Long Ritualistic Poems
Long Ritualistic Poems. Below are the most popular long Ritualistic by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Ritualistic poems by poem length and keyword.
Black Lives Matter is a statement of love not statement of hate
So, please erase the confusion from your face
But they can't hear because they're too busy spraying mace in my face
They keep yelling: s who needs them, nigga please, black boy black girl you don't belong
Today I read murder s on a random wall
Someone tried to spray paint over it, but the hate was still legible
They try to sweep racism under the rug, but the people living in that house still keep the hate at their side at all times
Taking lives at all times, so much so it has become a full-time job, and they love overtime
Humans are not animals but sometimes I wish black people had 9 lives like a cat
Then maybe one of those we could live out who we were meant to be
Or maybe we could be a dog, you heard the cops call us treats,
Right?
Justice where has it gone, people will say it's just the times
But now it's 2020 and Justice is more like just them all the time
It's not fair, it's not right, it's not love, and to everyone who gets hurt standing up for the air being sucked out of our bodies continue to stay ten toes down
Because we is a selfish term in America
Freedom is a selective term in America
The grey line takes up most of the space in America
Right is looked at as wrong in America, and some still choose to ignore the true colors of America
Red is my blood stolen from the boys in blue, that sadly can be defined as a white American most of the time
The red should really symbolize the fire raging from this hell on earth
That makes the world blue, well some of us
White culture eating white cake from the recipes of slaves
Wanting to experience different things
Wanting to participate in our lifestyle
Stealing traditions
Without the ritualistic red dot constantly pointed at their back
But when a black person wants more for themselves, they have to start with a wall against their back
While carrying the cross their ancestors hung from
While trying to make change, positive change should not be as hard as looking for a dropped charge
Awareness and action is the key, but there are many doors to unlock until Justice can start to have the appearance of a just world
We can be more, we can do better, when we start to believe that no one is better
We are all equals, this is not algebra its addition
love + human=unity not hate, it's simple
p.s. I'm still praying...
This is Africa.
Where people are being judge by their past,
And our hearts are painted with black.
Youths are cuddled up in early relationship,
And their lives are like the speed of an airship.
Parents are not respected anymore,
And advices are ignore from the sun's core.
This is Africa.
Where corruption is the order of the day,
and embezzlement of public funds is like the ocean's wave.
Politicians believe in solipsism,
and their avidity for power have made them vile organism.
Children are being raped and murdered in every corner of the street.
Education site has been a place of wealth seeking.
This is Africa.
Where we have been strangulated by high cost of living,
and those who suffocate us are offered thanksgiving.
Health sectors are poor,
and illnesses on our continent are dressed up in strong armour.
Our rights are infringed by evil perpetrators,
and our hearts are broken by these penetrators.
This is Africa.
Where the less privilege are fed with grieves and pains,
And government officials are out there popping champagne.
Scholarships are given based on mutual affiliation,
And scholars are offered abnegation.
Jobs are being given base on political affiliation and party sentiment,
And those who are qualified are left with predicament.
This is Africa.
Where people are being murdered for ritualistic purposes,
And the police are their accomplices.
People worship god that doesn't speak nor move,
and the real God has been disprove.
Politicians only come around as election time draw closer,
and after election their family members are the ones on their roster.
This is Africa.
Where Politicians don't have time for the abnegated masses,
and we are referred to as asses.
Brutal men abandon their children for no reason,
and mothers are left in bleak season.
Single parents strive hard to send their kids to school
And Those who speak the truth are rejected and considered fools.
This is Africa.
Where Politicians insult each other like kids, and citizens are left with dark moments they can't face.
Those who exploit our resources
and give us hot flames are hail as King,
And we reject and curse those considered our kin.
Westerners feed us with arm to annihilate our own kind,
and envy is what we incline in our minds.
Black lives matter is a statement of love not a statement of hate
So please erase the confusion from your face
I wish they could hear but they're to busy spraying mace in my face
They keep yelling, Nigga's who needs them, nigga please, black boy black girl you don't belong
And Today I read murder niggas on a wall
Someone tried to spray paint over it, but the hate was still legible
They try to sweep racism under the rug, but the people living in that house still keep the hate at their side at all times
Taking lives at all times, so much so it has become a full time job, and they love overtime
Humans are not animals but sometimes I wish black people had 9 lives like a cat
Then maybe one of those we could live out who we were meant to be
Or maybe we could be a dog, you heard the cops call us treats, right?
