Long Strategy Poems
Long Strategy Poems. Below are the most popular long Strategy by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Strategy poems by poem length and keyword.
In the haze of lights, where the world blurs and you start to reclaim yourself,
Standing tall on the fragile pedestal of your own worth,
Their whispers, serpentine and insidious, slither into your thoughts,
Like brainwashed subjects, chanting their mantras of doubt.
"Where does all this self-importance come from?" they hiss,
As if your burgeoning strength were a threat to their fragile egos,
"Don't you know you still hold less value, no matter how smart you are?"
Their words, like chains, attempt to bind you to their limited vision.
"The traits deemed good are for men, so why do you act like them?"
They try to confine you within the narrow walls of their expectations,
"Girls talk silly talk, so why don't you join them?"
They seek to reduce your voice to mere murmurs, inconsequential and quiet.
"We must diminish your confidence through your looks,"
Their strategy clear, to make you believe that all that matters is your pretty face,
To keep you under control and submissive,
To make you think your value depends on their confirmation.
But in the haze of lights, you find clarity,
A realization that their whispers are but echoes of their own insecurities,
You stand tall, a beacon of strength and intelligence,
Resisting their attempts to diminish your essence.
For you know that your worth is not dictated by their shallow judgments,
Nor by the narrow roles they try to impose,
You are a force, a presence, an unbound spirit,
And their whispers, like smoke, dissipate in the light of your truth.
It’s a parasite’s world.
The worm of laziness
Clogging the mind,
Ego refusing change.
It’s a parasite’s world,
Seeping through one’s blood and breath.
Adoption, adaptation to change, an uphill task.
Ignorance, dark, deep, masquerading ugliness.
It’s a parasite’s world---
Where dependence is practice.
And excuses-- strategy, to design.
Deadlines met feverishly by others.
It’s a parasite’s world,
Where type of work affect quality.
Where comparison and perks galore
Stifling freedom, to create with responsibility.
It’s a parasite’s world,
Where, those who do and are willing
Get busted with jargon of abuse.
Euphemisms learnt and articulated.
It’s a parasite’s world
Where fear is fed with horror.
Where incompatibility and incompetency
Rule one’s hidden strength and power.
It's a parasite's world
where love lavishes in luxury
and 'Basic Instinct' given prowess
Suck out life from the 'highest of all species'.
...To me it seems morality
is what holds us back from the edge,
what keeps us from just destroying,
and leaving all enemies dead.
But more and more I think that it
was not some product of our mind,
but a product of evolution
that developed slowly with time.
Since no predator can stop us,
since we defeat even disease,
did we evolve our moral sense
to check those who act viciously?
Were the ones who killed unrestrained
killed off by their own aggression?
Were those first real moral stirrings
what kept folks from being undone?
Were the humans who lacked such thoughts
winnowed down, soon too few to breed?
Did evolution select those
able to resist killer creeds?
Is that why so few people now
have those brute, psychopathic brains?
Are those people just leftovers,
from a strategy now disdained?
If so, it means our moral codes,
are not something we made ourselves,
but just evolution’s response
to minds that can make living hell.
It wasn’t some higher calling
that kept us all from being wrecked,
morality is nature’s way
of keeping our species in check.
JERICHO AWAKENING
Deception has always been
A strategy and ally of injustice;
Veiling its ruthless deeds,
And shifting attention
From aged-old atrocities,
While living and percolating
Behind invisible Jericho walls:-
Let not the reality
Of new Jericho borders
Blind and deceive us:-
Legislative freedom and unity
For so-called refugees,
Remain at hand, and
Our struggle to be masters
Of ourselves continues;
We being caged and considered
Refugees in this, our homeland!
Wake up, my people!
Wake up!
It’s here again!
Deception has always been
A strategy and ally of injustice;
Veiling its ruthless deeds,
And shifting attention
From age-old atrocities,
While living and percolating
Behind invisible Jericho walls:-
In today’s political drought,
Drying out justice and equity,
We are in as much profound need
Of raining clouds of liberty, as would be
Nature in times of drying pandemic drought:
Hey!
Wake up, my people!
Wake up!
It’s here again!
Life is convoluted
Coming across happiness and sorrow
Love and betrayal
Hunger and riches
Steering through the opposites
Consistency with the confrontations
Saps the solace
Tired and broken, no longer thoughtful
One counters the events
The wise ones see similarity in all
Allow the things to happen
Spontaneity breeds many paths
One continues to walk, brightness unfolds
Calm waters greet, spring returns
Past is past, oblivion overwhelms
Smiles, zest and thrill embrace
Bad is gone, good overtakes
Life is a game, reconciliation is the key
It’s sad just how low, American leftists will go,
Mentally ill by the thought: TRUMP WINS—two in a row.
Pelosi—their Jesus, decrees moral high ground,
Enter Schumer, Nadler, and Schiff—three idiot clowns.
And yet, not one strategy has rid them of him,
Charlatans and liars—appropriate pseudonyms.
Hating on this president, three long years now and counting…
Trump Derangement Syndrome—a social disorder,
Hampers millions still clinging to their losing New Yorker.
Impeaching popular presidents, with opinions—not facts,
Should scare you to the polls—to vote Donald right back!
December 20, 2019
Your Best New Poem Poetry Contest
it took more than myself to save me
i was a narcissist without an independent confidence
with the wrong type of thinking in my brain, i chose to take the plunge
all i got in the end was the honest answer to my imagination's figments
it took more than myself to save me
i was a brainchild genius without a blueprint's thorough thought
with the wrong mode of strategy written lack legibility, i chose to jump right in
all i got in the end was a sweat stained pillowcase and icy drool by sunrise
it took more than myself to save me
i was grown man without a clue as to how to properly display my presentation
with the wrong method of approach, i chose to pursue and go for it
all i got in the end was a broken heart and my own lonely space to stare in
it took more than myself to save me
i was a lost soul without any type of concept of an adequate plan
with nothing left in my arsenal but an overwhelming collection of prayers, i decided to just fall to my knees, let go, and let God
what i got in the end was the naked truth and a slap in the face as a wake up call
I raise my voice high
So that everyone can hear it
I raise my voice louder
So that everyone gets to hear me
Now I raise louder
So that all nations hear my cry
Hear my voice please everyone
Hear the cry that I make
I have tried to be loud and louder
But I always get know positive reply
Is it because am not heard
Or maybe the people I raise
My voice to are deaf.
What should I do?
To make my voice loud
Because I have tried every strategy
But my voice bounces back
What should I do for the best I want?
Should I follow what they say?
That actions speak louder than words
Should I act the anger on my heart?
This is a cry for life.
A glorious display of surrender and survival,
that’s what I see when I look in the mirror.
What a pleasure it is to witness this revival.
The lows appeared to be insurmountable,
but I cleared them all leveling a tornado .
Remembering that I’m more than capable,
this reflection always deals the final blow.
Don’t be fooled by quiet contemplation,
a path is forged with meticulous strategy.
The eye hooded in full dress destruction.
Thrown into a shower of golf size hail,
I danced my way through their pitfalls.
For another this could prove to be fatal,
battling against me even the wind stalls.
That’s how I know I’ve beaten the mirror.
No matter how quick the skyline darkens?
My ability to break down walls is superior.
Little Johnny stretches out his arms
Running across a field of flowers
Shooting down butterflies
Bombing anthills
Big Johnny scans the heavens
In his super sonic speed jet
Shooting down enemy planes
Bombing military targets
Little Johnny kneels by his bed
Saying his prayers
He looks at his model jet
Little Johnny asleep in bed
Big Johnny looks Up on heaven
Praying to live one more day
Remembers the games of yesterday
With youthful imagination war was just play
Little Johnny-Big Johnny
Child's games-Man's war
Youthful imagination-Elder's strategy
Toys of War-Toys of War