Long Society Poems
Long Society Poems. Below are the most popular long Society by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Society poems by poem length and keyword.
...I think the counterbalance is
our craving for community,
and not the local government,
no, the things we enter freely.
I’m talking about your neighbors,
your churches and your civic clubs,
things we build in the private space,
where you hang out with all your buds.
The joint virtues you stand behind,
those that you submit to by choice,
no human works in solitude,
these things we should not just avoid.
Since when you volunteer to go
along with sets of principles,
you’re less likely to shirk from it,
more disposed to give it you all.
That works with the social pressure
to act as a form of restraint,
keeps you from being atomized,
so ‘free’ that you become deranged.
And there lies the contraction,
we demand the state see the one,
while at the same time seeking out
those who tell us, “That just ain’t done.”
The state sees individuals,
and that keeps tyranny at bay,
while we all seek communities
that subtly guide and constrain.
The tension that’s between those drives
is the thing I am getting at,
when one of them gets out of place
the other side can pull it back.
When we’re so free we loose all sense
the community says, “Conform.”
When we conform so much it’s dull
the individual makes new norms.
It may not be a perfect thing,
nothing human even can be,
but this needed contraction
is what maintains society.
Listen with a sharp perception,
and if you disagree, put your opinion on hold,
until I have finished speaking;
don't point out my stubbornness on intention,
and make me feel I'm really so old...
in a land where expressions are not restricted,
and words are spoken with a freedom so rampant:
take in consideration what I'm saying!
And this debate between two controversial minds,
is being attended by an audience of different ages;
let them decide who can make that change in society
and be elected to the Presidency of the wealthiest Country!
I admire the boldness in your speech,
the great effort you put into each;
and if they choose you, " I'll be glad to honor that...
and will they prefer me over you: I'll happily shout to that! "
They have been exposing our most horrible mistakes
as we shamelessly and viciously have attacked each other,
shouting and ensuing rage in front of a Nation much in dire;
even the clowns in the circus have a reason to deride,
to imitate us for our insulting and inappropriate jokes:
when their Nation is engaged in war, and facing turmoil,
and while the impatient troops are anxious to come home...
by air and by sea and be safe in their impregnable fortress!
Our fateful day is only days away and our supporters cheer,
on November 4, 2008...whatever happens, whoever is chosen by sunrise:
let's not hold every grudge, but quickly forget those words thrown at each other;
they need us, and they'll be happy to see one of us in sheer glee...
our hands are of a different color, but we almost fight for the same cause:
let's shake them in a friendly gesture and ask God for guidance!
Yes, our people we'll keep the peace and the Country will prosper indeed...
while the triumphant trumpets will claim this victory across our jubilant Land!
Copyright 2008 by Andrew Crisci
I want to miss my kids
I want to see my hair no crumbs or cheese whiz
I want to enjoy healthy friendships
outings like camping and family things
me plus one for a change
I’m so tired of doing everything on my own
I’m always that single mom who’s alone
no partner, no man, just me,
Here I am
no other family, just a loner.
the judge me like a park perv with a *****
the way they look at me, like they pity me,
It was healthier than living with his violent mistakes
No sorry is good enough
When a man treats you worse than his stuff
Society sees a woman that can’t keep a man
They don’t see a woman strong enough to stand
Alone without allowing the disrespect to go on
Every carnival, every movie, every oil change, every bill I pay
Every flat tire every mile
every family photo a forced smile
the biggest lie ever sold
is too tell a woman she can have it all alone
she’s ripped apart shredded at each end
not knowing where she ends and the kids begin
night from day’
far from child's play
but something like a living nightmare
every lonely not long enough exhausted no rest day
New York City is like a cobblestone symphony,
where jackhammers and footsteps form the rhythmic timpani,
sirens and honking taxis, are the cymbals, that provide sudden bursts of energy,
traffic’s hum could be the violins and pigeon squawk a chorus of industry.
The sounds of life never seem to stop because they echo around continually.
Fifth Ave is fashions seat and in every store we saw teenagers tweeting,
perfecting that perfect, offhanded pout to pair with their newest, elite treats.
Envisage a High-(snob)-society playground, a cathedral of style in concrete,
where high fashion brands compete, with glittering displays meant to tease and entreat.
Bergdorf's windows are a whimsical winter wonderland, without a single touch of green,
and Tiffany's underwater dreamscape, contends with Cartier’s minimalist sheen.
At night, the buzzy bars ignite, and laughter spills like sparkling champagne,
flanged martini glasses clink in chorus, to silly school year stories, and tipsy holiday refrains.
We all know that times like a ballet dancer, who pirouettes in increasing haste,
holidays don’t last forever, Yale’s not known for leisure and new terms must be faced.
But for now, we’ll steal kisses in Bryant Park, because we don’t have a second to waste.
Give me a couple hamburgers and a Coke.
Would you like any fries with that?
I've lost touch with my college roommate.
You can always find him on Facebook.
It's so hard to teach yourself to play the guitar.
There's an app for that, you know.
Whatever happened to Michael Dukakis?
You can always find him on Facebook.
I need a cheeseburger and a chocolate shake.
Would you like any fries with that?
I'm so bogged down with wedding planning.
There's an app for that, you know.
Can I get a couple Whoppers and a large Coke?
Would you like any fries with that?
There was this guy on the Boston Celtics last year.
