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abortion absence
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cousin cowboy
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day death
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how i feel howl
humanity humor
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image imagery
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magic malayalam
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writing yellow

Long Fear Poems | Long Fear Poetry

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

See also: Famous Long Poems

Long Poems
Long poem by Cyndi MacMillan | Details |


This page shows my writing process and is part of Poetrysoup's first workshop.  The workshop's intent is to reveal how revision strengthens a poem. Constructive feedback can be a gift.  Should any journal editor provide suggestions to me, I'd eagerly listen.  This 'reveal' will be archived, may be used as a teaching tool for newer poets.  Thank you to all the workshop participants.  You really put your heart into this project.  

Clammy palmed, heart amplifying 
a heavy metal gallop as if thick smoke fills

the corridor, a face peers through the window;
A pilot warns, we’re coming in rough.

Like that first ear piercing, eyes crammed shut;
Like Jamie Lee Curtis in the closet 

clutching a hanger, screaming to wake herself up. 
A memory of brakes failing on the highway,  

of an empty pantry, then getting that pink slip.
Too much, too much, panic takes hold,

a lockdown, a breakdown, a savage dog bite — 
when the cure was still a stab to the belly,
Like you just saying to me
I’m not sure if I love you, anymore.

Version Two, May 7, 2015


Clammy palmed, heart amplifying 
a heavy metal gallop as if thick smoke 

chokes the corridor, a face cracks the window
or the pilot says, we’re coming in rough.

Refrains, this'll hurt me more than it hurts you;
Ma'am, three weeks til we get the results,

a long dreamed pregnancy, sudden bleeding,
mother in her coffin, ear to frigid wood.

Like razors in an apple,
like Jamie Lee Curtis in the closet 

clutching a hanger, screaming to wake herself up. 
A memory of brakes failing on the highway,  

of a skeletal pantry, of a bullet hole.
Too much, too much, panic takes hold,

a lockdown, a breakdown, a savage dog bite — 
when the cure was still a stab to the belly,
Like you just saying to me
I’m not sure if I love you, anymore.  

Version 3 -- tighter, more erratic, rapid fire.


Clammy palmed, heart amplifying 
a heavy metal gallop as if smoke 

chokes corridors, a face cracks the window,
the pilot yells, we’re coming in rough.

Remember, soap in the mouth,
Remember, you want somethin' to cry about.

An awaited pregnancy, sudden bleeding,
mother's coffin, ear to frigid wood.

Like razors in apples,
like Jamie Lee Curtis in a closet 

grappling that hanger, my parallel life,
brakes failing on the highway,  

skeletal pantry, new bullet holes.
too much, too much, panic takes hold,

lockdown, breakdown, dog bite — 
when the cure was a stab to the belly
like you just saying to me
I’m not sure if I love you, anymore. 

Version 4


Remember, soap in mouth,
I'll give you somethin' to cry about,

clammy palmed, heart amplifying 
a heavy metal gallop,

as if smoke choked corridors, 
a face cracked the window,

the pilot's croak, 
we’re coming in rough,

Mother's coffin, 
ear to frigid wood,

pregnant, at last, 
then suddenly bleeding.

Like one Halloween,
a razor hid in my apple,

shrapnel in our bedroom door,
too much, panic takes hold,

lockdown, breakdown, rabid bite — 
when the cure was a stab to the belly
like you just saying to me
                I’m not sure if I love you, anymore.  



Remember, soap in mouth,
I'll give you somethin' to cry about,

clammy palmed, heart amplifying 
a heavy metal gallop,

as if smoke choked corridors, 
a face rattled the window,

the pilot croaked, 
we’re coming in rough,

Mother's coffin, 
ear to finished wood,

pregnant, at last, 
then suddenly bleeding.

Like one Halloween
a razor cored my apple,

shrapnel in our bedroom door,
too much, panic takes hold,

lockdown, breakdown, rabid bite — 
when the cure was a stab to the belly
like you just saying to me
                I’m not sure if I love you, anymore.  

Revised 6


Remember, soap in mouth,
I'll give you somethin' to cry about,

clammy palmed, heart amplified 
a heavy metal gallop,

as if smoke choked corridors, 
a face rattled the window,

turbulence, warnings,
we’re coming in rough,

Mother's coffin, 
ear to finished wood,

pregnant, at last, 
then suddenly bleeding.

Like one Halloween
a razor cored my apple,

shrapnel in our bedroom door,
too much, panic takes hold,

lockdown, breakdown, rabid bite — 
when the cure was a stab to the belly
like you just saying to me
                I’m not sure if I love you anymore.  

