Long Threat Poems
Long Threat Poems. Below are the most popular long Threat by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Threat poems by poem length and keyword.
Alas, you may have noticed if
you’ve looked around the world these days,
you don’t see werewolves or zombies,
no vampires or mummies at play.
The whole world seems to have lost that
thade of mystery we once knew,
The creatures that stalked us of old
have become remarkably few.
There’s still a few out there, I know,
good old Dogman up in Michigan,
but for many of these creatures
their wild days have come to an end.
Now what’s the reason for this loss?
What has brought about this strange thing?
That’s easy enough to explain,
we humans are great at killing!
Yes, just as with normal animals,
we kill off what might be a threat,
something threaten might endanger out lives
is something that we can’t abet.
So just like predators and small pox
we saw the job was done,
heck, we published how to kill them
in all of our horror fiction!
Stakes, silver, garlic, and headshots,
we let all the world know how to win,
to the point out nights have become safe,
free of all the creatures of sin.
But if you still want to see them
then I have some good news for you,
you can see them all down at the
Endangerer Horror Species Zoo!
Now we got ghouls, goblins, wendigos,
your Demons, your banshees, and sprites,
we got all of the B-team monsters,
but most folks come for the big five.
I guess we should start with the werewolf,
each must roam in his own separate pen,
their spacious and lined in silver leaf,
we don’t want them getting out again.
The only ones left are the old ones,
so old they no longer transform,
they just stay werewolves all the time,
apparently this is the norm.
whatever the case, it’s good for us,
people can see them fur and all,
through a foot-thick one way mirror
that forms the enclosure front wall.
These eight foot beasts eat messily,
yet people gather when they feed,
yhey act appalled by the whole thing,
Yet they consistently watch the scene.
And when those lycans howl loud
it pieces right down to the soul,
ten times the fear of a normal wolf,
the spine tingles, and blood runs cold.
But people like feeling afraid
so long as they know they are safe,
sometimes we’ll drop a rabbit in there
so folks can watch the beast give chase.
Why do so few of these beast remain?
think silver bullets plus machine gun,
most of them now are heads on a wall,
we’re luck to have more than one...
CONTINUES IN PART II.
If you've lived in outback Queensland just as I have,
you must've faced at times the scourge of drought.
You'd have watched the senseless dying of your livestock
and felt completely drained and numb no doubt.
Did you ponder on why life can bring such sorrow,
when other times you’re dealt a joyful hand?
Though the bitterest of blows is when the children
express, "Dear Daddy, we don't understand."
How I hate to see the hurt upon their faces,
but more so when they give your hand a squeeze.
And the question that forever haunts my thinking,
"What do I tell my children? Tell me, please!"
Then one balmy morn way back there in September,
my children settled down upon the floor,
as they planned to watch Play School on television,
but little did we know what was in store.
How they sat perplexed at seeing the explosions
of buildings there upon the tele screen
and the aftermath then left the children reeling -
left wond'ring at the images they'd seen.
Though I sensed the children's minds took on the notion,
that things they viewed were happening overseas,
how that question still forever haunts my thinking,
"What do I tell my children? Tell me, please!"
Hosts of men, who searched the mountainous piles of rubble,
live vividly within each young child's mind,
plus the endless walls of pictures of lost loved ones,
placed there by anxious folk now left behind.
In their classrooms children talk about the horror
and can man stop the threat of war somehow?
Though our home is miles away from New York City,
our children know that life is altered now.
As my children leave the light on in their bedrooms,
lock windows which exclude a nightly breeze,
yes, that question still forever haunts my thinking,
"What do I tell my children? Tell me, please!"
We had planned to fly the children to their grandma’s,
who lives just north of Brisbane on the coast,
but the thought of going on a 'plane is not on,
as flying is the thing they fear the most.
So as parents we have organised this summer,
a camping trip with some of their close friends,
but I fear the world will never be the same place,
though live in hope the terrorism ends.
All I wish is for my children to be happy,
that innocent young minds can be at ease.
Though that question still forever haunts my thinking,
"What do I tell my children? Tell me, please!"