You can always find him on Facebook.
I can't get my kids to eat their vegetables.
There's an app for that, you know.
Whatever happened to Pee Wee Herman?
Would you like any fries with that?
I'd like a fish sandwich and a diet-Coke.
There's an app for that, you know.
How do I prepare a simple meal for 100 guests?
You can always find them on Facebook...
**Human Hyenas**
Since the dawn of humanity, the narrative surrounding creation has often placed Adam at the center, positioning him as the architect of the enchanting yet elusive Garden of Eden. However, this romanticized view glosses over a fundamental truth: many women became disillusioned with the carefree dispositions and laid-back attitudes that men often exhibited. Over time, this disconnect led to a collective realization among women; they became increasingly frustrated with behaviors that stifled desire and intimacy in their relationships.
Now, in hindsight, it seems that the damage has been done—too many grievances accumulating without sufficient efforts to mend them. Our world, vibrant and diverse, belongs to all of us, representing a tapestry woven from various perspectives and experiences. It transcends the simplistic archetypes of the average Tom, Dick, and Harry. However, the mutual respect that once characterized interactions between men and women has eroded, giving way to a reality where the notion of a man's dominion—founded on outdated theatrical standards—is no longer viable.
Instead, we find ourselves navigating a tumultuous landscape, rife with chaos and confusion, where differing mental attitudes and perspectives collide. In this fractured society, phrases like "I was here first" echo with divisiveness,
The war stains my eyes,
Of unheard screams.
So loud that I think,
My eardrums will bleed.
I'm centered on ground.
The dirt beneath my feet,
The crumbling society.
And the guns taking my seat.
My wife is dearly missed,
Dead or Alive.
If I see her again,
They say "I won't thrive".
A man is a man,
And a gun is a gun,
Be one, which one?
Does it matter if it's gone.
Woman are the weakness,
Yet we fear the enemy's too.
My dearly loved figure,
Will never be figured.
She waits at home,
Or in the ground.
Like a dog at the door.
Missing her husband whose "making her proud",
When I'm only just at war.
The bare minimum,
From an argument,
That shouldn't have started a war.
The bar minimum,
Of disarming,
We realise we are poor.
Poor in memories,
Poor in labour,
Poor in everything the country loved.
Poor in our hearts,
As we pour.
The water from above.
The water of blood.
And tears of innocence.
The tears we could have saved,
Had we not been dismissive.
I hear a mother shouting,
Over her young child's dead body.
"Did this need to happen"
Does everyone feel sorry?
Is everyone mourning,
Or is it only noon.
Is everyone fair?
Or are they too dead to care.
Marx and Engels wrote their words,
proclaimed them out ‘next step,’
then stepped upon one hundred million
corpses they left lying dead.
People, they will not work without pay,
even for the good of society,
it was clear back then as it is now,
their words can’t survive reality.
Aziz blazed bright with Allah’s will,
and wrote Shariah into the laws,
but the young ones listened to pop,
and the western movies, they saw.
Aziz got mad and declared that it
“was God’s will, all must see!”
Still people drank and sang out loud,
such idea can’t survive reality.
Freddy was a very peaceful man,
a Ghandi-type, who turned the cheek,
but when he found his daughter forced
revenge he went to seek.
And though he knew beating them
was weakness and fragility,
as he watched them fall he knew that no
fancy words could survive reality.
The professor once knew every school
that thought deep on profound things,
He could lecture on Plato, Buddha, Confucius,
to the table all views he could bring.
Then one day he quit to go flip burgers,
at a food cart down by the sea,
when friends asked him why he only said
“No philosophy survives reality.”
My favorite song is none other than Avril's
Here's to never growing up!
Why, should you wonder
Pray, mainly because like Avril,
I am also a rebel!
A rebel against life's one way stages
Against the fact that it does never give us options
Rather, it imposes on us
The notion that at one point in our life
We are to fly on rainbow colored clouds
And deem of ourselves as being mythical creatures
While at another point,
We are to scream in silence
Wailing at life
Wailing at existence
At why did it bring us
To a point of no return
To a point of sagging skin
And frail bones
And falling teeth
And loss of hair
And diminishing strength
And finally, Death!
Pray, the child in us, remains as long as it wants to
The child in us, simply learns to behave accordingly
To fit in into society
To make way for the younger ones
To follow societal rules
To pretend
Yes, in all,
To pretend to be grown up
And mature!
Avril has sung it, that which I feel
Looking like I should be,
A woman in her thirties
I am, inside
A child,
Wanting to feel loved and secure
Wanting to explore and discover
Wanting to be acclaimed and lauded!
But then the adult in me shall be
And shall move mountains
To seem like I should be
But I shall also steal time
To listen to Avril each time I can
So as to gladden the inner child in me
As long as I can!
My Soul IQ, in general, is fine,
but nowhere near as high as that of souls
who live a life as though it is divine -
humanitarians with lofty goals
like Ghandi and the many others who
affect great changes in society.
I think of common folks who also do
uncommon good and who unselfishly
give so much of themselves to those in need,
like those adopting orphans. That’s a lot!
I can’t imagine doing such a deed.
I’m not that generous with time I’ve got.
I’m patient and I’m kind, but next to some,
my Soul IQ is like that of a crumb!
June 22, 2019
For the Soul IQ Poetry Contest of Chantelle Anne Cooke