Long Self indulgent Poems
Long Self indulgent Poems. Below are the most popular long Self indulgent by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Self indulgent poems by poem length and keyword.
Thank you, Jackson Browne,
and somehow "I get the joy
of rediscovering you"
Thank you, Journey,
and I am 'Faithfully'
learning the lines
of the highways of life
"Wheels go round and round
in my mind"
I will "sleep alone
tonight"
this poem of various songs
will not translate
to tangible meaning for you
the men I love
stopped listening
to my poems and songs
I did and didn't write
but continue to dance to
in silk skirts from consignment
stores that make me feel
like a success story
or an extra in a movie
I have quarters to my name,
cheap jokes and receipts
J.B invited me
to "stay, just a little bit longer"
and my "mother don't mind,
and the union don't mind"
and "please, please, please
say you will"
I have half an hour
to be self-indulgent,
and romantic
How long do you have
to play?
How dare they take the words from
Your mouth and the nails from
Your hands
and pass them off as from
their own flesh and blood.
They, who never bled a single drop in the name of others,
have crafted a halo of thorns
and adorn it,
”holy”
(self indulgent, self proclaimed).
What gives them the right
to denounce their equals
and lash the whip over their neighbor’s back?
Don’t they know that every drop of Your blood that touched the earth
sowed seeds of ceaseless forgiveness?
That every splatter ricocheted off the dirt
and echoed the promise “I love you”?
Holy? Wholly?
They know nothing of Your word;
they only twist it to tighten chains
they bind around the black sheep.
Little do they know their wool,
once white in Your hands,
is stained dark as sin.
Fragile and vulnerable
that moment when time began in God's mind
memorialized and marked by human kind.
Precious and wonderful
that first shared loving heart breath of the creator
formatting earth, water, forest, for a new curator.
Freed and fallen
image of the self revealed in man's original purpose
openly hidden by acted deeds beneath the surface.
Natural and beautiful
in simplest and faithful admiration
still bows in submissive adoration
but man
Alienated
puffed up in his selfish heart's worth and knowledge
sets himself above all with self indulgent homage.
Job 12:7-10
“But now ask the beasts, and let them teach you;
And the birds of the heavens, and let them tell you.
Or speak to the earth, and let it teach you;
And let the fish of the sea declare to you.
Who among all these does not know
That the hand of the Lord has done this,
In whose hand is the life of every living thing,
And the breath of all mankind?
They stay in the background
stating a useless union still self-centered
powerless, ill-prepared, inept entity of promises,
the verbiage of false hopes with all the dos and donts,
watching, waiting, predicting, and anticipating
another's demise into servitude rationalized
with lie and innuendo, pseudo promises, outright lie,
treaties made never intended to be kept;
an envious and jealous desire of possession
over control, land and people, ever transitory
it never seems to end, forgetful of history's lessons
never once learning the realities of truth;
self-indulgent arrogance and ignorance
internal self-gratification to be more
bound by useless rhetoric and threat
and the human race reverts ever backward;
how long do we watch from distant shores?
as humanity fades into the past aggressions
back to the dust and earth in regression
of time in restart?
Is He crowded out of Christmas
By the commerce and the cry
Of a thousand advertisers
Urging everyone to buy?
Do the cards and coloured candles
And the clustered fairy-lights
Keep the Christ-child in the cradle
Of a distant eastern night?
Keep the cardboard cut-out manger
Keep the shiny tinselled star
Keep the neatly-kneeling shepherds
And the wise men from afar.
Keep the feasting and the parties
Let the wine like rivers flow
Keep the glamour and the glitter
Brighten up our winter show.
Keep the Baby in his cradle
Keep the Mary mother mild
Keep our Christmas safe at all costs
But in self-indulgent style.
How for you this Christmas season?
Did the Christ-child come for you?
A wild flower, grew up through
a crack in the pavement, I wondered,
why already not trampled
by so many preoccupied feet?
Sat I down on a
park-bench, further pondering this yellow
charmer, to which I cordially gave greet --
“little tenant,” oh just missed another!
Thinking I saw it, knowingly parry aside;
(one wild flower, persistent, determined
not its beauty to hide.)
Unaware came a team of training joggers,
in colorful, striped briefs; legs and tennis shoes
thoughtlessly-trouncing-everywhere –
Feared I this brave little trooper had finally been
dealt its fatal wild share -- the wind of the runners' healthful,
self-indulgent passing, seemed more a cyclone of careless,
petulant stomping – no sense a little blossom would
they spare!
Deeply rooted in soil, it could not retreat, without vocal
cords it could not plead a shriek – could not shield itself
from such crushing, annihilating defeat.
Sat there I a sad bit longer -- would not dare open my eyes, felt
a tear slipping, my heart seeming knee-deep in morbid dripping.
Smeared blossom, and grieving sunbeams, saw I like a funeral's
dark-arm-band – a segment of my bright world, had just tragically
ended...gone with the lone blossom's, last futile, floral stand –
till a child opened my eyes, making me take peak,
a sweet little voice, not the least tinge bleak, as they carefully parted: “Oh
mother, isn’t that dandelion so dashingly chic!?
I'm not afraid to die anymore.
It happened when I realized what it'd really been like to be young.
There were all these things coming in,
and all of them fascinating,
like the unbiased smiles of potential friends
on the first day of school.