Revised 7 -- I am happy with this one, finally... any more takers? LOL


Remember, soap in mouth,
I'll give you somethin' to cry about,

clammy palmed, heart amplified 
a heavy metal gallop,

as if smoke choked corridors, 
a face rattled the window,

turbulence, warnings,
we’re coming in rough,

Mother's coffin, 
ear to finished wood,

pregnant, at last, 
then suddenly bleeding.

Like one Halloween
a razor cored my apple,

shrapnel in our bedroom door,
too much, panic takes hold,

lockdown, breakdown, rabid bite — 
when the cure was a stab to the belly
like you just saying to me
 I’m not sure 

                    if I love you anymore.  

Revision 10 -- thank you EVERYONE


Remember, soap in mouth,
I'll give you somethin' to cry about,

clammy palmed, heart amplified 
a heavy metal gallop,

as if smoke choked corridors, 
a face rattled the window,

turbulence, warnings,
we’re coming in rough,

Mother's coffin, 
ear to finished wood,

pregnant, at last
overjoyed — sudden blood.

Like one unforgettable night
a razor cored my apple,

shrapnel pricked our bedroom door,
too much, panic takes hold,

lockdown, breakdown, rabid bite — 
when the cure was a stab to the belly
like you just saying to me
 I’m not sure 

                      if I love you anymore.  

Copyright © Cyndi MacMillan

Long poem by Gerald Dillenbeck | Details |

Dr Time's DiPolar Rant

What's up?
Thanks for this second interview,
old man.

You are either blind or confused,
but probably both.

Well, thanks,
and I appreciate you as well.
Now, I understand you want to talk about human consciousness.

We comprehend your language as limiting human consciousness.

Now would that be the royal "we"
or are you assuming something about me
or the entire human race?

Yes, although be careful not to confuse royalty with governance.
Royalty is best democratized for universal
and global
and individual self-governance.
This is the subject of considerable ancient poetry
and wisdom.

OK, well,
how about a wide open question
and then you can just say whatever it is you
or we
want to say about human consciousness?

Was that your wide open question
or am I still waiting for it?

Apparently you are still waiting
because you are continuing to respond to my questions
with questions.

Yes, that's what I wanted to say about human consciousness.
So, any other questions for me today?

I don't know how I got myself involved with you again.
You  are the most ornery pedantic old fart I have ever met.

I resemble that remark
but it is not what I understand as an "open question."

What would you like to say about consciousness?

Thank you.
That reminds me of the grand opening of Book 1:
The Character of Tao,
entitled "On The Absolute Tao."
Let me try a post-millennial transposition
of Laotse's famous treatise:

Book 1: The Coincidentally DiPolar Character of Time
1. On Absolute Time

The Time that can be spoken
Is not comprehensive time;
The Languages that can be given
Are not fully Polynomial-Real
resolved Information,
or understanding.

Not-Not Binomiality is the origin of "Universe" and "Earth";
Language-Logos-Left hemisphere
proposes to the Right-hemispheric Eco-Mother 
of Earth's Universal Solar-Fueled System.
Left speaks ego's anthrocentric
to Right's mute eco-centric binomially balanced syntax.

Oftentimes, humans purge themselves of ego's fear-of-death passion
In order to comprehend Life's Original Intent;
Oftentimes, Universal Time's comprehensive consciousness regards human co-passion,
To rediscover its bilaterally eternal flowing form
from past into this present toward future's past.

This binomial--yin's secret future time 
with yang's manifest past time--
is one naturally equivalent bilaterally coincidental cycle;
Yin-Future and Yang-Past are given different names
When human language explains their bilateral manifestation
in the present
as polynomially binomial
"not not yet"
"not not now".

Future "not not yet" with Past Polynomial-Yang empowered Information 
we language through Present's comprehensive consciousness,
Logos-Mythos ReConnection
PermaCultural ReGeneration:
Stretching across Future's Omega Point
down and into Deeper Ecology
Is the Risk and Opportunity Paradox 
of Ego's optimizing Life within Eco's Balancing ReBirthing Death.

Wow, that sounds really deep Dr. Time
but some of us are really busy trying to get through our day
so if you're done
I'll submit this
but don't expect too much by way of positive outcome
cause that was really out there in the effectiveness department.

You sound disappointed.

Let's just agree that comprehensive consciousness
seems to lack sufficient informational articulation
to change how I feel about you,
for example.

I suppose that's why we call it "comprehensive."
So, let's try redirecting fear about future deaths
and anger about past deaths
by including both ourselves and our environment
discovering what anger at,
fear about,
oneself can teach
our present consciousness.

What does your present conscience show you
about your justified anger at others,
past events,
significant others;
what does fear about others,
and your future,
teach you about love and kindness
needed for yourself AND
these others,
as a coincidentally correlated relationship through time?

When future-fear and past-anger say
"I don't have time for you."
future-love and past-kindness coincidentally say
"I regret not having enough time for us."

When past-anger says
"I don't have enough time for me."
future-love and past-kindness also say
"I regret not having enough time for me
to be with eco-us, 
to invest in more comprehensive consciousness,
universal intelligence,
to "sit with the world,"
to re-create,
to co-create,
to co-incidate,
to Right-eco-recenter my Left-ego-identity."

When love and kindness say
"I have time for you"
future-fear and past-anger are also saying,
"I regret not having enough time for egocentrism."
future-love and past-kindness only speak within languaged consciousness
when present-tensing time is consciously dominant,
just as future-fear and past-anger only speak
with future and past tense timing dominance.

Anger about past relationships
transactional events within time,
is also fear about replication within future's coincidental space
of present-tense comprehensive consciousness.

I'm feeling dizzy and light-headed.

You are dizzy and light-headed.

I just said that.

Binomially eternal time recycles
religioning revolutionary
and enlightening intuitive dipolar headed,
as ego turns to fly home to Right-brain centric embrace
bilateral time regains this human race's natural pace.

Too many words.

That's OK.
His royal commissioner accused Mozart of too many notes.
Both history and culture had their timely response.
Mozart still sings and dances
because he did not listen to repressive governance messages.

Too many notes, I'll never get this submitted in time.

Well, time doesn't wait,
but it doesn't leave any faster than it arrives.

Copyright © Gerald Dillenbeck

Long poem by Demetrios Trifiatis | Details |


Know Thyself
(one of the two Delphic commands of Apollo)

For years before the narrow windows of my senses
                                                                       I stood,
Trying to pierce the nebulous world of outer reality,
                                                                   Hoping to find GOD,
One year was following the other but I was: 
                                                                 Still wondering,
                                                                          Still inquiring,
                                                                               Still demanding.

I was lost in the tenebrous world of materiality’s
While the true essence of things, evasive 
                                                           As ever,
Persistently escaped the grasp of my confused

Unable to see behind the impenetrable veil
                                                             Of Isis,
And disappointed with reason’s constant 
My impatient voice towards the starry heavens I lifted,
                                                                   Asking aloud:

              Where are Thee, oh LORD?

For I have been seeking for Thee so many years now,
But I have found Thee not!

I have kept my eyes wide-open in order to see,
As many colors of Thy creation as possible,
And not even for a moment have I shut them, 
For fear I missed Thy resplendent light,
But I saw Thee not!

I have kept my ears wide-open in order to hear
As many sounds of Thy creation as possible,
And not even for a second have I covered them up
For fear I missed Thy sacred voice,
But I heard Thee not!

I have kept my hands extended in order to touch
As many things of Thy creation as possible
And not even for a minute have I held them back,
For fear I missed Thy spiritual touch
But I touched Thee not!

I have kept my nostrils wide-open in order to scent
As many perfumes of Thy creation as possible
And not even for an instant have I held my breath
For fear I missed Thy holy aroma
But I scent Thee not!

I have become a famed gourmet in order to taste
As many delicacies of Thy creation as possible
And not even for an hour have I withheld my appetite
For fear I missed Thy heavenly feast
But I tasted Thee not! 


Then, the thunderous voice of the Lord, 
Coming deep down from the twilight of time,
Tearing the eternal heavens apart
Answered me and said:

Dear innocent child of Mine; hasn’t time taught you,
That I am neither to be seen by eyes
Nor to be heard by ears?
That I am not to be touched by hands
Nor to be scent by nostrils?
That I am not to be tasted by palates
But I am only to be felt by enraptured hearts?

Trembling and puzzled, in a shaky timid voice,
                                                          I dared ask:

How could this be done, oh Lord?
For I am so weak and ignorant, I do not know
                                                               The way

And the compassionate voice of the Lord answered me
                                                                    And said:

Don’t call yourself weak and ignorant for
I have endowed you with power and knowledge
                                                                     So great,
You have only to unearth this incalculable treasure
Hidden deep down in your soul and you will be 
In touch with Me, with eternity, with the universal law,
With the light, with the truth and every single existence,
But first you have to listen carefully to what I command:

Close your eyes for they cannot see Me
And cover your ears for they cannot hear Me 

Pull back your hands for they cannot touch Me
And hold your breath for it cannot scent Me

Shut your mouth for it cannot taste me
And stand completely still in order for you 
To sense Me 

At once I rushed to Obey His divine command, so:

I closed my eyes and saw no more
And covered my ears and heard no more

I pull back my hands and touched no more
And held my breath and scent no more

I shut my mouth and tasted no more
And stood dead still for a moment,
                                  Just for a moment alone!


I felt His ethereal presence enveloping my heart
And I saw His celestial light caressing my mind
And I heard His heavenly voice calling to my spirit
And I touched His angelic essence with my elated thought
And I scent His seraphic aroma with my sacred, now, breath
And I tasted His rapturous divinity with my blissful soul. 

