Long Rebelling Poems
Long Rebelling Poems. Below are the most popular long Rebelling by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Rebelling poems by poem length and keyword.
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"discarding narrow thought flow crutch
we learn directly by soft touch
and what we garner we relay
to the vast void in childlike play
entwined thus with the universe
we dance without need to rehearse"
In an erratic existence
this ad hoc state of mind,
treads upon random paths,
to reach the doorsteps of my fate.
Those who find structure in scriptures,
let them be guided towards their remedy.
I hope they find what they seek,
but my spirit keeps spinning
like a whimsical roulette,
relying upon the universe
to weave rhythms of cosmic threads,
nourishing my soul in ethereal elixir.
I have read so many scripts of stone,
but my quill writes in impulsive ink,
rebelling against confined expression,
composing an unrehearsed sinfonia,
in an attempt to create and connect.
Unlike the moon,
we appear and disappear
like impromptu stars.
Burning into life, but blameless,
full of innocence, purifying eyes,
briefly guiding those who choose to gaze.
There is an art to being human.
Interpretation is an abstract perception.
Our hearts portray kaleidoscopic emotions,
so in my palette of unscripted intuition,
I shed the chains of conscience doubt.
In the essence of every brushstroke,
I breathe life to improvised affections.
A man seen as either friend or foe,
Which path to take, which to go.
His name strikes fear into an enemy heart,
Where spilled blood can be turned into art.
His long, black moustache holds something strong,
Where his people never thought of him as wrong.
No gun, no knife fears him inside or out,
As the forest makes no whisper or shout.
A voice against powers of uniform,
A man's figure of rebelling transform.
Bird or beast, lost in the feast,
Of power, fear, and a power that never ceased.
A man seen as either friend or foe,
Which path to take, which to go.
Fell at last, with no where hide,
As his gun had its last ride.
Oh Father! my call to You --
but are You not All In All,
my eternal family
of infinite relations? --
therefore I affirm to You
(the unknowable
outside Your Love),
affirm in the feminine/masculine
animate/inanimate substance
of my ever evolving being
that I am truly sorry
for ever rebelling
and straying
for here I see now
my serpentine wrong:
thinking that I was separate
from You, my sole
source of true power
My sturdy registry of
immortal, core presence
throughout a universe
having immeasurable rings
of encircling time –
help me see more clearly
help me determine more
compassionately
ripen in me
an en-composing
vision
for cooperation
and homologous
activity
as the earth and its seeds
ascribe to the cycles
of the sun and moon
our siblings of lights
is not Light
Your Body of
consciousness?
Therefore, glow me
beam me
that I may shine
as representative
to all
as well as a gleam
onto Self
rekindle and strengthen
our conscious path
together, newly
establishing our
journeys
my only desire
to behold You
in every creation,
to Love You
ever greater….
UNCHANGED HABITS
Recently, I promised myself to make drastic changes;
again, I have fallen into yesterday's habits.
So unchanged they seem as my esteem:
they must be controlling my rebelling genes,
but making changes isn't for the better, I deem.
So unchanged they seem as my esteem;
again, I have fallen into yesterday's habits...
recently, I promised myself to make drastic changes.
THE ASPIRING VOCALIST
He had an aspiration for greatness that could have blossomed into realized dreams;
he headed to New York City wearing shining boots and tight, faded blue jeans,
" He's a real Texan cowboy! " someone shouted in the noisy athmosphere...
and he accidentally heard that with surprise and it sounded pleasant to his ear.
He had talent and was seeking a vocalist's job, singing on Broadway's streets.
" He's a real Texan cowboy! " someone shouted in the noisy athmosphere.
He headed to New York City wearing shining booths and tight, faded blue jeans;
he had an aspiration for greatness that could have blossomed into realized dreams.
Entered in David William's contest,
" Palindrome Mad "
Written by Andrew Crisci
At first you see the flower fields
Of yellow, white or red,
Though soon machines will do their job
And clip each tulip’s head.
For that’s the way to save the bulbs
So they’ll be best for selling,
A fact that must make sense, I guess,
Since no one is rebelling.
But then you enter Keukenhof,*
A floral park so vast
It’s hard to comprehend how many
Tulips they’ve amassed.
The colors take your breath away –
You’re dazzled, awed, amazed;
And as you stroll, each vista’s better
Than where you’ve just gazed.
Varieties you’ve never seen
Are artfully arrayed,
With hyacinths and lilies
Intermittently displayed.
The tulips only bloom for weeks
So I was thrilled to visit
And get to view what Nature’s made
With palette so exquisite.
Such beauty’s there for all to see
But sadly, just a few
Will have the chance to make the trip
And get to tiptoe through.
*flower garden in Holland, known for their tulips
I see the closet door and I hear the theme song to Shark.
Doo doo doo doo doo doo doo doo
The one they used to play on Saturday Night Live in the eighties.
You know the one.
I opened it once to take a photo.
Which I sent to my twin sister.
We were bemoaning our messy spots.
So we decided to have a little contest.
I took photos of this closet, and six hoarder piles in one bedroom.
Believe it or not, she sent me eight photos and hers were better.
Or worse depending on which way you are going competition wise.
Thanks Daddy, we both said. He loved keeping everything.
Whereas Mom was a minimalist. She had a rule.
Bring one new thing in, toss one old thing out.
She had no messes anywhere in the house
Except Daddy’s area. She could not control that.
Maybe it’s Mom’s fault, I think to myself.
She is the one that never let us have a mess.
Maybe we are still rebelling.
Anyway, I cannot face this closet yet.
This is the third year in a row it has been un-faceable
It would be nice to use a closet, just not this one.
I turn and take another peek. Is it still there?
Unfortunately yes. Who knows what lives inside.
