Long Somebodies Poems

Long Somebodies Poems. Below are the most popular long Somebodies by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Somebodies poems by poem length and keyword.


One Man's Trash Is Another Man's Treasure

I've been beaten down, back stabbed and drug through the mud
But yet all I search for is my true love
I've been thrown down stairs and spit in my face
I've never really found my own happy place

From a sexual abuse to my first love with a razor
I let my family down, "that's not how we raised her"
Because I failed school and I saw all these guys
That would later account for the tears in my eyes
I tried filling the void where my abuse burned a hole
in my life, in my heart, in my mind, in my soul

But nothing could mend it no matter what I tried
All the drinks, the pills, or the tears I have cried
I was hurt, I felt broken, I wanted to fade away
I couldn't bare to look in the mirror another day
So I fought and I yelled and got wasted again
And I tried to fix it with more pills and more men
From one relationshipship to the next trying to find love
I just didn't understand the plan from above
I just knew I was cracked like a porcelain bowl
No matter who tried they couldn't make me whole
I made people cry, and I hurt their pride
And I just didn't care how hard they would try
Because when they hurt I felt happy 'cause now theyre like me
Sitting there wanting what just couldn't be
I couldn't be happy, joyful or smile
Unless I put on a mask for awhile 

But I still felt useless, depressed and alone
Because I couldn't have a love for my own
I kept my walls up because I didn't matter
And they wouldn't fall down no matter how tattered
I was quick and replaced every person that left
Because I couldn't get back that initial theft
I lived out of my car with another boyfriend I 'needed'
I wouldn't go home no matter how bad I'd been treated
Eventually I felt all the pages had been turned
My self was gone again, my heart had been burned
My life felt disappointing I wanted to give up
Then you came out of no where and redefined love
So like always I pushed all the feelings deep down
For the fear I'd come home and you wouldn't be found
You were always there and you never gave up
You made me feel worthy of somebodies love
So with this I thank you for just being here
And helping me love what I see in the mirror 
And you mended that porcelain crack
You filled it with gold and gave me love back
And it's more beautiful than ever
Shiny new and improved like our love is - forever.
© Pink Girl  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Couplet


Premium Member A Message From Nobody

Hi everybody, I am nobody; Why do all the somebodies keep jacking my... junk.
Nothing I say changes or sways opinions: Stop looking for LINES WITH the punch.
I am out to lunch, just a li'l old nobody, a termagant, with a rant. I am no-one: 
Why is someone getting paid to monitor?
What I say, in no way could effect change...So why are you checking and holding my post hostage with all this blockage ...? What a waste of money and time. 
I do not put thoughts on anyone's mind.
Nor do I give sight to the blind. Gees-us, I am just a no-one, that anyone listens to. Nor adheres to, or cheers for-Or care for - Or even cares too.
So please let me speak freely and stop thinking that I am making quantum leaps; When we” nobodies” are in a huddle, trying to jump over this little puddle. 

The “Somebodies” are making asses out of the masses”.
You enjoy seeing me beat my wings against the bars. Or like a lab rat going through your maze to take the bait, you’d like to see me get Irate: (for more than four hours, our mainstream team) got played out of position, berated us, with a football hiatus. Black, brown, and white united for a non-cause, adrenaline screaming at the same screen.

You want to know my reaction, is that how you get satisfaction?... Well "beat your feet to the beat" of my jaws jabbing - 
The somebodies are setting traps. 
But I am a smart rat. I am nobody, and nobody didn’t go for that.! Even if you could catch my drift. 

Someone went to great lengths to create that rift.
Everyone cannot see what I am saying; Could never, “see what I am saying”, because what I am saying is only for those who need to know! 
"Do you see what I am saying". “I am just saying”. 

Those of you who hear me "Holla": 
But don't take the bait, or get sidetracked, stay focused, “pay attention to what's not being mentioned”.

Check and see how many moves were made when you were looking in the other direction. Always remember the greatest weapon they have is the “Weapon of Mass Distraction” Which, stops everyone's actions, and counteractions.! 
“that is all I am saying”
A message from nobody.