Then, immendiatly, the gates of revelation opened their 
                                                                               Passages wide
And in a magnificent lofty parade, in front of my soul’s 
                                                                               Dazzled eyes
The mysteries of life, one by one, were unveiled to the last
                                                                   Thus making everything known.

And now my enraptured self, jubilant before the eternal truth,
                                                                          In ecstasy exclaims:

Thank you, oh Lord for showing me Thy blessed Essence,
                                                      Thank Thee, for I know Thee now!

And the Lord enigmatically smiled at me and with His 
                                                           Divine thought tenderly declared: 

No my loving child, you only know YOURSELF!

                           © Demetrios Trifiatis

Copyright © Demetrios Trifiatis

Long poem by Gary Bateman | Details |

What Kind of People Are We

What Kind of People Are We

In a Shakespearean sense of tragedy and doubt the well-used
“To Be or Not To Be” from Hamlet is not the question I shall
discuss in this narrative. Rather, I shall consider a few things
concerning the current Middle Eastern and European migrant
situation that has riveted the attention of the countries in those
regions as well as the rest of the world. And it’s my opportunity
to reflect on some of the things that have occurred (and are still
occurring right now), that I find quite troubling and morally 
offensive to me as concerned person and citizen.

As a writer and poet, and as a moral human being, I can say
that I was truly shocked at the sight of an innocent, young Syrian 
refugee boy named “Aylan Kurdi,” who had drowned and was lying 
face down on a Turkish beach near a resort with his head turned
slightly on its right side, as the ebb and flow of the salted waves
pushed and pulled on his little body. A real tragedy for sure that
might have been prevented, if humane, responsible, and responsive
migrant immigration policies had been in place so his father
would not have been compelled to put his wife and both of his 
sons—who all drowned together—on that fateful boat at the very
mercy of ruthless and evil human traffic smugglers.

The horrendous scenes played over and over on the 24-hour news 
cycle of the migrants and their innocent children from Syria, Iraq, 
Turkey, Afghanistan, and other countries being treated like cattle
(or even less than cattle), and indiscriminately pushed around and
tear-gassed by unfriendly and unwelcoming jack-booted Hungarian 
Rendorség (Police) were certainly most shocking and disgustingly 
revulsive by both their malicious tenor and insidious intent. The
actions also of some right-wing Hungarian demonstrators hurling
loud and abusive comments at the refugees was also quite tragic
and disturbing. I found the actions of the Hungarian Police under
the direction of Prime Minister Viktor Orban to be similarly
reminiscent of the actions of Hitler’s Gestapo and Sturmabteilung
or the SA Troops after 1933 in Nazi Germany. Shame on them!
Shame on them! This is the same old tired bigotry and stupidity
on display today.

Despite these despicable actions of the Hungarian Police and many 
of Mr. Orban’s governmental officials, a number of Hungarian
citizens still showed their kindness and humanity in helping the
migrants at various junctures on the autobahn as they trekked
toward the Austrian border in route ultimately to Germany. This
caught my obvious attention as well.

For me, the “so-what?” here turns ultimately upon the following
philosophical and human question: “What Kind of People Are We?”
The migrant problem as we know is largely the result of the massive
displacement of people that has occurred (and is still occurring) in
in the war-torn countries in the Middle East and in certain areas of
Southeast Asia. This tragedy is one of many of our world’s current
and future 21st-century challenges. How each of us as “concerned 
citizens,” in consonance with the policies and actions of the various
governments in the countries we each live under, will certainly
play a role in reflecting in the end the kind of people we really are. 

For me, the nationalistic actions of the right-wing parties and
extremists, in many countries (including the United States) and 
particularly now in Europe, provide no real solution at all, and 
become a convenient excuse for many people to forsake their
conscience and basic humanity—and to stick their heads in the 
sand like a bunch of frightful ostriches lost in the reveries of
their hate and prejudice, and disgraceful cowardice! There can
be no apology and justification for this ever! This type of
behavior is a deep-seated cancer ever-lurking in the genes of 
our human society and in mankind’s soul—awaiting its chance
to metastasize and reek its horrible destruction upon its victims.  

The point I’m driving at is this: The current responsible actions
of a number of world leaders, to particularly highlight those of
the European Union, appear to be taking several of the right steps 
in helping these refugee migrants and their families undergoing
this terrible strife forced upon them by the tyranny of war and the
resultant poverty and dislocation. Being stupid, hateful, and clearly
prejudiced as some people and certain governmental leaders are in
our global community today is not the answer and it never will be!

To people who really do care about this ongoing migrant tragedy,
it’s time to rally and act in support of local, regional, and worldwide
efforts to help these migrant people and their families so afflicted
by poverty, disease, war, injury, death, and territorial displacement. 

