Long Sophistry Poems
Long Sophistry Poems. Below are the most popular long Sophistry by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Sophistry poems by poem length and keyword.
You came down to this protest,
you cannot let anything rest,
paid for it by special interests;
shut up and live your life.
You still have this childish need
to scream ‘right side of history!’
you bought into that sophistry?
just shut up, and live your life.
You that that it makes you great,
that your ‘victory’ is coming ‘fate,’
and those against you must be ‘hate,’
shut up and live your life.
Stop and reason it out a bit,
you’re just a useful idiot,
discarded when you no longer fit,
so shut up, and live your life.
You that that they really care
about how you pet cause fares?
Sorry, that’s rarer than rare,
shut up and live your life.
The will only give you time
if you can benefit their side,
when they speak they always lie,
so shut up, and live your life.
You were not put on this Earth
to shout loud and go berserk,
if that’s how you get self-worth,
please shut up, and live your life.
Ideology should be demoted,
to building yourself be devoted,
cause time is a gun, fully loaded,
ever ready to end your life.
Go live a life with family, friends,
build something real, not this pretend
circus that serves no good ends,
shut up and live your life.
Climb a mountain, write a book,
give the day-to-day a closer look,
build yourself a comfy nook
in which to live your life.
I’m not the kind for hectoring,
and right now should be working,
not by the neck a fool holding
who’s interfered with my life.
But you decided to block roads,
and now your blood is running cold,
did you think only you were bold?
Do you fear now for your life?
Good. Cause next time you block my drive to work, I’m not stopping.
...And those who scream,”No gun! No knife!
Not even if to defend my life!”
Care they so little for being human
that they won’t even stand up to defend
the greatest gift bestowed by this universe?
It strikes me as incredibly perverse.
The whole of you, every thought and care,
uour hopes, your heart, your soul, your flair,
the big and small things that define us
these folks would throw it allunder the bus.
Thinking that it’s some kind of moral high
to just stand there and let themselves die…
It’s nonsense, sophistry, it's vile rot!
You’ve a duty to protect what you’ve got,
To say that your life is worth everything,
That you’re sovereign and strong, no mere weakling,
That your time here is worth any price,
and all who’d take it had better think twice,
By your own hand they may meet their end,
you will not be taken from family and friends.
And those who would not make this hard choice,
Do they really value this life they’ve enjoyed
if they are not willing, when the hour’s late,
to save themselves from murderous hate?
So if they’re not crazy, or criminal scum,
I believe that an adult has to own a gun.
Don’t forget your children, your husband, your wife,
the things that a person values beyond life.
Have you not a duty to protect all of them?
How will you do that if you have no defense?
You can call the police and hope they arrive,
but it only takes moments for someone to die.
If we really love them, do we have to right
to pretend that true evil will never drop by?
If we are their parents, the protectors of youth,
should we not be ready for what we must do?
If they drag away your daughter with carnal intent
will you still feel ‘beyond’ the Second Amendment?
I don’t think you will, I think all the P.C.
will crumble as you fall down to your knees,
gnashing teeth and wailing at what you have lost,
knowing that failure bears such a great cost.
It’s all on our shoulders in this veil of tears,
we’re the first line against adult fears,
we carry the burden of our life and theirs,
we stare into darkness and try not scare.
So if they’re not crazy, or criminal scum,
I believe every adult should own a gun.
Imagine getting sick of thinking what if.
Imagine getting sick of not believing in thyself.
Imagine waking up every morning with a goal and a plan.
Selah.
You work toward your goal vehemently.
And that plan you can always modify,
but from it you never relent.
Selah.
God blew His breath, which imbued in every crevice
Until our metaphysics lit up.
He made us in his image and to Him limits are nothing but devilish gimmicks.
Alas, then why would you ever accept such sophistry as limits?
Selah.
Imagine what you would have.
Imagine where you could be.
But most importantly, imagine who you would become.
Selah
“To be or not to be”, was Hamlet‘s sole question.
We’ve a common conundrum, that’s my confession.
Burn bridges or mend fences, in my discretion…
I stand above them, pistol heavy in my hand.
They cringe before me, she’s sobbing and he’s unmanned.
My mind’s really roiling, though my expression’s bland…
She surely did me wrong, there’s truly no dispute,
In flagrante delicto, they cannot refute.
Leaves me such a dilemma, achingly acute…
The Lord tells us “Vengeance is mine, I will repay!”
Also “to forgive is divine” didn’t he say?
How is a mere mortal to decide the right way…
But wait! “Nature weeps”, a pathetic fallacy
As “either or” is just a false dichotomy
In reality both are merely sophistry…
Should I mend the fence? Overly optimistic.
Should I burn the bridge? Aptly apocalyptic.
There is another choice, neatly nihilistic…
My attention was caught, resolution was sought.
The decision was fraught, it’s a Gordian knot
Hamlet’s vexing question solved with a single shot…
New intent nicely teased, and tension slightly eased.
My mind now appeased, prior predicament ceased
With resolve swiftly pleased - the trigger slowly squeezed…
This is a parody I wrote to the tune of the band
" Dr Hook And The Medicine Shows" Hit song
"On the Cover Of The Rolling Stone" (Magazine)
I hope you like it..........
