Long Sad society Poems
Long Sad society Poems. Below are the most popular long Sad society by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Sad society poems by poem length and keyword.
I remember as a little girl
On a visit to an aunt’s friends house
I was sitting reading a story book
As quiet as a mouse
I asked to be pardoned
To go to the loo
They were all playing dominoes
So I knew what I must do
I opened up the door
And placed my foot on the first stair
Then I heard someone in a low voice say
“Are you sure that she's all there”?
I felt a tear run down my cheek
I was doing what I ought
Only speaking when I was spoken to
That's what I was taught
When I’d done what I had to do
I went back down the stairs
The domino game was finished
And there were four empty chairs
They were all in the kitchen
Drinking cups of tea
My aunt she turned to me and smiled
And handed a cup to me
She noticed my tear-stained face
And stroked it with her hand
I told her what I’d overheard
She said I was too young to understand
I was insecure throughout my childhood
Never felt like I fitted in
Undernourished because I wouldn't eat
Now I’d just be classed as thin
From the age of five
My time at school was fleeting
Feigning illness to avoid the bullies
And escape another beating
I remember cowering
In the corner of the school yard
Cigarette butts stubbed out on my arms
Left painful, sore and charred
Name-calling and violence
Made me feel inferior
Set upon by bullies
Who thought they were superior
When I became a teenager
Things they got much worse
The bullies were now older
Younger ones they would coerce
To taunt me and lie in wait
And leave me in a battered state
When i got my first job
The bullying it went on
Because my face didn't fit
I was put upon
Got lumbered with the dirty jobs
That no-one else would do
Like swilling down the filthy yard
And scrubbing the outside loo
One afternoon, the manageress
Secretly asked me whether
I would do sexual favours for a delivery man
And I reached the end of my tether
I got my coat and quit the job
Never looking back
I later heard that the manageress
Was found out and got the sack
Now that I am older
No-ones victim will I be
I stand my ground, nobody’s fool
And i am happy being me
Anferny was convinced that all
his problems were due to his skin,
he’d been told by teachers, and his mom,
that there was just no way to win.
He grew up believing he was part
of an awful, bigoted nation,
that he could never survive without
hand-outs and reparations.
He never tried to keep a job,
wouldn’t be caught ‘acting white,’
believed that he was a victim,
an thus had extra moral ‘rights.’
Spent all his days scraping by
on a meager monthly check,
turned to drugs to hide the fact
that his whole life was a wreck.
On welfare until he was forty,
when an overdose his heart rent,
Anferny relied on the government,
Anfery died on the government.
Savannah, she was quite a beauty,
and knew that fact all too well,
she battled her lashes and the boys
ran up as if she’d rung a bell.
But she believed she ‘needed no man,’
and always flitted from guy to guy,
content to ride on the carousel,
seeking nothing but a good time.
Until one day she was thirty-six
and decided to find a husband,
but her looks had faded noticeably,
she could no longer hook a man.
With no real skills to fall back on,
she turned desperately to the state,
she later died, alone and poor,
found with her cats eating her face.
Her final decades spent miserably,
living on other folk’s dollars and cents,
Savannah relied on the government,
Savannah died on the government.
Paul fought for his county overseas,
he did all his country could ask,
never a foe did he let escape,
he took our enemies to task.
He came home and live his life,
made good money as an auctioneer,
until three years later when he went
to a veteran’s doctor in fear.
He’d found a lump, and the biopsy
showed it to be a malignant growth,
a cancer that was aggressive,
it was a hard and heartbreaking blow.
They began chemotherapy,
but they started it too late,
because of bureaucratic fools
who'd made a paperwork mistake.
By the time they got it right
his last remaining strength was spent,
Paul had trusted in his government,
Paul died on his government.
I have seen it slowly coming,
and I do not know what to do,
a slow but steady erosion
in the world’s average IQ.
It started back in the nineties,
a slow but steady drip since then,
decline in mental fortitude
amongst our women and men.
I’m not talking partisan stuff,
though this doesn’t help with that crap,
I’m looking at evolution,
which never really takes a nap.
