Long Underground Poems
Long Underground Poems. Below are the most popular long Underground by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Underground poems by poem length and keyword.
What's
better
than gold?
A heart of
gold and
any
golden
rule
Thus
donot
over the
mined
thing drool.
What's
better
than
pearls?
Any pearls
of wisdom
grant the
oyster
some
freedom!
What's
better
than
diamonds
Supernovas
that dazzle
like
them
So don't
you fret if
you can't
afford
the earthly
underground
gem.
What's
better
than
rubies?
Crimson
roses and
rosy lips
I do, and
maybe
you too
already
have them!
What's
better
than
emeralds?
Feline eyes
glowing in
the dark.
Ah Lord!
That
fluorescent
spark!
What's
better
than silver?
The hope
that every
cloud has
a silver
lining
Even
miners
they don't
enjoy the
mining.
What's better than amber?
Amber eyes shining like embers.
In God's design variety of
eyeball shades
Ah the licorice eyed maidens
and maids!
And whether it be
zircon or amethyst
Sapphire or lapis lazuli
Agate, opal or tanzanite
what tis far better
than all these gems put
together
is anyone known as 'a gem of
a person'.
For instance it's upto you
to transcend flesh and blood
and be a guiding star
for the transient travellers that
we are.
I hear it friend! Don’t you?
But I’ve heard that sound before
When Legion screamed aloud its voice
And chilled men to the core…
They’ve sat so long in chamber
With nothing there to fear
The serpents head keeps changing
Each fifth or each tenth year
The ‘falling man’ a symbol
Unholiness abounds
A harsh reality awaits us all
As the chain-link underground
I hear it friend! Don’t you?
But I’ve heard that sound before
When Legion screamed aloud its voice
And chilled men to the core…
The worker claws at logic
Stores emptied without reason
The Devil’s in the detail
The poor accused of treason
We’ve watched the Towers fall
And we’ve seen the jaded truths
The proof of lies, they still deny
The eniquity the refute
I hear it friend! Don’t you?
But I’ve heard that sound before
When Legion screamed aloud its voice
And chilled men to the core…
Who’ll rise up to the call
The fight for Good or Evil
Protect our childrens future
Who’ll check the cards they’re Dealing
Our Brothers eyes are opened
Yet they tunnel in the dark
Their egos can’t deny their deeds
So they call themselves WAL-MART
I hear it friends! Can’t you?
Now, it’s louder than before
As Legion screams aloud
Its voice chills me to the core…
"""""""""""'""""""""'
say what? gibberish jabber and jive
thrown off by that name design
i’ll pause for hee-larious devilish crime,
just this once, yo!
befriending puzzled game of who i am
roarrr! gotta hang loose and chillax...
click the clock and go with moment’s groove
if i hear some laughs, i’ll con you with slum stuff
for now, i ain’t your momma’s sweet thing
to give what’s due, let your green bucks talk
my tricky demons have been impatient,
now let that flat tire settle you.
this rhythm spins for bad, bad girl i’ve never been...
drums roll for a con girl… i’m ready for bullying
spinnin out scum and knowing i spit the shots
sleeky me, too not quick to catch
upside down and underground,
brace yourself or turn around. if you do please,
keep your smarts… street life is my major major punk
i’m callin last call, and all of you, hear this...
it’s time to bail out and bounce up,
live beyond lucid dreams and spark your plug
far beyond the images we see, there are split
mirror- dualities of what seem to be… see, i fancied
the title “Candle Net Out” also known as
nette on the clouds…too pretty and normal,
i’m experimental,
let me shock you from inside out…
just for today, it’s wickedly freaky showtime!
all rights reserved
©
*twisted because this was the teenage side of me
that wanted to rebel..but just did it half- way through!
:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
PD's Any Twisted Poem
by: nette onclaud
There will be days:
Like days of thunder; birth of Princess
Days of sunshine; falling in love with stranger
Heroes born, heroes passing away
Days which come and go;
Blown away by windy day
Turned into smoke, when fire is on the march
Struck by lightning, or evaporate in hot day
Days which come, pass and some forgotten
But there will be days:
That will enliven the heart, making you feel chosen
Continue being inspiration-
-Like journey to paradise, conversing with your Angel
Getting hope, that something good lies ahead-
-Like rain after long drought
Bringing joy, even to creatures underground
To look forward to the future;
Yes, there will be days:
To remember, even when nothing is there
Bringing smiles when everything is gone
To sing the ancient magnificent song-
-Song engraved in the heart
Breeding greater purpose in mind, and
Forever being your companion
Nine Eleven—a dark day lives of many workers were stolen away
Individuals worked all night; stayed; without seeing the light of day
Nose to the grindstone below floor level they labored productively
Effectively moving papers, stacks, racks, speedily and so selectively
Encouraged basement overtime; more taxes paid; they worked away
Loyal workers; dedicated to the cause; laziness to them—not a gift!
