Long Unrest Poems
Long Unrest Poems. Below are the most popular long Unrest by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Unrest poems by poem length and keyword.
I heard a worried smelly coppering
Once I said engaged and nickeling
The Richer poor get richer
Unrest- unrest- unrest
The rich get richer the poor stay poor
Nothing left
All's been spent
Only this
And a reservation
Hush
What a gold rush
Do you like silver cadets
It's a rich get richer the poor stay poor
They're stood a guided gold plated stand
By brought such sorrow
To richer poor gets richer
Tohat preventative preventative cushion
I felt compelled to sniff the elements
I threw my silver spoon upon the floor
The surplus standbys storing
I crave the proactive precious plus gold rush
Set I think of kil
Death shall bring assets
Which I whom discovered the reserve
The richer gets richer the poor stays poor
11/8/20
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr © 2020
You don’t have to put on your red light.
You don’t have to put on your red light.
You don’t have to put on your red light.
You don’t have to put on your red light.
Red light
Red light
Red light
My speech can’t be cut off.
It Does not come for free; it bears a cost.
I walked the beat around the block.
Stood toe to toe with the toothed clock.
I know where my bones grow.
In fields of poppies row upon row
I fought my battles and wore my scars.
Felt the earth rattle.
Hummed to stars
Close the lamp.
Your face is damp.
This is your awakening.
You’ve sacrificed your final chance.
I won’t wait for an empty heart.
That only tears love apart.
I won’t hold on to grief.
Like a talisman
Its only segregation
Dressed as protection
I won’t be preserved in stasis.
like a woman in plastic
only served when you crave.
comfort food like mom used to make.
I am not your nostalgic taste.
Of your past mistakes
Before they baked, in reflective light
Don’t touch me.
stripped of my mylar coating
My brain, stutters, spits, sprawls
I make my crow call.
You fed me relics.
That turned to rot
I grew orchards in the paved over parking lot.
With respect
I swing on the tire, hanging from the limbs of reincarnation.
I play games with dream sprites.
And I walk the fields of my labor.
I didn’t need someone to die for my sins.
I only absolved myself of the misery within
I cleansed my soul with my own toil.
Digging in soil for the roots of my grief
To pull the weeds from the dirt.
I rolled over in my grave, and I watched the planets align.
A smile came to my face.
And I found my place.
My grace, I sigh.
I walked the Manic streets at night
I turned on the red light
I was looking for a man dressed in valor
badges of honor decorate his broken chest
Rib cage cracked in two
By the worlds melancholic tune,
But still sings like an angel in a state of unrest
Roxanne cries as the red light dies,
Dissipates with the clouds of rain.
Droplets of lifeblood anointing pain
He has a caring heart, he has the passion
He came to his own, his own accepted him
He came to render selfless service to his people
The burden is upon his solder, he's ready to bear it
He set the vision and he is running with it
He has ran, he's still running, He has ran far and wide
He represents leadership, pragmatic leadership
He has consulted, he has consolidated
He has built bridges, he's set to build more
Then they came, they struck, to disrupt the peace, the peace of our clan
To reset and unsettle, to enthrone mediocrity and moribundity
Why do they enjoy lawlessness, brigandage, thuggery?
Why do they, especially in our clan, enjoy conflicts and unrest?
Why do they take delight in heating up the system?
Why do they like arrogating powers they do not have to themselves?
Why do they like parading about like tin gods? Why? Why? Why?
Are they gods? No they aren't. They are mortals.
No election was held yet a winner emerged - what a farce!
The electorates were denied of their civic rights,
They were disenfranchised by self seeking politicians.
The mandate was stolen, the people's mandate.
Ha! This is an omen, I do not see where this will take us.
Now I see, it will take us to damnation, to destruction,
Except the mandate be restored, the people's mandate.
Ah! I heard a voice saying It shall be restored!
Mother Earth shall help us restore it.
God of the sky shall help us restore it.
The Sun, the Moon, the Stars shall help us restore it.
Ivo, Ohaozara, Onitcha shall restore it.
Though it be stolen, it shall be restored.
The people's mandate shall be restored by the people.
All the beauty of decorations point to a folly reason,
and everywhere our curious and astonished eyes turn this season:
is about commercial profit and insane shopping sprees...
no, nobody seems aware of the glory of the forgotten Jesus!
If money squandering weren't on anybody's mind,
we would have less worries and sleep soundly as a child;
ever wonder if the Devil had something to do with this?
Believe it, He is the cause of unrest and unhappiness!
We can still redeem ourselves by washing our souls of greed;
imagine how sad and inhuman is to watch the forgotten Jesus
with no visitors rushing to the stable to proclaim Him a King who'll lead:
let's all greet Him and and really value the true meaning of Christmas!
All children may be disappointed about this, sudden drastic change...
getting neither expensive toys nor stuffed stockings on Christmas Eve;
and they may cry...believing that we are the Scrooges of a modern age,
but once they come to visit the forgotten Jesus, they could never leave!
To watch snow tumble from the sky
on streets that clamor with unrest,
the eyes behold the mystery,
of nature at its very best.
I lift my eyes in evening air
to watch snow tumble from the sky
and marvel over nature, rare,
that hides each flaw to glorify.
As grumbling shoppers pass me by,
and traffic rumbles in a state,
to watch snow tumble from the sky
No time to awe, or slow the gait.