At least if a dog dies they treat them right as if they have rights
Justice where has it gone, people will say it's just the times
But now it's 2020 and Justice is more like just them all the time, it's not fair, it's not right, it's not love
And to everyone who gets hurt standing up for the air being sucked out of our bodies continue to stay ten toes down
Because we is a selfish term in America
Freedom is a selective term in America
The grey line takes up most of the space in America
Right is looked at as wrong in America
And some still choose to ignore the true colors of America
Red is my blood stolen, from the boys in blue, that sadly can be defined as a white American
Most of the time
The red should really symbolize the fire raging from this hell on Earth, that makes the world blue
Well some of us
White culture eating white cake, from a slaves recipes
Wanting to experience different things, wanting to participate in our lifestyle, stealing traditions
Without the ritualistic red dot constantly pointed at their back
But when a black person wants more for themselves they have to start with a wall against their back
While carrying the cross their ancestors hung from
All while trying to make change
Positive change should not be this hard but the world is so negative
Awareness and action is the key
But there are many doors to unlock until Justice can start to have the appearance of a just world
p.s. I'm still praying...
It’s in the rows of old oaks
the pothole that was never filled,
the decrepit buildings like time capsules
dark and crumbling, creaking out a song
of far-off secrets, their sagging floors writ with
wood-scars of decades past,
bare feet and spilled lemonade,
pieces of chicken left out for the strays,
quiet evenings curled warm within a hand-sewn quilt
while the crickets and lightning bugs
performed their nightly cabaret just beyond the windowpanes.
It’s in the strained smiles, the folk who settled in,
dug their toenails into the dried earth and stayed put.
Slow, soft-spoken drawls, hugs that squeeze all the truth
from your lungs.
It’s in the same two restaurants,
the same greasy burger, the same
breaded porkchop, the Sunday service,
the ritualistic abuse.
You can cross the county line,
drive on past the swampland and the deer carcasses,
hit the highway pavement and find yourself
far removed from this liminal space.
Chase the skyscrapers and parking garages,
the concrete havens carved out
from the woodland through stubborn sheer will.
It doesn’t matter. There’s always a hollow, a yearning,
this calling back to the inkblot on a withered atlas map,
the lingering sting of sunlight on bare shoulders,
the simple thrill of unloading a clip into a strip-mine bank.
There are wild boars screeching in the forest,
hidden graveyards with finely manicured lawns
though the family line died out years ago.
Even so far away, the sick-sweet perfume of honeysuckles lingers on your tongue.
Come back, the humid wind whispers against the shell of your ear.
A manic man sits, evenly, confined, conscious, in his four cornered room. His cell phone
rings and violently vibrates! The terrible tone slashed and sliced the serene silence he had
been anticipating all afternoon. It was her! The one he was trying to ignore. He could feel
her presence, penetrating, trying to get through phone. “Why is she calling—why now?” He
pondered and mused. He began to curse the moment and what it had become. He felt his
body burst in to two and a ritualistic battle ensued, between two beings deep within his core.
One beseeches him to pick up the phone, while the other tells him no.
Then it rang again, even louder than before!! It made his temperature soar, his body
burned, and his hands began to sweat. He rubbed them on his khaki pants so hard, that his
legs nearly went numb. Not before long, his whole body was wet, with sweat, saturating his
clothes so he tore them off. Soaking wet, he reluctantly reached for the phone. It rang
again, even louder than the two before!!! He created a fist and put it through a wall.
His mind, stalled. He looked at her number, emblazoned on his phone, flashing like a
billboard—advertising lies, the same ones he’s seen and bought, over and over, a hundred
thousand times. He knew if he talked, his hell would remain the same, so he tried to stay
dry, and remain somewhat sane. As he waited for his vigilant voicemail to save the day, it
rang once again, much…much louder than before!!!! He covered his ears only to feel the
drums of war, beating, pounding, profoundly in his chest. The battle was long and his insides
raged on. He started to feel himself finally losing grip, of a stronger, sturdier, “A brand new
self!” But as the milliseconds ticked on, he found himself reverting back, to a weaker, worn-
out, “I can’t stand myself.” He had agreed that no matter how much he groaned—he was not
to pick up the phone! So he shouted, and then he screamed! Then another vicious ring
brought the man cascading to his knees.
All hope—gone, the battle—lost. With the white flag waved, he gave one last huff, and one
last puff and politely said “hello…”
Submitted for Rambling's "Act I, SceneI" contest.
Dear child,
Do you see the lady in the red dress?
She has eyes like diamonds
Crystal clear, sharp, blue and shining.
And a smile that could
Stop your heart cold
And then, in a moment, bring it back to life,
She has hair that makes Niagra
Blush, and forget her own worldly wonders.
But darling dont be fooled,
For shes not gold,
Don't be fooled by Antimony.
Dear child,
Now you stare unapologetically
At the lady in the red dress
And chains connect the two of you at your ankles
Shackles of disguise
Do you walk as she walks?
Stroll as she glides?
Wait, dear friend,
Let me meddle some more.
Turn your freckled face my way
And listen darling child.
Do not be fooled for shes not gold
Do not be fooled by antimony.
Dear child,
I heard from the friend of a friend,
But you may suffice with just me.
The lady in the red dress is nought but a muse
And lures unwary travellers to fatal depths, foetal deaths.
You may think that you are a man of fifty-one
And flagellate your opinions of her to me,
To your family,
To your sisters and your brothers
But be aware dear child
For you are a mere embryo
And abortions do not draw tears from her gems.
So darling child,
Do not be fooled for she's not gold.
Do not be fooled by antimony.
Dear child,
Do you see the lady in the red dress?
You disregard all I say,
Just as I had feared.
Your eyes follow the grace of her hand
And the blood of grapes
She so elegantly downs
In most ritualistic manner
From most ritualistic crystal goblet.
Dear lord,
Pray that you are not hypnotised
But instead you pray that you may be the thread
And she the needle's eye
Yes, she is sharp
And polished and sews tremendous garments
Of Rage, Romance and Regret.
But darling child,
Do not be fooled for shes not gold.
She is not steel
Nor platinum,
Nor copper,
Nor bronze,
She is not even as simple as coal.
Nor is she carbon's other allotrope.
She is crystalline - true.
But as toxic as can be.
My lady in the red dress,
Dear child,
Is antimony.
Rituals
are sacred
when they reconnect
what LeftBrain dominant
straight white privileged man
has transcendently and monotheistically
disconnected secular nature
from sacred polytheistic spirits
Earthly nature
divorced from Heavenly spirit,
power
from light,
empowerment
from enlightenment,
autonomous theological identity
from interdependent ecological experience,
personal health
from transcendent joy
Like segregating
sexual health rituals
from sensory wealth of regenerative spirituals
sacredly enriching both Yang LiberalLovers
and more mundanely conserving
Yintegral every day
red-blooded green conservation
PolyCultural rituals
of resonant positive is not negative,
resilient health is not pathological
cancerous wealth
Lives fulfilling YangYin in-between
balancing rituals
reforming divinely sacred empowerment
and profanely prolific ecosystemic
enlightened health/wealth
co-passionate care
Rituals,
sexual and sacred
are ultra-nonviolent sacramental
celebrating EarthMother's sacred
holy
holonic non-zero zen womb
of Yintegrity double-binary
ProGenitive balance
with Yangish LeftBrain
patriarchal EitherTop/OrBottom
conservative reaction
to protect healthy/safe conserving EarthTribe
through co-empathic therapeutic wounds
of historic win/lose zero-sum thinking
Unaware of positive
socio-eco-psycho-bio-theological flow
panentheistically co-operative
intersectionally co-invested
dipolar co-arising
bipartisan health-wealthing Left/Right
PolyPathic = Not(NotPolyVagal)
P=N(NP) strategic win/win
ritualistic systems
for resilient/resonant
global justice/peace restoring outcomes
Rituals
both naturally enlightened
and spiritually empowering
for health/wealthy EarthTribe,
cooperatively DNA-enscripted
organic mindbodies
formed and reformed
by co-passionate neuro-sensory systems
Seeking pleasing
pleasure playful rituals,
like making slow-grown
universally uniting
engaging
engorging love.
Written: February 19, 2024
_____________________________________
Loving with a lucent locus is Lissom,
mooring a mystic's sibylline moves
as Felicity finds me, I float forward,
fusing both fantasies' fused yaws,
a rendezvous with time
rejecting zigzag of a jigsaw mind
love acts as a "kinematic" spark
your pulse kept me vibrant
a wave of love washed over us
yet, venom was tossed onto me
without my love, you won't survive
I am an artist shaping your fate,
our bedtime talks are ethereal.
Your loving bird of paradise
flies from earth to sky.
fuchsia fragranced feathers.
beauteous bliss, priss-phobic parody
enhances mental sensuality.
rain sings a warm tune tonight.
I'm trapped by my heartbeat calm.
I find serene places akin to cascades.
lowering my long-standing anxiety.
I unleash angels' shadows.
who redeems me from deceit?
Fulfilled fears, ritualistic romance,
split subtlety spreads semantics
true, clear steps to achievement
love: related to "pretend" and "extend"
means can indicate a cease
where symptoms swirl
honest answers might seem harsh
watch a wild waltz; wind is winsome,
reconsider before choosing
the dynamic nature of love
is subject to a sporadic storm.
Her heart longs for a reunion,
Ignore grayness of twilight
drifting in scented love letters
crafted on the smooth seashore
stored in translucent glass vessels,
featuring ageless verses
the jars shall traverse estuaries,
that brought her to his hallowed Isle
dotted with perennial blooms
gemmed shells evoke tropical muses,
tomorrow, she'll be by his side,
held by harmless sun-kissed kalon
I sense your silky swell serenading me,
fleeringly, with feeling
your imagination has created me
a vivid version of amethyst and deep sapphire,
voicing in verse, vibrant verve unfetter me
Your intriguing muse has a bright spirit.
Politics is about power.
We have over-powering competitions,
so we also have disempowering
lack of being competitive.
And, we also have power with.
Cooperative power.
In game theory,
these are WinLose political strategies
and WinWin co-empowering local
through global politics.
Political correctness
is about correct use of power
for political health,
political wealth of system-wide power;
Political incorrectness
is WinLose disintegrating power
while WinWin integrity
is about growing more powerfully correct,
erect,
resiliently interdependent
together--
more of a hand out
than a stick up.
Those of us with the great good fortune
to be guests on this Earth at the same time,
more or less,
share our personal empowering journeys
A power pilgrimage
from past unfortunate incorrect events,
rooted in WinLose competitive power-over habits,
habitats sometimes including inappropriate humor
at the expense of those who can least afford further abuse,
on toward democratic equity
and interdependent power resilience,
cooperative solidarity held and nurtured.
Political correctness
is not necessarily fastidious,
nor ritualistic
nor mechanically calculating and mendacious;
We could more correctly settle for some healthy accuracy,
about what leads toward robust mutual empowerment
and what leads in the other Have/Have-Not
business as WinLose usual direction.
For example,
we can probably not successfully
or even correctly
wage an overpowering war
against many things,
but we most certainly cannot correctly succeed
in warring against war.
That's like declaring
You win!
before we all lose even more.
On the other hand,
We also can never successfully fight for cooperative love,
For in this fighting
we have already lost the only thing politically
accurately
even fastidiously
correctly
healthily worth living for.
Will you allow me?
Could you fathom how?
Would you even listen?
The sound-of—
Of my voice—
Only one;
Only one voice...
It's as if you have no choice.. .
Choice...
You don't have any other choice...
You were sent here...
You're world senter.
Your-the-center of your whole You-World.
That's the fact, is that—
That—
That it's true...
Yes.
Yes it..?
Yes, it, tis the truth!
Too you—
You—
You're the only one.
The one and only. .
One.
You're the only one who matters!
Your opinion
Is simply
Important. ..
But you don't..
You don't even, get a clue...
I loved you.
You love me not...
I loved you
You love you people a lot!
You think that.
You think tht-that....
Really you think that-that was just?
Did it make you feel better?
About..?
About..?
I would be presumptuous to assume.
My intuition is usually right.
Ritualistic reality of it all, you weren't even prude at all.
You controlled me...; I
I-You did it on purpose...; me
I figured out.
I figured it out.
You actually,
Truly, You
100%, You
You actually believe you(or)...
Your worst off scenario.
Recently i re-named you.
I should've already had named you.
Princess... I
Princess Peach.
That describes you... Well...
I still care..
Well is how I want you to fare..
Well here's help..
HELLO!
HELLO!
I am worth the time of day
I'm worried you are going the wrong way
I didn't even like you
But for some reason I had to stay...
You were sent here to save my life
And to make it living hell
But I am happy that you are here.
I would like to thank, you...
I always mean my word'
Are
Intentional...
I do not condescend without disclaim.
Listen to my words,
Not the sound of my voice.
Please;
I'm begging you,
But you...
You don't even have a choice.
4-7-15
Ironic Zinc