Long Scourges Poems
Long Scourges Poems. Below are the most popular long Scourges by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Scourges poems by poem length and keyword.
Weight is held in the balance found wanting
Heresy thought unorthodox behaviour
drops the pearls under a great price
A river of lies flows one after another devaluing family values
Filled with the impurities of sin under an idiotic phase
Resilient is the word
Where modern day modesty sinks below par into hell's furnace
We turn now and see branding irons casting lots
Truth and chastity becomes tested
in time entering through closed doors a one way ticket
Modern day virtues are on their knees lead heavy and weak of the spirit
Richeous is a way of dialogue that forces issues relating to fascists behaviour
Unholy tongues sharpened with hostility
Split scourges with venomous petition
A war against equality begins
With the bitterness craving acceptance
Where there is no moral ground draws a battlefield
under nature's existence
The right of such education stands denied to parents
whom remain without choice
Violated beneath freedom of speech
To speak openly
on concerns and welfare
in their soul's undervalued identity
you light up my life
and have made me compleat
the one i would kiss
each day of the week
a year and three months
to this very day
i spoke to you last
before you went away
many tears have sence fallen
and screams i let out
just like laughter
uncontrolably out of my mouth
my greif scourges me
every where i went
yet to others i looked content
each day i kiss your picture
and say i love you to your name
i guess they're the thing i do
to keep from going insane
all these thing must have added up
to a small message from the God i trust
early early this morning
after i woke up a music box
played just a few notes
you light up my life
were the notes that it played
shocked and awed i was dismayed
but when i found the box that had played
it was the one i gave you
because of the song it played
(This is a true story)
I am innocent.
I will never plead guilty
For all the crimes against humanity that France and its colonialist accomplices
Have committed in the cradle of my ancestors for centuries.
The color of my skin is neither a crime nor a tragedy.
I do not have to justify being a human being.
I am a Sub-Saharan African.
I am a Bantu from Equatorial Africa,
Like all those Pygmies exhibited in wooden cages by this Christian and supposedly humanistic West.
What have I done to inherit the nightmares of Françafrique?
What have I done to flee misery on a land so rich, chained to the voracity of Western predators?
I will never sing the symphonies of submission
Upon the altar of servitude
To sanctify my humanity.
I do not have to submit to the Negrophobia of these supremacist savages.
I was born free on a land devastated by Western imperialism.
I grew up in one of the colonial wastelands
Of a France that is still slave-minded.
I built myself amid the savagery of a banana republic,
Worshipping the tyranny of alienated natives of Françafrique.
I have never feared death.
I lived in a dilapidated cemetery, lined with the living dead.
The scourges of misery shaped the coldness of my lucid soul.
I am the product of the colonial massacres
Of the slave-trading France of the Enlightenment in Africa.
I am the proof that the Republic of Human Rights
Has never treated Sub-Saharan Africans as free human beings.
I bear the indelible scars left by the independence fighters of Cameroon.
I will never be ashamed of being an African with melanin-filled skin,
Even if Marianne’s Negrophobic children call me a parasite,
While French multinationals brutally plunder the wealth of my continent.
I am an ambitious migrant,
An honorable undocumented immigrant,
A humanist Pan-Africanist,
A preacher of the saving values of liberty, equality, and fraternity.
I do not believe that democracy is the paradigm
Of Africa’s colonial trading posts.
I did not cross the Mediterranean
To become a prostitute for the criminal capitalism of the West.
The fascists of the Republic mock the thousands of African women
Who end up swallowed
By the deadly waters of the Mediterranean.
To God we offer thanks
for medicine and for carers,
for all who've kept in touch,
in prayer been burden sharers.
Through all the skills and gifts
by which you set us free
from scourges of disease
may we now thankful be.
In grief we still lament
the cost of many losses
in life and work and health,
with bearing all these crosses.
Not destitute of hope
in you our God we trust
as guide through days to come
in new life to adjust.
All praise to God of all
with whom we share this planet.