They cannot see beyond the cold,
or witness magic for the eye
But, I must stop, my breath's on hold
to watch snow tumble from the sky
_____________________________________________
1/25/16 For Andrea's Contest "Write Me A Quatern"
The whispers of forgetful mist have seemingly descended upon the world of people-kind ...
the conviction of knowing all is wrong ....
but putting a finger on this wrong ‘is not possible..
as chaos has maliciously rolled normality conveniently into an untidy ball of confusion.
Day by day the outward absurdity grows and seems to take hold of normality by the throat ,shaking it’ and enjoying its pitiful whimpering ,
Many as do I ...stand agape and ask why or WHAT? At the strange happenings.
Tik Tak’s fly in the face of the world but are seemingly of little or no interest for humanity ,
But In their stead !‘
The real game of thrones plays out as the masked masses look on in dutiful silence in a numbing TV induced trance...
soaking up the monotony and hoping for salvation and change .
In these strange days ‘The night sky will soon be full of sentimental’s with uncaring prying eyes ...
yet no one seems to vocal a concern or reason for such things of looming uncertainty .
Day by day I observe that The veins of unrest and the Dark unknown are beginning to run deeper in the strata of human society.
Wether I am drinking my morning coffee or closing my eyes to begin sleep ,
There is one thought dominant above all others
.........As a species
we should be so much more than we are today .
I know something about being a GLBT Ginger,
the undress and redress of our left leaning politics,
like sacred naked communion
for Therapeutic Warriors.
At my best,
when adolescence urged HisHer ugly ambiguous head
through pubescent tail,
I wondered if other fire redheads
and sun speckled skins
felt this co-passioned love,
desire beyond procreative need
to touch,
embrace,
to smell,
to taste,
but not to own.
How could I have known
difference between my Ginger sensuality
and gay male nervous sexuality
without more comparative communion?
Although,
in hindsight,
perhaps not quite so much commingling
of sacred elements
I invested with integrity
for sorting out these red
and blue-black,
purplish and heated
ultra-violet distinctions
of warm wet rainbow Gay ecopolitics,
with Ginger red-yin differences,
influences,
tinctures seductive and reductive,
distinctions inductive and deductive;
Integrity of wild red unrest.
From the heart's purest well of hope,
Stepped the cause upon the slope,
And pressed upon the longing breast
The urge, the urge that knows unrest.
To seek the sands of lab'rious time,
The ever arcing laureates of rhyme.
The silver quill said never still,
The golden scroll that remaineth nil.
Swing wide the shuttered sash of dreams,
Let the oceans overflow the streams.
Through open mind and far seeking eye,
Let go the ropes that hold fast the sigh.
And through thy hand, pen, and scroll,
Write the soul's journey and its toll.
What see you, peering from the gloom?
What memories belie thy cluttered room?
What marvels the eye from midst the verdant vale?
The rusty fox's cream tufted tail
He shrills the robin so high above
Whilst coos fall from boughs of idle doves
Write the time she caught your eye,
Or the tear sadness bade her cry,
As you both wept and said goodbye.
The rainy train station, last July.
Or how you held your mother's trembling hand
At last coming to understand
All she went through to raise you
And how it's grown so late to say,
"Thank you, Mom, and knowest how much I love you"
Through painful tears
Those gainful years
And how this day
Crept up upon your fear.
The final day is here
Mark the month, the year,
That all life's glory disappear.
Write how you managed to survive it all
How far the grieving made you fall
How a familiar hand helped you to your feet
A familiar fragrance so ever sweet
And that some rainy day train station-
Goodbyes aren't forever,
For those ever meant to be together.
Write in thy darkest hours
Those heavy trials of ours
For if thou art a poet, then make it known:
Take thou heart; thou art not alone
Help the shrouded world see light,
Midst e'en the darkest dreadful night-
That you made through and out alright,
And that it's not the sun that breaks the gloom;
It's light, ever swelling, from a life that made you
Beneath the August tempo a lovely summer day
and a tantalizing breeze of a million flower-sway
Green and verdant pastures pushing up so spry
touching lofty candors of heaven nigh and nigh ;
Its an eyelet pure and simple sending such a thrill
flowers potted in the soil, blooming fast at will
Beneath the August tempo a lovely summer day
and a trembling rose of valor chasing blues away
Skies with milky shades of white and crayon blue
drinking up the heat and pouring beauty'-spew
Mountains proud and tall echoed with enthrall
sending me a shiver while standing straight n' tall
Before the day is done I want to refuge by the forest
as the eagle flies the summit with a call of deep unrest
Pick a branch inhale the odor of an odorous lament
beneath the August tempo, I groove my carven tent .
August 15, 2018
He who listens will never be heard
He who sees will never be seen
A tongue utters but never of words
A mind wanders forever in dreams
He who kills will forever fear
He who flees will forever triumph
A life implore for death to near
A soul mindless without reasons
He who battles will forever win
He who seeks will never hide
Blood be bled will never be cleaned
Sins… will never be purified
Here he lies, betrayed by all
Here in torment, he sees not release
Who shall come to pass, will fall
Who shall come to pass will forever flourish
His soul lives eternally for revenge
His soul remains unrest for another
He who comes to pass shall avenge
To those of sinned till death be forever