Long Social class Poems
Long Social class Poems. Below are the most popular long Social class by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Social class poems by poem length and keyword.
Never stop even when i say i said
when i signed up
and no matter what
never give me my money back
oh boy do i ever miss my lazy boy and couch now
Just how far would one boy go to proove to his social class
grade seven that yes indeed we live
in a dictatorship
and free democracy is the same thing
thus the fad i am
the game i have become
mainstream which cannot be lost
cannot be won
the game of drive troy crazy
Some play as though they need to disagree with everything i do and say
some play as though they have to thwart my every attempt at love
some play as though there is a prize to be won and they win it and im not allowed
to ever win
some play as though they must make sure i fail at everything
oh the drama and how my life is a show
and no one must tell me
say it isnt so
prove to me im not god i say
yellow blue green
orange yellow black
and start again in the fashion idustry pof pink plaids and ducky yellows
sing to me my names of games for i am your ultimate weapon of psychology and
god
going to the mental institute to prove they are brainwashed not crazy
and the jig is truly up
did hitler really lose the war
and has the tricked message been sent
or am i fooling myself?
or should i sit here and cry wolf as the papparazzi in control of the propoganda
threatens the psyxchiatrists
and ths the game of drive troy crazy must go on
andf the boot camp torture nightmare goes on forever
YES YOU FOOLS
i know exactly what i am
and i am proud to have made it this far
to round four
some mess with my head as if they can hear my thoughts
everything bad happens to my friends
and my enemies are all well off
but oh what a wonderfull object to crave i have become as i scream and beg and
plead on the internet for amnesty
that even mensa geniuses cant figure out
for the game of drive Troy crazy is far too much fun!!!!
so now the tables have turned
and youre eventually going to realise who i am
and what wolves are circling around me
and the nonexistant crimescenes i point at
welcome back to level on eof how we can all belong
of drive troy crazy
and prove to him he isnt god
and no there is nothing there in the spelling mistakes written in english jibberish
but perhaps piglattin japanese if you were smart enough to figure that one out
Ahhh the luck of the Irish
complete with leprechauns
and pots of gold
The Emerald Isle
God's country
filled with lyrical voice
but no one hears her cry
that fabled luck
truly a fable t'would seem
suffering
the only thing in abundance
it is their only pot
that remains filled
an impoverished relative
showing up late for dinner
tossed a few scraps
from the rich relatives
but not allowed to sit at the table
a history rich with servitude
famine, plaque
and indentured slavery
spit upon by class distinctions
laughed about as uneducated
their brogue common
ahhh yes the curse of the commoner
in a society that rewards
upper class and the deemed
right of birth
drunken happy go lucky louts
that would steal your pants
rather than wash his own
and on and on the prejudice flows
from old days into the new
of drinking and gambling
even in the movies
portrayed as a rogue
these perceptions followed
fine people across the sea
where they built the cities
endured the hardships
and still no one hears their cry
no one gives them their due
they did the jobs
others were to afraid to do
the hard labor
standing on steel skyscrapers
so many descendent's
of this proud people
have formed the foundations
of other countries
and still they do not control their own
now the world frowns
not understanding the religious battle
that dwells within
it's all they have
their faith
it makes perfect sense to me
for yes the Irish
would start a fight in a church
for they are not afraid
to stand up for their beliefs
they are just hollow
for so much
has been taken from them
so much suffering
has been endured
so they cling to their faith
as a man clings to a life preserver
for to lose that last vestige
they will lose themselves
ahhhh the luck of the Irish
maybe they should pass that luck to another
then maybe someone will hear their cries
someday they may follow the rainbow
and will truly find that pot of gold
Under the African blue skies
I saw this beauty with a sparkling eyes
Full of charms and majestic aura
They said her name was Clara
But I was a very poor cowboy
Who could not afford even a baby’s toy
How could I tell her the feeling in my heart
Since we both lived a world far apart
But I could with a full courage
For I really have come of age
I walked up to her with my cowboy’s hat
And told her of the love in my heart
She looked at my head and found no crown
She asked of the car to cruise her downtown
I stood speechless for I had none of those things
Obviously she belongs to the rich and the kings
But I have a garden full of roses
Where she could please me with myriad poses
She said “go and never come my way”
But her smiles looked easy and gay
I went home dejected on that silent night
Wondering at my rejection in such an extreme
height
I went and lay on the long grass
Feeling so bad about my social class
But like proton, I remained positive
Even though she called me primitive
All of a sudden I heard the call of love
Echoing from the sky far above
Whatever will be will be
It was a message that dropped in me
Few moons later,I met another cherubim
Who looked like my crush in my favourite film
And in a short while,there was a whisper of love
And as if that wasn’t enough
She made me a promise so grand
That she will forever cling to my hand
Wow! She awoken the glory of my blossom
Brought a company to a heart like mine so
lonesome
Like sun streaming forth from the sky
I now shine in love and always feel high
Please take this message to Clara
Tell her am now in love with a girl called Flora
Full of unmatchable and unspeakable aura
With a heart so large and even purer
Tell Clara that her beauty is not so rich
For she isn’t the only pebble in the beach
This I needed to let her know
So that her pride would cease to glow
That cowboy is now rich in fortunes and in love
With a magnificent being sent from above
we all try to succeed
but we cant find what we need
because its lost in this world
to be found is to be unbound from societies grip
while you let your priorities slip
i take your mind on a trip
after the kool-aid you sip
begins to kick
your blood starts to drip
and you lose your grip
with reality
cuz your just another casualty
testing your own mortality
expressing no sign of morality
trying to hide how cowardly
you really are
ya i took it that far
you may think you hard
but i leave you scared
not physically but emotionally
proportionally to me your a small man
with no plans
on how to get real fans
so hear my stand
i fight for whats right
while i shed light
to the night
your already out of sight
for i have surpassed you and your crew
and im done listening to what you spew
cuz aint none of its true
thats why you turn blue
your cyanotic
and im psychotic
a sociopath
reigning down his wrath
destroying social class
in my mass
form of destruction
women think its seduction
but its just production
of a new breed
all looking to feed
and obtain the highest speed
to get away from this devil you have freed
inside of me
you cant see
why im on another level
for your head i severed
cuz im a soul collector
roaming though the night with fellow spectors
for i am the true protector
of right and wrong
and i do it though song
angry like kim jong
cuz i wont hit the bong
i find different ways to deal with stress
like finding a woman to caress
while i peel off her dress
i have a tendency to impress
those of a lower status
for i strike with malice
cuz my soul is calis
from a world that showed me no love
which is why i rise above
the angles and demons
for i have my reasons
of what to believe in
so hear my word
i am here to change the world
one person at a time be it boy or girl.
What if the world does end in 2012 on the 21st of December.
What about your life will you want to remember?
What are you going to do from now til then?
Are you going to ask “Why?” over and over again?
In this world will you try to find your place?
Maybe accept every culture as one human race.
Seek out and find everyone that you love,
and ask for forgiveness from the one above.
Will you smile at the people you don't like,
and see that what makes us different, makes us alike.
Help a stranger pick up something they drop,
or see a person stranded and stop.
Will you still judge people by the color of their skin,
or will you see that what matters, comes from within?
Will you give a blanket to someone who is about to freeze,
and do it out of kindness, before they beg and say please.
When driving, will you stop yelling and beeping?
Maybe find out that the smallest things are worth keeping.
Would you help an elderly person cross the street,
or let the homeless in, to get out of the heat.
Will you still judge people you don't know?
Or do something out of the kindness of your heart, not quid pro quo.
Give someone a few dollars, whose short at the store,
or slow down your important busy life, and hold the door.
Will you let things that make you mad pass?
Maybe stop looking down on people in a lower social class.
See that it doesn't matter what materials you possess,
understand that a person's value, is not based on success.
Can you accept a person's flaws or someone who is not perfect,
and just for the fact that they are human, give them respect.
Right now would you admit what you feel,
would you admit what I said is real.
Rainbow Nation
Blanca is white like beautiful snow in the Drakensberg Mountains
she snorted star powder past the perforated septum into her brain
Black as coal from the underworld mines in Mpumalanga Melanie
had her stomach pumped and purged while sleeping off darkness
Amber is coloured mixed race in the Rainbow of Nations her work
still paid in dop cheap vine that slaves her away in alcoholic trance
Arnav of Indian descent was hooked on dagga grown by the ocean
converted to heroin sold her frail body and skin for brown liquid sugar
Jacobus Bandele Lungelo and Bhavin shared needles and comfort
on the streets of Johannesburg flirted with disaster drug related crime
and their dealers cracked at the dawn longed for dust in the dusk
Drugs do not respect colour gender ability social class and religion
all druggies are equal with craving dependency not restricted to some
Now united in rehab like the state of the nation they all stood at the
table of mountains with one foot in the grave at the cliff face of habit
One day at the moment they now battle their demons resist the temptation
for only the time being from one morning away from the devious mourning
one drug line not taken one fall off the wagon shunned and avoided for now
They have all chased the dragon for far too long and imbibed with the devil
for so many wretched days and nights of delusion torment addiction and pain
Again once more each day anew their only chance to abstain one day at the time
It hurts,
just looking at her hurts
The bond that connects me to her is not the other way round
It hurts to have a one sided love while the one you love hardly notices
The confidence to talk to her is washed away by our social class
She is beautiful and celebrated on collage but, I live a ghost life
She is s smiles with her equals, while I hide behind my book
Trying to describe her in words
It hurts to feel that the one you love was hurt by your own friend and that lives you
In throbbing for nothing you can do about it.