For me, I desire to make my voice heard loud and clear as a writer,
poet, and concerned world citizen on this matter and in my own
most humble way. Keep in mind that many of us are descendants
of families who at one time or another were migrants from other
countries escaping the whip and lash of cruel dictators and their
terrible regimes masquerading as legitimate governments of the

In my estimation, the kind of people we should be or aspire to be
are those who relish the winds of freedom, the certainty of justice,
the spirit of friendship, the values of fairness and fair play, the
magnificence of humanity, the desire for cultural diversity and
inclusion, and the love of our fellow man under the very eyes
of God Himself. 

What kind of people are we? With this, I rest my case. 

Gary Bateman, Copyright © All Rights Reserved,
September 11, 2015 (Narrative)

Copyright © Gary Bateman

Long poem by Allyssa Pate | Details |

My Hell

I fall down
deeper and deeper
into oblivion
only darkness.
the sounds of evil
dripping into my ears
slithering farther
and sliding down into me
filling me with echoes.
terror courses through
my veins
into each cell
turning them against
they are no longer mine
they follow another
a stronger being.
icy breezes come
they whisper to me
they say I'm bad
they call me to them
the breezes dance
hug me
covering me
hiding me from the light
shielding me from hope.
falling deeper
only down
my eyes are taunted
I see people
the ones I know
they are hurt
by me
I have betrayed them
left them
I am hurting them
it is me
but I can't stop.
my mind is plagued
new thoughts
 every second
comes a new terror
a cruel joke
all a prank.
only deeper do I fall
light is disappearing
becoming dimmer
fading fast.
all a game
for one person
the puppeteer
the ringmaster
the man in the
the one who is running the show
the show that is me.
he sees me falling
he laughs
I can't see him
but he is there
teasing my brain
taunting my senses
he hates me
he wants to hurt me.
he throws it
the knife
I feel the pain
running up my leg
showing my bones
releasing my blood
it is blue
my blood is cold
it splatters my face
sprinkling my features
dotting them with blue
the blue liquid drips
jumping onto my tongue
I taste dirt
my blood is dirt
blue is all I see
blue is all I become
I am blue
blue is me.
a distant shout
who is it?
a cry for help
the sound is mangled
the sound is mine
I shut my mouth
but I still hear it
chilling my blue blood
ringing in my ears
shaking my breathing
jump-starting my heart
then it's over
the scream has ceased
and silence returns
sounding more deadly than ever before.
still falling
only black do I see
the evil
the monsters' playground
the demons' joyride
and someone is hungry
it wants me
my innocence
my purity
it wants to take it
it feeds on people
people like me.
objects hitting me
ghosts' fingers prodding me
as I fall
I fall down
down into this never-ending hole
this abyss
for eternity
yet full
filled with misery
my worst fears
come back
how did he know?
he knows I'm afraid
the darkness
doesn't help me see
I can't see why
how does he do this?
they cut me again
spilling my blood
oh, the blue
I don't even feel it
I am numb
the sound of me
my skin
being sliced
a quick slashing
and they are done
I am cut
my legs
my arms
my stomach
my face
my neck
I can't see my blood
but I can see how evil it must look.
the thoughts that fell
fell down with me
they too
are damned
they talk to me
they tell me what they see
they can see
yes blue
my cold blood
it is everywhere
I am pale
I look sick they say
oh, no
they say
oh, no
they see the bottom
be ready
they say
be ready.
I fall faster still
slowing for nothing
for no one
being pulled down
the puppeteer has me
he's got my string
and he's pulling
with no sign of letting go.
now I hear a song
they all sing it
the notes are cruel
they bump into the others
struggling to be heard
with no set order
it is musical chaos
he yells to me
it is beautiful
and he sings along to his song
it's made for me
musical notes are played
they come up to me
they greet me
they jump
right into my cuts
surging into my blood
they search inside me
no mercy
moving faster
the drum
keeping them steady
pounds faster
picking up tempo
they found it
they found
my heart
my soul
the music does the talking
it says to hush
hush now
slow down
my heart listens
and I get sleepy
just stop
they say
just stop
the music is evil
played by the man
the man in the mask
my brains sends
a message
one final request
it says to my heart
speed up
it says
speed up, can't you see?
she is dying
it says
you must speed up!
I still fall
with no way up
letting go of hope
why dream?
dreaming of being saved
when I already know
I'll only be dropped.
I smell
something burnt
oh, no
I know what
that smell
it is flesh
not mine
but belongs to someone else
someone close
they too
they smell of dirt
sinners burning
they are nothing to me
they are the stench
in my nose
nothing more
the smell overcomes all
all the other senses
until it becomes me
and I burn too.
even in the dark
the black
I see something
blacker than black
they are shadows
they mock me
they play
they sing
they dance
they laugh
I fill with evil
a longing to hurt
hurt the ones behind it all
without warning
I hear him
my pain
is his pleasure
oh so dark
it's over
I'm at the bottom
laying on the cold ground
in a small ball
too weak to stand
in a pool
of dark blue blood
I hold myself tight
I can't trust
these creatures
these beasts.
he likes my weakness
he tells me I am small
I am ugly
I am worthless
I am nothing
he laughs when I cry
I thought that
just maybe
it would be better
down here
instead of up there.
it's not.
hell is not a game.
death is not an
easy way out.
do not try to visit me.
do not try to rescue me.
for I am more lost
than I hope you will
ever be.
now that I am
at my fate
at the entrance to hell
at the bottom of this grave
of my eternity
and if I am truly
here forever,
I'll have plenty of time
to ask myself
why did I jump?