May we be one with them,
respecting every limit.
Each insect, beast or bird
from which disease derives –
we must respect their space
that we and they may thrive.
Dear Jesus you've been here
through times of isolation,
in us to hold real hope,
restoring motivation.
Then arms outstretched once more,
set free from all regrets,
we'll open wide the door
to welcome back our guests.
We meet again in joy
refreshed upon our journey.
As we move on from here
with Christ who shows us mercy,
there's much that we can learn
as we survive the test –
in prayer we can discern
how care is best expressed.
I want to start by thanking all women for bringing balance and sensibility to our lives,
For embodying resilience and unconditional love (agápe).
Happy Mother’s Day to all mothers—of furries and Sapiens alike!
Because all life is connected, each sharing a piece of the Divine.
We all need agápe love from God’s chosen people—
The only humans who create life,
The only ones who build a connection with us before our eyes meet the light.
Do we call those who supplied ink to Mary Cassatt the painters?
As essential as they were, painters they were not.
Mothers love—
The kind that shields us mentally,
Protecting us from the scourges of this insidious yet redeemable world.
They are the guardians of life,
The shepherds of minds shaping the future.
In moments when our vision narrows into a tunnel,
Your euphonious voices guide us back with a tender reminder:
“What about the children?”
I extend a special thank you—
To my mother, who never gave up on me even when I was in the depths of despair.
To my Aunt Cora, who saw a man even when my actions were those of a boy.
To Tina, Mario’s mother, for raising a man embedded in the word of God.
To my cousins, who reminded me I was wrong
When my actions were filled with egotistical flaws.
To you all, and so many more, I am grateful.
This world was created by God,
But sustained and perpetuated by the love of its mothers.
So, on behalf of all life on this beautiful planet,
Even though sometimes it’s hard to see—
You are valued, like soil to a tree.
You are heard, as salubrious as morning birds.
You are beautiful, like vast stars in the nights sky.
Even though we sometimes rattle your nerves,
We are grateful for you all.
As Nietzsche said,
“You must have chaos within you to give birth to a dancing star.”
Happy Mother’s Day.
July 25th, 1996 tied the Gordian knot,...
(I spent noose cents)
begot deux daughters, the major events
both since flew cuckoo's nest,
the eldest angry at papa for offense
sieve behavior fatherly bond
forever sundered permanent rents
unforgiving progeny vents
bile, explosive vitriol whence...
Aye yen for bachelorhood every
now and again doth mildly abate
after saying "I do...,"
when axed by justice of peace
nearly two dozen years wedded
bull hissing, rest assured
I will abbreviate
encapsulate, fulminate, narrate...
and forthrightly admit,
yours truly oft times
yearned to abdicate
spousal unbridled warfare and injustice
reason enough to abnegate
null and void husbandry role
ex post facto finding thyself
questioning pledging troth even
Frosty the snowman would abominate
to say "screw this -
marriage nut for me"
bolt in a huff boot (dang)
ne'er did absquatulate
altercations that adhere
to rule of physics
and tended to accelerate
as muzzled, neigh saying saddled
former groom did
lament and accentuate
his physical needs,
she did not accommodate,
cuz this solitary soul
(with good n plenti horse sense),
never did fully acculturate
with female species,
one whose blunt cold front
seemed to accumulate growing
gripe list bestowed courtesy this mate
tit for tat wrathful pitiless,
(not so cherry) feedback unmatched
within annotated coupled courtship of fools,
this scrivener with steely
iron maiden breastplate,
nonetheless did rack up and accumulate
battle scars hitting bullseye,
since donned with
corrective vision spectacles
hen pecking, needling termagant
untameable shrew did acerate
(worse fate than death -
validated by grim reaper)
avowed covenant thru torturous years
exponentially punishing innocent soul
(slightly biased) did acervate
popping one after
another over the counter acetylsalicylate,
no ampule adequate
to relieve permanent suffering,
thus lifetime electric shock treatment,
nsync quaffing prescription
kool aid battery acidulate
ineffective to activate
palliative, and restore
liberty (yeah) sense and sensibility
subsequently providing freedom
against further wifely scourges
whereby Doctor Phil Ander
refused to adjudicate,
perhaps understandable why I advocate
selfless mercy killing (euthanasia)
for this urbane country bumpkin.
