Long Utopias Poems
Long Utopias Poems. Below are the most popular long Utopias by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Utopias poems by poem length and keyword.
Time's running out for whooping cranes,
the buffalo, and prairie dogs.
For they've been predominantly
replaced by cattle, sheep, and hogs.
The elephant and the blue whale
may share the fate of the dodo.
For these species are endangered,
like the dragons of Komodo.
Alligators and crocodiles,
tread the fringes of extinction.
And the California condor's
future hangs on its distinction.
Seal pups are slaughtered for their fur;
otters for the fish they've eaten.
And the wild lions and tigers,
are routinely caged and beaten.
In sanitized utopias,
we plant the occasional tree.
But in this plastic paradise,
there’s little wildlife left to see.
Yeah can nay make a better world
by killing all the people
Stalin
Marx
Hitler
Lenin
All felt that the ends justifies the means
Marx and Lenin wanted to build utopia
a world where all the people
had food and enjoyed life
Hitler wanted to build a world
where all sickness
or disabilities where gone
yet the ends do not justify
the means
you can not build a better world
by killing all the people
You can build a better world
with education and investment
they say within the next twenty years
thirty eight percent of the workforce
will be replaced by robots
but that means thirty eight percent
of the workforce wages will be gone
less customers for shops
Less people
that can afford to buy products
Yet if we teach people to become
investors perhaps dividends
can replace wages
What a world we could have
machines doing the work
well people get to live a play
Nature is showing us
what we are doing wrong
overpopulation can be controlled
by human education
people that want careers
put off having families
careers and investment
build better lives
Look after your pennies
and your dollars
look after themselves
your unemployed and starving
are your pennies
teach them to have careers
and your country gains more tax
your companies gain more customers
and your people build
their individual utopias
nobody can tell you
what to do with your life
that choice is up to you
yet we can learn from each other
we can learn from what makes people happy
we can learn how to overcome anger
how to destroy hatred
education is the path to success
you can't wait for others to help you
you must learn to help yourself
if a millionaire gives a million people
one dollar each he has nothing left
but if a million people invest
one dollar each that's a million dollars
jobs and futures for the unemployed
you want to overcome
the devastation of the corona virus
you want to rebuild the world economy
teach the people that are working
to become investors
building jobs for people out of work
creating investment and profit for themselves
overcoming unemployment and starvation
building a utopia does not work by killing people
education is the path, to individual
and the worlds success
we all need to learn
how to build our own utopia
Space is where we put Utopias.
Where Paradise Lost, was first in space.
Where else can hope, for better there-after, be put?
In the mirror, I see myself in space,
over there, where I am not, cack-handed.
My shadow tails me every where,
bending my space-time dimensions
with guilt and dark matter.
The cemetery is space-in-common,
for tombstone pyramids with tickets
in time-capsules to after-life in space.
Space is a mesmerizing conundrum!
A vacuum never ever filled to continuum.
A waste of space for storing
dream-catchers caught napping.
Nothing to lose if lost.
Imagine?
A martyr poltergeist left an elegy
Not much eulogizing the choice of a strategy.
Its undead friends never met their ends, they cannot be
The least affected by all this atrocity.
A cry of help was muffled
In the ruins of the rubble
And the media hollers, calling it a mere scuffle
What a caricature of the civil who suffer!
People leave fingerprints
Shaded vermillion
They make a mockery of innocents
And then claim to be in favor all along!
People leave imprints
Of things that they cherish
But when the things are left to perish,
Why do we debate the morality of the inherently wrong?
A letter was found, one belonging to a student
Not much did it call the higher powers prudent
Their undead teachers never aided 'creatures', they can't be
The most responsible for all this heat, sir!
A plea of peace was trampled
In the junkyard where the spirits were dampened
And the ignorant, they call for samples
Of godforsaken terrible ideas that will only ever tamper —
People leave handprints
Saturated in blood and sin
Others make a fool of their own kin
Then claim they were patriotic the whole time!
People leave imprint
Of trinkets, their wishlists
And their dreams & desires end up in blacklists
Why do we historically fail to be remotely sublime?
——I don't want to die, it may seem selfish
I wouldn't demise, until I leave an imprint
Why's the legacy of mine, and of others
In homo-sapien orchestrated catastrophic jeopardy?
