Long Point the finger Poems
Long Point the finger Poems. Below are the most popular long Point the finger by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Point the finger poems by poem length and keyword.
Never ran from a fight, never backed down from a challenge and I don't fear a battle
I've been through too much to fear something I may see on my travels
I'll walk straight into The storm rather than cower away
I'll find a way to overcome even if you take my power away
I've been left out, abandoned, left to fend for myself
Got stabbed in the back by people I trusted, so I became friends with myself
Was raised in care as my parents preferred drink, and I was labelled the hopeless one
Got told I'd be dead by 21, social workers basically gave me a loaded gun
But instead of shooting myself, I filled it with ink and attacked the earth
I write for those left behind and people who didn't get a turn
I won't allow them to water down what I burn
It's your issue not mine, if you get offended by my words
I picked myself up from every fall, how could you be mad at that?
I made it further than expected, why would you be sad at that?
Oh I get it, because your prediction was wrong
And you're mad, I made it this far even though I've never belonged
All I need is a pen, pad and my pride and I'll find a way to win
Go ahead and judge, I don't hide the scars on my skin
I've been hurt more than most, Some self-inflicted from my self-harming days
But now I'm 5 years clean, and out charming babes
While you sit and judge someone you should have tried to inspire
But by the looks of it, your guidance is something I didn't require
Sometimes I feel like the world doesn't deserve my wisdom
I Refuse to serve a religion
I won't hate other people for believing in something different
Everyone has knowledge, if you have the ability to listen
My dad never gave me one bit of advice
Was never there, yet you act like I'm the bad person, because I didn't cry when he died
It was just another day, a random stranger dying
Just more words on a page, more poetry writing
I fathered myself, so of course I've made mistakes
I own up to it, you make mistakes and point the finger another way
Yeah I've been reckless, dated numerous girls at the same time
Pushed away the only girl I loved, this is my crazy mind
Bipolar, but I've never tried to hide it
Depression by my side, and I try to fight it
So go ahead, Tell me I'm wrong, I need to change, go ahead and judge
I've made it this far despite everything, so I've got my middle finger up
Selfishly or
helplessly
As I lay here internally beat
Battered and bruised full of defeat
My pillow so wet and sodden
So many tears so many I’ve forgotten
This thought before has arisen
But I still had fight a way out of this prison
I was frightened before scared and unsure
Now I feel calmer
No worry or drama
Many will look down on me point the finger and say I lied
But I can honestly claim that I gave it my all I really tried
My head so loud with constant voices
None that make sense just painful noises
Some say it’s a selfish act
But they’re who still have peace and sanity intact
Having looked so hard at myself inside
Spent my life trying to hide
Pretended and even denied
It doesn’t matter how hard you run
Wherever you go your feelings will come
What of my loved ones what will they think
My wife I’m sure won’t shed a tear no not one even a
blink
My sons I believe will hurt and grieve
I hope they in time will come to perceive
That I did this not to hurt again
It was the only way I’d get freedom from my pain
These feelings of blame shame and self hate
i can’t carry no more
I can’t hold their weight
It’s torture for me knowing every day
All my goodness is waisting away
That all love and kindness
I carry inside I can’t share or give away
Every time I try
All I do is hurt and make them cry
Some will say all the pain is is the proof
And this may well hold some truth
That I did this all by myself
I have to highlight my internal health
When inside all these emotions collide
I didn’t confront them or looked for someone to confide
Now they return with renewed capability
Walking beside all your self pity
Allow all of them to roam freely inside
And you have the recipe for suicide
So many poor souls have laid here before
Now my tears start to poor
right now I have to confess
Im overcome with loneliness
I have no words I can make no sound
These feelings are here they’re all around
they slowly circle then lay by my Side
They all take their turn to help me decide
Hopeless useless guilt and pain so much hurt self hatred and sorrow
If I don’t do this they will all be back tomorrow
Do I do this selfishly
or am I not struggling helplessly
Turn out the light
Close your eyes tight
Nothing now left to fight
Whats in the news today
and how much snow is on the ground
they say in the paper there is 2 600 homeless people
in my home city
but word of mouth and the people who work in the centers
estimate its more like 5000
so I ask
is this a protest of a country who has been lied to
who was led to a war that did not concern them?
who demands to have their own backyard of chemical warfares cleaned up?
