanted methodically, converting heathens
and if he failed to convert you, you weren’t left breathin’.
He could burn you at the steak for ignoring ‘reason’.

To show Christ’s power, he ‘banished’ the snakes, 
It’s amazing, the difference a miracle can make.

The year 461 pre-dated laptops and even the Internet,
so, I think it’s time we finally forgive and even forget
the sad, sordid history of Catholic conversion “therapy”
because today we need a reason to drink until we’re green.
.
.
Webster: Gallivant: “travel for pleasure.”

My roommates and I went to Doublin, Ireland last summer.
In casual conversation we asked how they celebrated Saint Patrick's day and their celebrations are like ours, more or less - a secular overindulgence. But on a deeper level, this holiday, they say, is dedicated to the patron saint of heathen genocide.
Form: Rhyme

Augustinian Premonition

Dark shadows stalk the imaginary paths of my brain
Mirroring conscience reflects the torpor of my anguished soul
Black clouds hover in every dark corner of my jaded psche
Raining doubt and fear on the canvas of my jaundiced mind
Brackish tears of penance but soil the pores of my fever-soaked face
Flowing into a convoluted whirlpool of shame that constantly recycles my depraved actions
Emptying into the recesses of my vacuous inner being
Stagnating pools of opprobrium surround my bleached heart
Nauseous fumes of pride from my murky depths smother all good intentions
Stranding my drowning soul in the quicksand of intemperance and overindulgence

Premium Member What Is Real

Scriptures speak to us in riddles
Relying upon esoteric symbols 
They may be well intentioned
But it’s time this truth is mentioned 
That addressing mind, invoking fear
Guilt of imagined sin begins to sear
Plunging our mind in deep confusion
Spontaneity lost, fearing retribution 

Something’s rotten in the religious setup
For unless soma nectar flows into our cup
We feel incomplete and shortchanged 
Separated from source, from love estranged 

Ceasing thinking, abandoning all knowing
In stillness feeling, gentle breeze flowing
We embrace and release each life impulse 
Consciousness expands, everywhere at once
Divine entwined, one with the universe
Having vaporised, there’s nothing to rehearse
Bliss throbs within, ignites our central vein
In fullness of rapture, we are free from stain

Undoubtedly senses five and mind have their use
Yet is not overindulgence in illusion akin to abuse
The inner polarities of our sentience are dormant 
Yet it’s from within that sparks, the bliss current

It matters not ancient words etched on stones 
If it’s real, we must feel it deep within our bones

31-March-2022
Form: Rhyme


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