Long Wasters Poems
Long Wasters Poems. Below are the most popular long Wasters by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Wasters poems by poem length and keyword.
If I’m proud of my country does it make me racist?
Better than all those in separate places,
a stigma attached in nationality cases
a taboo pride for thoughtless wasters.
But I can be proud of my team or my family,
sing songs out loud whilst beaming proudly,
I can be proud of my city or school,
why is national pride the mark of a fool
If I reflect on the person I am,
I’m not reflecting on an other man,
it’s not a comparison of somebody else,
my thought are of me, they include no one else
I say I’m proud to be British and you take offence,
because you think it means I hate the French
but at no point in time was I thinking of France
you assume I was because that is your stance.
It’s stupid to assume that pride is a bigot, it’s a learned assumption of intellectual limit,
I’m not proud of it all because some of it’s shameful,
so don’t be a fool and see pride as hateful. lol
Sarcastically writing about people who like me, that's what they say but I know it's unlikely, I'm playing myself but talking as their eyes see, self put downs acting as mad as I might be,
I know if there's a chance it might be true, that they won't think twice before they conclude, I'm mad as a bat with a brain so confused, this unchallenged answer gifts them a good mood,
they only feel like winners when another does lose, hitting rock bottom left battered and bruised, and keeping you there in a hidden pursuit they tell all the world how they want to help you,
I talk about how I have lost my own plot, I do it through humour they know I have got, to see if they say it and realise the plot, or jump at the chance to believe my mind's shot,
they say they're my friends but are blind to the test, will they think the worst as is seen by the rest, or see it my humour and choose to contest, as they are the people who do know me best?
They don't even question the fact I'm insane, the only outcome that their minds entertain, though they've seen this humour time and again, they take the advantage for personal gain.
What I am saying shows the mind of a nutcase, but what I'm saying would come out of their face, what they think of me fits right into place, I show the worst of me they're quick to embrace.
The fact is I'm them and ironically mocking,
I'm saying what they say believing rock bottom,
and they quickly grasp it as truth though it's rotten,
and that's why these people are friends I've forgotten.
Seen as my friends means their view's validated,
Until I point out all I have for them's hatred,
as they wander straight for the trap I created,
exposing these wasters who hope I'll be slated
Measure of society by embarrassment,
being a part of that state establishment.
The informed shared interest that knows,
wasters that claim to be the institution vows.
Bound to rigid ness and as politic direction sold,
crippled down industrial economics manifold.
They speak about the future with excuses of term,
the apparent freedom labeled to confirm.
Fountain of endless information provided,
to cut out every possibilities confided.
Heartless encyclopedia of laws that bend,
credited shares that southwards went.
Documentaries are the new CV’s,
desperate actions tell a story in degrees.
Seeing the worth of our ecological disaster,
recognizing the evil in the name of profit master.
Being the statue and a number without a will,
and constantly forging out the nonsense bill.
Expectations show that mirror of our mind,
reflections of trusting governance what we cannot find.
Patterns of generation by bounded sorrow,
shifting statistics for more to borrow.
Great souls take on true responsibility,
attention seekers doing so through hostility.
Within the state of human legacy of grace,
we can rise above the sense of duty pace.
Within the state of human legacy of grace,
we can rise above the political bureaucratic maze.
Service in perception of honor provided,
caring governance not complicated.
Heroes and heroines need to save the world,
on a regular basic to keep the image bold.
They declare that poor people are stupid,
not having the capacity to help themselves included.
Having a barby doll degree in social signs and law,
they know all the better for all.
Famous people become the perfect jingle,
to create attention in dire need to mingle.
While everybody knows,
most money get swallowed by managing NGO’s.
Truck loads of reject shoes for free,
killing the entrepreneurship of the shoemaker clear to see.
10.000 NGO’s in poverty land,
providing change for the rich and brand.
Self elected wasters crown themselves with sympathy,
adding false stories to the conspiracy.
Volunteers of conscious working for free are needed,
reference on CV’s in humanity proceeded.
While in the meantime the economic infrastructure bridles away,
the philanthropist in its new car is on its way.
Entertaining the poor with a noble proof,
to sustain the heart quenching spoof.
Oh, most mistaken guilt so profitable and sweet,
keeping the balance in the account of deed.
Holding down the poor economic contrive to bring,
while riches establish itself to a dull and idle thing.
Your call is important to us
Says this smarmy bland voice
So please stay on the Line
As if we have any choice
They don’t have many staff now
Just a multi purpose call centre
The logical result of the work
Of that thrice cursed inventor
Whose greatest brainchild was
The automated answer machine
One of the greatest time wasters
This world has sadly ever seen.
How many die of apoplexy
Not having the resolve
To keep on waiting for
Their query to be solved.
I hope that inventor met
An excruciating painful death
Lingering hour after hour
Before taking his last breath
All the time hearing
Over and over again
Your death is important to us
We just don’t know when
Did I learn a worthy trade? Study war as a warrior?
Was I a helper, a first responder,
nurse, nanny, priest, pumpkin farmer,
a horny handed laborer,
did I lecture nitwit’s on the liberal arts or economics?