Copyright © Allyssa Pate

Long poem by Ian Howard | Details |


	A Bluto is not that Disney dog
	It was when a mewling 
	that I would scream 
	Should they wet my body
	And then apply cream
	Ablutophobia – fear of bathing, washing, or cleaning
	Achluo the demon that lurks
	In darkened corners
	The long toothed life suckers realm
	I am scared as the sun dims
	It seems to bare my soul
	Achluophobia – fear of darkness
	Acro what did they do 
	They called me acrobat 
	This will not do
	I get giddy standing on a matchbox
	Please get a net to see me through
	Acrophobia – fear of heights

	Agora just shut that door 
	I am staying here forever more
	Bring me food put it on the floor
	The letter box is just for you
	Don’t, Don’t,  try to get through
	Agoraphobia,  Fear of open spaces or of being in public places. Fear of leaving a                    safe place
	Agrap stole my feelings 
	He caught me unaware
	I am now afraid of sex 
	don’t ask me anymore
	It frightens me that’s for sure
	Agraphobia – fear of sexual abuse

	Agrizoo an angry gorilla I knew
	Wild as hell was kept in a cell
	As all his kind, even a timid Hind
	They scare the crap out of me
	Please let them run free

	Agrizoophobia – fear of wild animals

	A gyro is just what I need
	I will fit it to my trusty stead
	He will fly straight across that band
	A tarmac nasty throughout the land
	I cannot face the walk you see
	Agyrophobia –fear of crossing the road

	Aichmohe got in a hell of a fight
	They killed him with a pointed knife
	It will come for me just you see
	I cannot even mend his cloth
	Won’t  touch a needle at any cost
	Aichmophobia – fear of sharp or pointed objects (such as a needle or knife)

	Ailuro he lived next door 
	The bastard sits on the fence
	To me he snarls not a purr
	A Persian he is supposed to be
	Frightens the *****out of me
	Ailurophobia – fear of cats
	Algo, Away, I am pain free
	This morphine is the best
	First day of pain free rest
	Been told that it will return
	Got some gas, peace I yearn
	Algophobia - fear of pain

	Andro I’d rather be               (android)
	I am metal and plastic you see
	Electric person not man or woman
	That would be so sad
	If just a man I would go mad

	Androphobia – fear of men

	Antho the pologist got the plan
	He put concrete throughout the land.
	Not one shrub or flower seen
	Not one blade of grass green
	A flower would make me scream

	Anthophobia – fear of flowers

	Anthropo was a lonely man
	Wouldn’t mix with others so
	He lived in a cave, well just a hole
	You would see his eyes peeping out
	A shaking frame if people were about
	Anthropophobia – fear of people or the company of people, a form of social phobia.

	Aqua marine or even the wet stuff
	Is enough to drive me mad
	I stay in when there is rain
	Just wait for the sun to shine again
	A damp tissue that’s quite enough

	Aquaphobia – fear of water. Distinct from Hydrophobia, a scientific property that makes chemicals averse to interaction with water, as well as an archaic name for rabies

	Arach no, and know the score
	Those creepy creatures on the wall
	Send shivers up and down my spine
	Six legs and venom to drive you mad
	I am running already it is sad.

	Arachnophobia – fear of spiders

	Astra my name you would think of the stars
	My gaze goes up but not that far
	To the first cloud there in the sky
	If it’s the shape of an anvil I will fly 
	Fear grips me and I don’t know why
	Astraphobia – fear of thunder and lightning
	Atychi that was about the size of me
	The others would just make fun
	I was no good to anyone
	A failure of the first degree
	Nothing my goal, was all I could see
	Atychiphobia – fear of failure

	Auto matic I will seek people out
	To touch to play as long as they are near
	Don’t leave me in this place alone 
        A singularity is my biggest fear
	I will hold anyone you see I care

	Autophobia – fear of being alone or isolated
	Automat o no it’s not true how could you
	An advert that’s telling just lies
	Don’t all the others realize
	What you say is not true, put it right 
	It will drive me crazy I’ll keep out of sight
	Automatonophobia – fear of anything that falsely represents a sentient being

	Aviat o if you think I am going in that
	No I am not a scared ***** cat
	If we were meant to go fly
	Wings we would have from him on high
	Fold your machine and put it just so.
	Aviophobia, Aviatophobia – fear of flying
	Chaeto he was a Greek of old
	Bald as a badger so the story is told
	But why you say is there no cure 
	For him to grow some lovely hair
	For him it would give such a scare

	Chaetophobia – fear of hair

	Chemo therapy keep away from me
	Chemicals scare me I know they are free
	But to have them coursing through my veins
	No matter how good they are, and that jar
	The fear of everything for what they are 

	Chemophobia – fear of chemicals

	Chirop to or not too so I am told
	They stick in your hair best to be bald
	Now I find that my nails are made of hair
	Chirop is what I fear not chiropodist is that clear!!
	Just shave my head and cut my nails dear

	Chiroptophobia – fear of bats

	Chromo shines bright in my eyes
	The fear of all colours  I realise
	Now I am safe from a troubled day
	Into my dark room, I have found my way
	Knock when that sun has met its demise

	Chromophobia - fear of bright colors

Copyright © Ian Howard

Long poem by Gerald Dillenbeck | Details |

Hoot-Full Owls

Like the foolish owls
we made enemies with falcons,
now we are doomed forever
to live amongst the ruins.

Are we searching for integrity
of species and clan and race,
synergy of EarthTribe centrism
appreciating our diversity of natural resources,
depreciating our monopolistic anthro-racial-entitlement history
and monocultural excesses?

What to do, how to respond,
to totalitarian tyranny
within my own ego-centrism,
and within another's home,
or community,
or economy?

These questions of avoiding negative monopolizing trends,
monoculturing economies,
monochromatic elitist races 
toward presumption and resumptions of mutual immunity
grow perennially in Spring's garden bed
of polycultural nutrient hopes,
permacultural design,
and permacultural installation practice.

Monopolistic economic assumptions,
like monocultural ecological identity,
are more fruitfully and forcefully revolutioned
as polycultural challenges
to religion resonant balance,
reconnect harmony and peace,
where we have become,
internally and/or externally,
monolithically lost in ghetto silo circuits 
of over-specialized deductive blackness,
stagnant genetic pools blind to what remains
of deductive-inductive integrity's analogical growth potential.

What did I think could not be coincidental
about co-arising rhythms of revolutionary dissonance
and epicentered patterns of evolutionary confluence?

Why do I fear
self-immunizing subsistence
resisting ecocentric co-entity surrender,
tending spacetime's brilliantly synaptic burning bush?

Humane/divine natural/spiritual pilot light
unveils transmillennial regeneration
Be-Longing Redeemers' Cooperative Commune
of economic EarthCommons natural systemic values,
positive psychological ecotherapeutic practice,
humor's common-sense
of double-knotting negatives
recommunion what could not not be,
polynomially double-bound universal fractals,
trigonometrically seasoning spacetimes of logical closure,
unfolding outstretching universal breath
of time and depth,
recreation through double negation.

Have we done
and not done
somethings to tick EarthTribe off
and out?
Untimely decomposing extinction and extraction
of Earth's ulcers and ores
oils and pores
gas and boils and bores,
fissioning our fused Elders
faster than Earth's slow-revolving reintegrative systems,
EarthTribal incarnate pilgrimage
toward globally inclusive cooperation.

I would pursue empty-handed love without death or misanthropic "Other" fear,
peace filling symmetric fore-giving justice
of interdependent, timelessly cointegrative, responsibility,
accounting EarthTribe's collective synergetic intelligence,
regeneratively balancing wisdom
reflected in Black Pearl's Key (0)-Soul Theorem
of Positive/Negative Balancing Community Teleology.

Where lies this devilishly ambidextrous tipping point
TrimTab threshold of tyrannical discovery,
reverse functioning mayhem and decadent dissonance,
moving mercenary competition
toward cooperative mobs of mutual mercy?
Slip-sliding competitive strain and pain,
both up and down,
co-arising back as forth
uncovers (0)-Core balance toward equanimity,
omnipotent equi-valency,
confluence and harmony resolving,
diminishing violent systemic tyranny of sound and sight,
confined by exclusive racing cultural fear,
feelings of sad and angry power and monopolistic might
masticating sadistic nightmares trembling within silent eternal night,
Even these spread spewing meaning's past and purposed future,
meeting mutually greeting NOW.

