Long Visionless Poems
Long Visionless Poems. Below are the most popular long Visionless by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Visionless poems by poem length and keyword.
A strange wind is blowing in the park,
You have to meet with me after dark,
They are planning a wedding in the
Trees and you have to get a secret gear
Before you can attend the wedding over there
They have been planning this from twenty sixteen
When the mean guy came on the scene
They invited ten thousand guests
to take part in a lifetime dream
Everything was carefully worked out
With a slate a drone and the bison horn
The day has finally come when the truth
Will be revealed under the visionless sun
And the eyes will be there
Searching for you everywhere
A strange wind is blowing over there
People are coming from everywhere
They came all the way from
Latain America, Canada, Cuba and the
Caribbean to sing eclipsical song
The Germans were there too
And the British were wooing me and you
The French are standing guard
And the Americans are cleaning the yard
The natives from African and India
are wrapped in fine threads
and yards of clothing wrapped around
their bodies and sweeping on the ground
The moon empress land on the lawan
just before the break of dawn
All the couples take up ther position in the tree
To begin the mysterious wedding ceremony,
the weddeing bells begin to ring
and the angles began to sing
The flying saucer came straight from the
Sky with the secret brides wrapped up inside
There face were hidden under the veil
Exposing their watchful eyes waiting for destiny
To transpire under the blessed sky
The cermoney begain to tell the tales of
A wedding in the middle of the tree
is the perfect irony for you and me
The couples are celebrating with thee
Look at them standing in the swaying trees
And when the ceremoney was done they left that place
In the flying saucer to romance in the burning sun
Ten thousand guest gallavanting in the breeze as the
Universe bond together to celebrate with thee
This is the biggest wedding I have ever seen
With couples dancing in the trees
Desire running up and down the place
And if your on he guest list go on over
And enjoy the wonderful bliss
Something splended is happening over there
And you can tell that destiny is drawing
The breeze is crawling on its knees and
The wedding guests are saluting thee.
Being an American in Australia isn’t easy,
but I’m trying to integrate;
I’m trying to fit in.
Just one of the boys with all the right expressions
under my belt, like:
pasty glut
cosmetic spring roll rut
five o’clock shadow cigarette butt.
I mean, I’m trying to integrate;
I’m trying to fit in.
I try to talk about the good ol’ U.S. of A.,
and I’ve never mentioned Uncle Sam once,
except to suspect he lives inside Colonel Sanders
who also gives me a big pain in the ass
with his mysterious suppository herbs & spices;
cos I’m trying to fit in, see?
I’m trying to integrate.
Okay, I can get nervous about women,
and cover it up under muscle and toughness, O.K.!
Say: “All sheilas are made fer ****in’!”
while dreaming:
leather cock thrust
beer lubrication
violet steak lips!
Say: “All poets are poofs!” and
beat my balls around fields of green
with wooden sticks so stiff and clean, screaming
semen icing power
spread on scones of breasts!
Bloody hell! Can’t ya see?
I’m trying to integrate,
trying to fit in.
Like wearing high-heeled snow-shoes
and roller-skater shirts;
doing al the expected things, even tho’
my Balinese sarong trips me up occasionally.
I’ve got a sun-tanned *******,
and I’m keeping me nose to the ground,
no bloody fear! I’m integrating, ya see?
Trying to sit in.
I’m a tough-fisted slow-sauntering grog-pissing
knife balling tit watching ***** hating self-deceiving
regular visionless mate of no matter:
Swallowed by deserts
and the fear of ******s;
Tortured by sun
and the freeze of lost passion;
Murdered in business;
resurrected in wages!
Enslaved in the cities and
imprisoned by FACTS
that stretch from my body
in steel rails of tracks I ride on,
I hide on:
I’ve lost where I’ve been.
But I’m integrating
(yeah, INTEGRATING!)
I’m just fitting in.
Danger of Darker Dance
In the heart of the desert, where shadows cast despair,
An ideology emerged—a venomous affair.
Visionless and blind, it spread its wicked creed.
Ignorant butchers are planting violent seeds.
In the Middle East, where cultures intertwine,
A malignancy arose—a dark design.
It wore the cloak of faith, distorted and defiled.
A mask of virtue yet cruelty compiled.
Through arid lands and ancient streets,
It swept like a tempest, with cold deceit.
It whispered lies, fuelled by hate,
Igniting conflicts, sealing a grim fate.
Ignorance's banner, reason cast aside,
A doctrine of violence, where shadows hide.
In the name of what they deemed divine,
They sowed discord, embracing the malign.
Brother turned against brother, a bitter strife,
A canvas painted with the hues of human life.
Murderous echoes in the ancient breeze,
A symphony of sorrow, bringing nations to their knees.
Conflict became their language, chaos their refrain,
As blood-soaked sands bore witness to the pain,
Yet, blinded, they remained, by dogma's cruel veil.
A visionless horde, where reason and compassion fail
Butchers, not of meat, but of souls and minds,
Spreading poison is where humanity binds.
Their legacy etched in scars, deep and red.
A tale of violence is too often left unsaid.
Yet, in the midst of shadows, a flicker of light,
Hope blooms in hearts against the endless night.
For even in darkness, seeds of change may grow.
And from the ashes, a new story may be bestowed.
Let us rise against the blindness, the ignorance, and the hate.
Illuminate the path towards a kinder fate.
In the Middle East, where conflicts burn,
May understanding and compassion return.
It’s Tuesday again.
It always rains on Tuesday.
I can’t beat time to the stairwell before it snatches my arm and pulls me back to sleep, a sleep that only haunts me, you know. When I don’t rest, I hold an old lantern up to a dirty mirror, to see my reflection with a rustic taste. I always cherished rustic things; they reminded me of autumn’s disposition. But when autumn comes, I feel sad. I bite the darkness, and cast my emotions to the night – like shadows.
If I yell loud enough, someone will hear me, someone with a gentle voice. Autumn – curse thee! I stab another page, to see if it will weep or if the splattering ink WILL FORM a constellation. Maybe I should write more – or maybe I shouldn’t – maybe I should remain still. An eye is visionless to an empty world.
I study karma with a kaleidoscope, friction with human agency. I was always shrewd with syntax. But too quick with words that when I fumbled my weapon, I’d either shoot my eyes out, or leave a disparate hole in the ceiling – perhaps one to crawl through and join the stars in quiet discussion.
My negative adjectives get mistaken for pessimism; nobody knows that I smile when the sun dies. Sometimes I laugh at its diligence – feral audacity, as its fleeing orange fingers release the horizon. Maybe I think about death too much - or not enough, for it made the greatest poetry. Sometimes my thoughts are unsafe.
Convincing myself I’m real is always the most difficult part: skeleton, muscle tissue; I pinch my skin when I forget. But I don’t forget as much as I used to. I wish I could remember in dreams - maybe they wouldn’t be so scary.
The procession crawls off hesitantly
On willing shoulders, the casket floats
Wooden and heavy on hefty shoulders
In his train, in dirgy whispers
The countless mourners trudge along
Behind my love's eternal hide-away
Just then I saw her amidst the straddlers
Unaffected and with no wreath for his tomb
Suddenly, the re-occuring echoes again
The echoes of the sobbering past
Wading through the water, I could see him again
Swimming against the tide towards her
The perishing, wherever she came from
Gasping for breath and wallowing for help
She is not to be blamed, I am
I shouldn't ve left his side while he snored
Lost in visionless rest and quietude
He wouldn't have gone impulsively for her
Mistaking her for me, his heart beat
My heart pounded guiltily and mercilessly
As he went and never came back
She came and his remains came too
The redeemer and the redeemed, they made news
He became the drowned and she, the heroine
How unfair life is between longing hearts
How unfair she acts between us - the wombs
Yes, there she is again amidst the straddlers
Chattering noisily, unlike the funereal atmophere
Beaming remorselessly against the encompassing mood
Although the celebrated waste, he is my hero
The redeemer, and not the redeemed is the icon
He may have saved another, for me, he died
I must tell the ingrate, I am most grateful
Because for my life, he wasted his life
He saved her but for me, he gave his life
The procession crawls off hesitantly
On willing shoulders, the casket floats
Wooden and heavy on hefty shoulders
In his train, in dirgy whispers
The countless mourners trudge along
Behind my love's eternal hide-away
Just then I saw her amidst the straddlers
Unaffected and with no wreath for his tomb
Suddenly, the re-occuring echoes again
The echoes of the sobbering past
Wading through the water, I could see him again
Swimming against the tide towards her
The perishing, wherever she came from
Gasping for breath and wallowing for help
She is not to be blamed, I am
I shouldn't ve left his side while he snored
Lost in visionless rest and quietude
He wouldn't have gone impulsively for her
Mistaking her for me, his heart beat
My heart pounded guiltily and mercilessly
As he went and never came back
She came and his remains came too
The redeemer and the redeemed, they made news
He became the drowned and she, the heroine
How unfair life is between longing hearts
How unfair she acts between us - the wombs
Yes, there she is again amidst the straddlers
Chattering noisily, unlike the funereal atmophere
Beaming remorselessly against the encompassing mood
Although the celebrated waste, he is my hero
The redeemer, and not the redeemed is the icon
He may have saved another, for me, he died
I must tell the ingrate, I am most grateful
Because for my life, he wasted his life
He saved her but for me, he gave his life
wondrous stuff is happening
awash within a silent bay
a cell appears, divides
and life reflected in its mother home,
a tender hydra will eschew its rest
and for a moment
infant man will stand in awe
a billion years beyond
how many oceans, galaxies away
would/could replicate
or yet enhance the theme?
what shapes a final product
sniveling in its own completeness?
and where is that impatient mind
that will not ponder limits
to a diadem?
what even pushes us to question
what we cannot know?
Is life the ultimate creation--
for we bear within, an innate prejudice
and then the path of danger when
without is unapproached.
what is it to advance?
Is there desire to force our own mutation?
or will we lie fallow
letting change progress,
rising with the wind to follow joy?
ignoring metamorphosis beyond?
the choice is entropy.
forsight will always shine
upon a new division
where it lurks
beyond a footprint.
one obstreperous fork
to madden every zealous heart
and closeup looks reveal infinity
within/without
while chaos is the cause
for celebration.
who or what may limit
man's imagining?
and who will portion out
the better from the best?
it is an awesome choice
and history seduces
with its virtue and its folly.
but we are history as well,
etching our wisdom in encapsulated time,
ignoring deadlines' visionless decrees.
and where but from within
will stir that motivating force
that most of us call god?
~
BREAK THE WALL
The wall of differences that tore us apart,
Keeps standing in words of sightless and visionless minds.
As thick as the wall of our differences; resist the voice of colours.
roofs are leaking;
The wall of greed that invented our differences;
When broken, new wall of patriotism, will spiral- bound nations.
The walls of ancient values are falling and depreciating.
The wall between the rich and the poor gradually closing its gap,
As the roof leaked reports.
Break the walls, break the inequalities of colors on the walls,
All colors on the wall, spin story on eyes.
Break the wall of currency and build lasting wall of economy;
Break the wall of titles and retain honor.
Break the wall of rich and the poor; then, the economy will spin round quickly.
Erecting the wall of victimization; civilization stands no value.
Hands and voices are waiting to break the wall of ethnic divisions;
Wall of religion differences that spiral out tension and blood;
That makes our salubrious world horror of horrors.
Who dare to break the wall?
Either they that erected it or those that will never forget the pains.
The hands of the incarcerated and those who bore scars of marginalization are relentlessness.
The wall must be broken; either in peace or in blood.
Written by:
Pastor Omojevwe Emmanuel Brown
Who are they?
They are “free gods”,
formed with the blood of “three God’s”,
and molded with steel rods.
They never flood,
because they sin and win with free ‘spirit.
They never walk straight, bend or backwards.
They walk and work with freethinking and free ‘speech.
And they free’ throw their boldness into the hell of anointment.
They operate with freshness, amongst the finest,
and enslave the formidable god of poverty.
This makes the swine’s of wretchedness blind.
They also free’ pass into the heaven of stardom,
and redecorate the history of wishes and riches.
They are, the god of gold,
The rod of hopes,
and they lead the lord of light.
They see the sun in the veins of the dark,
and they dine with coast of codes and Queen of Queens.
They wine with the vision of lightening and lightning,
and they use thunder as garment of boldness.
While angels, are their savants.
They freehold the great gift of “grave visions”,
beheading demoniacal downfall and visionless gods, without death warrants.
They don’t fear “God”,
but they respect God,
and reject odd.
Paving way and dealing directly with the “high moon” of glory.
They are blessed and dressed up with multiple successes.
And they never fall or sink,
but they die,
and the demon’s of their diamonds never rust or die with them.
Who are they?
They are, “the Freemason’s”, “Free Person's”.
I assumed we would be together
That’s what you falsely led me to believe
But now I’m left here with heartache
Betrayed, dishonored and deceived
I must admit, I was convinced, because you talk a good game
But now that I need you the most, you’ve turned your back and walked away
I let my guard down too soon, and opened up to you
So determined to make you happy that I played the fool
I unknowingly surrendered myself and gave you the right
I submitted to you so completely, that I gave you control of my life.
You were so visionless to the fact that I gave you my heart
My most precious gift and you tore it apart.
It seems that you’ve remained unwounded
And I’m left here lonely and baring the scars
Scars that were cause by the lies that you’ve told
Now you’ve found another and I’m left out in the cold
And yet I often wonder, if you tell her what you told me
Or if you’ve unlocked you heart and let your love run free
The same love that you promised, to me and only me
I guess the signs were all there, but I was too blind to see
But still it’s not easy to pick up and move on
Because for your lying words and deceiving touch, I often still long
I gave you all I had to give, and still it wasn’t enough
Maybe time heals all wounds
But never again will I trust