Is this a protest against war of I'll never pay taxes
but I'll humble my own country
turning innocent men into serial killers
who join the smuftee killing patriots levelling a country flat
firing machine guns at innocent men listening to dance music
not to mention the reports of raped thirteen year olds and arson
and parents being forced to witness the whole thing before being executed
So I ask
wanna know about terrorism
as winter approaches
and you know soon
you're gonna be walking amongst streets
of frozen corpses
because there is nowhere left for them to go
and the soldiers join forces with some other country who feeds you
lies through the television
and then your own backyard says were going in to peace keep and the truth
surfaces that yes it is an all out war and we've been lieing all along
5000 homeless
a protest?
a government abnormality of one city?
terrorism of chemical warfare
and we're told some government across the ocean
can't handle their own nightmare of terror and assassins
so we have to go in to attack them
even though 9-11 under rug swept from years ago through our books of lies
was an event they catapulted unto somebody else!!!
5000 homeless
are we under attack?
Is that why no ones worried about the seial killings
of hookers turning up in fields anymore that farmers keep reporting?
Is taht why every neighborhood is swarmed with druglords and junkies?
and the prison that houses 300 has more than 700 people in it?
and all i see in my head are frozen corpses
and now i'm wondering
do the professionals im amongst
helping me through this rough patch
are they on medication too?
did we point the finger in the wrong way?
Is it US or them
and what does that have to do with the price of tea in china ask the British?
but what does my underground know of saints
divine intervention and methods to madness?
Many a people will try to bring you down, turn your smile into a frown, try to ruin
your day, by the words they say.
Many a people will try to hurt you, by what they do, try to discourage you, from your
dream come true.
Many a people will try to defame your name, bring you to shame, trample over
your hard works, to boost their ego of some sort.
Many a people will try to make you feel like you have no worth, as if you should
never have walked this earth.
Many a people will try to slander your character, doing and saying whatever,
convincing others to share their thoughts, trying to misuse and abuse what you
are all about.
Many a people will try to break you, shake you, make you fall and stumble, all the
while laughing in your face and being fake with a hand out to always take, take,
take.
Many a people will stand right in your face and tell a bold face lie, making you feel
sorry for them when they begin to cry, all the while they are up to no good and on
a mission to try to block you from making a major decision.
Many a people will try to accuse you of things you never did, point the finger to
ease their guilt, try to make you believe that what you've seen and heard is
nothing more than a myth.
Many a people will try to do many things to make you feel less than a human
being.
Don't allow others to be "many a people", You have a voice ~ Use It Wisely and
Timely.
Never become anyone's puppet on a string ~ You are stronger and wiser than
you seem.
Don't fall for any trick in the book, don't become someone's bate they dangle on
the hook.
Never settle for less than you are worth, you are a priceless living being and have
been since your birth.
Life is about choices, therefore choose wisely your words, actions, re-actions
and behavior.
Remember ...
"Life is Like a Deck of Cards -You don’t deal with the hand that you were dealt, it's
all in how you Play with the hand you were dealt. Optimal words “Deal”
and “Play.” If you deal with it, you may never win, never overcome, never achieve
higher levels. But if you play, you will lose some, you will win some, therefore you
become a Player of life and not live a life whereby you are Played" - Written By,
Yours Truly :-)
Copyright (c) 2008 - Keeping It Real Poetry, All Rights Reserved
Diane was like any other Long Island mother,
but on July twenty six she made an horrible mistake by smoking pot,
resulting in the death of five beautiful kids, as young as five,
and three passengers in a SUV driving northbound;
she drove intoxicated,erratically going the wrong way, plowed into this Chevy Trailblaser,
but her son Brian miraculously survived the crash...
frantically shaking her bleeding mom and desperately crying by her side!
Did she hear him? She was dying, and couldn't caress his adorable face!
Why did Diane get behind the wheel so high and under the influence?
Did she need a quick-fix to get away from her problems or illness?
I will not judge her, but the facts point the finger at her!
Mothers, drive sober on dangerous highways, be alert and avoid a crash!
You will regret it, if this results in the death of someone you love;
don't let the guilt forever linger on your conscience: do you see yourself
deeply moarning by a grave that shouldn't have been there;
and what will flowers do...console those who cannot hear, feel or love?
Out there, more mothers like Diane...hallucinated by visions,
drive recklessly because of ingested, harmful alcohol;
others mix liquor with marijuana or other illegal drugs,
and think that they have conquered the world with their high,
and they may not see another day when they lay there and die!
Listen you all, put down your rolled-up papers, and drinks,
save yourselves and your own children who deserve to live full lives;
don't cut them short...would you rather stare at their pictures on the wall?
Diane might have been nice and loving before taking the wrong path,
don't we all when our expectations don't exceed our wishes?
