Long Wash away Poems
Long Wash away Poems. Below are the most popular long Wash away by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Wash away poems by poem length and keyword.
Vivid flashbacks from bloodshed battles
his soul still ravaged by devious dictators,
cries from fallen comrades still echo in his mind,
but he continues to walk upon a path of pandemonium.
Reluctantly he ventures forward with
vengeance portrayed through embers
engulfed within his frenzied eyes -
reflecting his mother's irreversible tears.
He is no mercenary nor a moneymaker,
just a repentant drifter, preparing for bedlam.
His purpose in sight, he closes his eyes,
but struggles to erase his thoughts,
as the sins of his ancestry inflict his mind.
Angels attempt to light his path with harmonic chords,
but demons cause havoc strumming broken strings.
Entering the kingdom of dry fountains,
where God has no influence,
he is afraid to inhale its corrupt pollutant air.
Charcoal clouds rumble,
before horizons shed unwelcome tears.
Before him platinum priests preach,
as court jesters dance with sly grins,
hiding metaphorical daggers behind their backs.
To his right overfull hospitals have no beds,
as penniless patients plead to be cured.
To his left the self proclaimed vain king
sits on his cardboard throne,
throwing dollars into a blazing fire place.
To his side his tyrannical hypocritical queen
hides behind her simulated smile,
oblivious to her narcissistic prince's incest desires
towards her clueless imbecilic princess.
It's an endless loop of greed cultivating corrupt seed,
which continues to breed nefarious creed.
Miserable masses attempt to break free,
but their liberation is dissected by cretinous henchmen.
In the marketplace of Machiavellian thieves,
merchant pawns auction fragmented dreams.
Sold to the biggest idiot!
His eyes full of disbelief, now rage with anarchy!
Intoxicated knights raise their half empty glasses,
as he calmly walks into this man made sand castle.
Gifts the cunning conniving cook some cyanide,
which he empties into his delectable broth.
Both watch as the elevated ones savour it like dogs,
perishing dramatically to their deserved downfall.
Beyond his childhood playground,
now with rusty swings and slides,
he places a crimson rose upon his mother's grave,
kissing her untouched headstone.
Expressionless he walks into the distance,
as storms wash away weak foundations.
Silent One
25 July 2018
Children of faith,
That look up to the heavens,
For help, for comfort,
For a change, for a beginning;
They are like nails hammered into rocks,
They have broken hearts,
They've got nothing,
Completely no one else to turn to,
They walk in the shadow of death.
Children of faith,
They know that they have numbered days,
And are aware of their crashing clay;
They see their fading light rays,
But they have their hopes high,
Like a camel in the Sahara,
That waits for years ,
For a shower of rain from above-
Their tongues prophecy new beginnings,
Their lips sing in thanksgiving,
But their hearts weep in sorrow,
For the afflictions and torments.
Children of faith,
Live each day like their last,
And give each shining sun their best.
Their thoughts are totally lost,
And upon this,they don't boast.
In fact, they're so detached-
From their poor lives.
They thank the setting sun,
For bringing a thin film of darkness,
And for silencing the day's noises;
So that they will shut their doors and windows,
To cry in silence,
And lick their tears;
And face their fierce fears-
While no one else witnesses their agony.
Children of faith,
That look up to the skies,
For midday dusk-
When the days seem longer,
Or appear like they're failing.
That call on,
For midnight dawn,
When nights appear faulty;
With the greatest of scary dreams,
And the highest ranking of their pain,
Or with life-threatening haemorrhages,
With wounds cut and drilled deeper.
Their lives have taken firm grip,
On to the strongest ropes,
Whose ends are knotted to weak poles.
Most of them lose it with time,
Like you and I at some point;
Only few keep the fire burning,
As they wait for their deliverance.
Children of faith,
I don't understand what it is that they are made of,
But only they know what their origins are.
We want to walk like them,
And borrow lessons from their trials,
As we try to put on their coats,
Just to feel the coldness or warmth or both;
That they get from their shield of faith.
She wants to follow their example,
And keep hearing their tales.
He wants to live a life like theirs;
And keep reciting their prayers.
We plead with them,
To Teach us ;
How to build faith like theirs.
When the storms are rough,
When the floods are yet to wash away our feet-
When misfortune befalls us,
Or when we feel we've lost it all.
"mathew" 6: 12-13
“and forgive us our debts”
(not only does a sheep get 3 squares a day,
but it is also believed that if one begs the
sky enough, one’s problems will just
wash away---this is to be the subsequent
consequence of ALL humans following
suit & getting down on four legs, growing
their thick coats & chewing grass)
“as we forgive our debtors”
(as the sheep thinking that their problems
are solved by an imaginary listener in
an imaginary trailer park in the sky,
so do the sheep continue grazing with a
sort of “live and let live” mentality,
until they are picked off by hunters)
“and do not lead us into temptation”
(so, the same imaginary listener who resides
in that imaginary trailer park, who seemed
to be the one that all the sheep were
comfortably baaaaa-ing to, now is
something to be feared as well? perhaps
that which one feels the need to submit
the whole of their will to is the same
corrupted core inside that would come up
with such a ridiculous hoax to begin with,
as found in the schizophrenic comment
here in the command to oneself (a baaaaa
into the mirror, if you will)
“but deliver us from the evil one”
(the EVIL ONE? is not the concept of
evil just that which goes against the
simultaneous baaaaa of the herd in the
grassy field? was not the GOOD ONE
just told in the last line to “not lead us
into temptation,” thereby being the only
“one” which can do so? make sure when
getting the ladle of kool-aid dumped into
your dixie cup, that you ask if said
dumper is EVIL or GOOD…certainly at
that point it will make all the difference in
the world)
“for yours is the kingdom and the power
and the glory forever”
(there is no other imaginary listener, whose
two-faced multiple personalities, residing in
an imaginary trailer park in the sky, handing
out its ladles of kool-aid, whose overwhelming
passion could be heard any louder than that
which dwells within the very heads of the
already brainwashed sheep baaaaa-ing out
the rest of their days, dissatisfied with the
actual physical world around them &
waiting for the end of what they deem as
a great big thorn in their side---that is,
the rest of us who are not convinced, and
who are not baaaaa-ing with the rest of
em’)
“amen”
(right there, in a nutshell, the whole lie
itself was conjured up by “a man,” or
a few men---all who had way too much
time on their hands & a rather limited
imagination).
That Blessed Door
O the rain...the rain...the falling rain
that fell and fell and fell again
keeping you from my door...O my door...that blessed door!
O the sunset...the sunset...the carnelian sunsets
how I long to hold them in my hand...so when you are blue...so blue
so deep dark blue...you can come to me
and I will open my hand so
you can wonder...O the wonder...wide open wonder
Xanthus yellows and amber golds streaming
from my palm...my palm...my humble palm
and so you will become immortal
O if only I could keep you there
...you...only you swathed in light and warmth
safe...and sound...close to me forever
You who I am lost to...the vessel-ed seas
O how I long for the sea...O the sea...the sparkling sea
in its emerald greens and topaz hues
it's passions, powers …a relentless muse
I long to place it in my heart...
my heart...O my a thousand times broken heart
so the pieces can wash away and I can float free
into the wind...O the wind...the wetted whipping winds that billow the sheets hung in my yard
whispering wild and wondrous things to dreaded demons
washing them away with the rain
...the rain...the falling rain that fell and fell and fell again
keeping you from my door...O my door...that blessed door that opened
to your face -one cold crisp morn...
So blessed by God ...O My God...My Gorgeous God!
if only I could hold you in my soul…O my soul …my sodden soul
that I would not get so often lost in my shadows ...O the shadows
my small and tall...wide and slanting shadows and the darkness
...O the darkness...the black coal darkness
that chases me down alleyways of night and telling taunt me under the slivered moon...
O the moon...my beautiful mindful midnight moon...my crescent and my full moon
O my love ...my love....my eternal love
if only I could sprinkle you like confetti...upon the earth
and every life
O life...the very thing life...the breathe that enters that which wasn't and so then is till cradled in death
Death....O death...O damned-able death!
if only you were not so draped in confession that I must pray
I pray...O how I pray that the vastness...the vastness...the great and cosmic-ian vastness beyond is more splendid still than Earth...
Our Earth...our blessed wondrous Earth
perfect hungry sad beaten tarnished dirtied Earth...O MY EARTH
...how I love you!
When I was a lad in the 50s, there lived a man named Mr. Mac. He resided in a farming community in Northern Mississippi. Two of his sons are the source of a story living in my heart. It's a story of two brothers who may never grace the pages of a book. However, their memory is in my heart, and lest they are forgotten, I must tell you of them.
They would best be remembered for their ability to drive tractors and handle farm machinery. As in history, so presently, the grand old market economy remains in motion. With few exceptions, whatever the market will bear is what will be paid. Also, back then, labor laws never applied to the people I knew. Billy and Bubba were very productive and knowledgable in their field of endeavor, but simply farmworkers.
But they were more than simply field hands and tractor drivers; more than merely brothers who worked hard and drank liquor. I'm certain some remember the truth of their lifestyles. But there was so much more to Billy and Bubba than cultivating fields and drinking liquor for cheap thrills; more than cotton planters in spring and harvesters in the fall. If one simply saw them sitting on combines or drinking wine and whiskey to wash away their pains, then they never really saw them giving themselves so graciously to others.
The demons attempted to destroy, wreck, and ruin their lives, but they were blessed with a praying mother whose prayers never fell on deaf ears. In their valleys of drunkenness, when overwhelmed by their enemy, their troubled souls found no other source to cast away their pain and ease their sorrows. Even so, the light of goodness managed to shine through. The devil's darkness never cast a shadow over their mother's prayers.
Somewhere between their home and the cotton fields; between dirt roads and cornfields; between tractors and liquor stores; between birth and burial; Billy and Bubba were gentlemen with caring hearts and kind spirits. They were men who smiled without force and greeted with respect. Tall and handsome men, mild, gentle, and harmless. If or when the history books of the 'B' brothers are opened, let it be said that there were two good brothers named Billy and Bubba.11012007PoSpCtest, Strand Select L, Brian Strand. 3P
Posted072817
You!! You, I say you on the guitar?
Do you know who you are?
Or are you just an angel without a name?
I see your heart my sister!! And you do not sing for fame!!!
No, you live and love and play and dance to praise that man who Reigns!!
You!! You singing on the microphone?
Do you feel alone?
Or do you know dear brother Seraphim, that you help to put us in that zone?
To bow down low in honor?,
Of he who sits high on the throne?!!!
You!! You dancing in the corner, with your hands lifted high,
Do you feel sometimes like you wish you’d die?
Or do you know that when you dance, my Savior’s hands you untie?
To give us joy deep in our hearts and free our minds from lies?
My sister, I’m just a warrior, whose run in fear too many times,
My brother, I’m just a warrior, who fights the dark one with my rhymes,
And I press the boundaries of our justice for those who fall beneath the cracks,
I press in against the evil one, who puts this hatred on our backs,
But you? You see beyond this evil to a place I long to go,
You reach into the light of God, and the path to right you show,
For you bring the water of music to wash away our sin,
And because you choose to worship her, this battle we shall win,
For worship is the weapon of Sons and Daughters Divine,
For worship is the key to life and an end to these dark times,
For worship is a refuge in a world of sinister sounds,
For worship is a space ship that goes to realms of God renown,
For worship is my best friend’s and my eldest brother’s great delight,
For worship is the celebration of that freedom for which I fight,
Man can you see it?
Worship is light!!
Worship is tight!
Worship makes me take flight!
Worship ain’t black and worship ain’t white,
Worship is the power of love to wield the True Savior’s might!!
