Long Socialme Poems
Long Socialme Poems. Below are the most popular long Socialme by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Socialme poems by poem length and keyword.
I don’t understand them!
In their second homes.
When kids are starving
When poor adults can’t afford one apartment
Buying $35,000 earrings when kids are starving
Being spoilt makes you lazy, money greedy and non-compassionate
I have no love for the spoilt
Your money makes me sick to my stomach like the dirt under my nails
Your buying me gifts to make me happy makes me sick
Why don’t you be a real human being and spend time with me, I don’t want your gifts – I want
your friendship, don’t want to be friends? Then money doesn’t buy love.
Buy one house with one room for your children instead of two.
Then we can talk.
Form:
We all have a hideous enemy,
to make us its prisoners indefinitely,
and regardless of how visible or invisible,
suppressible or unsuppressible;
it controls the inborn conception in our minds
to affect all thoughts, actions and desires...
Be vigilant and shrewd, not to let this enemy
overpower you when weakness strikes inside,
its the weak who react to its demands and appease them;
Its the forgotten lonely who becomes the murderer and the thief,
to get even with their vendetta from childhood,
thus completely changing the image of their world,
never being free... enslaved by the demon of atrocity,
dismissing the notion of kindness, impersonating death...
We all have a hideous enemy,
making life insignificant , unlivable and somehow short:
I also have one that I chase away in my hunt,
not to empower me with hatred and submit me to violence;
the beast enters without knocking and hides
where it cannot be seen, then strikes immediately
taking an egocentric personality: defying and menacing society,
causing chaos and spreading terror until peace is lost...
Be careful of everyone we come in contact with:
the robber attempting to snatch your valuables,
watching your movements with an owl's scary glare;
don't walk alone in dark allies to meet the rapist,
watch the attentive stranger leaving no private space,
and don't fumble for your keys when hurriedly coming home,
someone may be armed, inflicting harm without clemency;
all in all, you need to have a pair of double eyes...
to discourage this hideous enemy
with the shrewdness of a gnome!
Copyright 2008 by Andrew Crisci
History will judge me I'm finally told,
when greatness will be mine to behold;
this naked truth has always reflected my intent...
nobody has ever been able to muzzle any sentiment.
Negative criticism can't eat away my spontaneous creativity,
and diminish this inwardly intricacy;
and if irascibility seems irrepressible...
no irony is found in relevant words that are totally irrefutable.
History will judge me for my free will,
examining my morals and authenticity,
and by its own standard, acclaim me as they will...
even for my fluent and expressive verses of sincerity.
Belying is not the mendacious creed I profess,
intolerant of inequality, inflamed by fairness...
expelling deeds of duplicity that impinge on truthfulness;
and the imbecile, like the scoundrel, still practices insolence.
History will judge me for my temperament: sad, jaunty,
jolly, jocose, comical, querulous, lonesome and moody;
and should it immortalize me among its chosen literati...
this honor I will accept with acclamation and dignity.
Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci
,
They think I’m stupid, but they’d be surprised
I see the revulsion in their eyes
And the way their heads lean together,
To talk about me as I walk by.
Do they think I don’t see looks of horror
On faces, as they get to their feet?
When I approach their coffee table,
To sit down on the vacant seat
Don’t they know I’m aware that they’re shouting
When they talk to me, as if I can’t hear?
But then tell their child not to speak to me
I’m a monster, and someone to fear
They view me, through eyes of loathing
As a soul of no value or worth
Who contributes nought to society
Undeserving a place on their earth
I just wish that, before passing judgment
They’d get to know me or give me a chance
To show them the ‘someone’ hidden inside
And maybe break through their ignorance
So they’ll look upon me as those they think ‘normal’
And not treat me differently
For I am a person, with feelings, like them
But for my learning difficulty!
This poem is about the service users I work with and how they feel the world views them
and is a crime against humanity
The Psychostasia
(The Egyptian Funerary Rite)
For seventy days I’ve been prepared
With oils and unguents ever so rare
And with linen bandages to and fro
Wound and wrapped from head to toe
And on this journey I’m prepared to start
By enduring the “Weighing of the Heart”
With Toth’s oversight we’ll see whether
My heart weighs true against Truth’s feather
Should it fall short the beast will devour
My soul to oblivion in my final hour
Yet should it measure straight and true
The Pylon opened I’ll be ushered through
And then I shall fall unto my knees
And pray that Osirus hears my pleas
That he acknowledge and clear my tears
And accept my soul for a thousand years
And cleanse said soul of all its scars
And make me one with the canopy of stars
And bless my children and my wife
That they may join me in the afterlife
The best way to describe myself:
is this insightful awareness
of being too attentive and perceptive
in the middle of conversations;
anticipating words before they are spoken,
astonishing others with my answers...
and my concepts don't offer advice,
but rather a view that some would condemn!