Whatever they may be, it would be wise to be satisfied with what you have accumulated;
don't ask for miracles with your undeserving prayers...they will not be admonished!
Start with humbleness and dedicate yourself to the noblest cause:
helping others, inspiring anyone who admires you...tackling their desire to live!
And what will be your reward? Only eldless joy...without the terrible spectacle of death!
The Taconic Parkway tragedy could have been avoided, if she had had more love to give!
Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci
For what I write- is that the reason why?
You visit me and spend with me some time
Perhaps it is for words that make you sigh
Or truth you find well hidden in my rhyme?
Is it, perchance, to see a coy sweet smile
The vision of a woman in your mind
Perhaps forgetting troubles for a while
Elusive peace in what I write you find
But if I leave and can no longer write
Will time erase my presence from your heart?
If brokenness and strife have dimmed my sight
In coming days, will I no more have part?
Sought after and adored if I’m to be
For naught else let it be than being me
Eileen Manassian Ghali
I’ve been thinking about this community a great deal lately. We claim that we love each other. We claim to be there through thick and thin. FEW…yes, FEW can stake a claim to that. I’ve been under the weather for the last couple of days. I’ve been ill….AND….I’ve been forgotten. I know, it is easy to point the finger. There have been poets here who have gone missing, and I do often wonder where they are…..if they are ill, disheartened or just disinterested. I wish I could say that I’ve always sent a little message saying that they are missed. I haven’t. Yes, we are all in love with poetry, but I hope we can see beyond the poet’s words and into his/her heart…..There abides a person wanting to be loved for whom he/she IS…and NOT simply for what he/she can GIVE. I’d like to share this lovely poem that illustrates this so well…..HUGS
If thou must love me, let it be for nought
Except for love's sake only. Do not say
'I love her for her smile—her look—her way
Of speaking gently,—for a trick of thought
That falls in well with mine, and certes brought
A sense of pleasant ease on such a day'—
For these things in themselves, Beloved, may
Be changed, or change for thee,—and love, so wrought,
May be unwrought so. Neither love me for
Thine own dear pity's wiping my cheeks dry,—
A creature might forget to weep, who bore
Thy comfort long, and lose thy love thereby!
But love me for love's sake, that evermore
Thou mayst love on, through love's eternity.
Elizabeth Barrett Browning
Racial slurs fly in Michigan like footballs.
I'm not supposed to point the finger at white women,
but white women who enjoy NASCAR, and mass
quantities of alcohol. can be pretty racists and homophobic,
This white woman said, "What did God say when he made
the first black man? "Damn, I burnt one."
Some people can lighten the mood right before a race-riot
breaks out by telling racists jokes. On the roof
of a very tall building are four men; one is asian,
one is mexican, one is black, and the last one is white.
The asian walks to the ledge and says,
"This is for all my people" and jumps off the roof.
Next, the mexican walks to the ledge and also says,
"This is for all my people" and then he jumps off the roof.
Next is the black guy's turn. The black guy walks
to the ledge and says, "This is for all my people"
and then throws the white guy off the roof.
See that's funny. We get really funny things
because of our differences. We do have to learn
to laugh, but more importantly appreciate ourselves..
Without color the world would be pretty grey.
This seems pretty obvious, but doesn't stop people
from killing each other. The world wouldn't
even be grey without color because grey is a color.
They say the blind can't lead the blind,
which brings me to my next joke.
How do you blindfold a Chinese person?
Put floss over their eyes.
I shouldn't have to spell out the obvious, or fight
for tolerance. It's getting late and my eyes
are turning red from all the jokes. Racism is
really bad comedy. it's like listening to a really bad laugh
that slowly drives a man insane. Don't even get me
started on sexism, which is just a form of stupidity.
I just don't like stupid people. I don't like when stupid
looks me in the eyes because it's ugly.Racists and sexists
must have brain cancer or some devastating mental illness,
which causes them to get mad when Mexicans don't mow
the grass or confused when black people don't like fried chicken.
