Long Worthless Poems
Long Worthless Poems. Below are the most popular long Worthless by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Worthless poems by poem length and keyword.
I behold the rose in bloom, and I cry,
I weep and I wail, then I sigh.
As the night draws in, my painful thoughts begin to wake,
I retreat into my mind and with fear I do shake.
Your clammy hand on my neck, your touch just like lead,
I close my eyes so you will go, you bury further in my bed.
I know I’m worthless, but please do not hurt,
And I try not to scream as you begin to insert.
The deed almost done, your sneer of disgust,
Your toes curl as we prepare for the final thrust.
You roar with delight, I exhale with relief,
My virginity now taken by a wretched old thief.
The memory still haunts, and the damage goes on,
I unravel the silk cloth that my knife lays upon.
Slowly but surely destruction is on its way,
I fear for my soul, but my body must pay.
Anticipation takes hold, and the blade does its work,
I press firmly down, blood appears with a jerk.
Is this the pleasure I've longed to have?
And a voice deep within screams "YES! ONE MORE JAB".
I am so frail, my young flesh so weak,
I can not go on, for my virginity he did seek.
The cold steel blade tattoos my white maiden flesh,
And the untouched skin becomes like wheat for the thresh.
I must abate, I must restrain,
This is the only way I mask the pain.
My eyes glaze over, my body feels weightless,
Each stroke is a prayer, and every cut a caress.
The guests have arrived, my relief has been fleeting,
He stands there staring, my heart is beating.
He looks at me inquisitively, mouth gaping,
And my mother knows not that her brother likes raping.
His gaze upon me, I'm his gift to unwrap,
He would rip me open and toss me like scrap.
I wish he would vanish and leave me in peace,
But his lust won’t be sated, and on me he would feast.
My legs are so withered, and my wheelchair’s a cage,
I wish that man in the Skoda didn’t have road rage.
I guess I should be grateful I can’t feel a thing,
But my mind is alive and every inch of him stings.
He gives me a present and pretends to be nice,
But don’t be fooled, it comes at a price.
He wheels me outside for a fresh of breath air,
When no one is watching he sniffs at my hair.
I wish I could lash out with my thin spastic legs,
But they are as useful as ice-cube clothes pegs.
I hope my diary doesn’t land in the wrong hands,
And if you’re reading this now then I’ve suck-cummed to his plans.
- Anonce
Chorus
Banks! Banks! Let us all do away with banks
And their dirty tricks and their silly pranks
Banks! Banks! They mean very little to me
If I was the king all banks will be history
If I was the king all banks will be history
If I was the king all banks will be history
Verse One
Banks are stingy
Banks are greedy
They steal from the needy
Banks never give but they love to take
If your friend is a bank
He will rob you before you wake
Only fools bail out the banks
Because I will rather take my money
They sold me worthless shares when my day was sunny
With the hope that one day I will lick from the bank’s honey
Now my day is rainy and I don’t think it is funny
I would never buy those shares I rather buy an Easter bunny
Only foolish kings bail out the banks
I rather bail out a pauper
The economy is going bad
While my people are left to suffer
Beware of the banks and the evil that they do
Today it is me but tomorrow it may be you
Chorus
Banks! Banks! Let us all do away with banks
And their dirty tricks and their silly pranks
Banks! Banks! They mean very little to me
If I was the king all banks will be history
If I was the king all banks will be history
If I was the king all banks will be history
Verse Two
Bank! Banks! They can never be your friend
Today they are collecting your money
But you are broke
They say see you later Sunny
Beware! Beware! Beware!
When a bank tells you sign here
They will take everything you have
Including your underwear
Is it your bit of filthy magic?
To trade with a bank may be tragic
Shrewd little goldsmith demanding for gold
And any item of value
Or anything he could see or hold
Bald headed money lenders demanding for a pound of flesh
You can take the meat from his cheek
But remember that no blood must spill
Banks don’t care they will rather kill
Take off his damn head off with a sharp edged steel
Deducting money from my account bill bill bill
Banks are the biggest thieves because the love to steal
Banks destroy the economy and they never heal
Banks will charge you money for a rotten potato peel
Banks! I hate banks!
