Long Vandalism Poems
Long Vandalism Poems. Below are the most popular long Vandalism by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Vandalism poems by poem length and keyword.
Severe disaster brought
Ruination and disruptive vegetation.
A scorching breeze increased devastation,
From unscrupulous persons unknown:
Hidden fierce fire
That spread rapidly.
A hush,
For no life could be in evidence,
Except for stouthearted firefighters
Risking their cherished lives.
A wild dry wind swirled suddenly.
Smoke became untamed,
An aching purgatory
No ocean can purge.
The fiery cloud
Covered the forest green;
Moonlight snuffed out,
Concealed, tormented,
A message of ill will,
As children cried and gasped,
Families were reduced homeless,
In hurry to elope from the tragedy.
Helpless animals unable to escape died.
A taste of vandalism,
Or terrorism?
Or man made climate change?
Rejuvenating Proof
Counteroffensive cataclysms clamouring for defeat
Apprehensive magnetism that makes you feel complete
Comprehensive pragmatism that can sometimes drain and deplete
Recompensive vandalism that leaves you shocked in disbelief
Magnitudes of profound truths that create wisdom for the wise
Terpitudes that are uncouth and crawl around in unethical disguise
Servitudes that hold no proof but are doomed to eventual demise
Platitudes that contain the youth and distort the facts in front of their eyes
Laying on my back I look up toward the blistering sun
Praying for you to take it back as I feel inclined to run
Saying we’re living in times of lack would be understating the sum
Weighing up what has been in fact a loss of delight, joy and fun
Weaponisation of justice that could have gone for more
Legalisation of an armistice as the world prepares for war
Devitalisation of the harvest while we cannot feed the poor
Dehumanisation of the inquest as we ask what all of this is for?
Calcification of an idolisation that was devoid of substance and truth
Calibrations of animations that are manipulating the youth
Altercations of communications that are needed to prove the proof
Imitations of aggravations that require a detective and a sleuth
Rejuvenating the landscape from the environmental degradation
Captivating the escape route as they apply for abdication
Hallucinating the magnetic tape that restricts the aggravation
Ruminating on the holy saint that depicts the consecration
Copyright Elizabeth Moroz
Green spray paint splattering is all I see on the wall
It’s not art that I see, it’s vandalism! they scream to all
They can’t or they won’t let themselves imagine what truly is presage
Beautiful and unique and of greater importance, graffiti with a message
Sprayed on the concrete walls, is the vibrant green verdant artwork
Campaigning for humanity and natures creatures,
unshrouding harsh realities covered in murk
Mural’s paint disheveled meanders along itselfs esteem
Yet reliant dearly on a lifeless tree standing dormant unseen
You see it looks sadly leafless, branches dry and its greenery gone
A passerby felt Banksy’s vision left an impression is clear, strong
"d e s t r o y i n g the f o r e s t s, d e s t r o y i n g the g r e e n e r y"
And I feel certain that her words bare truth, it’s in the scenery
Gentlemen, raise your glass to the British institution,
Breeding the champagne elite with seamless execution
Exclusively tailored for the clotted cream of the crop
With privileged patrilineage as the firm backdrop
The bespoke cradle that nurtures elite evolution
Crafting leaders of Britain's unwritten constitution
Renowned for ‘hoorah’ high spirits and notoriety
Crowned on high pedestals in moments of sobriety
Vandalism explained briskly away
Upper class boys club spirits sashay
Entitlement says, "turn a blind eye"
The Club, “purely hearsay, by the by”
While the common personage may humbly sip tea
Tailcoats stained with joviality, champagnes spree
Aware the law will not have their ‘guts for garters’ *
In recognition of gab and bubbly barters
Once they graduate with the superior scroll
They enrol with honours on parliaments roll
Embracing all their fine manners and etiquette
Hogging the political scene, lest we forget
And through the vast ancient chambers and corridors
'Bully, Bully, Bully' seeps slyly through the pores
Where the brotherhood debates the law of the land
Holding a flute of the finest champagne to hand
*Guts for Garters – Meaning to punish severely
Date: 10/04/23
Contest: Bullingdon Boys
Sponsor: Joe Maverick
TikTok, the new harbinger of sin,
Trends promoting vandalism within.
Bathrooms defiled, decency abandoned,
In the name of likes, morality to bend.
In the name of body image, abortions justified,
Innocent lives extinguished, under the banner of women's rights.
Laws claiming protection, now wielded as a knife,
Becoming a weapon against the lives it should serve.
In the name of fame and riches, deals made,
Love proclaimed, yet atrocities laid.
In the name of God, churches tyrant-like,
Preaching prosperity, as if Jesus sought wealth's spike.
In the name of beauty, surgeries unfold,
Young girls alter bodies, a story untold.
As if God made mistakes in His creation,
A defiance of divine design, a false fixation.
In the name of knowledge, forbidden knowing gained,
Sacred boundaries crossed, wisdom profaned.
In the name of money and power, nations collide,
Killing each other, as if life's a commodity to decide.
Crimes, racism, and rape,
Just to name a Few
Violence Against Christians, a war to reshape.
And yet, in God we trust, they dare profess,
What God is this, with such moral regress?
Tell me, people, tell me, world so wide,
What God is this, where sins abide?
For the God I know rejects abomination,
Leading astray, they say love, I say lust, a stark revelation.
As in crystal methamphetamine, the mind becomes cold.
Anxiety, paranoia, and schizophrenia
Creep in, like snakes and deathstalker scorpions, uncontrolled
Are bones, veins, flesh, and blood affected by asthenia?
The body begs for calm composure; the moody mind mulls.
Midst fires of optimism, the ice of pessimism melts.
Restlessness and rebelliousness resemble spineless skulls
Vandalism of vindictiveness vitiates vague vents
The feeling of freedom to fly and fervently flutter
Fill and flow flawlessly, like fine floral fluorescence.
Mild melodies of memories musically mutter
Constant conscious conscience has come to be the quintessence.
When the ice of hateful, heinous, hideous hurdles heaps
May passions of compassion flare from the depths of the deeps!
This responds to “Operation Raise the Colours,” where some have painted the St. George’s Cross across streets, roundabouts, and takeaway shops. Claimed as patriotism, these acts are vandalism and an attempt to erase community spaces and stirring division.
Red bleeds across zebra crossings,
slick on high street tarmac,
smearing over takeaway shutters,
stretched across roundabouts, stubborn as lead.
Rollers scrape and flake,
pigment cheap, sunlight shakes it loose,
drips into puddles,
history seeping through plaster,
like damp beneath primer that never hides the past.
The streets run red and white,
paint claimed by hands insistent on marking stone, brick, tarmac—
silence made loud in streaks and drips.
Roundabouts stand proud under fresh coats.
Slash Dulux over despair—
coverage meant to hide, but failing.
Paint bleeds over more than roadway—
onto takeaway windowpanes, pavements, shop signs—
a mural of identity, impulse, defiance.
Undercoat logic tries to cover the past,
but no sealant ever lasts.
Brushstroke patriots,
disciples of feeling,
armed with rollers like substitute rifles.
The painting’s wrap is hollow,
dressing decline as though it were destiny.
Every slogan,
a stencil sprayed on the breeze.
Pigment flakes with ease,
truth showing through the layers.
Heritage red becomes eviction scarlet,
brilliant white papered over target.
Crowns drip Crown paint onto stone,
monarchs in tester pots,
empires reduced to monochrome.
Borders cut by shaky hands,
masking tape straining against the straight line of intention.
Edges bleed in private,
lines never straight.
Revolutions run off into puddles of hate,
mirroring the sky distorted,
clouds stretched, colours torn thin.
Tins are stirred, paint slapped on the ground.
Every revolution circles round,
because property cannot be glossed,
despair cannot be mapped.
Whitewashed roundabouts cannot hide the cracks.
Paint peels, drips, bleeds into puddles,
but the fissures of history remain—
veins in stone, stories in tarmac,
layers no roller can erase.
Crowns, crosses, streaks of red and white
twirl and fall like the last dance
over streets that remember,
over walls that refuse to forget.
The cracks take the floor,
silent but insistent,
and they will not be painted over.
Article 108: Military Property of the United States—Loss, Damage, Destruction
This article applies when a service member damages or destroys military property, which includes government-owned barracks and family housing. The charges depend on the intent and value of the damage.
Negligent damage: If the destruction was the result of a service member's negligence, they can face confinement, forfeiture of pay, or a bad conduct discharge, depending on the value of the damage.
Willful damage: For intentional damage, such as vandalism, the maximum punishment is more severe and could include a dishonorable discharge and up to 10 years of confinement for damage over $1,000.
Representative Brownley
In the conclusion of military members by family are we concluded further by this article?
Paul
Husband of Sheila, Father of Kirsty and Paul-Mark,
Grandfather of Valentina, teacher, and friend
Son of Pauline and Nazarene, brother to six siblings:
Joseph – Angela – Carmel – Catherine – Victor – Maria Concetta
Lover of freedom, honesty, dreams, dark chocolate, nuts, red wine, and windmills
Patient and diplomatic, but like a dormant volcano is liable to erupt
Enjoys sports, swimming, walking, travelling, reading, writing, painting, and drama
Detests lies, double-faced people, wars, cheats, bullying, and vandalism
Who feels for those in need, the persecuted, and the marginalized
Who fears loss of countryside, betrayal, hate, suffering, and dementia
Who would like to see tomorrow’s dawn, peace on earth, beyond the mountain peak,
Resident of Safi village, Malta, Europe
Callus
-----------------------------------------
17th October, 2014
Contest: Bio Poems
Sponsor: Regina Riddle
Placed: 1st
Nails are common fasteners in the carpentry trade
And for DIY enthusiasts, as well.
When considering the varieties of nails,
It’s a counter-intuitive fact that cut nails,
With their angular shafts and blunt tips,
Work better than drawn wire nails,
Which have cylindrical shafts and pointed tips.
The geometry of cut nails allows them
To be more firmly gripped by the wood fibers,
Anchoring them more securely than wire nails.
And because they align with the grain of the wood
They are less likely to split lumber than wire nails,
Especially if you’re hammering
Into hardwood near the edge.
Cut nails can also come in handy
When driving home a point.
If you’re working construction,
Cut nails prove better.
But yours are clearly drawn and sharp as carpet tacks.
They disjoin and incite and direct insurrection.
You’ve split the wood and lost your grip.
You, sir, are no master carpenter.
You’re not even an amateur handyman.
You’ve built a house divided hawking tribalism
For your own self-serving ends.
You’re nothing but a cheap carnival huckster,
A cowardly bushwhacker, not some clever rebel hacker.
Your trolling’s just a slacker’s brand of vandalism.