Earnestly they called home to say, “Honey I am working another shift”
Encouraged by those who stayed; coffee and donuts— no need to pay
Encroachment above they never did see as terror stuck during the day
Night’s darkness envelope the light; underground darkness of the night
~~~~~~~~~~~***~~~~~~~~~~~
© Joseph Spence, Sr., 8/27/09
© All Rights Reserved
~~~~~~~~~~~***~~~~~~~~~~~
Joseph S. Spence, Sr., is the author of "The Awakened One Poetics" (2009), which is
published in seven different languages. He invented the Epulaeryu poetry form, which
focuses on succulent cuisines and drinks. He is published in various forums, including the
World Haiku Association; Poetinis Druskininku, Milwaukee Area College, Phoenix Magazine;
Möbius Poetry, and Taj Mahal Review to name a few. Joseph is a Goodwill Ambassador for
the state of Arkansas, USA, a college faculty, and a military veteran.
I got on the train line
Metro North allows bikes, I had mine.
I stood near the door, other spots occupied
I had a mountain bike, but it can road ride.
Two women got on, one had a suitcase
They sat down, looked at my haggard face.
The tall one asked why I had a mountain bike
The short one said it was faster than a hike.
Then the short one gave a self-righteous frown.
She emphatically declared "He must be kept down!"
You might ask why, you might be intrigued
But it's a long story, and I'm fatigued.
I had a history, a woman felt rejected
The truth was pathetic but never inspected.
She became a lesbian, then I interfered for her sake.
I had plenty of years to rue that mistake.
Those four words intrigue me, many a time
How bizarre motives can trap you in a design
What business have these women to diminish anyone?
To hem a man in, to filter the sun?
Some work underground, sway events from below
control beliefs, control where I go.
Funny in a way, that anyone would care
whether I rose or fell on life's transient stair.
The tall woman caressed the short one
Those four words kept hurting like bullets from a gun.
I guess people form tribes by victim ideology:
It wasn't me who owed them an apology.
The train rolled on, past shadow and light,
Her verdict hung there, it just wasn't right.
I went on my bike ride, but later events showed
That a war was waged, that nobody knowed.
Blood used to make me queasy
Make me turn away, unable to bare
Now seeing blood is easy
After getting used to the cuts on my body
So when blood drains out of your heart
Staining the floor as your eyes roll back
With this life you'll finally part
As no one comes to save your soul
I won't look away, no, not at all
I will enjoy the sight of it
The way that you made me feel so small
Every feeling of pain you deserve
Your death will make me smile
Your torture will make me laugh
Your screams will be heard for miles
Your tears will satisfy my thirst for vengeance
Crimson the color staining clothes of white
The most beautiful artwork I will ever see
As I see your eyes fade of their light
I won't feel anything but relief and joy
Closure will only come to me
When you're six feet underground
I hope my blade will be the last thing you see
As I put your miserable existence to a close
But just knowing that you died for your sins
With no resurrections after three days
Never to be seen in this world again
Maybe then my nightmares would cease
Or if justice was true in this nation
Locked up behind jail cells to rot
To serve out your sentence of damnation
Never to plague others as you did me
To the ones who beat my body
To the ones who stole its privilege
To the ones who made me bloody
To the ones who left me scars
This poem is written here for you all to see
With every bit of "love" that you gave me
Elemental formulations of healing for the soul
Consequential co-ordinations as we resist growing old
Monumental calculations from a mind in the scientific cold
Fundamental indignation from a heritage that has been cheaply sold
Inspiration from an underground rebellion against corruption
Congregations gathering peacefully while they plan the next outrageous eruption
Elevations of encouragement reserved for the next humble induction
Consternations of conscience as they deliberate the latest disruption
Elated Birthrights of grace that alleviate the suffering of man
Conflated sights of misplaced rights that insight the oppressed to take a stand
Berated knights of armies that fight for the underprivileged lands
Outdated insights from the furtherest from right that cannot reach out to take their neighbours hand
Sorrow amidst the grieving leaves of the oldest oak lined tree
Tomorrow rids the meaning of the boldest manoeuvre to be free
Borrow a reference from those streaming the coldest point of view even though they cannot see