My sister, I’m just a warrior, whose run in fear too many times,
My brother, I’m just a warrior, who fights the dark one with my rhymes,
And I press the boundaries of our justice for those who fall beneath the cracks,
I press in against the evil one, who puts this hatred on our backs,
But you? You see beyond this evil to a place I long to go,
You reach into the light of God, and the path to right you show,
For you bring the water of music to wash away our sin,
And because you choose to worship her, this battle we shall win,
Form:
“i’m only happy when it rains,”
moans shirley manson when she’s backed by
butch vig & an orchestra of overdubbed
distorted guitars enhanced by sythensizers
a la trent reznor
the genius who is credited in garbage’s first album---
one doesn’t have to be a meteorologist to
think that she & her crew may be on to
something---
for the rain washes all the dirt away
the rain replenishes the earth so that it can sustain another day
when damaged endlessly by the
cruel
sun
scorching its surface & all the living things upon it
(during the spring and summer months especially, when all the idiots are
running round with nothing on & with no sunscreen, etc. to fend off
melanoma)---
the rain is what those unconventional people who
dwell in the shadows
feast on---
and who are these people?
they are the ones that choose not to smile when
everyone else does---
they are the ones that are not easily
amused---
they/we
are the ones that run out in the rainstorm &
dance naked in the cold wetness---
whipping our hair around in a rhythmic gesture
a middle finger in the air to any kind of
“creator”
that would shine its face down upon us all and
communicate
destruction with the poker face of
peace---
give us the rain when it comes
give us the floods
the hurricanes
the torrential downpour that accompanies it all
so that on the days that we aren’t struggling to swim
& struggling to float amidst the chaos
we understand how fortunate we are
to even be breathing---
so that our ever-complaining selves
die with the remnants of the wash-away
& you & i can wave goodbye to the old
selves
who thrived only for sun &
smiles
not understanding that in this pubic hair of a moment in which each of us
spend
together
on this beautiful planet
avec all the other plants & creatures who dwell with us,
that
we must savor every second
be it in sun or rain
and let it be known that the rain does so much for us
and yet is always pelted with insults & “evil” metaphor---
rain,
my friends,
is getting the bad rap---
and i don’t think i stand alone on the sideline campaigning---
there are thousands, albeit it
millions
marching for the rain to come
and keep our civilization
quenched---
news flash: without good ol’ h20 we are all dead as
doornails---
so stop worshipping the sun
&
give it up for the
rain.
I am water,
I flow single mindedly in search of the sea,
I am a fast moving torrent of rage,
As I rumble over the shallow rapids,
I am a slow and lazy pool of the darkest, still depths,
I hover above you as a rain drenched cloud,
Holding back no more I spill down,
A warm cascade that sooths as I wash away
Discord and debris,
Your parched skin hungrily drinks me in,
I drench the dry banks and nourish new growth,
A slow and steady soaking inwardly seeping,
I fill your spirit and flow through your veins,
I am the current of hope and an inviting cove of belonging,
I flow gracefully around obstacles meant to block my way,
I batter the shores with my rage,
I am water,
I flow single mindedly in search of the sea,
Onwardly around every bend…..
I am Earth,
Home to all creatures, infinite and unconditional,
The bosom of my soil yields life, comfort, peace and love
I am wonder filled caves,
Green hills of glory,
Valleys rich in splendor,
I am steep rocky ledges
too treacherous to navigate,
I am dangerous slides of loose stones
To which you loose your footing,
Send your roots deep within me
so I may hold you up straight and strong
as your reach upwards in search of the sun,
I am generous in my abundance and shelter,
I am merciless in the barren waste lands that yield nothing,
My terrain is every changing, impossible to predict,
I am high mountain peaks too dangerous to scale,
I am a vastness of beaty and life,
I am Earth,
Home to all creatures, infinite and unconditional,
Patient, loving, forever
I am the wind,
The roar of my soul fills your head,
I am a whirl wind that blows through the cracks in your heart,
I am a restless first breeze of Spring,
That ripples over grass and skin,
I am the still and content breath of summer,
Breath me in and be filled with relief,
I am the un-predicable brilliance of Fall,
I touch the leaves and send them spirally downward,
I am the first bite of winter to which you put up your collar and turn your back,
I am the cyclone of emotion and furry of confusion
hat rips at the walls and rattles the windows,
I am the breeze that flows smoothly through the grasp of those
who try to hold me or control me,
I scatter your seeds to the four corners,
I am the wind,
The roar of my soul fills your head,
I change direction and disappear ….
I feel that I am gone
I feel around the sun
I feel God has no plan
I feel the stars shall fall
I feel I'll break away
I feel I'll touch the earth
I feel I'll rip my shirt
I feel that I shall kneel
Concerning all that’s lost
Let pride find his own way
I guess I'll sing a song
I guess the time has come
I guess I'll pick this dust
I guess I'll kiss the soil
I guess it's time to weep
My tears shall cleanse the world
Let all those that have seen
Let them cry out in grief
Let them sing my chorus
Sometimes I am insane
So why then son why now
Why now do you resist
Since when have you first thought
Thought this is all a waste
I am I was I will
I am the son of sun
I was the kin of moon
I will be seen by all
They all will see the moon
They all will praise the sun
They all will hear my voice
They all shall chant my name
A kneeling man shall seek
A kneeling man shall see
A kneeling man shall find
What we all seek to say
A kneeling man shall hear
A song the moon shall play
A kneeling man shall know
What brought this world to dust
So why then now I ask
Why now do you see fit
Why lust for what can kill
Are you so ignorant?
It’s sad the way you speak
It’s sad to see your eyes
You’ll rip what you will sow
This aint the script to write
Who asked for you to speak
Who asked for your input
This knife that’s in my hand
Shall change the world you know
But son my name is moon
Your kin though you are man
I’ve watched as you have knelt
Just stand remove remorse
This world’s not yours to take
We’ve lost so many years
This world is all that’s left
To right the wrongs we did
Your pride will end us all
Don’t turn your back to me
I’ve watched you while you slept
My blood runs through your veins
Just hear me out will you
You’ll scorch the very earth
The sun won’t be so pleased
You’ll sign your life away
Collating ones own worth
A better man you’ll be
The world shall seek you out
A hero will be born
Let anger wash away
The song I sing to you
Will bring you peace inside
Will heal the wounds you have
Now wait just one more thing
The knife, just leave it here
A pen you might just need
Go teach them all you know
You know now what to say
You’ll say it everywhere
You sing with me you will
We’ll sing the song of words
By A Godlo
The flood waters had drawn back
Land made its debut
The past gone and over
With nothing but hope in view
Hard work and labor ahead
Building and creating...what
Grown minds can't forget experience
No matter how one sought
...to begin again
After a time of planting and pruning
Harvest came in fullness of glory
Lending God's blessing
To the legendary story
Funny how a flood can wash away life
But not bring one to self control
The father "god" released himself
To the lusts of his consuming soul
...in celebration of humanity
What did Cush know before
That seeped under the skin to once again
Reveal the nakedness of humanity
And the sepulcher of sin
Had LOVE been present with Noah
His response could not have been a curse
Forgiveness and compassion
Would have covered even the worst
....desires
He walked away with a fear of self
And exalted himself in fear and shame
He would never need that presence again
When he forged a powerful, worship base...of a name
He would create a world of debauchary
Where twisted passions are indulged
Men and women could experiment
And the nakedness of man bulged
...in plain sight
Kingdoms came and went throughout the ages
Merging and assimilating with one
Osiris and Isis, pagan gods
Yet "freedom" displays their symbols under GOD and GUN
All of civilization has been touched by failure
To respond appropriately to fear
Written history slants truth to serve agendas
With peanuts and beer
...with a wink of the eye
The system hides at the height of education
The breaking down of a flowing mind
Add a little "god" to the knowledge
And one can operate outside of the confines of time
Raising humanity above the sludge of soul
Into the heavenlies of a magical god
Using the terrors and horrors of the past
To make a paved road, much easier to trod
...to the ALL SEEING EYE
Education under the guise of religion
Is the perfect place to hide humanity's fear
We wonder if there is a difference, choice can make
That will bring down an all-consuming fire to sear
Man's conscience to perfection, the sainted election
Of those who will go into the next world, without sin
How can GOD deliver humanity, anew
Without ONE failing again...and again
...nothing new under the sun
Written by Trudy Schrader on 05-16-2018