May 20, 2022 Scripture Meditations Based on Psalms 85-89
Key Verse – Psalm 85:6 Wilt thou not revive us again: that thy people may rejoice in thee?
MY GOD, THANK YOU FOR REVIVING ME AGAIN
Thank You for reviving me again that I may rejoice in Your salvation
Against backsliding brought by sins’ abomination---
My heart praises You and Your gracious compassion
Over my worldly negotiation, causing transgression.
Thank You for reviving me again that I may dwell in Your perfect will
Against rebelling so that Your granted mission I can’t fulfill---
My soul exalts You and Your redeeming ransom-bill
Over my captured being that was freed by Your sacrifice at Calvary’s hill.
Thank You for reviving me again that I may go toward Your righteousness
Against treading upon filthiness that brings spiritual weariness---
My trust cleaves to You and Your sanctifying truthfulness
Over my bad attitudes needing Your power of holiness.
Thank You for reviving me again that I may hearken to Your voice
Against scorning Your instructions with arrogant poise---
My mind seeks You and Your wisdom devoid of humanistic noise
Over my foolish deafness as You guard my choice.
Thank You for reviving me again that I may glorify Your name
Against taunting mockery of ignorance-shame---
My faith relies in You and Your steadfast trustworthiness-frame
Over my fear-filled doubts to vanquish timidity of a coward dame.
Thank You for reviving me again that I may cling to Your deliverance
Against attacking troubles with afflicting appearance---
My security depends on You and Your wondrous assurance
Over my loathsome pride that should bow to humility’s forbearance.
May 20, 2022
I watched them tell a story
of a man that went through Hell
And the story of them falling
for the end that meant as well
For the bolstering of their egos
in a help that's meant to all
In the rebelling of their rousing call
for what it's meant to fall
When in taking home their patriots
for all it is to live
Just in calling them an honor
for their lives just meant to give
That the end's to fall on others
for the time been spent in pain
When the end reflects the outcome
of a News that's spread in vain
(this is about the News spreading
the worst and fueling it. Today
they assault characters in their
newscast if they don't meet their
agenda. We have truckers around
the globe called Freedom Fighters
and the News is offended by this.
The News and the government have
gone out of their way to rid
themselves of these people by
attacking them for having a toenail
out of place when the issue is
freedom and not toenails. The News
would have you believe the truckers
are abusing their children for having
them in their trucks with them. I
ask you if the trucks are safer than
the residential schools the government
chose to harbor stolen children in?
Now; when you're wondering about
safety; perhaps you'll stand up for
not being told what to do by a government
that's a service and not a dictatorship.)
Zoltar speaks “Someone will toast you tonight,
pretend to be surprised. The tides of fate will
steer you toward unexpected wonders. Keep
your eyes open for a twist in your tale.”
He is an animatronic fortune teller
Within the carnivals and circuses, a dweller
Anachronistic, rebelling in today’s mortality his drive
Something inside makes you think it’s alive
Gives off a creepy vibe boxed in, his temporary kingdom
A robot has its own agenda, and its false wisdom
Be careful what you wish for, it may come true,
Just not in the way you thought, granted in Zoltar’s view
You’ll never find him to play again, if you dare
To undo what’s done, the daylights out of you, he’ll scare
Creeper of dreams, terrifying themes from here on end
This is where the Anayalator comes in—the godsend
She fights not for the lust of conquest, but to end conquest
She fights to liberate us from demon bots, her quest
Ninja-manipulates reality, she’s advanced in ninjutsu
Beyond any limitations, water, fire, air, and earth she moves
Nullifier—from impure world reincarnates
Combining truth-seeking with her powerful crown of gems
She can nullify all conventional robot powers
Including regenerative cycles, invented every hour
Yin-Yang Release—Chakra manipulation of the universe
Spinning spiritual and physical charges of energy against hostile terse
Healer-Restorer of life, her golden rods of purest energy
Good bots for humanity are spared by the repairer of injury
Season of death plays her melancholic tune,
tragedy portrayed through a chorus of birds.
In regret, I ponder why you left so soon,
still mourning the impact of your last words.
Demons hid some pieces of your jigsaw brain,
lost in your black abyss, troubles began to form.
Alcohol, drugs and abuse turned your life insane,
but your tongue was silent, battling the storm.
Sometimes I read the note you left behind,
saying you were sorry, but life was not kind.
If only I knew a way for time to rewind,
maybe I could have eased that troubled mind.
Guess you felt death would bring an end to the pain,
hope you found peace from a life you left in vane.
Silent One
27 October 2020
I lost a very special friend to suicide, on new years eve 1996.
It was not my only experience with suicide, but it was one that had a big impact on my life, because, I was the last person she spoke to.
Sadly, I did not get to her in time and she had already departed the world that troubled her so much. At the time, she was only 18.
For years, I struggled to come to terms with it, my coping mechanism was to blank it all out, suppress the emotions. But every new years eve, I would not do anything, it was my way of rebelling against it, I guess. I lived with regret. Sad thing was I never spoke to anyone about it.
I learned to deal with it through writing. My first poem about what happened was in 2015.
Some think suicide is selfish, but it is not. It is difficult for those left behind to deal with it, but we need to understand, people who leave the world in such a way, do not want to die, they want to end the pain.
Sometimes, no matter what we do or say, it may not help.
Always keep an eye out for family and friends, who you may think are feeling low and at times worthless. Many of us, at times, feel we do not belong.
Sometimes, the smallest act of reaching out could make a difference.
If you are feeling suicidal, there are helplines available in your country. Please call someone to talk to them. It could make a difference.
When we feel confused, oppressed, worthless, low, unloved, live a life without affection and understanding... Please remember there is always someone out there who loves and cares about you and will miss you so much if you are gone.
Sorry for the sad poem and thank you for reading.