Putin said he wouldn't invade, but then he's known for his lies
So when he sent in his murdering scum, it came as no surprise
It will go down in the annals of history, as Putin's great blunder
And if anything it's united Ukraine, and not tore it asunder.
American President Joe Biden has now found a way
To make that despicable war criminal, Vlad Putin pay
To Ukraine he's sending lethal predator, and reaper drones
That will help to build stocks of dog food, of Russian bones.
Russian soldiers are not human from what we have seen
You've read and seen the evidence, so you know what I mean
They're gutless and have yellow streaks all down their backs
And scurry down to the sewers when Ukraine counter attacks.
Russians fire from a distance and let their lethal missiles fly
At hospitals, nurseries and any innocent civilians passing by
They only kill unarmed men, women and children, who pose no threat
But Russia, the civilised world is watching and we will not forget.
Red flags are what the Russians are using, to justify a crime
But the world is not stupid and it can see through the grime
A Russian town on the border was shelled so they could blame Ukraine
Then used it as an excuse to inflict, more misery and pain.
Every Despot who commits war crimes will always pay the price
Putin the war dog will be put down, Ukraine will not think twice
He'll have to surround himself with thugs and be lucky every day
But an avenger will only have to strike lucky once, to make Putin pay.
No tears were shed when he lost his flagship, in the black sea
It is one lethal weapon less to use, against that war torn country
The west thought sanctions alone would bring this war to an end
But it hasn't really worked, so more arms the west must send.
The battle for the Eastern Donbas region is well underway
And for those brave Ukrainian defenders, we must all pray
They're fighting to defend their freedom and sovereignty
But only military aid from the West will ensure their victory.
The horrific scenes we've seen on the news of towns reduced to rubble
Are because Putin knows he's not winning and that he's in trouble
At his forthcoming military parade, he's hoping to announce a victory
But if he was an honest man he'd tell his country, that he's failed miserably.
Written on 20th April 2022
The death penalty, a practice rooted in antiquity, continues to evoke controversy and ethical dilemmas in modern society. Despite its purported role in deterring crime and administering justice, the death penalty stands on shaky moral ground and should be abolished for several compelling reasons.
Firstly, the irreversible nature of the death penalty is inherently flawed. In a justice system prone to human error, the risk of executing an innocent person is ever-present. Numerous cases worldwide have revealed wrongful convictions, highlighting the fallibility of judicial proceedings. Once a life is taken, there is no recourse for rectifying such a grievous mistake, perpetuating an irreversible injustice that stains the fabric of society.
Moreover, the death penalty undermines the fundamental value of human life. By sanctioning state-sanctioned killings, societies diminish the sanctity of life and condone violence as a means of resolving conflicts. Such a stance contradicts the principles of compassion, rehabilitation, and forgiveness, which should underpin any civilized society's legal framework.
Furthermore, the death penalty fails to achieve its purported goal of deterrence. Empirical evidence suggests that the threat of capital punishment does not significantly deter individuals from committing heinous crimes. Instead, socioeconomic factors, mental health issues, and systemic inequalities often drive criminal behavior. Investing in preventative measures, such as education, poverty alleviation, and mental health services, would yield more effective and humane solutions to reducing crime rates.
Critics argue that the death penalty provides closure to victims' families and serves as a form of retribution. However, vengeance should not be conflated with justice. Studies have shown that the prolonged legal processes and endless appeals associated with death penalty cases exacerbate the victims' families' trauma, prolonging their suffering rather than offering closure.
In conclusion, the abolition of the death penalty aligns with the principles of justice, compassion, and human rights. By rejecting this antiquated and morally dubious practice, societies can move towards a more enlightened and humane approach to criminal justice—one that prioritizes rehabilitation, reconciliation, and the inherent worth of every individual.
How can we not have this conversation
where footprints of the poor vanish
beneath the boots of investors,
and the river sings only
to those who can afford its luxury?
In Chobe, the elephants roam free,
but people walk caged in poverty.
We call it coexistence
when tusks are protected,
but mothers bury their sons
gored near neglected kraals.
And no one comes
unless it's a game drive
and the victim is not black.
How can we not speak
when the lion's roar is louder
than a widow's cry for compensation?
When leopards eat goats
and ministries write reports not cheques?
Let's talk about the five-star smiles
that greet foreign tongues
while the Batswana mop floors, serve beer, and sleep on concrete after ten-hour shifts.
Let's talk about uniforms and pay slips
that smell like servitude,
contracts folded into silence
in offices lined with antelope heads.
And let's speak of the racism
how a Black woman was shot by a white woman
who said, "I thought it was a monkey."
As if her body was a silhouette of threat.
As if Blackness is always a blur
on the edge of someone else's comfort.
The river bore witness, but the law shrugged,
and headlines softened the bullet.
Let's talk of fishermen
banished from their birthright,
told their canoes spoil the view,
that their laughter scares the tourists,
that their presence is pollution.
Let's speak of lodge owners
who toss insults like breadcrumbs
to those who clean their sheets
lazy, slow, replaceable.
No chains, but contracts.
No slurs, just smiles
with knives beneath them.
We cannot be quiet
when the sun sets
behind lodges built on lies,
and the river is fenced
not for safety, but exclusion.
How can we not speak
of the politics of permits,
where land is leased
like livestock,
and council seats are auctioned
to the highest foreign bidder?
Corruption blooms like water hyacinth,
choking life from the roots
of communal trust.
The sand knows.
The baobabs know.
Even the crocodiles know
how long we've swallowed
our own tongues
to protect the myth of peace.
So let us talk.
Let us gather in the heat
of midday truth,
where no luxury air-con hums.
Let us speak until the sky listens,
until justice stalks this land
as fiercely as the wild.
Because silence, here,
is complicity.
And we have been quiet
for far too long.
Form:
This is the house built “right”.
This is the greed bred in the seed
of the foundation of the house built “right”.
This is the arrogant and pervasively resonant
that's born of the greed bred in the seed
of the foundation of the house built “right”.
This is supremacy abiding acceptably
that stinks of the arrogant and pervasively resonant
that's born of the greed bred in the seed
of the foundation of the house built “right”.
This is the racism staining the light prism
casting a blight in its favor of white
that shines with supremacy abiding acceptably
that stinks of the arrogant and pervasively resonant
that's born of the greed bred in the seed
of the foundation of the house built “right”.
This is the ignorance piping the dissonance
and chanting the tune of the morally immune
that fosters the racism staining the light prism
casting a blight in its favor of white
that shines with supremacy abiding acceptably
that stinks of the arrogant and pervasively resonant
that's born of the greed bred in the seed
of the foundation of the house built “right”.
This is the lie as diseased as a fly
that's spreading the ignorance piping the dissonance
and chanting the tune of the morally immune
that fosters the racism staining the light prism
casting a blight in its favor of white
that shines with supremacy abiding acceptably
that stinks of the arrogant and pervasively resonant
that's born of the greed bred in the seed
of the foundation of the house built “right”.
This is the consequence empowered incompetence
brings as a penance we serve as our sentence
for trusting the lie as diseased as a fly
that's spreading the ignorance piping the dissonance
and chanting the tune of the morally immune
that fosters the racism staining the light prism
casting a blight in its favor of white
that shines with supremacy abiding acceptably
that stinks of the arrogant and pervasively resonant
that's born of the greed bred in the seed
of the foundation of the house built “right”.
The oh so "right" have bullyjacked our American Dignity!
WE HAVE THE CURE TO THIS CANCER, THIS HOUSE SHOULD BE CONDEMNED!
-Everyone "left" whom cares enough to speak out against the greatest threat democracy has ever faced and are increasingly aware of the dangerous trajectory America is hurling towards.
I do it for the boys, the girls, men, the women,
plus Allah's unborn children look how I'm living
it's similar to, your situation no money making,
just chips and egg crates in front the Playstation.
Cable's late again my real friends know my struggle,
a rough 9 to 5 plus supplying studio time is my hussle.