They say can I borrow you some money
I say no thanks
Banks! Banks! Let us all do away with banks
And their dirty tricks and their silly pranks
Banks! Banks! They mean very little to me
If I was the king all banks will be history
If I was the king all banks will be history
If I was the king all banks will be in misery
Ladies and gentlemen,
Let’s take a moment to reflect on what happened in Venezuela. In the blink of an eye, everyone became a **multimillionaire**—not because the economy was thriving, but because hyperinflation piled up so much worthless money, people could barely carry it. Piles of cash with no real value. It’s a harsh reminder that money itself is not an asset if it can be manipulated to the point of collapse.
So, **where do you put your money?** This is the burning question in today’s uncertain economic climate. We’ve seen trillions wiped out of the stock market, and people are starting to worry. With central banks printing money and stock markets artificially inflated, where do you go to preserve your wealth? What is truly an **asset**?
An asset is something that holds value over time. But to understand how long your asset will last, you need to know two things: its value and the cost to maintain it. The reality is, if you’re holding onto an asset that requires too much upkeep, or worse—its value is tied to a depreciating currency—its lifespan will be cut short.
**Look at what’s happening right now.** The stock market, once soaring, is starting to falter. The markets are high, but we all know the **Feds** are coming. The next **FOMC** meeting will likely bring changes, and many are anticipating interest rates to be cut. We’ve already seen **50 bps points** pinned from previous CPI data, but the big question remains—what’s going to happen with rising geopolitical tensions in the **Middle East**, upcoming elections, and Japan’s interest rates, which have been low for so long?
This brings me to a crucial point: the **acquisition of the right assets.** In uncertain times like these, it’s not about following the herd into the stock market or real estate. It’s about finding assets that will **survive and thrive**. And I believe we’re going to start seeing a shift. We might witness **America considering Bitcoin** as a part of its reserve. Think about it: decentralized, free from the manipulation of central banks, and capped in supply.
Ladies and gentlemen, as we navigate this economic landscape, remember: **it’s not about chasing inflated markets or relying on printed money**. It’s about securing assets that have true value and can withstand the tests of time and turmoil. The future belongs to those who understand this fundamental truth.
Form:
My soul hates this type of love. It's literally my natural enemy. However, I am happy, truly, because I stay true to myself. At the same time, my anger is an acidic stream of fire more powerful than a billion PSI and roars at speeds greater than sound. I choose selfishness as my path in life. Love is never stronger than selfishness nor is selfishness stronger than love. Emotions don't have power alone, we give them power. Like swords, the wiser and more skillful one is at wielding them, the more rewards there are to reap. Selfishness is stronger than love in any and every way if a hint of fairness and integrity are added to it. Humans are not able to love one another, it's delusion at best. I always ask romantic couples why do they love their partner, they almost never know why. I personally believe that if love was real in humans, it should be a conscious decision, not an instinct because lust is instinct. Lust is selfishness, while love is selflessness. So many people delude themselves into thinking that they're in love with someone, when in reality, they're attracted to something that person has, physical or non-physical material. Logic is also more powerful than romantic love, which shatters the maze that countless get lost in. Though life is no straight path, logic and selfishness make life great if used wisely. Selflessness isn't foolish in and of itself, most use it incorrectly. No matter what, selfishness and logic are some of my strongest powers. These two strengths will get me farther in life than most who have a romantic partner, especially in freedom. There is no freedom in love, going rogue is the only option. I'm proud to be a maverick as I improve my own power and avoid seeking help from humans, face to face, as much as possible. I am stronger than romantic love, because, once again, I stay true to myself. Staying true to myself is the sword I use to cut down delusion and defend myself against other lies. No human on Earth is my ally nor my enemy, I'm someone who lives for fun and not for a purpose like a soldier. Life isn't meaningful nor meaningless, we give it meaning, though I find most of life to be worthless. My life, devoid of romantic love, will keep pressing on the more I dive into freedom and the blissful depths of wise selfishness. As such, I will keep fighting onward against my enemies, romantic love and other frauds like it.