Nakedness

when i was little i thought love meant kindness and sharing. 
i thought it meant smiles and sweet words.  
when i got a little older i thought love meant kindness and sweet words and being naked. 
when i got even older i confused being naked with love. 
not the kind of naked where somebody wears their heart on their sleeve or lets you see their soul as though they’ve turned it inside out for you. 
i’ve seen small lies and big lies and what lies beneath the people you trust most.
i’ve seen trust broken and trust bent and trust never initially set. 
i’ve seen kindness and sharing and malice and possession but i have never seen this kind of naked. 
i have seen nakedness with strangers during 3am calls and loneliness. 
i’ve seen loneliness turn into leather seats gripping my calves in a taxi on the way home from the club crawling into somebody else’s bed.
i’ve seen mistrust placed in me by the same naked that lies within those sheets. 
i had only ever seen the naked that lies in bed next to me, not in somebodies soul. 
i had never known nakedness could run deeper than an evening. 
i know now nakedness is in the way she reads my body, not what she does to it in the early hours. 
i know nakedness is how she looks me in my eyes, 
not how somebody admires them under cigarette light as ash falls onto bed sheets. 
nakedness runs deeper than my skin, and she taught me that.
nakedness is how she shows me herself, 
the darkness and the light and everything in between,
it’s in the way we speak, 
the way we cry, 
the way we laugh, 
and all of those things happen with my clothes on.

Premium Member Mindbang

We’re shape-shifting, my roommates and I. Transitioning mentally from freshmen and sophomores (nobodies) into juniors (somebodies). We’ve been around, we’re not the new kids anymore. We’re being seen and appreciated. It’s a mindbang.

There was a coolike girl, Kathleen, who was a senior when I was a freshman. I had a mad, mad envy-crush on her. She was everything I wanted to *be* when I was scared and unsure about things. Kathleen was perfect., an example of success that, like a fulcrum, lifted our confidence.

When she was around, I’d watch her, discreetly. She had this unconscious habit of touching her chin, with her index finger, when she was thinking. I swear, I found myself copying her, until Leong saw me do it once and said “Kathleen!” I was embarrassed. You can’t get away with anything around here.

Kathleen graduated last year. I saw her once, in her graduation gown, from afar. I got emotional. Part of me wanted to rush over, give her a huge, congratulatory hug and tell her what a role model she’d been for me - even though we’d never even talked, but I was afraid she’d think I was a stalker.
.
.
Webster: Fulcrum: a support that lifts*

slang..
mindbang = a shifting in a well-established paradigm.
coolike = a really awesome person you admire
perfect. = (the period has to be there) an amazing, flawless role model

Informed Consent

Why did the Native Tribal man decide to build the tee-pee for shelter?
Why did the origin of Africa build dirt houses?
     The Caucasians and Australians architectural designs formed.
Does anyone know why people of color are called the dumb ones?

     A discovery of DNA found that the mongoloid blood was the riches.
Next came the blood of Africa.
     Never last are Caucasoid and Australoid.. 
Are all men created equal?

     We learn from each other.
Civilization had to discourse.
     The measure of a man ascertains rationality.
Therefore, woman must measure up.

     The unearthing via Social Science defined humankind in their cultures.
They travel to Africa to trek in their secret gardens.
     They stop first in Europe to research the humanities.
Australia was a philosophical best.
     North America is the continent they commence.
In South America, tillage ethos shouted.
     In all, they found the landforms to be vast and the social stigma was that of somebodies with beliefs and values.

We have taught each other well.
     From war and upward-downward spiraling of discrimination, we are dumbfounded.
Our socio-political and social-religious depiction necessitates our members to 
     be demarcated.
Therefore, we must be innovative to delineate a diverse world.
________________________________

PENNED ON MAY 30, 2014!


A Painful Struggle

A PAINFUL STRUGGLE 
 
                MY HEART FEELS VERY HEAVY TODAY
                AND TEARS JUST FLOW AND FLOW,
                WHILE PAIN JUST RIPS MY BODY
                AND WITH IT I HAVE NO CONTROL
                
 
               I TRY SO HARD TO FIGHT THIS PAIN
               BUT IT JUST WONT GO AWAY,
               IT STAYS AROUND AND LINGERS
               PLEASE LORD HELP ME I PRAY.
 
 
              IF I MUST CARRY A CROSS FOR YOU
              THEN I,LL DO IT WITH MY HEART,
              BUT PLEASE GIVE ME STRENGTH LORD
              I WILL GLADLY DO MY PART.
 
 
             I NEED A NEW TOUCH FROM YOU LORD
             MY FIGHT IS SLIPPING AWAY.
             I AM SO WEAK, SO HELPLESS
             DONT LET ME GO ASTRAY.
 
 
               I WANT TO BE YOUR SERVANT LORD
               AND TO DO THE BEST I CAN,
              TO WIN A PRECIOUS SOUL FOR YOU
              AND BE SOMEBODIES FRIEND.
 