It's just my father, Jibri, and I shacked in a shack
shackled to a broken home with no
welcome mat get back.
Everysince my mother left the building,
the feeling ain't the same pain is building
rain is killing the window pain.
Winters are harsh man, but I can take it though
as long as I'm wrapped up in these blankets
I'm a make it man.
I do it for the emcees, the djs, the b-boys, the b-girls,
hip hop is a growing culture plus it's a free world.
Free to manifest expressions,
free to rep your section focused over nice composures
flowing until the night is over.
Don't be like me just be like the music you like
use right rhyme and reason choose nice lines and preach them.
Watch the ones leeching watch who you be with frequent
cause you can end up with your dreams slowly sinking.
Only you can make it in this, it's a business,
forget the fame listen use your senses don't be senseless.
Be patient and grind hard if waiting to shine start
slanging tapes on my block & your block it don't stop.
Hit up every spot around,
it's a milion of us trying to get a milion bucks and
chill in a vila feeling the cool breeze.
I'm am who me.
the same easy dude speaking jeweles
do you I'm a do me.
I started off young with a pen and a pad lyrics I had
before that I scribbled on scraps forget about class.
Entered school thinking of rap,
grades sinking in math
twas either skip, go home, or sit in the back.
During lunch I read what I wrote
they said it was dope, within battles
no one put Bomb Threat on the ropes.
Six years later I.....left to go solo felt I was hopeless
in a group that wasn't hungry only one supplying money me.
Then the south was united, two years later divided
but Mama Glo, had the best ideas,
but I, down no man no way no how
cause if you make it in this game from the heart I'm proud.
FLA I will make this official rake up a pencil
for Jenah's sake I'm a make it
and mention you on an instrumental.
That's a promise I'm honest, show me love back
hold me down
southside is us you gotta love that.
Life does not necessarily mature into timeless love,
just as yeast is not the entire evolutionary journey for bread,
and the Way may be part of, but not the entirety of,
the Beloved Community.
It is so interesting, for a nondualist at least,
that a profoundly radical Jewish teacher
would say He is the yeast
while We are the embodied bread;
He is the Way,
yet We are the Kingdoms and QueenEarth Shabbats at hand.
Then the men turn it around,
get it all dualistically, cause-effect backwards,
while the women probably knew this Messianic mentor
as bootstrapping our evolutionary fulfilling birthing process
of incoming and oncoming and ongoing cooperative co-messianism.
The patriarchs,
with theo-means not-ecological words in hand,
were too invested in their post-revolutionary need to distance themselves
from the then-powerful elitist threat of Judaic cultural power,
at least by comparison with their post-revolutionary
dualist-fundamentalist Either/Or departure
into before-Christ/after-Christ messianism-already-fulfilled
by the One
who taught himself as the intentional mentoring leaven,
and not the entire cooperative organic co-salvific loaf;
as the only Way He could speak of and for,
but not our entire EarthTribe Garden
of cooperative ecotherapeutic
co-redemptive messianism at hand.
Too bad the wives and mothers,
the nondualist gatherers and not so much the dualist hunters,
didn't have the education,
or perhaps even the verbal communication skills,
to write down their creolizing nondualist fulfillment narratives
of cooperative nurture,
to recall and cast a nondualist Messiah
who did not come to kill YHWH's Chosen People,
or His own culture,
the regenerative history flowing through his humane-divining
mindbody,
but to leaven with these Elders,
those who had no ecopolitical Win/Lose self-centered elitist hypocrisies
like the Pharisees and Sadduccees,
those who were not over-invested in the competitive change of Caesar's coin
from useful for cooperative consuming health
into iconic value-only for producing disembodied hoards of wealth,
and to leaven within us
as one continuously multiculturing
multigenerational
nondualistic-BothJewish/AndChristian
organic creolizing mindbody
of regenerative intention
and vast ecopolitically radical compassion;
like yeast evolving divinely humane bread.
I bet your beds comfy,
I imagine it smells of flowers and vanilla,
Or just the smell of clean,
And you have pillows,
Big soft voluptuous pillows,
And sheets,
Clean sheets.
