Long Phony Poems
Long Phony Poems. Below are the most popular long Phony by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Phony poems by poem length and keyword.
Does a song make you feel a thought?
Do you wonder how it was wrought?
Is a song like a painting, like a puzzle put together
a shorthand to emotion, a spiritual endeavor?
Is it the 'only truth', is it a universal tongue?
Do you get sick after a zillion times sung?
Does it piggyback on something real, but itself is fake?
If you could choose life without music, is that a choice you'd make?
Lyrics affect notes in a mutual dance
A short cut to emotion or to a trance
Some let a song guide the trajectory of the mind
But the wisdom's often phony, just there because it rhymed.
A dancer to wild music looks insane
If there's no corresponding echo in your brain..
The sum may be more than the parts
But should it guide all those lonely hearts?
Jeff's car jumped a sidewalk, damaged his brain
Now he likes music, caught singing in the rain.
It used to be background, now he can't keep it apart
The beat grabs his spirit, the melody his heart.
Mark got a concussion in a barroom brawl
Now he doesn't like music at all
Doesn't soar or dive with the opera tune
Gave up serenading women under an Italian moon.
Khan sang silly songs, while admiring himself
Camera caught the narcissism he had acted out in stealth
He had to face the music, had to see how he appeared
He snapped back to normal but nasty folks jeered.
Yes you can be mocked for your tune, people twist the stiletto
They'll imitate you in an irritating falsetto.
Is a personality like a tune, some with an ugly twist
When you hit your last chord, will your song be missed?
Lured by the money, she chases a dream,
leaving her home for a life more extreme.
Mistresses of upper society;
high-priced call girls, project propriety.
Enticed by the glamorous life, she yearns:
lust fuels the flames as innocence burns.
Sullying her soul, for dollars and fame;
pimping herself is all part of the game.
Her heart has witnessed so much pain unfold,
love's no longer unique: it's something sold.
Her words of sincerity sound hollow:
like the phony smiles, men pay to follow.
Tomorrows cannot be fully explored,
feelings are meaningless: when love is whored.
Bamboozling her family and her friends,
ignoring reality: she pretends.
Yet, anguish slowly envelopes her soul,
as her lifestyle levies a heavy toll.
And truth only exacerbates her plight:
piercing awareness, like slivers of light.
It would be completely absurd
to waste time with what you’ve already heard;
You listen harder when I scream every word
In one ear, now the past;
Maybe with my voice in your ear
you’ll finally listen, you’ll finally hear
before everything starts to disappear;
Now I get to talk this is my podcast;
I got smart while you were staying static;
Seeking intricate patterns, I’m done with basic;
Greased up lines, I’m more charismatic,
let’s put the ‘phony’ on blast.
Now I’m on the air, starting a wave,
We do not need more of the same;
Join me, say what you need to say,
Ideas will spark if we hold fast.
Remember my name and the voice
this is not a game or some kind of ploy,
I want to cut through all the noise,
this message won’t be my last.
PART 2
“ you are lazy, insane, crazy ”, “ you are sloppy, you hair style, your shoes, your cloths, your thoughts, your belief, your understandings, your knowledge – all – are twenty, thirty, forty years old – are in the past ”, “ you don’t learn anything new, you are a phony, a fake, insincere, artificial in your spontaneity ”, “ you don’t know what you are talking about, you don’t go to dozens of different sources for information ”, “ you are not logical, you twist everything around, you melt everything together, you create fantasies ”, “ you are not manly, got no balls, you are like a woman, to feminine, not a man ”, “ your speech – pronunciations – are not clear, understandable, you pantomime when speaking to others ”, “ you don’t know when to be funny, to joke, you are not humorous ”, “ you have no initiative, no balls ”, “ you are sad, deeply sad, childhood sad, there is great sadness in your eyes ”
A trickling and discharging of these economic systems does weigh me.
A dribbling, and dropping of these little small paper colored green-backs.
A congress full of life-time professionals and political hacks,
and with a moral decline a tooth-decay black.
It does not matter if you have the highest of noted degrees.
The system is always on the verge of a catastrophe or a cold freeze.
You could know everything from A to Z.
Yet, only still to be tightly wrung through and squeezed.
A Corporate Cast system is the only thing that is real.
A theater casting calls of the first, then the last that's the deal.
The elites, and their enclosed franchise masked.
Is this fair or unfair or is it too hard to see.
This, to view, a carousel of toy ponies that are in a circle and phony.
It, an allusion like Fair; to be seen and this you will feel.
"Our only hope is in the Bible; its Truths and its highest Creeds."
"If and only when you truly do see it as a most highly sought of zeal."
"A one percent Fair; now in this world is seen; a pyramid slim scheme."
This world is a lonely place full of phony fakes drug addicts killers and pedophiles and those who rape
lowly snakes who pretend to smile but only chase the dollar signs coz that cash really motivates
there's alot of good people in this world too but there's too many sick little girls and little boys true
I saw a show a five year old was on his death bed his parents were beside themselves but not once did he get scared
He just stared at his mum while she said prayers said don't worry mummy I'll just play in heaven til you get there
and that was hard to hear coz heaven
there is probably none only hell on earth
When kids die before their lifes begun
How can god decide that a child's time has come when a rock spider gets to live until he's ninety one
But then if heavens real the child gets eternal life
But so does the pedophile all he has to do is turn to Christ
This world is beautiful humans are disgusting
Adults too cynical children too trusting
Religion's misleading
governed by corruption
Catholic church supports child abuse
Because they touch kids
We take for granted how we were born and raised
With health care overseas theres babies born with aids
And there's no money for the treatment so they are forced to pray
But there's cash for ak's and they can afford grenades
And in parts of the world they still torcher slaves and force young girls to marry
way before the age
Of consent all becoz the parents formed a trade sold her innocence to the highest
Bidder and were already paid
I searched...and as i looked around,
All i could find was abuse to be found,
I got so tired of digging to see,
Searching this inner cause that caused them to be,
Scared of love...scared of life,
Penetrating the very cause of their strife,
The war of their souls..a multitude of worries,
Layers upon layers of pain in the making,
I thought this was the only way..to truly see,
To sit through the pain so that love had a lead,
That maybe the example..the harder we try,
That will draw out the love and give it a chance to survive,
I had to leave phony and fake in the dust,
The pretend smiles and waves i knew i couldn't trust,
I loved the lesser, and i accepted less,
Because the blessings were in the storm and put my heart to the test,
Subtlety is the lexicon of exquisite mindfulness.
Kintsugi is a Japanese method of mending harm.
Another soul, another brilliance, another imperativeness.
Kings platter broke death, distress, and a phony delight!
In any case, there's gold and platinum dust here.
Avail Chinese polish tree saps to recuperate breaks
I can't discover repairing for my frail love.
Is anything but a special salve known than these?
I decided to assemble my demolished self, pieces and shreds.
Demolished photos from the garbage, I sorted them.
Smirched sheet, blurred shades soul contemplations remain.
Anxiety breaks the brain and hinders Kintsugi from aiding artwork.
A brilliant waterway of life might have the splendor you need.
As broken memories are recast, so does the clay.
Craft skill, gold trim, and heal the breaks in the earth is alive.
The words inspire trouble that strikes the spirit.
As recollections are restored, clay breaks retouch.
A bare soul, a wrecked heart, sorrow, and despair
Tears will recuperate your inward love and mental wounds.
Our spirits are bolstered when we love and care.
Written: August 14, 2021
Families are divided
Families are dysfunctional
Families do not have to be
Blood relatives
Families are people
Who loves, accept and forgives
People come
And people go
Families always have your back
Families are dedicated
To keeping you on track
Don’t be fooled
By the fakers
And the phony family members
Because fakers and phonies
Are like a fire that
Spark crackling embers
Know your family
Don’t stay apart
Know who loves and accept you
Right from the very start
Matters not
Who crosses your path
You will know
Who your family are
From the bottom of your heart.
Written by Mintra J . Mankasingh
Feb 16/2018.
Behold there, a Somali child is standing on dry scorching rocks.
Its two eyes glitter like a rough diamond, parched, bleak and dark.
Its shrunken belly exhibits the fragile bony ribs and silently mocks
The phony Art that seeks artistic beauty even in such scar-mark.
The orphan boy was trying to scream but no voice came out
From its barren vocal cord, empty stomach and shrinking lung.
Its salty tears dried out like parched petals of a dead sprout.
Its face looked so blue and pale as if it were serpent-stung.
This child, like all newborns here, was born with a constant Curse
Of utmost struggling life until it moves, stares, breathes no more.
Even showers upon the drought-infested land cannot reimburse
The dry hearts of millions of such Somali children, the Pain-store.
Two immobile figures of parents are half-buried on dusty ground
And the mumbling cries of the child melted in heat of wind there.
No humans there to hear except the vultures that hovered around
The fresh dead bodies and waited until fall of another tiny figure.