 
             MY SOUL IS VERY TIRED  WORN TODAY
            FROM MY ANGUISH AND MY PAIN,
            OH LORD I NEED A MIRACLE,
            PLEASE TOUCH ME ONCE AGAIN.
 
 
             WRITTEN BY ANN HART MAR,1`ST.2008
 
                               COPYRIGHTED
© Ann Hart  Create an image from this poem.
Form:

Phase three

Bliss
a phase where we are continually happy
where those people
who are routinely making your relationship
difficult are eased with the promise of one
reaping the rewards of a successful endeavor.

when the stage is set and those who wish you happiness
can know longer narrate or meddle in
the two Lovers lives.
When the ink is casted
let the honeymoon began.

She bought both her flute and oboe
on the honeymoon.
She had me crawling on my oboes just to
get next to her.
Every time I started smochie hoochie
she blow the flute.
I kissed her cheek and she blow the oboe.
I had to get a sing with her to stay outta trombone: I bassoon it's
part of the honeymoon phase. Being inspired and all. But staying interested meant staying in tune
but hat's all n the Bliss of romance.
It's all about romance and being romantic!


The Tip on Table Seven was from the Guy I told this
Story too. He to was
on his honeymoon.
The Gal's went outside clownshow.
Too many insect out there for me
I came inside! She out there in
th Gally get-up: Dudes lookin all up on her:
Let me get out there:before she start
smiling up in somebodies face!
See you around man!
Form: Ballad

Heartbeat Amongst the Ice

That love she thought had vanished I can reexpose 
Heart frozen like a mannequin but I can change her pose 
Rebuilding her foundation using words for tools 
Rewriting her souls brochure and changing all the rules 

Carving around this diamond and leaving her essence intact 
So brilliant the new colors she now becomes abstract 
I speak to a broken heart from hundreds of miles apart 
Incinerate her old baggage breath life into her new start

My loves gonna have her spoiled rotten 
Softenin her emotions she's damn near cotton 
I am he whom she seeks beyond the wet sheets 
The one who can mentally put her to sleep 

Whisper in your ear and collapse all your fear 
Evaporate tears whenever Im near 
I dont think she'll ever be ready 
Make her heart flutter and aint talkin deadly 

How long can you guard a door meant to be opened 
Trying to mend a heart previously broken 
Finding locks but keys have been stolen 
Hand full of aces but nobody's foldin 

Somebodies gotta be the one to open 
That icebox of the soul when all else is frozen 
Reading her eyes cause no words are spoken 
Her mind was on fire I still see it smokin

Divided Heart

I don’t want to be the other half of 
something someone lost a long time ago.  
I’m not interested in being 
the better part of valour.  
Everybody learns the hard way,  
one way or another.  No matter 
how good you are at numbers,
you can only count up to broken, 
forever.
So eat your liver & onions. 
It should come as no surprise 
to discover the divided heart 
multiplies nothing. 
Any child can tell you 
love is invisible geography 
& Reality’s the only fiction. 
The more you look, the less you see. 
Like insects whose words are feelers, 
we strive to recollect the half-
remembered that deeply mattered, 
witnesses to rashness 
passing as bravery. 
Despite the bad jokes 
& Chardonnay 
there’s an absence of humour
In what we say. 
By resurrecting the dead we glorify 
our names, our reputations
as artists, misfits & revolutionaries. 
Savages together, 
we toast our mutual savagery – 
hear hear!! – the clinking solidarity
of well-heeled somebodies.

Sadistic Explicit Warning

This sh** makes me f*******g insane,
I'm gonna cut somebodies throat,
Or wrap a belt around it until they f*****g choke,
Maybe, tie them up somewhere,
setting them on fire,
Hanging the mtha fcker from a tree,
using rusted barbed wire,
Beating in their f***g face,
to the point of un recognition,
Or draining them of all their blood,
inside their moms kitchen,
Sadistic thoughts of the family,
sitting all around,
Just to ensure their screams and cries,
are the bastards last f***g sound,
I wanna tape their eyes open,
and stitch their filthy mouth shut,
I know by now everyone is running,
thinking this b**** is f****d up,
Not near as bad as this thought of,
making their loved one do the deed,
and if they don't wanna cooperate,
they can just watch each other bleed,
Maybe I will leave it in my memory,
or should it be recorded?
I'll send a copy, 1st class to their mom's
b***** should have had them aborted!
Form: Bio

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