Frosty-glassed windows and fiery eyes
Finally with you after some tries
Rainy day sunshine brighten my smile
Warm us, tropical storm, and stay awhile
Surf the waves through the ocean springs
Jack of the trade and King of all Kings
Wildlife roams in our Earth's abyss
Snow and cold-frosted to the kiss
Rocky mountain high as the emerald trees
Sweeping and piling up Autumn-orange leaves
Windy and dry with our sun so high
Surfing in my imagination on my first try
Silently slipping the seasons to bear
Dry as this is, fires begin to flare
Crystal-gazed snow paths begin to melt
As our Earth rejuvenates it's beautiful health
Rainy muddy puddle's rhythm is a plus one
Please don't stare at our volcanic sun
Blistering heart and silent repeat of what you know
Do me a favor and don't hurt our earth, though
Millions of words to finally be said
Thousands of paragraphs to finally be read
So much knowledge to finally seek
But I need better weather because it's so bleak
So much power to hold in the palm of your hand
But America is running out of free land
Nothing is free because things cost so much
Too many new experiences to let your body adjust
Silent thoughts where no one else can see
No one can ever truly be free
Your body is borrowed and your soul is not yours
Too many locked windows --- too many locked doors
Shape shifting life with your own imagination
To create for you a memorable sensation
So much teaching to still be taught
But too many distractions to finally be fought
Locked away inside your exoskeleton shell
Too far into despair to sit back and dwell
Remembering that time is to beat a clock
To finally escape reality and release this lock
Thousands of chains break the name
But too many to point the finger or blame
Silhouettes of snakes in mirrors of fear
Flame-throwing weapons to finally sear
Destruction shame is quite the haze
Circling in this everlasting maze
Sinister secrets torn from my chest
Reminding myself that life's just a test
There is a nail scarred footprint on the back of Satan's neck
Although for a time and here for now he will make your life a wreck
But take great heart for the Christian as Paul eagerly foretold
His grace is sufficient for us and in weakness we are bold
After our conversion we’re challenged to forsake and to wean
To turn our back on the world and pursue daily cleaning
To take captive every thought but not as a pompous scholar
But to humble ourselves and to uplift his mighty honor
If we only read and try to apply it as a mindful thinker
We cease to change the world and are prone to point the finger
Graves are filled with dead corpses that never met perfection
Maturity was lost and growth stunted for His great affection
What pleasures got in our way? What pride of one's life?
Hindered the fullness of the fruit with no thought of afterlife
He who started a transforming work in us won't stop or delay
Can a verse in a poem be comfort if we are bent to keep astray?
The battle is always present deep where the spirit dwells
Fatigued we fight all-the-day to claim victory over self
Labours and mercies feverishly offered poured out and spent
To what end will we decay before we accept why he was sent?
Known is the walk that is stony and climbed all uphill
Leaning forward in the fight is His divine placed will
No discipline at the time seems pleasant or enjoyed
But maybe he established a lesson and it to be employed
Warriors hate to admit defeat and to admit we are weak
Affliction molds our hearts that is his loving technique
God is quite clear that he will abolish our ego and our pride
Whenever we are haughty He turns his face aside
He came to show the way and to flip us upside down
There is a lot of discerning from under that thorny crown
Denying all of ourselves and to follow the honored king
Dying to our own way we must perform spiritual hygiene
By: Brian Micheal
Dead now, Jackie Walsh?
Smolderingly blonde like a strawberry,
protesting your stolen innocence; one snuffed candle.
So much promise you had, the favored cousin,
my own father loved you best.
All gone in an instant, one busy street, and one turn of the spoke
or hand at the wheel.
You could have been a draft pick or a scholar or a hired gun.
Go now to your brother Barry and father J.P., to cousin Jimmy Scanlon;
they sit waiting for you in easy chairs, sipping poteen.
Ghosts of Rawlings Avenue, let Aunt Madeline rest in peace.
I did not name my own son after you or your father consciously.
We drank the last can of Uncle Tommy’s Coors, all the way from Colorado.
It’s safe to share that secret now after 34 years.
Trading baseball cards by flashlight, remember, Jackie Walsh?
Staying up all night, waiting our parents and uncles out.
Their pot of Irish stew stirring and simmering,
their loud whispers sharp but glimmering.
Leaving them to point the finger at one another for all these years.
Passing the collection plate at Italian mass,
you knew the priest; we kept the silver dollars.
I have not really seen you since then (not even in my dreams),
except for a crazy subway ride
and a bank robbery, inside job, of course.
We all have a little larceny in our souls;
all to the sizzle and whiff of crackling eggs and Irish bacon.
I would ask where did you go, but I know it was that you stayed,
that little boy waiting for big brother's return.
Feeling jealousy and admiration for you at the same time,
then later, after, feeling lament for you and eventually contempt.
We could not fathom your loss because it was your own private property.
Stung to the soul you sorrowed and raged.
With tears on the keystrokes I offer this dirge too little, too late
for you now, to purge my own soul.
I missed you all these years, Jackie Walsh.
Sleep well now for this dream is over.