Some jolly heretics speak up,
but most others tend to ignore
that our success undermines us,
and this has happened before.
It happened back in ancient Greece,
and it happened to ancient Rome,
when we wipe out all our hardships,
when our struggles are banished, gone,
we find ourselves in a mismatch,
we find ourselves rather bored,
our minds are made to solve problems,
this is a fact we can’t ignore.
Part of us craves security,
and leads us to suppress the fact
that instinct craves volatility,
without it we go off track.
We even stop having children,
when not faced with hardship and death,
lose that urge for immortality
if we know what’s coming next.
The ultimate contradiction,
that in order to really live
we must feel like the end is near,
and without that, we’re bored as sh-t,
losing the age-old impulse to
keep things going and carry on,
we are evolved for the struggle,
and without it things go wrong.
Harder still is it to realize
that the fact we all now survive
leads to growing mutations that
make it harder for us to thrive.
As late as the 1800s
half of us died when we were young,
a thought that’s sobering to me,
since I know I would’ve been one.
And cruel as it may be to think
all that death may have played a role,
weeded out weakness, mutation,
left those who lived stronger as a whole.
But we’ve always been caring types,
and our science ended this trend,
we stopped all this mortality,
and thought things would get better then.
For many decades that seemed true,
but now the data has reversed,
without Darwin’s remorseless hand
the incentives are now adverse.
CONCLUDES IN PART II.
The pain.
The pain we all carry around,
like we're walking through a swamp,
filled with tendrils that cling,
that try to mire you, to suck you down -
while all you do is fight to move forward.
We all carry it, to some degree or another,
after having lived any sort of a life.
And we all know that we carry it.
So why, oh why, does the other type of pain exist?
The kind that we constantly inflict on each other.
Of course, I understand hate.
Hate,
of an oppressor;
of an injustice;
of an ideal;
of someone who's hurt you, or one you care about;
or an organization that's done the same.
No, I understand hate, and I understand rage.
More than I wish I did, but more's the pity.
What I've never understood is our true propensity for pain.
Our propensity to inflict on one another
that which we try to hide from ourselves,
that which we try to run from within ourselves.
Even if there's a sad sort of sense to the thought
that giving that pain to someone else
is a way to run from it, to release it,
can that really be the answer?
Does the mind say that's a way, a reason?
Yes.
Does it know it to work, to oft be true?
Yes.
Does my heart want to believe it?
No.
Sadly, I am to the point where I do believe it,
where I even understand it;
that much innocence has gone from me.
Yet there's enough left
to make me question it,
to make me loathe it,
to make me wish it were not so.
There is so much that we can do for each other.
We may not know, in particular,
what every other person carries -
with their shoulders,
in their hearts,
or on their minds.
But we know that we do,
and we know that they do.
So what do we do,
what can we do,
about that propensity for pain?
Is it, like so many things, a stalling action?
Can we only curb the hate, reduce the fullness of it?
Or is there purity yet to be found?
Is there a way to rid ourselves of that terrible tendency,
and instead help each other -
to carry what we may?
They said that they were building
a great society,
that poverty would be vanquished,
brought down onto its knees.
So they gave lots of hand-outs
to the destitute and poor,
and every year they cried ‘compassion,’
we must always give more.
But almost from the very start
problems arose unforeseen,
hitting home so very hard
in the inner cities.
With welfare checks coming in
there was no need for a man,
didn’t matter if you worked or not,
you’d still have cash in hand.
And the more kids you had alone,
the more money they’d send you,
incentivizing single parenthood,
a horrible thing to do.
Thus the families fell apart,
and for children it sucked,
starting from a broken home
leaves the youth out of luck.
Seventy percent of urban children,
born out of wedlock,
the foundations of society
this situation rocked.
The teenage boys had it the worse,
unchecked masculinity,
with no fathers to reign it in,
leads to criminality
And, of course, these violent gangs
prey on business and shops,
so most just up and moved away,
taking with them the jobs.
Even if you want to work hard
and fight for your escape,
there’s few places left to punch a clock
and earn your daily pay.
All of this the consequence
of an old desire to help,
point out the vicious cycle
and the P.C. crowd all yelps.
They have to see the futility,
yes, I think that they know,
but their only way into office
lies in bribing for votes.
Get a person hooked on hand-outs,
gives you leverage and sway,
“Vote for me on election night,
or the money goes away…”
Well all know this is detestable,
that free men don’t do this,
but long ago some decided it
was a ‘small’ price for office.
The endless cycle now created
is one of grinding pain,
they made cities vote plantations,
and gave people longer chains.
But the future does not have to
be miserable, bereft,
to end this man-made travesty,
turn your backs on the left.
No Judgement Jamie always was told
that judging others was vile and cold,
all her teachers did proudly attest
that living life without judging was best.
And the media reinforced these words,
to judge other people? Hateful! Absurd!
To judge was the make them a victim,
what peopled needed was more compassion.
So at sixteen, at a big school dance,
Jamie found herself approach by one Vance,
she’d heard rumors he was a player cruel,
wanting only sex, and bragging rights too.
But she was no bully to judge all his acts,
so she went with him to his car out back,
when she called him later, Vance, he just laughed,
and gave her Herpes on top of all that.
Then there came college, and time to decide
what she would do with the rest of her life,
her father said study to bring in money,
her mother said think if she would marry.
But Jamie would not make that decision,
she could not judge, would not build a vision,
just went with her gut, a choice so easy,
but nobody hires for gender studies…
After college, working in a dime store,
she met her a man with tattoos galore,
her father advised,”That man is a thug.”
her coworkers said they heard he dealt drugs.
But she was in love, who was she too say
if it as wrong or right to earn cash that way,
they moved in together, it seemed all right,
’till police dragged them both out one night.
After a night in jail, Jamie was clear,
but had no place to stay that was near,
the place she’d left, she couldn’t afford,
but she got a deal from a new landlord.
Got a new place in a rundown slum,
her dad said moving to that place was dumb,
but judging these people, that wasn’t good,
it was nothing more than a neighborhood.
Until one night, when a gang-banger charged,
stabbed poor Jamie for the purse on her arm,
she died according to her moral sense,
but at least she didn’t make a judgement.
......." Is It Me You See " .....
Do you ever wonder why my life's so different from yours,
Or do you think I,m lazy for not doing the simpless of chores,
Do you ever think why I don't go out clubbing at night,
Have a beer, and a rant, get into a fight,
And do you notice that my arm hangs low,
Or even question why I walk so slow,
And on the phone when I break down and cry
Why do you never think to ask why,
But how can you explain how you feel,
When the words won't come out and your physically ill,
And your stomach turns over and over again,
Because your living a life of constant pain,
When you try to move your arm and you want to cry,
For all you want is the pain to say goodbye,
Feeling so empty deep down inside,
Like a whole part of you has got up and died ,
Everyday you need pure effort to get out of bed,
And the pains there taking over your head ,
Trying to break free but it's pulling you down,
Wanting to scream but not making a sound ,
Never knowing what tomorrow will bring,
And sometimes it's impossible to care about a single thing,
It's there eating away at your very soul,
Having no answers to break out of your hole,
It takes you down lower and lower still,
Or feels like your rolling down a endless hill
And the lights getting farther and father away,
That all you can hope is for a brand new day,
For can you I wonder not see how isolated my life is,
Where now there is silence, and once there was a happy bliss,
Don't treat me like a different human being,
Look inside me and like what your seeing ,
Now I know my life's not the same anymore,
But I am the same person even if the pain makes me sore,
The only thing I want is to be treated the same,
And for you to smile and laugh when you say my name..
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
if you don’t have anything nice to say don’t say nothing at all, they say.
every moment, every minute, every second of the day.
the silenced people can not tell wrong from right,
and when they speak up, the loud ones use it as an excuse to pick on them and fight.
your opinion isn’t valid unless you have good looks,
“well that’s how it is now” no, look at the books;
the books full of history and the darkness of mankind,
it’s always been about appearance, let me keep that in your mind.
racism and the colour of peoples skin-
they may have had the same opinion but weren’t allowed to fit in.
at least time has moved on and everything’s much better,
but we can’t pretend it didn’t happen, word to letter.
what about women, and when they’re sexualised?
can someone please tell me how it’s the woman’s fault and not the guys?
it’s not her fault if she has tight clothes wrapped around her body,
society says she’s either insecure or she looks homeless or shoddy.
it’s not just on the outside that’s discriminated,
for does anyone remember why george oswell was incriminated?
somewhere out there, there’s a gay person sitting at the table with their homophobic parent or parents ,
sitting in silence because their parents found out, in self-assurance.
too many people get killed for who they are,
past or present, it’s gone too far.
judge a person on their actions that make them a bad person,
not on who they kissed, what they wore or the colour of the skin because everyone’s got a story you just have to listen to their version.
so don’t be afraid to say the wrong thing,
learn from your mistakes and what they bring
but don’t say nasty stuff about someone you don’t know,
get to know the nasty side of them before you let it all go.
I write the sadness of the Brazilian forests,
About modern centuries and glass cities,
Tattooed Indians who are murdered too,
For a handle of gold or green diamond,
I write the greatness of Brazilian forests
Roots that descend to explore the earth,
Leaves that capture white light,
Suns that fall on the wild jaguar,
I write the sadness of the Brazilian forests,
Friends of the earth and emerald sky,
Beheaded trunks like haughty kings,
Rivers polluted by bad mercury,
I write the great sadness of happy Indians,
Insects that we eat on the stone
Large trees providing oxygen,
That they slaughter for expensive cosmetics,
I write the sadness of the Brazilian forests,
May it reach our deaf ears,
Let it open our doors as a silence, new one,
A silence deeper than our history and Gods.
J’écris la tristesse des forêts brésiliennes,
Des siècles modernes et des cités de verre,
Des indiens tatoués que l’on assassine trop,
Pour une poignée d’or ou de diamant vert,
J’écris la grandeur des forêts brésiliennes
Des racines qui descendent explorer la terre,
Des feuilles qui capturent la lumière blanche,
Des soleils qui tombent sur le jaguar sauvage,
J’écris la tristesse des forêts brésiliennes,
Des amis de la terre et du ciel d’émeraude,
Des troncs décapités comme des rois hautains,
Des rivières souillées par le mercure mauvais,
J’écris la grande tristesse des indiens joyeux,
Des insectes que l’on mange sur la pierre
Des grands arbres pourvoyeurs d’oxygène,
Que l’on massacre pour des cosmétiques chers,
J’écris la tristesse des forêts brésiliennes,
Qu’elle parvienne jusqu’à nos oreilles sourdes,
Qu’elle ouvre nos portes comme un silence,
Plus profond que notre histoire et nos Dieux.
What would you say,
If I told you that I feel depressed?
What would you say,
If I told you that I considered committing suicide?
What would you say,
If I told you that I like the same sex?
What would you say,
If I told you that I cut myself almost daily?
What would you say,
If I told you that I am pregnant?
What would you say,
If I told you that I hate you?
What would you say,
If I told you that I've lied to you more times than I can count?
What would you say,
If I told you that the guilt has eaten me away inside?
What would you say,
If I told you that I'm just a monster inside by now?
What would you say,
If I told you that my mind is completely twisted?
What would you say,
If I told you that my thoughts are only evil?
What would you say,
If I told you that I am drowning in my lies?
What would you say,
If I told you that I want to make sure everyone dies?
What would you say,
If I told you that I'm done living my life?
What would you say,
If I told you about all my strife?
What would you say,
If I told you that we are done?
What would you say,
If I told you that killing you would be fun?
What would you say,
If I told you that I love you more than anything?
What would you say,
If I told you that you are much more than nothing?
What would you say,
If I told you that you are like the sun?
What would you say,
If I told you that I am going to die today?
Would you say that you'll stay,
And give me strength to break away
Away from the hate
Away from my fate
Would you stay through my lies?
Would you stay by my side?
Would you leave me in the end?
Would you let me die alone?
All on my own?
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