Chateaux of Buddhist Mist resists those seeming as though they understand what it means to just “be”
Retrospective Franz Kafka, Kubrick and Van Gogh are turning in their respective artistic graves
Genuflective baroque bursts out in the streets and illuminates the belligerent and brave
My perspective resists the twists in the narrative that perpetuate the misrepresentation of knowledge in this dying age
Defective subjectives invoke word detectives as contradictions alleviate words from a sage
Retreating from gender and bigotry , racism, discrimination and persecution
Completing a consulate meeting while avoiding contamination of your verbal elocution
Deleting the render of fascism, recrimination and avoiding electrocution
Competing the bender of catachlysm while intimidation forces an absolution
Give peace a chance while you look at him askance and allow a new world to now form
Live through this strange dance while the privilege prance and the poor remain utterly forlorn
Forgive the wanton violent stance of those who are existing war torn
Outlive the demise of the good in disguise as a baby cries after being born
The End Copyright Elizabeth Moroz
This poem is not meant to be a speech nor is it written to offend or give anyone blame.
It just a mere observation of how today leaders choose to bring civilasation back into the slave trade.
What a confusion of misconception when one term is mistaken in conversation.
Horrors of slavery now waterdowned for modernization.
Underpaid abuse workers identified as no different from mass excavation from African nations.
How can slavery still exist when slaves broke the law back then.
And now modern slaves can use the law to protect them
Still we debate how to eradicate slavery.
Without the admittance of our desrire for more for less
Still we debate, but not on how propaganda can work for our interest.
How can shackles and chains, branded and slained
Be compared to smuggle and threatened, low pay and mistreated.
Imagine generations of babies born into slavery with no prospect of ever knowing anything different
Imagine seeking refuge, better life but being tricked into cheap labour.
Absolute sub human bondage that we wont tolerate for our wildest of wildlife
Force to work long hours with minimum pay so stakeholders can get their share.
Cotton picker slaves, plantation slaves, breeding slaves, game slaves under institutions designed to seek maximum gained whilst inflicting maximum pain.
Started out seeking refuge and a better life but conned into taking a different path of trouble and strife.
Sold to the highest bidder in auction houses, record kept for compensation and ownership.
Smuggle underground,whilst living next door in total hardship.
Nowadays, topic,how to end modern day slavery.
Back then was how to universaly enforce it.
Nowadays slavery,redemption and even compensation.
Back then not even criminalization only normalisation.
Slavery means seveitude multiply by desititute then magnify it by four hundred years equals privileges with blood stain riches.
Exploitations means, starting with gratitude trick into solitude minus Non Gratis equals affordability without resposibility.
Please stop trying to rewrite history with mystery
Inorder to patronized your higher devious morality.
Popping up through the rich, dark earth
Little green leaves, so tender and sweet
Touching the air as they leave their refuge
Of underground nutrition, alive with nourishment
Sprouts alive with olive green verdures
Emerald plants, lush, luxuriant, laughing
With a sense of purpose, knowing their hope
Is in the sweet scent of rainfall and sunshine
Breathtaking and succulent, they thrive
With flavors of hope, happiness and hype
Growing amid the weeds, wildflowers and winds
Touching on the heart who listens to the thrill
Whispering dreams of delights only imagined
Passions fulfilled by light, love and laughter
That comes from faith that believes in the grace
Given to us by a kind God, One who knows our souls
Gentling our hearts with sensations sweet and sure
Birthed by feelings living through the worst storms
Like those new plants, given time and good food
There will be a strength and growth that is so good
Only the one who knows God’s hand caresses the thoughts
Of one who listens to the heart and soul who is bought
By a loving God who gave His one and only Son to all of us
Who know that He saves us from the worst sin and sorrow
It is God who gave us all we need to live, grow and become
The life that is graced by kindness, joy and reassurance
The life that gives back to others from the soil of the heart
Who listens to the whisper of a kind and loving God