Be yourself
She paints a picture of the real me.
I know in my heart that she truly believes.
She tells me stories that I always forget,
But neither of us mind that fact,
Because it means she gets to tell them all over again, I guess.
She tells my story to those who care.
She sings my praises, even when I am not there.
I would tell her story, but it is not mine to speak, or write.
She has always been there for me, so I will respect her copyright.
She is not a writer, nor does she have a poet mind.
She works to pay the bills and she leads a completely different life.
She held my hand and I felt safe,
As we walked on stepping stones over the stream;
She still watches over me, always, as I dash her hopeful dreams.
They all went up in smoke;
But I’m no gambler or criminal.
I’m just a humane being and my glass is never half full,
So I can only ever let you down;
I try to be a star, but I am still underground.
I have lived my story; it is mine to tell,
But I have no need to explain why I never seem to help myself;
Because she truly knows me and still she keeps the faith.
I hope and believe that she knows one day,
I’m going to change my ways.
This is my story; this is the tale I tell.
I have no diary musings, except the poetry; oh well.
With understanding, you will see my soul
And when I leave you all behind without me,
I hope that you know that I could only ever ‘Be yourself.’
If I write things that make you think,
I hope you know your love has only ever helped me to be.
She is at the window, the kitchen sink.
She can see me walking towards her house
And she can’t help but be welcoming.
That’s what I love about her;
For all she does,
Because without her I could never believe one day I will find true love.
She said be faithful and love will come.
I’m getting older now and I am still here unloved,
But I will promise, to maybe, one day,
Show her the love which I have found;
The love that takes my pain away.
Your understanding; it is your own,
But this is my story and its meaning has no need to be told.
I hope you forgive me, but this is mine.
I would give it all away,
But then how would I justify?
You see this is worthless, but priceless to me,
Because when I find myself in love one day,
I will, at last, find…my…peace…
(C)2017 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.
Season of death plays her melancholic tune,
tragedy portrayed through a chorus of birds.
In regret, I ponder why you left so soon,
still mourning the impact of your last words.
Demons hid some pieces of your jigsaw brain,
lost in your black abyss, troubles began to form.
Alcohol, drugs and abuse turned your life insane,
but your tongue was silent, battling the storm.
Sometimes I read the note you left behind,
saying you were sorry, but life was not kind.
If only I knew a way for time to rewind,
maybe I could have eased that troubled mind.
Guess you felt death would bring an end to the pain,
hope you found peace from a life you left in vane.
Silent One
27 October 2020
I lost a very special friend to suicide, on new years eve 1996.
It was not my only experience with suicide, but it was one that had a big impact on my life, because, I was the last person she spoke to.
Sadly, I did not get to her in time and she had already departed the world that troubled her so much. At the time, she was only 18.
For years, I struggled to come to terms with it, my coping mechanism was to blank it all out, suppress the emotions. But every new years eve, I would not do anything, it was my way of rebelling against it, I guess. I lived with regret. Sad thing was I never spoke to anyone about it.
I learned to deal with it through writing. My first poem about what happened was in 2015.
Some think suicide is selfish, but it is not. It is difficult for those left behind to deal with it, but we need to understand, people who leave the world in such a way, do not want to die, they want to end the pain.
Sometimes, no matter what we do or say, it may not help.
Always keep an eye out for family and friends, who you may think are feeling low and at times worthless. Many of us, at times, feel we do not belong.
Sometimes, the smallest act of reaching out could make a difference.
If you are feeling suicidal, there are helplines available in your country. Please call someone to talk to them. It could make a difference.
When we feel confused, oppressed, worthless, low, unloved, live a life without affection and understanding... Please remember there is always someone out there who loves and cares about you and will miss you so much if you are gone.
Sorry for the sad poem and thank you for reading.