And ideas conglomerate like hardened clay,
to immortalize all thoughts solemnly,
to unite them with a fate of eternity;
and their essence is totally congruent,
not confounding doubt and truth...
conjugating sentences into paragraphs,
to make them conduct an intense light,
through which hope can't condole wittiness,
but conceive a concerted play!
They resent me for my ideology,
and conjure up an effortless idiocy;
and unaware of their idiopathy,
their schemes become so ignominious...
when they can't decode my idiomatic astuteness!
And however apparent is their hypocrisy,
they stammer at my insightful awareness
and see me as...stubborn, hostile and averse!
Perhaps I have exerted excessive cautiousness,
not sneering as they did shamelessly; why do they accuse me
of being rebellious, illusive, repugnant and impervious?
None of these traits make up my personality; and what
is the cause of their enmity towards me...
not complying to their standards of eccentricity?
I put on no guise and avoid turning into a gullible person en masse;
and armed with insightful awareness: I discern every enemy's plot!
Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci
Bard...
angry,
rebellious;
fearless of death,
refusing to appease the King's request!
"How
dare you,
minstrel
of humble birth,
deny me the joyful praises, which delight me?"
"Haven't
I paid
a huge sum
of my treasure,
for the odes to laud my powerful dynasty?
"O
foolish
king, gold and
power cannot
buy the mind of a bard, who's seen bloodshed!"
"You
call me
unworthy
of wearing this
glorious crown, which governs an empire?"
"No...
my lord,
you're the king,
of mightiness
on this vast island, but you lack wisdom!"
"So
strip me
of title,
of vainglory...
and send me to die in the cold dungeon!"
Entered in Brian Strand's Fiive & Twenty contest
Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci
I'm driving down Eighteent' Avenoo in Bensonhoist,
I am having a wallear for a hero; I jeet
nothin' yet, and metballs sound great
but I don't wanna wait on line...
like deeze nice kids from North Carolina!
I tried to jump the line, but duh big guy...
a mean-looking man yells,
" Get back on line, weisnheimer... I don't like doze
kinda of guys...yuh're just another customer! "
I am so hungry I could jeet a big cow,
an' wanna give him a piece of my silly mind!
"Oh my god...he makes me mad!"
" Yuh got a lotta nerve, buddy! " I yell back...
" Don't yuh mess with a goomba! "
" Oh, my god...I sound like doze guys from Duh Sopranos...
I wanna no drama, just my meatballs hero and go! "
Duh tall, chubby man stares at me an' says," Listen to me,
don't yuh tawk to me like dat! "...
" Yuh think...yuh're so special!" I axeya
in a nice way, so go back to the line...an' wait like dey do!...
" Do yuh understand? "..." Someone tell me...whatta I'm gonna
do with an idiot like dat? "
" Yuh still laugh at me like I am tellin' yuh a whacky joke! "
He freezes my words...I can't tawk;
and with a huge hero in my hand, I run back to my scash!
Translation:
I'm driving down Eighteenth Avenue in Bensonhurst,
I am having a craving for a sandwich;
I haven't eaten anything yet, and meatballs look great,
but I don't want to wait in line...
like these nice kids from North Carolina!
I try to jump the line, but the big guy,
a mean-looking man looks at me and shouts,
" Get back in line, wise guy...I don't like those kind of guys!"
" You are just another customer!"
I'm so hungry I could eat a big cow,
and I want to give him a piece of my crazy mind,
but the tall, chubby man stares at me and says,
"Listen to me, don't you talk to me like that!"
"You think you are so special! I asked you in a nice way,
so go back in line... and wait like they do!"...
"Do you understand?..."Someone tell me...what I am going to do
with an idiot like that?..."You still laugh at me like I'm telling you a crazy joke!"
He freezes my words...I can't talk;
and with a huge sanwich in my hand,
I quickly run back to my old-beat-up car!
Entered in Debarah's Guzzi contest, " Dialects make the world go around "
Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci