Long Vilified Poems

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


Premium Member Setting the Bully Table

The often unnoticed first strategic step
in bullying
is to isolate.

Religious
political
economic
and/or sexual bullying
begins, already,
feeling entitled to pervasively disempower,
dissociate,
disinvest,
unenlighten,
excommunicate,
lock up,
terminate from employment,
send to the reservation,
asylum
ghetto,
wrong side 
of the LeftBrain dominant
self-righteous tracks.

Deeply separate,
divide and, thereby, expose
and bully
that Other,
or those Others,
who need to learn their place,
separate and deservedly unequal,
to relearn their divinely-inspired space
of oppression
neglect
punishment

For being wrong,
too needy greedy,
too ignorant,
uneducated
simple
quiet and sneaky
*****
unbinary
effeminate
pretentious
hypocritical
weird looking, sounding, smelling, 
frightening
angry
threatening...

Such alien Others
are first isolated
at least by disreputation,
then abused

First neglected
shunned
Othered
alienated
unaccepted,

Then ridiculed
used
raped
vilified

Blatantly and falsely accused
of being motivated
to dismiss
and impoverish
the monoculturing Bullies
through stealth
or by speaking their lying,
biased
self-serving Truth

Which is always ignored
until They get too uppity
again.

Bullies
and their Victims
are, thereby, deprived
of experiencing compassionate
cooperatively appreciated
and co-invested
dialogue.

Bullies
and their Victims
thereby declare and suffer wars
where everyone,
including plants and animals,
soil and water and air quality,
suffers and loses
except, in the bookkeeping department,
the military-industrial
short-term corporate profit Bullies

Who will not realize
their self-victimizing
long-term health and safety losses
until degeneratively isolated
from all prospects for a livable
sustainable 
humane
sacredly compassionate
EarthTribe health and safety
future climate
regenerative resilience.


Soul Life Freedom

I have always stood up for good and right. I can understand how challenging it is when you stand alone and are vilified by those who want the darkness to win. However, if each one of us stands together for love, light, good and right, we can become a tsunami throughout the world. May Light prevail against the Dark. We are all souls, united together. Blessings.

Soul.Life.Freedom.
By Michelle Morris
26/12/2022

Today I was an activist
I stood up for what was right
I didn't do it through a petition
I didn't do it through a fight

I humbly gave my voice
To where there is a dire need
No need for paint on canvas
No need for protests in the street

The quiet, calm voice of poetry
Using words as the strongest weapon
For anyone of intellect knows
That words live beyond oppression

The greatest warriors and kings
That ever lived among us
Learned that words have power
They create the greatest magic

This doesn't mean that protest
Or destruction has no merit 
It merely is a reminder that words 
Outlive every regime and warfare 

To stand up for the good
To stand up for integrity
To stand up for humanity 
To stand up for liberty 

I may never know those people
Whose rights and life I support
But like a pebble on a pond
I know the ripples will flow forth

And may these ripples of right and good
Flow through every heart and mind
And touch each living soul
'Til we remember our connection to the divine

For we are all connected
We are all one heart
And what we do to one
We do to every part

Each of us can feel it
Deep within our soul
So denying the darkness is there
Won't ever ease the whole

Collectively we must rise
Collectively we must do good
Collectively we can do better
Collectively we can heal humanhood

Today I was an activist
As I have always been
Please join me in this quest
For we can all do the right thing

Let's stand up for right each time
Let's do it as part of our nature
Let's create the strongest voice
Of humanity's love and light in action

Woman.Life.Freedom.
Human.Life.Freedom.
Soul.Life.Freedom.

© Michelle Morris, 2022
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member King of Lies

King of Lies

It's all about you,
Isn't it?
Always, no matter what the disaster
You've most recently caused.
It always comes back to you,
How badly you're treated 
By the Fake News
(By which we mean the real truth,
As reported by those Enemies of the People).

You, Oh naked would-be king,
Are the Enemy of the People.
And more, and more, and more of them
Are coming to understand that.

In a way I suppose you may be right;
After all, were it not for you,
We wouldn't be mocked by the rest of the world.
We wouldn't be force-fed 'Alternative Facts".
We wouldn't have our honor and our very lives
Held hostage to your need to be the center of all attention.

Your citizens are dying, by the way,
As you keep us floundering like a Third World country.
You haven't even the grace
Not to insult and belittle
The many, many everyday heroes among us
Who risk their lives incessantly
That others may live.

So go on, our unclothed wanna-be Emperor;
Make your pronouncements 
To your emptying, echoing audience hall.

You are king of one thing,
That is true:
You are the king of lies.
You have lied so much you have no idea 
What truth actually is.
You are delusional;
The reality you inhabit 
Is not our true reality.

There is a real world out here;
Believe it or not.
And one day the nightmare you've created 
Will fade into the grateful past,
You will be vilified
Down through the centuries,
And no one, not even your enablers
Will mourn your passing,
Not even your family,
Because you have no virtues.

Know this; you will die - soon;
No doubt this will be a great surprise to you.
But come it will,
And when it does, 
Will you be able to put forth any account for yourself?

Will a single human life
Have been improved
As a result of your existence?

No.

You will go down to Eternity
Unmourned.
Not your wife, not your children,
Not your spineless lickspittles
Will mourn your passing.
For this I pity you.

It must be nice
To be so isolated
From reality;
To just accept
That your version of reality is correct;
That everything works the way 
You want it to.
But this is not the case;
In the end it will be acknowledged
That you were the worst of all our Presidents,
And somehow, we survived you.

Thank God you will fade into our pasts;
Thank God we are stronger than you.

Premium Member A Sovereign Nation With Nothing To Win

Unfortunately, the Haitian people have everything to lose
They are very fragile, humiliated, vilified, and abused
My people have been suffering for years, for centuries
On the pavement, in the streets, in the harbor and on the high seas.

Our people, our brothers and sisters!
Their wicked leaders once in power, the liars
Change all plans to the detriment of the poor
Who are quickly forgotten in the filthy cans
Their spleen, sweat and blood flow are floating in the sewers
They are despised by hens,
By guinea fowls, by roosters, and all types of demons
It was yesterday that they were applauding like dummies,
Cheering, hoping to be awarded with crumbs and pennies.

These zealous brothers are on fire, they are now deaf and crazy
at the end. Even patience has borders and boundaries
Where greedy, covetous and corrupt officials behave like evil yeasts.

Copyright © January 23, 2016 Logerie Hébert, All Rights Reserved
Hebert Logerie is the author of several collections of poetry.
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member Comparison Trap

Keeping up with the Joneses
What I see is what I want 
Trapped in a comparison trap 
Never ending loop of haunt 

If only this then I’ll be happy
Easy to oversimplify 
Grass is always greener 
Your own situation gets vilified  

Pursuing others perceived perfection
Hunting down their fantasy
Find yourself living vicariously 
Needing to fit into normality 

Consumed with consuming 
Look around and realize 
Marching toward material things
Doesn’t make blissfulness materialize 

Scrolling for an answer
Eyes glued to a screen
Put down your weapon 
Start chasing your own dream

Time to flip the script 
Accept your reality  
Live your version of happiness 
Then you’ll be set free
Form: Rhyme


the tarrifs

The Tariffs
here we go again, in a strong country where most workers are not unionized, but the rich are and the working class has to pay for the wealthy’s expenses, this time in the form of tariffs those who have the business of production can reduce the local market’s cost, but they will not instead, they will jack up their prices because we live in a free society where the lower order has little influence to demand better pay
There will be demonstrations against hard times, the strikers will be vilified as enemies of freedom, thrown into jail on fake charges, and called renegades, and the press will tell us they  are betrayers of the American way  
Yes, we have seen this before in other countries in another time, but the outcome is always more poverty, when the people are subdued and real freedom fighters are shot on the streets or, on the tabernacle of progress, peace bitter peace will ensue until the state collapses into a civil war
© Jan Hansen  Create an image from this poem.
Form: ABC

The value of V

Vultures verify vulnerable villages,
Vacuuming value, venerating vaults.
Voters vilified, voices vetoed,
Votes vanished, victories volatile.

Visible villains veil violations,
Virtuous veterans victimized via vanity.
Vast vaults versus vacant vessels,
Value vaporized, virtue vandalized.

Vice validates violence, violence validates vice,
Vicious vortex, vicious vice.
Victims vilified, victors vindicated,
Verdicts valued via victory.

Vassals versus visionaries,
Veins vibrating, voices volcanic.
Volition versus validation,
Vital versus virtual vocation.

Verify every version.
View every veil.
Value verification versus verbal virtue-signaling.
Vision without visibility becomes voluntary blindness.

Vengeance? Vacant.
Virtue? Variable.
Victory? Valueless without volition.
Value lives via voluntary vision,
Verses vibrating with visceral veracity.

Rasta Chant

How dare you spit upon his garb! 
This peaceful bredda who by nature only loves, 
When you should have been his Rasta queen 
Your ghastly behaviour drew a scene 
And I- woman just like you 
Hang my head in shame 
As you defile our name. 

Selassie-I know seh di Rasta man took a deep breath
To honour his philosophy, 
But like a lamb to the slaughter, 
he was reduced 
In front of the whole community. 

He sought calm in his Rasta chant 
Swallowed his pride, 
Turned the next cheek, and with human dignity. 
Yet that pouncing Jezebel 
Delilah, 
Demon picknie, 
Shameless femininity 
Minimized her king, 
Cared nothing that he is masculine. 
  
She is no empress  
and certainly not a Ital-dawtah! 
She mocked and cursed him 
Bullied him and sullied his character. 
Vilified him as the on-lookers magnified 
Scorned, mistreated and humiliated.

But when upon each other their backs were turned 
The fury in the lion roared 
And in that moment, he went against his Rasta chant 
And knocked her out flat on her face. 

I won’t apologize for feeling appeased 
For you are a disgrace to the female race!
Form: Narrative

Poetry II

If poetry channels our anger and sorrow
Who then will want to write it tomorrow
And will joy and contentment stifle its future?
And what will become of our stays and culture?

I say poetry has been victimized 
Vilified, chastised, castigated and ostracized 
Only perceived as a tool for struggle 
Truths coded for smuggle

Yet poetry is just song void of tune
From the same rock hewn
For the lyrics that ride on the harmonies 
Are sponsored by poetic abilities 

Only poetry captures life’s odysseys
In whose form is crafted psalms and prophecies 
If you want to know an expanse exceeding now
Poetry is the where and the how

Poetry in its recitation 
May not cause rhythm and gyration 
Care free melodies and chimes
That people seek in easy times

Until hard times force the weaning 
Where people gain taste for meaning 
A complementary aid for soul searching 
To set the conscience forwardly marching 

If poetry must fail in the market 
Then it proves not to aim for your pocket 
But a stinging dart to awaken your souls 
When woes and lows purge all else from their roles

K. Muitherero
Form: Rhyme

The Brown Bear

The brown bear


During Yeltsin years when he sold Russia down the river
People in the west loved the brown bear
we patronized the Russian as vodka swilling village idiots.
The cuddly bear died, and a steely-eyed fox to the helm
and the Russians was no longer cuddly.
The Russian federation was no longer willing to play
the game ascribed by the western press no longer willing
to be pushed around and laughed at.
Putin, the fox, turned Russia into a modern state that has
a modern army that is powerful if stirred by the west.
Russia wants peace but does not like the encroachment 
by NATO/US, that is like Indians in western movies
encircling the wagons.
Putin, president of Russia, vilified by the western media
 and the EU, ain’t forgiving
even the capitalists know this and stalk carefully.
© Jan Hansen  Create an image from this poem.

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