Never-ending aftershocks of yesterday’s tomorrow has settled in my mind’s eye…there’s so much out there to look forward to…I’d rather not die, but indeed, I must live to see the light of day take wing from on high! Cleanse me with your hope, oh Lord of Accord and you are so perfectly imperfect to me…and you shine bright like a diamond in the cave and you mirror my pain with healing, crystal-clear rain! I’m out of my mind in the past, present and future…what’s my fate? What is there in store for me? Why do I hestitate? I hesitate for the sake of Your honor-packed jubilance, not his blasphemed envy! Good news (It’s intriguing! Very!) – I’m suriving and still standing tall; bad news (nothing brand-new or exciting really): I failed the test with a F- for failure to the extreme…your sub-zero eyes see right through me and I can feel the coals heating up in my heart! I’m mad to begin with and I’m sick of breaking apart! Deplorable Reality’s strategic tragedy stings like billion’s of buzzin’ busy bees out of their honey dens or hives! Deal with the cards, roll the dice. Feel my words – you’re my livin’ sacrifice! We need a happily ever after after all! Deplorable Reality’s strategic tragedy stings like billion’s of buzzin’ busy bees out of their honey dens or hives! You kill’d me inside and out and I won’t pout like a child, running about! You killed me with your lonesome song and I have no slight doubt about that, if you know what I am speaking of no doubt! Are you damaged by your suicidal depression? Do you have any clue what I’ve been through? Deplorable Reality’s strategic tragedy stings like billion’s of buzzin’ busy bees out of their honey dens or hives! I am a money saver, but a worthless beggar or an ungrateful waster OR a real big spender ~ I don’t mean to offend a single soul or drive anyone insane in any way, shape or form…I am just telling you the truth straight out of my brain while I lay down and type this verse up in my solitary, yet unique, wild and stunning-blue dorm…avoiding a bee swarm like escaping a windstorm with stingers flying all around me every direction I turn! Every angle I watch, there is danger looking at me straight in the eyes…replicating the death stare of the Lord of the Flies…my hope and faith withers and dries like a weed, left in the sun…pulled up from the ground by the gardener himself…rotting away…today…
I
A queue to a doorway
No-one knows what´s
On sale there
It could be washing powder
Almonds or diamonds
You think this was some
Yesterday
Look out your
Ghost smeared
Window
This is now
II
Throw stones at the
Motorcade
The pin pricked
Giant will barely
Pause
At banners & petitions
Faded pendants
Worthless paper
Riding out for a
Losing battle
Looking to a broken sky
For some Mon´s Angel
Less an army
More a mob
To the castle!
To the castle!
With flaming
Molotov
You awake in darkness
Hopeful
So many crusades
Begin in dreams
III
Tobolski late summer
With blankets for curtains
Tapestry dust
Stirred into
Koptyski forest soil
The former holy
The highest
Dragged
Splintered
Made human
Or less
IV
Each new dawning day
Spins us up to escape velocity
To be spat out to unthinking stars
Made passive by the weight of reason & history
We stare out into the rain
Believing wolves rule beyond the clearing
Elsewhere there is dancing
Cruise ships leave a wake of
Halved grapefruits
Shirts and skirts worn once
Gilded, seamless they glide
Oblivious to the hidden knife
The newspaper wrapped revolver
Passed under the café table
At the platform´s edge
All are equal to the justice
Of the approaching train
V
Red Emma
Red Emma
Won´t you send Berkman over
With a satchel full
Of dynamite
On a Chicago bound
Train
VI
Part six
In which
I dig a hole
To bury past dreams
And convictions
I brain-grew
At a factory lathe
Always knowing
There was escape
A high window climb
And as any fool knows
The fresh-turned soil
Of any deep hole
Can be easy seen
From the public road
VII
My advice to you
Young devil-cared rebel
Why don´t you climb on the roof
While your parents are sleeping
Try & flag down a passing
Black star liner
The busted sewer pipe
Has flooded the basement
Wet pages spin like lily pads
Stashed furniture corpse-bloats
Full boxes mush-mold
Time is tight
Young devil-cared pilgrim
Take with you only
What your pockets can hold
VIII
Among the defeated
Slack faces on rusted fairground rides
Among the defeated
Eating smoke rain mocked
Among the defeated
Careless cigarettes burn umbrella holes
Among the defeated
Landlocked padlocked frozen out
IX
Don´t
try a handstand
Your coins will
Fall out
X
Under the tar
The chariot ruts
A Golem
Is stirring.