I could sleep forever in a bed like that,
Literally forever,
And I bet you don’t even think about it,
Because it’s just a bed to you,
And it is,
Id probably cry if I could climb into like that everyday,
I’d cry if I could climb in for one day,
An hour or two,
The comfort would be amazing but -,
probably too comfortable for someone like me,
I’m used to the cardboard thats under me,
And Im quite attached to the bag that I sleep in,
Even the smell settles me,
And trust me when I tell you -
It’s not flowers or vanilla !
The noises of the night are my lullabies,
And the crisp cut of the cold keeps me alert,
Keeps me safe,
You probably wouldn’t understand,
But I’m glad of that,
A bed would be nice,
The comfort would be nicer,
But it’s the home that it’s in that makes it special,
A comfy bed - that’s safe, in a house,
A home,
Secure,
Free from the fear of a random threat,
That’s why you can sleep so well in your comfy bed,
Because your safe,
Because your free to sleep,
Where as my sleep can cost me dearly,
If I fall asleep I can lose the little that I have,
Even the shoes off my feet,
If I fall asleep I could be woken with a kick or a punch,
If I fall asleep,
I might not wake up at all,
So your bed is comfy and would be nice,
But it’s the fact you can sleep freely which is special,
So treasure your bed,
Enjoy your sleep,
And be thankful for your freedom.
I’m not jealous ,
I wouldn’t wish my situation on anyone,
I don’t even wish it on myself but I accept it,
If I fought it I wouldn’t be here now.
All I ask is that -
Next time you see a homeless person,
Remember a little kindness goes along way.
Life’s a funny bugger -
There was a time when I had a comfy bed,
In a nice loving house,
There was a time when I would look at the homeless I passed in the street,
Never once imagining that the cardboard mattress next to them was reserved for me
So sleep well good people,
Treasure what yo have because time is fleeting,
Good fortune is a gift,
When you climb into your bed tonight,
Stop for a second to appreciate it,
Just ..... appreciate it for me,
Because I can’t.
Not right now anyway,
But hey -
It is what it is.
Have they heard
The flutter of bright wings
The birds are too scared to sing
All the crumbles
Of leaves on the trees
When it’s not fall has everyone wondering
Why is the world deciding to fall
Why are there many wings at every call
Why is all greenery dead as can be
It could only be one thing
The poison butterflies
Gliding through the skies
Finding what it takes to survive
The poison butterflies
Using the supply
Planning to do so much damage in so little time
Those poison butterflies
Have they heard
The crops are all dying
The children are crying
No matter the place
Mothers say
“My dears please don’t worry
We might not last long anyway”
Why is the world deciding to fall
Why won’t the leaders do anything at all
Why are people so blind to the beauty
It could only be one thing
The poison butterflies
Conquering the skies
Doing what it takes to survive
The poison butterflies
Staining the supply
Ready to do so much damage in so little time
Those poison butterflies
No one is safe from the terror of wings
Having more power than a thousand stings
Appearing so pretty but doing much harm
Escaping without any threat and alarm
Beware of the butterflies taking the skies
Close all the windows and leave places where they lie
They fly on flowers to ruin their core
Their contact on common folk bruises and spores
Everything’s died to the poison butterflies
Nothing left for the poison butterflies
The poison butterflies
Conquered the skies
Did what it took to survive
The poison butterflies
Spoiled the supply
Learned how to do so much damage in so little time
Those poison butterflies
Have they heard
The butterflies rule everything
Treat them like the most fearful of kings
Mothers say
“Dears, the world’s not as you know it
But we’ll have to learn that it is okay.”
When life as one knows it
Will be shattered and broken
It could be unspoken
To forget all the tokens
When nature conspires
People are not wired
To gather all that’s ruined and start their own fire
A entirely submissive herd
With so much to learn
But no time remains
They are all stuck in pain
Too afraid of what they could burn
So now and forever
The world is in the reign of those who
Knew how to fly
Conquered the skies
Did all they could to destroy earth in so little time
Those poison butterflies