Long Profaned Poems
Long Profaned Poems. Below are the most popular long Profaned by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Profaned poems by poem length and keyword.
I live trapped in a basket of predators,
their skulls crammed with futile idleness.
They celebrate misery like a morbid feast,
with the suicidal arrogance of heirs to nothingness.
The flames of humanity have burned away
in the abyss of their barren souls.
They worship the anarchy of weapons,
I see nothing but fields of ruins.
Their battles are the masquerades of capital,
poverty spreads across the Earth like a plague,
and the closeness of deprivation becomes a nightmare.
I spit upon their rotten idols,
those false sanctities with profaned orifices.
I have piled up sins to taste the ecstasy of raw freedom.
Born from the wounded entrails of the Third World,
I refuse to bow before the putrefaction of consumerism.
Free from the origin, yet prisoner of a banana republic
delivered to the savage plunder of predatory empires.
I fight my demons in the trenches of the mind
to adorn my reality with fleeting mirages of this convulsive world.
They consign me to the dungeons of their alienation,
but I rise, insurgent against their servitude.
Some theorists say
that consciousness pervades
all of creation. I get a sense
they could be right, that at some
profound level, a common awareness
sits at the metaphorical centre of the cosmos
and connects to the human soul.
Mostly I am deaf to its whispers,
drowned in the volume of my own noise
and yet I know it is there when I manage
to quieten the voices within, find a place
where earth, water and sky meet,
somewhere not profaned by greed,
perhaps a secluded beach
or a sacred path deep in a forest where
the soft murmurings of a pebbled creek
becomes a voice for the wider universe.
I would like to think such places
speak to me and that I become a part
of that voice resonating in air, trying to turn
the ordinary, the flawed, into prayer.
TikTok, the new harbinger of sin,
Trends promoting vandalism within.
Bathrooms defiled, decency abandoned,
In the name of likes, morality to bend.
In the name of body image, abortions justified,
Innocent lives extinguished, under the banner of women's rights.
Laws claiming protection, now wielded as a knife,
Becoming a weapon against the lives it should serve.
In the name of fame and riches, deals made,
Love proclaimed, yet atrocities laid.
In the name of God, churches tyrant-like,
Preaching prosperity, as if Jesus sought wealth's spike.
In the name of beauty, surgeries unfold,
Young girls alter bodies, a story untold.
As if God made mistakes in His creation,
A defiance of divine design, a false fixation.
In the name of knowledge, forbidden knowing gained,
Sacred boundaries crossed, wisdom profaned.
In the name of money and power, nations collide,
Killing each other, as if life's a commodity to decide.
Crimes, racism, and rape,
Just to name a Few
Violence Against Christians, a war to reshape.
And yet, in God we trust, they dare profess,
What God is this, with such moral regress?
Tell me, people, tell me, world so wide,
What God is this, where sins abide?
For the God I know rejects abomination,
Leading astray, they say love, I say lust, a stark revelation.
On a shard stretched of incomprehensible narrow, tight and wide,
a silent strident laugh I often forbade-allowed myself,
it's the ordered chaos indescribable, the howling clang
of hermit tear struck in a shattered version,
habitual miracle of screaming silence, poor wealth,
fulfilled-unfulfilled love in the sweet cruel pain,
embalmed wound of your gentle-cruel smile, deep-smooth,
chasm full of filling, lady-lord, speak silently,
divinely mortal, thus unfulfilled-complete, mute song
of swan terribly gentle, of angel broken-whole,
white-black of the cursed one blessed in forgetting-remembrance...
I long without longing, dying alive, lucid foolish thoughts,
perpendicular parallel equations, humble pride of ladies
rubicund-pallid, prostituted icons holy-profaned,
fierce cold embraced I feel in ribs empty full,
our loves lonely-together, I have spring-summer
frozen-inflamed, satisfied hunger for warm winter,
autumns with dry rains of sleet falling upward,
that fly-frozen calm torrents toward fields
hermit-populated, our stars extinguished-lit,
sky-earth, living death from the empty-full mind,
your caress burning-cold, my life confirms-denies!
We are moved by the poems of a master writer,
And try to write poetry ourselves.
Yet it does not come easily.
Swearing friendship with the soul of the dead,
In the end, we fail to sever ties.
You have profaned the sacred poem,
You have defiled yourself.
Do you not know?
In the end, you are merely a stagnant being rotting together
In the dead water of a well.
To have tried to birth a poem from that very place?
Even the day-fly born there
Perishes together within an unseen furnace.
Only by finally breaking ties with the eternal friend
Can we see the truth of you and me.
"Rather than a bee going wild over the scent of honey,
Become a butterfly!"
American madness, a fury unbound,
A lost nation teeters beyond solid ground.
We've crossed the stark line, flags droop low and still,
The hour grows late; has reason lost its will?
I walk as a stranger in this fractured land,
Where those I believed would lend a saving hand
Have turned, it seems, their faces from the light.
This country I knew now vanishes from sight.
A nation of shadows, where darkness takes hold,
Insanity whispers, a story untold.
Madness now drives us, a train off the track,
Into a dark future, there's no turning back.
This is not the haven of justice and truth,
The land of my dreams, the promise of youth.
Fury for the masses, a bitter refrain,
This broken landscape is a source of such pain.
Not this the country where voices are chained,
Where autonomy falters and freedom is profaned.
Beneath the sway of a ranting command,
A hollowed-out future slips through trembling hands.