We come from deep space
Just to get to this place
It takes us a light year or two
We travel through time, until we find
The right worm hole to go through
We know we look funny
We're the color of money
But money ain't enough you know
Cause we keep getting sighted
But we can't get invited
To be on the Ellen on her show
Ellen's show
Where we are feeling, just like Magellan
Ellen's show
On the floor and dancing close to Ellen
Ellen's show
Where we all are gravity repelling
Right Here On The Ellen Show
We have a flying a disc
That no one can miss
No matter what the papers say
They claim we're a rocket or some comet
They never tell the truth anyway
There's one thing we mean
And that's to be seen
So the number of believers will grow
We hope we'll be sighted
So we can be invited
To appear on the Ellen on her Show
Ellen's Show
"Were She could solve all of the mystery"
Ellen's Show
"And we could all be making history"
Ellen's Show
Shining Light on the current lame sophistry
Right there on the Ellen Show
We're here to be seen
If you know what I mean
So we put on our bright lights at night
We'll hover over here, hover over there
Then we'll take off and blast out of sight
Well, it's all just find and we really don't mind
Being classified a UFO
If We could get sighted and be invited
To dance with Ellen on her show
Ellen's show
Where we are feeling just like Magellan
Ellen's show
On the floor and dancing close to Ellen
Ellen's show
Where we all are gravity repelling
Right Here On The Ellen Show
Right Here On The Ellen Show
THE CHANGING WORLD
The age of chivalry and bravery has ended
That of sophistry, rivalry, upon us descended
Those with ability, to charm and talk, are commended
They are now indeed enemies, whom we once befriended
Where has all the love gone, hitherto, unlimited
The human greed for wealth remains unsatiated
For money, men unleash violence unabated
The rich and elite are highly ingratiated
The poor and forlorn man’s woes are unmitigated
Never were people so fearful, streets so deserted
Always under threat, somehow their lives will be disrupted
True, in Eve’s drawl and Adam’s fall, we have lamented
But Devil’s devious ways we have inherited
As peace-loving people, we too were once saluted
Today, hatred and revenge have left us demented
It is the witching hour.
There are no breezes in a windowless house.
There are no shadows in a cave devoid of light.
There are no dreams in a sleepless night.
It is the witching hour.
When our endangered psyche roams.
When we are captured by pernicious spells.
When we are easy prey for rogue chieftains.
It is the witching hour.
When warlords game the system.
When sorcerers gaslight the faithful.
When conspiracy conquers fact.
Only the crestfallen sense the seamless
interval of peril.
Only the dejected resist the wizardry
of the despot.
Only the discouraged view the counterfeit
wallpaper of rot.
Only the discontented shout the truth
against the cacophony of sophistry.
But Stonehenge, the domain of the dead,
will always know first light,
will always vanquish the ruse of our sanctity,
will always sweep away the opiate specters
of tyranny.
The witching hour no more.
Light, the detox to our Stockholm syndrome.
The witching hour no more.
Democracy survives
to live another day.
x Once, one Incisive
Life went forth in
steadfast quest to
challenge both
prevailing laws
and social norms
that required all
strictly conform.
Corrupt religious sophistry and callous Rome's supremacy combined to weave
the tapestries of unrelenting tyranny. Defeating both should therefore deed
to Mankind this uplifting creed: exalt freedom and righteousness - exclude all
venal worldliness. Such quest by faith devotedly extolled in ancient prophecy.
The path chosen
though proved
to be a martyr's
tread implicitly.
While we revere
such sacrifice,
that principles
define one's life,
this story seeds
a fertile ground
where fact and
fiction both are
found. Though,
change whereby
might surely be
contained within
this verity: his
gifts of heartfelt
empathy, and also
gracious charity,
as well as moral
decency; Compas-
sion for our frailties.
Yet, praising too the Golden Rule, its promise ever worth renewal.
AS, the fog embrace the spectacular peaks,
It wraps the landscape gently with
snowy white veil,
When fog drifts slowly it makes
sturdy trees shiver,
Even the crisp Nature quiver,
Lucid water bead design a needle ocean
on slender pine leaves,
A sort of sophistry beauty
foggy dew weaves,
When the gloosy summit swim
into the alpenglow,
Panoramic view with fog
oh! What a splendid feast for eyes
A rumbling and a shaking
The rain heavy
The thunder roaring
Lightning cuts the sky
Trees sway belligerently
Sand and dust
Break the air
The furious wind
Encourages euphoric whims
The rod is blossoming
Pride is budding
Rumour building
Mischief upon mischief
Pounds on the earth
Mischief upon mischief
Mischief has a staircase
Linear patterns
Cascading virtues in blinking imbroglio,
Masquerading piety in a clinking tunnel
Chanting sophistry in dinky dashes
The glass fell
It could not be held
They broke the serenity
With soapy fingers
They grasped the glass
The pieces litter the floor
Another tried to piece the pieces
Which were precariously shaped
And pricked the gatherer at will
What a cock-a-doodle – doo!
Now I look to the Heavens
I see a land
A faraway land
In the distant horizon
Beyond the seas
A great solace
The people a great people
A magnificent race
Beyond the clouds
Beyond the skies
This land, a lofty land
A magnified edifice
Of kaleidoscopic nature
A worthy conglomerate
Of total bliss.