None of the above.
Yet I claim the kinship of all these,
my esteemed traveling companion:
Master Walt Whitman agrees.
I extol all of you America! All scoundrels,
wasters, longshoremen, coopers, sail makers,
beef butchers, mechanics, farriers, truckers,
tech analysts, grocers, grifters and daytime hookers.
I offer all of you my theoretical talents
and apply them generously to you,
the heaving throngs, and huddled masses.
Praise be and glory to all impractical scribblers,
liars, disgraced philosophers, tricksters, and drunks.
We poets celebrate ourselves,
save the world for ourselves alone,
warn of the terrible dire in the good,
the terrible good in the dire, while distrusting both,
yet still and all, disliking our own works
even more.
You will fall out with people who claim you haven't,
they don't wan't to look bad so paint you a mad 'en
you'll erect the finger in the middle of your hand
they'll see it as behaviour they can't understand
and tell all the world you've lost your head
protecting their image when to you their dead
then they say they wish to help you
hiding that the friendship fell through
you're seen mad and their seen great
as all believe you're their best mate
9 years will pass and you won't see him
and yet dumb beings still believe him
goodness gracious fake-ous wasters
brains unused behind the faces
liars lying is most sad
believed by people clearly mad
What would it be like to start all over again,
I mean isn’t that the reason, so many of us pen,
It just opens up every unknown possibility,
Some beautiful some dark, others downright ugly,
But alas the truth is, we’ll probably never know,
Unless I endeavor to reverse time’s flow,
Oh here we go again, he’s still living in the past,
Well actually I’m not, it’s more a forecast,
Picturing the future, not as hard as it seems,
We do it every night, yeah but only in dreams,
Still have to wake up, and face tomorrow,
Make ends meet, work, pay back what we borrow,
Now this is the bit where I go quite insane,
Stand back as I cast off these holding chains,
Oh Christ! he’s just done another line of cocaine,
No I’m clean and sober, or so I maintain,
Gonna get hypnotized by this shrink I know,
Put in a permanent stupor, my life I’ll forego,
Wander this planet, with my head in the clouds,
On every continent have a fabulous house,
Leave behind the rat race, start a new religion,
Where there’s no big brother, and no supervision,
Do all this by surrogate, from my own living room,
Embedded forever in this simulated womb,
Will make time go slowly, say one minute a year,
So a day is a Millennium, time will almost disappear,
When I make love will last, the whole century long,
The agony of ecstasy, oh my will is so strong,
Passion will be bliss, happiness put on tap,
No death, gonna rid my world of all this crap,
Write beautiful poetry, til the cows come home,
Muse about Italy, Venice, Naples and Rome,
Oh god I’m flying high, soaring unchained,
Not an ache in my body, slight twinge or pain,
A demigod of nature, gladiator fighting to be free,
come on join in, spend a moment here with me,
All the haters, you’ll be expelled to hell,
Liars and time wasters, yeah you as well,
I will not stop, gonna raise the dead,
Well only the good ones, under my bed?
Boy that was great, was it good for you too,
And for a moment, I was really there, it’s true,
No need to get drunk, wasted out of my mind,
Open up your imagination, it’s simply sublime.
85 billion neurons, in the average human brain,
Stars in the Milky Way, more or less the same,
Please listen when I tell you, never be restrained,
Reality of truth’s alive, not to find it is a shame.
By
David Kavanagh
The weather with its thunder and rain,
change of perception to takes us home again.
By the ecology of magic that remains,
or lifeless desserts that will find its names.
Through misty realms by wasters dreams,
dying trees without carbon in distress it seems.
To regain some sense of ground and gravity,
some ancient diversities is the approach in nativity.
The killing of earth by poisons and number,
politics, bankers and farmers plunder.
Mother of all secret creation to sustain,
convenient ignorance the invisible chain.
When human creation at its dire and best,
seeds containing enduring passion need to manifest.
Allowing true purpose intend to find,
away from actions that keep us blind.
Mother earth love brings true awakening,
forwarding the ultimate reasons of being.
The roots of our ancient truth is deep,
a sacred point of view that we reap.
Cut out the parasitic takers stories,
follow the generosity of spirit glories.
Living creative forces are sacred,
truth by living force well motivated.
No Milord, it can wait— this software,
Let’s talk of what wears hard— the hardware.
Let justice come in time,
Ye better prove it’s prime,
On firm ground, not like gauze gossamer!
From sentiments august
To first things that come first,
So that time-wasters of cobwebs clear,
Let justice come in time,
And with reasons that rhyme,
What use late, late justice although fair?
_______________________________________
Happenings |10.05.2023| justice
Poet’s note: The Chief Justice of India feels: judiciary is committed to take justice to every home through technology: live streaming of judicial proceedings, translation of orders into local languages, e-courts, and the like. This is fine, but if there is one problem to be addressed to before anything else it is clearance of hundreds of thousands of pending cases. A commonsense 80:20 principle that 20% of efforts fetch 80% of result. This is third in the series: Your slip is showing, Milord.