Perhaps the time calls for a fierce, bold ascent,
But now, only tears mark this moment's lament.
My national spirit, ripped cruelly apart,
Fury for this madness that shatters my heart.
This desolate land, where hope finds no root,
No soil to nurture, no life to bear fruit.
Yet in this despair, a fierce ember may glow,
A future ignited from seeds of this woe.
Black masses at midnight, a nation astray,
Fury for the lost, who have stumbled and strayed.
A nation unmoored in a fevered, dark dream.
Much like a fragile figure, weak and frail,
Whose trembling limbs can barely keep their hold,
Here at our guarded, sunless walls, grown cold,
A shrieking woman with a snuffed-out trail
Of light extinguished whispers a sad tale,
A Foe of Strangers. From her listless hand.
No welcome sunshine; her harsh gaze can't withstand
The bridge-linked harbor where grim cities wail.
"Hold, selfish shores, your meager scraps!" she moans...
With bitter tongue. "Keep all your strong, your frail,
Your joyful throngs who freely make their own
Bright destinies upon your favored vale."
Reject these weak, by gentle breezes blown
Away from me on steam & iron rail...
Turn away your tired, your poor
Fury for the huddled mass beside a silver stream.
Feeling the nation unmoored...
If I were a Heavenly Recording Angel,
I would probably be a recording scribe.
Writing down each and every littlest
Detail of peoples' lives on planet
Earth below.***
If I were recording the effectual righteous
Deeds of men, women, and children,
My heart would leap loudly for joy!
But if the deeds were evil and sinful,
I would shake my head with sorrow!***
I would be recording each and every news
Headlines long before the morning, noon
And evening news broadcasts. Sometimes
The news can be humorous enough even
To make an Heavenly reporter angel laugh!***
If the news broadcasts were horrific instead,
I would sadly shake my head at man's and
Woman's inhumanity to mankind. Especially
When it done in my beloved Master's Holy Name!***
If men and women blaspheme my Faithful Master's
Holy Name, my eyes would flash! With thunder and
Lightening in mine angelic wrath! Cures shall come
Upon and follow those who profane His Holy Name!
They are headed in the direction of eternal damnation!***
If people blaspheme His name carelessly, I would still
Become angry and so would my Master. Even though
They profaned His name in ignorance! My Master
Would still try to reach out and touch all of them.***
All in accordance of His Divine and Holy Will!
And all of those sinners who repented would not
Become convicted and judged! But they would receive
My Master's pardon in these closing and final minutes
Of His age of mercy and grace!***
In Jesus Christ Holy and Righteous Name,
Roxanne Lea Dubarry
Roxy Lea 1954
Roxy 1954/ October Country
January 21, 2021
Sonnets After
Midnight #1 (Far
Destined Winds)
Far destined winds, port a love song for me.
Send silent heart-thoughts of hope in the air,
To her left standing far across the sea--
Gazing from a tower to see me from there.
Oh wind have a breeze her soft brow caresse;
Send flowing waves to whisper in her ear
My unheard music of love's tenderness
I would sing to her if I cold be near.
Winds for me stroke with gossamer fingertips
Her ebony long tresses whose soft touch I miss.
And for me touch her purest trembling lips
Never once profaned by my unworthy kiss.
Messenger unseen, to her in her land,
Go where I may not stretch forth my own hand.
originally written to a paramour in Strasbourg, France, probably in 1982
And I know, from freedom and by fate,
that the sky will weep upon us, Kohl in tears of virgins who has never taste,
the night that caste the shadows of its veil upon our decayed flaws on sand,
Glory remains the struggle to embracing a sent of belonging to a homeland,
The sorcery in your eyes steals the soul, I swear by my sacred-self and the Ghoul,
The roses I once plucked withered, burning, turning, sacrifices to my widowed,
Your burdens plant upon my back the weight of the past, once thought to last
Your wounds stain my hands with the blackness of guilty blood and dirty mud
And I realize that I am utterly ignorant of the holiest meanings of purity,
that I have profaned the sacred—
and if there is possibility to piety, it will mess my sanity and rip my dignity.
#Another_Pastor_viral
Ancestors exchange grave turning with Christ, shame and tabooed, religion painted, men claiming and looting from the poorer, shaming and tainting the believe
From calling themselves pastors to now, prophets, revelation has foretold, the time is now, the show on play, everything sounds and look unreal, on this audience seat I'm crippled by disbelief, I keep not waking from this nightmare, how I wish I could
Churches from prayer houses to prey dens, pastors from men of God to monsters and predators. Greed and fame blind folding faith and religion, safety and human dignity flushed down the drain
Everyday, everywhere women and girls perpetrated, wolves in white collars and fancy suits.
Churches downgraded from prayer houses, to molesters hubs, from sacred places to gambling stalls, from faith homes to wickedness labs
What has the Christian fraternity became? My toddler asks. Fear creeps in, my tongue twist, words fail to represent my shattered respond,
safe places on earth have ran out, nowhere is ever safe in this world,
Hell drew near and your flames engulf us all, humanity has perished, life no longer matters, this land has been profaned, blood in innocent hands of innocent
Death take us all, you our last hope, for hope in this hopeless world has been hopeless, a hopeless nation, in hopeless world , all leading a hopeless life into a hopeless tomorrow, this is too much,
end of the world please rush, the waiting has been way too painful to endure.
Another pastor viral
#Poetic_Ink