It hurts just beholding into her slick white round eyes knowing you hardly can get to her
So assertive I could be at times but it hurts when the audacity to tell her,” You are beautiful” fades away
It hurts to hear the tales of her and other Romeos than you
Oh my God it hurts
I even feel like I’m horrible, usually I feel dizzy with my heart pounding lethargically
All her movements’ in spectacle are always in a sluggish gesture and it hurts me when I glance her curved body in this motion
I only wish she may possibly discern, maybe my paper will get to express to her my tale
My sandman even cry when she passes by us since the sensation I have for goes beyond
If I were to reach a fortuitous of proving my feelings to her,
I would extinguish all my life just to demonstrate my affection and devotion to her exquisiteness
Her beauty is from the heart and fused with the prettiness of her appearance.
Sandoz… it hurts loving you short of you perceiving.
Judah is the tribe from which we draw the line
that directly connects us to God through you
as you presently reign in the Throne of Heaven.
Entangled in the network of opposition
you did not give up to pursue the task put before you
until the journey was complete.
Satanists projected smear campaigns to bring you down
but it was not your lot to succumb to their demands.
Ultimatum was always given to you to reveal your true self
but even when you did people did not see the light that you are.
Social class and position you never set as your first priority
because yours was to call everyone to one Kingdom of God.
Cursing other people was not heard from your mouth
even when the messengers of darkness were crucifying you on the cross.
Hatred that comes with eye-for-an-eye code
was taken over by peace and forgiveness of enemies
that you even encouraged us to pray for our detractors.
Revenge is one of the actions you taught us to hate
as you taught us that only God has the power to revenge on behalf of the
down trodden.
Intimidation of minors was never your choice
because you knew that taking care of children means taking care of the
future today.
School was ever the only platform to get life for you
because you knew that it is only the Spirit of God that can set your head
above other heads.
Tremendous work that changed the world for good was placed on your
shoulders
and you accomplished it all without lodging a complaint.
Born in a world of sin
A world filled with evil from the very beginning,
Greediness and selfishness,
With the existence of poverty, unemployment, crime and disease
Caused by our own human nature,
An inevitable cycle that continues from the past to the present future
Due to the prevalence of social class segregation,
Whereby the lower, middle and upper class fights for social status elevation
In order to achieve upward social mobility,
These social classes will fight in pain and hostility,
An ideology of who is best suited to reach the top
With one class that is, (proletariat) continued to be oppress,
While the bourgeoisie continues to be the dominant class to reap success,
A society filled with greed and self-interest
Every person wants that recognition,
They will always battle each other to reject sorrow and oppression,
That’s the reason why the world will always remain in war, famine and terror
Due to human beings error,
A world divided in segments of continent,
With different nation or countries having differentiated political style of government,
As well as structure, numerous types of culture and upcoming new subculture,
With every one wanting that one thing riches, prestige and fame,
A reward which symbolizes their name.
Demeter Edwards
Form:
Verses of creativity in written words;
Crossword puzzle to some.
Others,
Another wasted stroke of the pen.
Ink dances in immeasurable beatitude to the lovers of enchanting expressions.
Paint thinner,
All over the pages to the critics.
Sadden souls enlighten with blessings of laughter,
Finding hope on paper to make it to another day.
English professor,
"Baspheme to the poem-writer's community!"
Spooky to a handful,
"Interpretation of my soul."
The average comic book reader limited to one realm of picture reading.
Scholars horrified pondering thoughts,
"Sheol! Where does this darkness arise from in print-form?"
Simplicity of love in the inspirational waltz.
Child dipping hands in paint onto cardboard,
Only looks good on the refrigerator door.
Modern-day art on scrolls to the social class.
In all this,
Who is anyone to really say?
Throughout this earth,
Diverous voices of definitions.
Echos of yesteryear's saying,
"Pleasing all is an overwhelming fulite."
The beauty of poetry,
Whether it make sense or not to others,
Enjoy the scrollpen in between the fingertips,
And may the seasons of writing show tenderness upon you.
Lay it down & walk away over a few adverse comments?
What else must one leave at the writing table?
Life-
Form: