Long Pestilence Poems
Long Pestilence Poems. Below are the most popular long Pestilence by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Pestilence poems by poem length and keyword.
Disaster is imminent
shout the popular press
and the anointed
from lofty pulpits. Wars,
pestilence, earthquakes,
divine wrath are about
to be visited
upon a wayward world.
Meanwhile, a lovely still
has settled on the surface
of the river and has become
a canvas for a pair
of swans on which to trace
their brief passage across
a mirrored morning.
Beauty seems so fragile,
tethered to a moment
when the sublime manifests
itself through a tear in time
and gives pause
to the march of armies,
the self caused calamities
that rush towards
our little, insignificant lives
and illuminates
the sad distances we have
opened up between ourselves
and what burns brightly
at the centre of things -
these lovely mirrored mornings
to which our stiffened backs
are turned.
From dense sleep we emerge.
Realizing our coat,
we seek to cast off this Nessus.
We drank the Jonestown Kool-Aid
and now it’s too late.
We never noticed the circling
vultures despotic descent on the capital.
We never contested the contagion,
the invective infections of the tyrant.
Everywhere we witness the carnage,
the flyblown bodies we covered,
the reeking pestilence of our infiltrated discourse,
the spewing sewers of vituperation.
While all the sinkholes break open
our dual justice system a slapstick,
our public coffers are looted,
our privatized schools divested.
Trauma’s children seek asylum in cages.
Trauma’s vigilantes terrorize our borders.
This is the moribund city of rot.
This is the counterfeit city of lies.
This is our cloaked city
cast by an infantile overlord.
This is our tomb city of palls.
Published in The Opiate Mag. 06/2019
The fever comes upon the mortal
Through it he seeks his mind to see
What lies behind the hidden portal
Behind the scenes of his reality
He sees forces that furiously unravel
Upon the souls of the flesh and blood
They seek the despair, the power, the emotion
To discovery the new in their immortal now
They sense his eyes looking at them
His consciousness swimming in their unknown
They look back, with a desire for pestilence
Troubled as he is, afraid he now becomes
Rotten his reality, begging for the something
To the few that notice .. his futility on the streets
He craves for his status, his power and his money
The things that depraved him of his soul
Yet nobody looks, nobody hears and no one understands
The earth has closed his gates to his mouldered soul
Trapped between the world of vision and the world of now
His mind starts planning his devious return
There are four horsemen riding from a million miles away
On some distant star's horizon and they're closing day by day.
On the white horse rides pestilence, infection, fever, pain
You had resources to end all this but you looked on with disdain
You'd rather clothe yourselves in gold than feed the man in need
The inhuman face of the human race in its sheer relentless greed.
There are four horsemen riding from a thousand miles away
On some fast fading horizon and they're closing day by day.
On the red horse rides almighty war, destruction, hatred, waste
You had resources to end all this but it seemed to suit your taste
You'd rather blame, shatter and maim those perceived lesser than you
You dismiss then deride with dauntless pride the righteous thing to do.
There are four horsemen riding from a hundred miles away
On the visible horizon, and they're closing day by day.
On the black horse rides the famine of hunger, thirst and drought
You had resources to end all this but you'd never share them out
Life to you is fair taking someone's share if it keeps you walking tall
Let nations starve as you cut and carve the prize, then take it all.
There are four horseman riding the pathway to your door
You were warned from ancient scriptures what the four horsemen stood for
On the pale horse rides eternal death, the fate that binds us all
From the obscene rich to the tramp-filled ditch everyone of us must fall
Those craving power face death's dark hour, naked as a winter tree
All those heartless ways and the artless days laid bare for all to see.
Now there are no horses riding, no light, those days are gone
Just the endless night and the coal black flight of the earth's oblivion
The mountains wept.
The skies moaned.
The soil trembled.
The trees whispered their last green prayers—
"Man has destroyed us... alone."
He who adds no value
takes all,
then leaves nothing—
just wastelands where rivers once sang.
The year was 2100.
Half of Britain—gone beneath the Atlantic.
Japan—smaller than a dot on a map.
American states—flooded into memory.
Europe—erased.
Russia’s frost—melted into pestilence.
Africa— Famine became the air.
Children born on rafts,
fields drowned or cracked open in grief.
China— Cities sleep beneath the sea,
towers weep salt into silence.
We were warned.
But greed was louder than science,
stronger than truth,
crueler than time.
Now the Earth writes back
in flood, famine, fire—
her final signature: sorrow.
Let this not be prophecy.
Let this be the scream
that wakes the world.
I..
I
I... I would rather be a doorkeeper
In the house of my God
I would rather be a doorkeeper
In the house of my God
Than to pull the tail of an of a rapid diseased dog;
Be a doorkeeper, Greet all the sinless people;
Praise the Lord
Covet not, rooms of sins;
Remember what you've been taught
And what ya should believe in;
Mansions of deployed decay set in;
Pestilence, violent house of despair;
no one worthy, worthy
no one cares
I would rather be a doorkeeper
In the house of my God
I would rather be a doorkeeper
In the house of my God
Than to pull the tail of an of a rapid diseased dog;
Be a doorkeeper, Greet all the sinless people;
Praise the Lord
Romans just being kind;
Corinthian Paul has said
NO room for disorder;
No room for sin
Hand me that brush so that I may paint a blessing;
I am not enticed by your dissension, oh did I mention. . .
I would rather be a doorkeeper
In the house of my God
I would rather be a doorkeeper
In the house of my God
Than to pull the tail of an of a rapid diseased dog;
Be a doorkeeper, Greet all the sinless people;
Praise the Lord
Holes in the foundations;
House sinking fast
Flood is filling waters coming up to the windows
While your sipping on your flask
you look all around you and no one, no one worthy no one cares;
Romans just being kind;
Corinthian Paul has said
NO room for disorder;
No room for sin
Hand me that brush so that I may paint a blessing;
I am not enticed by your dissension, oh did I mention. . .
I..
I
I... I would rather be a doorkeeper
In the house of my God
I would rather be a doorkeeper
In the house of my God
Than to pull the tail of an of a rapid diseased dog;
Be a doorkeeper, Greet all the sinless people;
Praise the Lord
Written by James Edward Lee Sr.
June 02 2007
from anthology "Purpose and Calling"
Dam you bastards with water; I think you all are coots
While I watch the weather everyday and plead for rain filled fronts
I’m not some greedy bastard, which wants to grow more grass
I need my stock to have a drink, and save their thirsty ****
Don’t get me wrong, I’m not some greenie, with an axe to grind
In many areas our futures, are unbelievably intertwined
But for god sake, sit back and think, just how lucky that you are
Because all that water that you waste, well some comes from my jar.
I can’t but help, smile a wry grin, when the irrigation stops
As the whinging starts, about the loss in cash, as profit production drops
Your stock still have water, to pour straight down their throats
Water troughs filled to the brim, not erectile dysfunction floats
I see your places from the hill, circles of dark green crops and grass
Metal robots, pissing water, creatures born of greed; I have to sigh alas
There’s more to farming than factory farms and copious quantities of water
Deciding on paper, which animals must go, on the truck to slaughter.
So please forgive me when I wish on you, pestilence and misery
May your cereals wilt, stock get the shits, and your profits become history
I’m not some greedy bastard, of extra dry matter I have no need
If my stock just had clean water to drink, from my anxiety I’d be freed
There's a force of strength deep inside of me
that is nourished by the truths I believe.
It centers on my faith in God, and I decree
that when I am burdened, to Him I cleave.
His Word dwells within my heart, reverently.
As my loving Father, I acknowledge my belief
that the friend I worship is the one true God.
In times of sorrow, weeping, and in grief,
He comforts me and His tender mercy, I laud,
when I feel fragile like a windblown leaf.
I firmly believe He'll forgive my misdeeds,
if I kindly pardon my trespassers in return.
He reads my heart and is aware of my needs.
I hold fast to scripture, His love I'll never spurn.
I'll be the wheat in a field, grown among weeds.
I believe God, the Holy Spirit, and Jesus, the Son
are three different entities, not one in the same.
Jesus died for mankind's sins to save everyone,
and for His sacrifice of death, I praise His name.
Who but Father and Son could save us? No one.
I trust in His Kingdom where I'll not aggrieve
over sickness or death, for they will not exist.
My loved ones will be resurrected, this I perceive
as the chance to live forever, who could resist?
In all these things and more, I truly do believe.
I see the foretelling of prophecies coming true
for our world suffers from wars, a deadly plight,
famine, pestilence and natural disasters, too.
Jesus said, "Follow me, for I am the Light..."*
In times of anguish my faith will get me through.
December 10, 2022
What I Believe Contest
Sponsored by Angela Tune
*John 8:12
My fingers reach for heaven,
hope is clutched in my hands.
God is watching us,
I know he's listening.
I pray to him,
asking for strength.
My tears,
they blame my weakness.
My heart cries,
It beats from my pain.
I know the signs,
the end is near.
My eyes have seen,
my ears have heard.
My faith is tested,
every single day.
The great tribulations,
they are starting.
The fig tree,
it has bloomed.
There are food shortages,
disease and pestilence.
The love of people,
has cooled off.
People are selfish,
they are greedy.
There are wars,
and rumors of wars.
My eyes are closed,
but they see clearly.
Just as in the days,
of Noah and his ark.
No one believes, no one sees,
the heavens open up and it begins to rain.
You've asked a favor; you ignorant man
Your favor for what you won't do
Your asking me more each day
and definatly not to woo
So why have you gone this way
You simpleton hark of prey
When serving yourself this way
is hanging around post fey
That all of your troubles are you
when laziness barks right through
And saying you never can do
when others are looking at you
And all that you know is NOT
for swaying what you won't do
When using the others to chime
what laziness is right through
That telling you do your chores
is always more settling to some
When friendships can come to end
when everyone's tired of drum