——I won't deny, I am of no saintly disposition
To declare a functionally sound solution
But even I know, quarrels of mine, and of others
Shouldn't fall in pseudo-'people's welfare' custody!!!
....
Leaders leave blueprints
Of their utopias for their nations
But we can't even supply decency to ration
I decree reflection in this sanction
People leave imprints.
Of people they cherish.
They're bloodied, with and without having sinned.
With and without having deserved it.
So now their corpses bleed for the sake of such blunt cretins.
In the twilight of our consciousness, where shadows intertwine with subtle grace,
I wander through endless corridors, seeking truths in this forsaken place.
This world, the sole reality, with all its terror and tender embrace,
Demands our love, lest we lose ourselves in imaginary space.
Through the labyrinth of thoughts, where dreams and fears entwine,
I glimpse the dismal utopias, where false hopes align.
The politicians' empty promises, like stars that cease to shine,
And the futile whispers of reward, which the misled call divine.
How can we live in a realm where terror and beauty blend,
And not surrender our hearts to this paradox without end?
For if we scorn this earthly tether, where shadows and light amend,
We fall into self-deceit, where illusions grow and bend.
In the deep valleys of our souls, where echoes of existence ring,
We must find the courage to embrace this world, its horror and its spring.
To love it in its entirety, in every tear and triumph, to cling,
For in this acceptance lies our freedom, where only truth can bring.
The utopias of the misguided are but mirages on the sand,
Promises that dissolve in time, slipping through our hand.
We must root ourselves in the present, in this tangible land,
Where terror and wonder coexist, a realm we must understand.
The religion of the future, a whisper of comforting lies,
Attempts to mask the terror, but leads to our demise.
The imaginary world, an echo that never satisfies,
Dispels the fragrant beauty that in the present flies.
In this sacred waltz of thoughts, where consciousness aligns,
I strive to love this world, with all its dark and bright designs.
To see the terror as part of life, where beauty too refines,
A place where dreams and reality, in perfect balance, combine.
Through the misty veils of day and night, where dawn's first light appears,
I walk the path of acceptance, embracing hopes and fears.
For only in loving this world, with all its pain and cheers,
Can we find our truest selves, beyond the false veneers.
So let us cherish the terror, and the beauty that it brings,
And love this world in its entirety, to the rhythm of its wings.
For in this dance of reality, where every shadow sings,
We find the essence of our being, the truth in all things.
How can one man find
More faith in a crevasse of Siula Grande,
Than most will ever know,
Sitting beneath a pulpit on Sunday?
Dulling the truth to grow the census,
Merchants and cowards comfort the carnal ear.
Marketing Christ’s love without his conviction,
Left willful in sin with nothing to fear.
In half doctrines and custom alter calls,
Prostituting the truth with all forms of prosperity.
Akin to seeding hookers in the chambers of Heaven.
Deceived to death twice by hand and blasphemy.
Feeding wolves from among your own flocks.
In the banquets of ancient mystics and bride Blavatsky,
Word of Faith gorging on their mammon,
Left choking in an insatiable eternity.
A culture’s blue concessions are gone,
Giving more choices leaving Paul’s letters unread.
No church discipline or discernment left,
Testaments of burning flesh that once bled.
Refusing to submit to be broken.
Fading old blessings from past obedience.
Confusing favor with common grace,
Hypocrisy’s retribution birthed decadence.
Millions claiming the found life of the few,
In every eulogy and requiem,
Lukewarm afterthoughts of the Son,
Losing everything by never knowing him.
Despising the light of the living truth,
Lobotomizing guilt with the scalpel of ignorance.
Finding solace in the darkness of mystery.
Death marches infectious rainbows of tolerance.
Redefining roles and covenants in hemorrhaging lies
Under the pretense of the modern states,
Illusions of enlightenment killing somatic slaves.
Relativism’s heart courting the things he hates.
Enticed by the delusions of utopias,
Bound in the fables of autonomy.
Throats upon The two-edged sword,
In this American tragedy
-------------------------------------------------------
12.04.14
This poem attempts to capture the Fundamentalist view on certain issues with other movements within Christianity. Also, the man in the crevasse, chose a different kind of faith than you may have assumed.
Plutonium ensures growth.
More Plutonium, more growths.
Fewer bombs increase the risk of unemployment.
More bombs increase the risk of employment.
Bombs for peace.