I, just like a page
Have a true story to tell
It, may not be a best seller
But a story of my life, nonetheless
And, with every page, that I tell it
The pages burn into dust and get lost in the breeze,
the breeze that is life
I've never, stolen to the detriment of others,
Nor have I toiled for the poor to slumber,
in a voidfull darkness
I've never, burnt any soul, with whip in my mouth,
thereafter leave scourges without smoothing them in balsam
And yet, night after night,
as I look to the heavens
I'll still ask my Father, whether I,
have offended or cursed
These lips, sure as a kiss,
I have used just for healing
As springs, endlessly warm,
I have lent these hands, to fill up hopeful promises
And yet, night after night,
as i gaze, into the constant ocean of green
I, light as a kite, flapping in the wind,
sailing to new words of promise
I, just like a page
Once had a story to tell
Whether you, can take a page,
from this book, and burn its pages
Just as, these pages burn, leaving no words
of regret or sorrow to linger
Time, passes the pages, burning the book,
leaving the legacy of a man...
05Aug2015
MISERY
Life and death
Entails the other
When I die where will I go?
So I wonder?
What is life?
And the essence of living
If the world was created free
Why are we not giving?
The air that we breathe will pass away with time
And we shall take no silver with us
Not even a dime
When your time is up
And your heart stops beating
And light becomes dark
And your mouth stops eating
And our soul departs
To a place yet unknown
But our flesh nourishes the soil
See how big the trees have grown
For fate is marked with cruelty
But why have you treated me so?
Quench my fire
Like a candle wind blow
Lonely hearts
In homely carts
Isolated in the world of greed
Yet we have naked women and babies
With nothing to feed
And wretched men in need
Wallowing in hopelessness
Scourges afflict the earth
Once green like olives
A man’s success is measured
By his control over the soil
This makes my blood to boil
Because I eat not from my toil
And everyday I am a prisoner
Trapped in the labyrinth of misery
I pray that one day all of these
Will become history
Form:
Such a violent world we live in
Hard to know just what to do
For example both my mom and dad
Have slapped and spanked me too
But nowadays some choose a path
That may seem rather odd
To discipline with words instead
Of reaching for a rod
"The rod and reproof give wisdom ..."
What does the Bible mean?
In carrying out that principle
Some have gone to the extreme
The rod of discipline should be
To train towards peace and love
True discipline's tree yields peaceful fruit
The Wisdom from above
The rod of discipline is like
The rod of a caring shepherd
Who wields his rod in a loving way
For the sheep by him are treasured
The best example is God Himself
Before whom we sin each day
Does he beat us with a rod of pain?
No, His Word shows us the way
It's true at times He scourges
Some of those that He holds dear
Even then 'tis done in a loving way
Leaving naught for us to fear
Yes, nowadays some choose a path
That may seem rather odd
To discipline with words instead,
Like the discipline from God
Hyperbole hubris
Venal penal
Avarice abyss
Bucolic tonic?
Ironic…sardonic
Or
Vitriolic bliss mate!
Mendacious salacious
Algorithm schism
Audacious outrageous
Vicarious or nefarious
Whatever geography
Clever hagiography
Moderate.. no berate
Generate..venerate hate
Casting various sordid spells
Schadenfreude morbid void
Everlasting..well..it sells well (swell)
But
Despotism urges Nepotism
Surges of Plutocracy
Merges with scourges of Kleptocracy
Purges meritocracy...dirges of Democracy
So
Resist narcissists trysts
Reminisces.. enlighten..persists
Sagacious benevolent gracious times
Redolent without malicious vicious
Murky mucky malevolent mists