Therapy costs money, but depression is free to kill
You're dreaming of overdosing, but you don't need those pills
I know they take everything away, so it doesn't seem so real
But please don't go, because the worlds needs you still
I've been there before, when it feels like you wont make it
You're trying to be strong for the world, but you can no longer fake it
Your smile is wearing, your nightmares appear more
You're being made fun of, you're wondering what you should care for
Bullies at school are making you feel worthless
You may not know it, but you have a purpose
I overdosed at 17 and I'm here 8 years later
I've learned how to be happy, many tears later
No family, I was passed around foster families
Social workers told me what to do, and I'd react angrily
Bipolar and depression, so they said I lacked sanity
Some of the things that bullies would say, damaged me
I was battling a bunch of demons no one knew about
Self-harming, but my bloody clothes I threw them out
I kept it a secret for a year and a half, I wish I spoke sooner
Looking back at my past, I'm lucky to have this future
Almost 6 years free from self-harm, but I take each day at a time
I realized I'm in control of my happiness, so the past won't stay on my mind
I know you're going through the dark, and you need the light
Take my hand and I promise I'll lead you right
You're scared to speak, because you think no one cares for you
Self-harm, Drugs, alcohol, will pretend to be there for you
But they take you down a dark road, you'll struggle to come back from
The battle you're going through, you'll look back at and say that's a battle I won
I was told I'd be dead by 21, but I've made it to Twenty five
Now I'm full of pride and confidence, when before I was empty inside
Depression is a liar, you are worth more
I've been so focused on good things I can't feel the pain from before
Giving up is never an option, there's never a reason
Go for a walk, draw, paint, or write your way to freedom
To get through the storm it may take a while
But be strong and don't let anyone break your smile
Therapy costs money, but depression is free to kill
You're dreaming of overdosing, but you don't need those pills
I know they take everything away, so it doesn't seem so real
But please don't go, because the worlds needs you still
Who could forget what happened on that unsuspecting and sunny day,
when no visible clouds drifted over the Twin Towers?
Little after midnight, the cool rain adds to the melancholy
of the descending angels; and I join them in prayer to remember the tragedy!
This should be a day of remembrance, not of hatred for the ignoble acts
the wicked committed, but would God accept unkindness instead of merciful deeds?
They called it another day of infamy,
and like Pearl Harbor we were taken by surprise;
that was an attack aimed at the military,
but on September 11 the terrorists attacked the civilians!
It seemed like lightning striking down sturdy trees,
and then fire broke out with smoke trails of a thousands feet;
" O my God! ", every employee screamed...quickly running down
the stairs engulfed by fire...causing an indescribable chaos everywhere!
" Take my hand, I will lead you to safety! " the firefighter said to the coughing woman.
" Hold onto my arm! " the policeman yelled out to the frail man,
who had dropped his eyeglasses and couldn't see!
Every firefighter and policeman acted like them, rescuing many without fearing death;
and hundreds of them, that awful morning, never returned home alive...
what a tragedy for their families that watched in horror and couldn't help!
Who wouldn't remember the courage of their noble and willing hearts?
And furthermore, who wouldn't engrave their valorous names on plaques and monuments?
Up above, by the gates of Paradise...Christ and His Father awaited them to accept their souls;
while archangels surrounding God's throne, sung hymns that humans couldn't sing...
those hymns that all the earthly heroes will sing with them when Heaven mourns again!
Their portraits, pictures and memorabilia hang above the fireplaces,
and on the decorated walls of the victims' homes, precincts and firehouses;
how could anybody take them down as they were worthless items?
Prize them more than gold or diamonds, o friends grieving that tremendous loss even today;
don't hate those who caused you sorrow and unbearable pain, be forgiving and show mercy...
as God does toward us; o friends remember your heroes for their valor and sacrifice!
My poem is dedicated to the victims and survivors of the September 11 attacks on America.
Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci