Long Utilitarian Poems

Long Utilitarian Poems. Below are the most popular long Utilitarian by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Utilitarian poems by poem length and keyword.


Premium Member For Whom the Bell Tolls

The cadence of the knell on the wind Lord
Has folk peering from windows and doors
A reminder of fickle mortality
Peals forlornly, for whom the bell tolls

The screams of the Angels, are deafening
Those with the conscience to hear
Dark Winter, cuts colder than ice
Unfolding, the fear of all fears

Media controlled information
Has us fighting brother to brother
As the puppeteers pull on our heartstrings
An Orwellian surrogate mother

Totalitarian terror prevails
An Agenda to meet, time is flying
Denver Airports Time-capsule, historic
Egomaniacs prayers to the dying

Positions of power are key
Those appointed are elitely chosen
Merchants of Venice they’d shame
Like iniquitous embryos, frozen

World Health Organization, instruction
To quell conscientious objectors
Mouth the words of the purse-handlers credo
The beneficiaries, monied investors

The greatest good for the greatest of numbers
Bantham cries, from the crest of his pew
Utilitarian logic prevails
Though, decisions are made by the few

Get in line, live your days in your cells
As we gather the troops to protect you
Martial Law looms, incessantly closer
For your safety we’ll need to inject you

The corruptive, are those with the power
Wielding deaths sword, resolutely
Political towers of Babel
Where power corrupts absolutely

In a World of pandemic paranhoia
The essential works, deemed to be crucial
Are the implementation of towers
Beaming Signals of Sorrow, so brutal

A virus is only a name, you see
It was never a death causal factor
Electromagnetic technology
Is the key to the virul reactor

Big Brothers got one million eyes
And a chip, for to go where e’er you go
No crock of gold’s waiting out there
Hid beneath, ‘An Invisible Rainbow’
Form: Rhyme


Premium Member Nondelusional Illusions

A temporarily useful illusion,

like Wall Street knows something
about inevitable climate pathology
disvalues of anthrosupremacism
worth illusive core investment value

is not necessarily
a merely utilitarian delusion
about timeless principles of value

like human dignity
and organic integrity
and profoundly polycultural beauty.

A temporarily useful illusion
may have long economic
and robustly deep political roots
in universally integral allusions,
round robust reflections,
gut feelings,
intuitions of past fruition
regenerating win/wins
and not degenerating
LeftBrain Loser deductive logos
and RightBrain Loser inductive  
merely threadbare mythos

Languaged thoughts about useful things,
like narrative knitted feelings
from thriving co-relationships,
derive from articulating threads
in allusive indigenous wisdom

Long felt panentheistically
and/or enthymematically
not not yet
does not quite illuminate positively present

Win/win round cosmic
holonic, organic, systemic
rememory of Yangfull Trust
loves Yintegral Beauty

Usefully refines,
illustrates
polyculturally win/win
healthy democracy's peak wealth illusion,
valleyed allusive delusion
in-between implicit wisdom
and explicit knowledge,
empowerment
and enlightenment

Circling
spiraling whole open
systemic energy
non-zero summoned
cooperative illusive experiences
non-zero summed
energy systemic
open whole spiraling
encircling dismembered delusions.

Premium Member Dummying Up

Dummying Up
              by Odin Roark

Once mannequins rocked.
Utilitarian heroes propped up
Behind steering wheels,
Windows,
Doors,
Even beside display animals.
Such were the iron-hearted
Of atomic testing ground history.

Today, Saks 5th Ave windows
With their sophisticated still-life-reality,
Serve the well-to-do shoppers,
The not so well-to-do looky-loos,
And of course, the anything-will-do bag ladies.

In Washington there resides flesh and blood versions,
Animatronic wonders,
Their brain circuitry void of action voltage,
Their suits, ties, tans
Makeup, coifs and dresses
Never askew.

Yet…

These elected reps continue more immobile
Than their lauded ancestry,
Those once sacrificial creations of purpose,
Now but a desert’s dwindling radio active dust.

Yes…

Dummying up has come a long way
To its glorification as our US Congress,
Where nonsense requires one dummy-up opener
So “I’ll see that and raise your wealthy-class
Pandering with five more tax cuts.”
At which point, they break for another fund raising junket.

Unfortunately…

The game will pick up where it left off on their return,
A mannequin mentality becoming more and more inflexible.
© Odin Roark  Create an image from this poem.

Premium Member Tranquillity

The ultimate compassionate
sensation resonates beyond
daily circumstances, travails

It is calming serenity
tapered by lustful indulgences
tempting peacefulness

You wonder how such blessings
could have been bestowed
upon a common utilitarian

personality rife with imperfections.
It's mind boggling
how forces intermingle

creating spheres of happiness.
It dangles illusions
of utopian perfection

transforming everyday misanthropes
into circumstantial bliss
that encapsulates illustrious

transcendental thoughts.
Mind altering realities
bestowed upon simplicities

of thoughtless ramifications
turning lackluster days
into something magical.

The Bone White Road

They laid and built a new road;

in the heat of the day it looks
like a stretched curved spine 
along which newly planted trees 
grow their skimpy wishbones
as they file along the verge.

There is no shade to be had

just  the thin oatmeal stalks of the trees,
their skinless stiff shadows
penciling in a marching sun
as it carves out graphite periods.

Somebody thought to put a fountain

in a bald space by the road
close to a beige housing lots.
Each new home is tantamount to the other.
Apparently beige will not offend
the eyes of any colorblind buyer.

It’s not a good fountain, not decorative,

it’s the kind of fountain to be found
fronting small industrial units;
the bone road circles it,
as if those who walk its arid path
will pause to admire the utilitarian art,
the listless spray of water.

In the heat of the day

it looks like a burst fire hydrant,
the sun does not paint it,
for the font is too sterile to reflect
any kind of rainbow illusion.

A little further on, the road

pauses to die next to some hardscrabble.
At roads end there is a scattering
of broken and splintered bones,
concreted residuals 
of the suns dominion.

There is only one route home now,

back along the lane
to the head of the spine
where the colors of the world
were abandoned for the bland tones 
of white and beige.


Premium Member Poetic License To Heal

I recently read a politically incorrect prolific poet,
or so I thought at the time,
or more felt than thought,
more truthfully,
integrally,

Who said, If poetry is politically correct,
it cannot be poetry.

So, if he is politically correct
in this statement,
is he thereby also not a poet in good standing?

An enigma to which I respond,
If so, then politically incorrect messages
also cannot be poetic,
but tragically disempowering.

Meaning that poetry has power
to change how we feel,
and sometimes listen
and sometimes speak about our relationships.

What are political relationships
if not correctly co-empowering
and incorrectly fragmenting
and disempowering--
without healthy reason
and without wealthy rhyme.

But, now I see this poet's concern more intentionally.
If a poet's intent is merely political correctness,
orthodox dogma of some monoculturally dangerous variety,
with no faithful participation
in change,
in our ongoing collective integrity,
potentiating,
developing,
shifting
co-relational organic powers for healthy communicating minds
still hoping to feed and feel healthy bodies,
then wealthy empowerment
becoming metaphorically richer
on Earth's universal meaning together,
not accessible by apartheid and absolute supremacy,
with synergetic beauty
become mere utilitarian truth,
LeftBrain propaganda
politically severed from deeper yang and yin-ness,
and thereby RightBrain incorrect.

WinWin bicameral therapeutic intent
is politically correct,
empowering,
as seen in narratives of healing
and epic poetry
of time's co-relational passage
musing into Paradise/Hell 
nutritionally/toxically becoming

Where time
celebrates/ignores rhyme
and natural seasons
speak with/without spiritual co-relational reasons.

Premium Member Woe To Dead Works

Dead works...
sown to profit with grandiose worth
midst carnal motives of utilitarian gain
lurking in the guise of selfless sacrifice
yet awaiting futility's harvest...
Woe unto me, and my vain effort!

Dead faith...
persists to please the Almighty
while vanquishing lingering angst 
guilty conscience inflicts 
in overcoming challenges
for mankind's advancement
yet gaining no spiritual merit...
Pity me, and my well-being!

Dead to sin...
as adversary keeps on mocking
for hell's condemnation due to iniquities
gripped with pride along covetous cravings
yet seeking redemption through divine grace and mercy...
Oh God, quicken me, and my soul!

Dead to self...
now conquered by the Saviour's love
strives to reach-out with kindness, sharing peace, compassion, hope
challenging deadness' venom with reverberating 
"O death, where is thy sting? O grave, where is thy victory?
But thanks be to God, which giveth us 
the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ."*

*1Corinthians 15:55-57

August 28, 2019
Edited on September 27, 2023
1st place, "Mocking the dead" Poetry Writing Contest
Sponsored by Silent One; judged on 9/29/2023

Inimitable Intelligible Invaluable Benjamin Franklin

notification of fire evacuation 
     slated to occur 
April 12th, 2018 (between the hours 
     of 9:00 am and 12 pm) did spur
me to validate Google asper,
 
that direct object heave ving, 
     pro noun sub bull, verb bose, 
ingenious American historical figure 
     attired in tailored clothes

careful sans his just keen 
     liberal mien pro
     claiming necessity to doze
when body politik 

     didst need restorative source 
     analogous to drained battery expose
zing lack of electricity 
     mechanisms need did tubby supplied 
     (in one direction) flows

accorded stealing thunder and lightening 
     from Zeus where prominence glows  
vis a vis via leaving 
     his tell tale fingerprints 
     upon flame inextinguishable hose

imprimatur of renown Founding Father, 
     a one man gifted born
improved quality of life 
     during Colonial American stage 

     buttressing forlorn
during his deux score and four years 
     fledgling United States heed add horn
bequeathing blueprints 

     (functional contraptions, 
     posthumous patents procured 
     after populace did mourn
     gadgets kickstarting leveraging more novel 

     Ongepatshket prescience, 
     quietly revolutionary, 
     strikingly timesaving), 
     utilitarian value shorn
tattered stitched timeless totemic tenets torn 

     unimagined visionary watershed worn,
where underworld webbed wide world burned 
with thermal coupling that churned
ferocious infernos 
     describing how Hades learned

tubby managed 
     to maximize efficiency 
zealousness zeroed Zyder Zee 
     in said Netherlands

and hellish hot house turned
into a near utopia (More
     or less nsync) with Doubting Thomas's,
where many mortals yearned

to escape corrupt fat cats, sans
     those condemned to mortality
     found minimally a mew
zing, and doggedly trudged 10,000 leagues

     under the sea, entombing
     jewels for vernacular speaking Josephine shew
wing scars from fire 
     that threatened Philadelphians thorough

lee hence, forcing many civilians 
     to dive vining Davy Jones's locker pre view 
     in 1736 after swallowing embalming fluid 
     ha I did "FAKE" you
     tubal heave poetic pablum from human zoo!

Premium Member Hearth and Art

Every layman knows that since long ago,
painting, sketching and sculpting 
by those possessing valid talent
has produced art that exhilarates hearts
and/or thoughts as artistry caught.

Not all know that our modern times
paired fine arts’ aesthetics chime
with craft’s utilitarian cadence
under Visual Art's mega umbrella.
Many wish riddance to this ambivalence.

To me, the grabbing-high from creativity
comes when it moves me perceptively.
I’m not much for art particulars,
its critics, popular trends or scholars.
I have my own criteria for art to
be brought home and share my hearth;
it must spark my imagination’s girth
with a delight that bubbles forth.
Form: Lyric

Premium Member Critical Nonviolence Theory

Compassion does not speak in judgment;
at least not before sufficient listening
on the emerging edge of gratitude.

Therapeutic sciences now speak
as one with inter-religious mystics,

That kindness
is physically and mentally therapeutic
for those who receive
and especially those who adeptly give,
facilitate,
mediate
mentor,
empower
while cooperatively enlightening.

While we readily see this bilateral correlation
of kind-therapy
and mean-pathology
when counseling couples
and quarreling kids
and mediating sometimes ancient
multigenerational family disputes,

We less often consider historical
and larger present day applications
to things like slavery
colonization
criminalization
patriarchalism
parochialism
evangelism
apartheid
white supremacy
homophobia
sexism
racism

Competitive capitalist drive to win/lose survive
without cooperative communion to win/win thrive

These utilitarian
punishing
elitist
competitive issues are all antithetical to kindness
of multiculturing communions,
to the exercise of healthy democratic communication,
to resiliently trust
transgenerational wealthy communities

Where compassion seldom speaks 
in win/lose evolving/devolving judgment,
and not before sufficient win/win 
deep dynamic 
revolutionary listening

For compassion's integral reasons
before speaking impassioned feelings
out of fore-giving healthy hearted season.

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