More bombs, more pieces.
Bombs to profit this nation.
More bombs, more profits.
Bombs bring potential enemies to the table.
More bombs, more potential enemies, more tables.
Bombs deter enemies from using bombs against us.
More bombs deter more enemies from using more bombs against us.
Bombs aid the construction industry.
More bombs, more constructions.
Funny, when I was a little boy, I thought
All bombs could do was explode.
How Far We’ve Come
Back in the Dark Ages with their lack of drains,
hygiene, refuse disposal and community dustmen,
Ignorance and superstition reigned rats and hogs.
Spreading from the Black Sea, the Black Death
Brought half of Europe to its grave. After the fall
Of Constantinople, a century on, came the New Learning
and the Renaissance, when Man was proud of being Man.
New worlds were discovered; science was born.
For Francis Bacon science was the source of power:
“Nature obey if you would be her lord.”
Later it was realized, utopias with clean streets
Must be defended, and that by science.
Now the rockets stand erect, poised to poison,
To spill the obscene beans and bugs to finish off.
Do up those buttons, Adam, or you return to dust
Before your time, lest the last mass turbulence
Reveals too late to what impotence
Our potent forces lead. Who then will ask
Or answer why our best minds, blind only
To the obvious, served to devise the means
Of mass destruction in the hire of governments
Of the people, by the people, for the people
Left dead or dying with no one to erect
Crosses to them in the shade of Adam’s tree?
While the True Vine cries” “Father, why..?,”
And heady Dionysus notes how potent was his drug,
Adam haves one final, futile, groan,
Upon this dark eve.
All answers affect aspirations
By belittling bygone barbarizations
Constantly criticizing correlations
Defined dumbfounded dictations
Edicts evaporate everyone's expectations
Foregone frustrations failed flirtations
Gone great grace giving generations
Harmonies have harmonious hesitations
Impotence influences indignations
Justified judicious justifications
Killing kaputz keratinizations
Living life lonely leaves lacerations
My muse motivated monumental mutations
Nonsense needed no normalizations
Offended overintellectualizations
Past promises purely placations
Questioning quarreling quotations
Resisting relevant restifications
Sentient solutions solve segregations
Total trust triumphs trepidations
Utopias undermined ultralizations
Viciousness visualized victimizations
Worthless weaponizations
Xenodochial xenophilications
Yawn Yuppifications
Zenith zealousness zendrifications
Please, Mr. Civil Leader, rule my life
I don’t know how to take care of myself
Limit my offspring, choose my wife
Write me a pamphlet explaining my health
I can’t wait
to hear from
my benefactor
I’m not too capable -- a small IQ
No manners or etiquette, an unrefined taste
I’m searching for guidance and waiting for cues
All those bills from college were clearly a waste
I been so evil to my fellow man
From the fall from Paradise to Auschwitz-Birkenau
I rubbed his nose in it the best I can
I’m ready for rehab -- show me how
Show me the latest of your Utopias
Teach me, oh wise king, to think and feel
I sure hope there’s a place for cretins like us
Don’t make us angry or we’ll storm the Bastille!
I can’t wait
to hear from
our benefactors
narcissism
isn’t a slow brain.
it’s a rotten spine.
you can be a genius
with a head full of fire
and hands that build empires,
and still be a hollow god
preaching to your own shadow.
some of the smartest men alive
are the sickest lovers of themselves.
they dress their hunger up as destiny,
their greed as vision,
their cruelty as leadership.
they don’t want equals.
they want worshippers.
they don’t want dialogue.
they want a throne.
they shake hands with crowds
and count them like property.
they kiss babies
and sell their future by nightfall.
they call it greatness.
but bring them facts
and they bring torches.
bring them reason
and they bring rage.
bring them truth
and they call it treason.
they build utopias on billboards
and graves underneath.
they promise heaven
with hell in the fine print.
and when the lie finally trembles,
when the curtain slips,
when the mirror cracks—
they don’t reflect.
they attack.
they scream at judges,
threaten teachers,
curse scientists,
and beat their chests like gods
afraid of dying.
because a narcissist with power
is just a tyrant
wearing a smile.
and a narcissist without applause
is a dictator
without an army.
in the end
they don’t fall from grace.
they rot in it.
and history doesn’t remember them
as kings.
it remembers them
as warnings to all of us.