When I didn't expect the pain to last.
When I didn't acknowledge that laughter would end.
But everything does,
all the good things and the bad things,
eye to eye, hand in hand.
I'm not afraid to die anymore.
Ring around the rosie, we all fall down.
A cheerful song for death,
because when we were young,
we didn't divide the lines
between right and wrong so quickly.
I was hateful without knowing hate,
self-indulgent without apology,
loving, giving, happy, sad,
and for a little candy,
anything could be forgotten.
And everything will,
so I'm not afraid to die anymore.
Now I'm older,
and the smell of rain on the sidewalk
tries to remind me what it was like.
Sometimes I slow down and let it.
There was the sound of church bells,
when they didn't remind me of the failures of god.
Dogs could entertain me for hours.
A movie watched a hundred times,
and a song replayed daily, for months on end.
For everything, I ached.
For anyone, I grinned.
That was then,
but it turns out that none of it was really lost,
that can't be found.
All I had to do was hit the ground,
after losing a thing I loved too much.
And get up to find that I could walk
with less care than was learned,
with a little less love than what was bought.
With less attention, the little things distract me now.
With hands that are open, but don't attach themselves too much
to what is felt, I can touch almost anything,
and nothing can pull so hard.
Not even life.
Not even death.
Tell me, oh Observer,
Or need you not,
As I have known!
Have I wasted my years on useless words?
Because sometimes I feel I am losing the magic touch,
Because sometimes I feel you are closing us away
Have I been too frivolous, too much of a child?
I beseech you, see me through!
For here is some truth, Seeker
I had no time to be a child
I had no chance to be wild
My brothers and sisters thrashed and squirmed
They were self-indulgent, and heartily reckless
I learned from them,
To mediate
To close it away
Disintegrate
To lose myself in quiet leadership
Until now, until comfort crossed my threshold,
I had no means of crawling
I had solid food I could barely swallow
And the dirt was forced down my throat
I was bloated in the filth
In the probing of these children
I was made open, and raw
I was made pleasured, and confused
Tell me, oh Observer,
Or need you not,
As I have known!
Have you now turned away from me,
When I have finally found this inner child?
Because I am craving your eyes upon me again
I am craving the way your soul stirs within
Have I driven you away?
Are my clouds not enough gray?
I implore you, see me through!
The thunder pounds into me
Their hands hold me down
I am writhing in the grip of adulthood
I am blinded in the sea of doubt
Receiver, my love, my friend
Tell me this—
Have I never known?
Will I yet shimmer amongst the grime?
I want to discover what you have longed of me
I want you to believe in me
And from this prison,
I want to be free…
“But because of your stubbornness and your unrepentant heart, you are storing up wrath against yourself for the day of God’s wrath, when his righteous judgment will be revealed.” ~Romans 2:5-11
I am at odds with this world
bearing ill will toward all,
There’s a moral outrage brewing
within me that I’m unable to constrain…
A scream I cannot voice,
A pain I suffer in silence.
It’s like I am on a crusade to
right the wrongs of the people
and punish those responsible,
To exact revenge on those who
have soiled the fabric of our society.
Unbeknownst to me,
this seething resentment
is raging deep within my soul
toward the self-serving segment —
This unabashed hedonistic wasteful culture
indifferent to the plights of the downtrodden,
Pursuing pleasure and good life
while the populace at large die of hunger.
Some wallow in luxury and extravagance--
They hoard, they feast, they overindulge,
unconcerned by the plight of the multitude
living in a squalid condition
deprived of the basic human needs.
Yeah, there’s a rage within me
and I am hell-bent
on smacking the world down.
There’re people in it who are evil and deceitful,
selfish, corrupt, arrogant, marauders,
warmongers and self-indulgent thugs.
I like to put them in a chokehold and
squeeze the life out of this egotistical lot...
Lord, it’s time to unleash upon the world
the Four Horsemen of Apocalypse.
~03/04/23
~Contest: Writing Challenge "J" words
~Sponsor: Constance La France
“To be or not to be: that is the question” - William Shakespeare
I am ...
breath-to-breath the breasted thrums
a coursing quick to sear the veins
molten marrow, binding beast
to the neural tap-dance
bloated brains borne
a-back their own
self-indulgent
euphoric
ruin.
I am not ...
insignificance-to-oblivion the silent pulse
a chronic wound as weeps heavenly
barren, black, light-and-lifeless
the cold surface unrippled
yet trembles, wanting
a press, potential
shadows push
to escape
ruin.
Existence ...
babbles like the roiling rills of sudden spring
its actualization clear as mountain melt
relevance and tenor balancing yet
atop the point of sentience
let it run to meadows
ebbed and mindful
to blossom full
in spite of
ruin.
Life ...
miracle precise to bear from the womb - LOVE
solitary intent and pursuit of true worth
the lifeblood - sacred and timeless
should all and all slip the bonds
a warm breath will yet sigh
its wings, unseen, soar
it IS all and its echo
pulse immortal
blessed of
ruin.
~ 1st Place ~ in the "Famous Poetic Lines That Inspire" Poetry Contest, Silent One, Judge & Sponsor.
~ Honorable Mention ~ in the "Brian's Choice 7, Any Form, Any Theme" Poetry Contest, Brian Strand, Judge & Sponsor.