Who is winning our global competition
for more integrity
with less supremacy
within Self and Other and Earth's ecologic relay racing relationships?
Who is losing?

How do monopolistic habits and judgments
ego-iconic norms,
egocentric, rather than compellingly cooperative eco-centric,
rebirth polycultural Spring thaws
of thermodynamic (0)-sum balance,
Win-Win synergetic loving strategies
and co-passioned principles of eco-normic design?

Where do monopolistic SuperEgo Yang and
coincidentally polyculturing yinyin id-entity
dance and tip their two-step
in perfectly harmonic octaved pitch?

Might this Omega Point 
breathe in and out
Here and Now
Yang convex-eco echoing
within eternally concaving
timelessly reverberating

Double-jointed owls,
graceful friendly challengers
fighting with falcons,
predicted to live together forever within co-passionate flight
through mutually fertile wisdom,
transcending dark's light freedom
nesting trees of regenerating life,
Beloved Regenetic Root Systems
of endosymbiotic evolutionary strings, tendrils
folding and unfolding cultural networking past and future
Here and Now
(0) Tao SuperEco Present
wise and joyful grace of Form Co-Creation.

Like the wise owls
we evolve co-challenges with falcons,
now we are regenerating forever
to fly above and through past ruin,
fly below and reverse-future's radiant rain,
square-rooted prime function
of +P spinning (-)(-) negativity,
fusing what was bi-fissioned
re-naturing global EarthTribe's breathless spirituality.

Copyright © Gerald Dillenbeck

Long poem by Ian Guyler | Details |

Knightwriters contest TWINKLE TWINKLE



Betcha walk so perty,....miss oh so pretty
dontcha know
Bet ya can wriggle n squirm n tease real fine
But you never do that for him,......never for him
That's why it's time for his's cutting time
Watching..always her......everyday...she passes
Blouse a button undone , skirt tucked higher
A real tease a real heart racer........ A judger
School bag satchel....full of other than books
She's playing hooky again...teasing the bad boys
She's gonna make out ....she's gonna act adult
He burns,..he knows....he's bad
it's what his momma calls.......the evils
But he burns hard,,,just thinking ....of her
Now it's cutting time..twinkle, twinkle........
And bleeding time........and dying time......


 Shhhhh quiet ,listen to my voice
Understand one thing, here now!
You do not have a single choice

Your life to me is worthless see
This trusty real friend!
And It's not so friendly as you'll see

We're gonna take a little walk now
Not a peep, not a word,..don't talk
Shhh now,.. you know me...I stalk!

"Twinkle twinkle......little shiny blade
I sing this song when I don't get laid"
Shhhh my little star...please don't fade

Been observing you for weeks my love
Know we're you go, and who you see
Now my blade here, gets jealous see

Here we are now , a quiet underpass
Yes I know it's cold, damp, just dirt!
Shhhh now my love..this is gonna hurt.........


Everyday a new nightmare to live through
Waiting for the blue light to end this grief
No letter left to pacify our hurting hearts
Disappeared after a thief

photo plastered..across every lamp post
Not quite a current one, her coat so red
She wore it everywhere , it was her pride
Said she would wear it till she was dead

Guess that may come back to haunt us
She's been gone 4 days now..since school
In the picture frame....our little girl smiles
4 days, 4 whole days..who could be so cruel


Peter knew the things he did were wrong 
couldn't quieten down that damned song
Twinkle twinkle,....haunted his black dreams
Faithful shiny blade....makes it go away
But not for long

Her name made the news and papers too
Gemma they say ,,,was as good as gold
But she was a tease oh so teasing a flirt
He knew she was bad,knew she must hurt

Been out with the bad boys all day all night 
Her bag full of cheating her coat so red
Followed her excited, his trusty knife in hand
Twinkle,slash,twinkle, cut......twinkle.....dead


Clown required said the Ad...

and his inner metronome ticked

Children`s Party Clown required tel: ....a smile !

A familiar sensation , excited, darkness descended

“twinkle , twinkle “ this pleasure will linger ..awhile

“Party Clown ,Party Clown “ sounded so good

All the naughty children , naughty and so ,so bad

Peter stood in front of the mirror ...knife in hand

‘twinkle , twinkle’ this could be the bestest  fun

He`s ever had...................................


 The knock at the door came on Party`s eve

A pleasant smile greeted.... No disguise

The rush of activity the Party...haste 
Smiling soulless eyes

The  party soon , just eight mums plus kids
Arousel growing , naked blade.. no mirror lie 

Mom would have been angry..”twinkle,twinkle”
Peter the Clown, his blade,his Rage.......his high

Carnage,cream cakes  , red jelly and ...blood
Limbs to be hacked , to be be arranged

A blade to testify..... to witness  the ascendency 
Peter liked his .dark said “deranged”


Gaggle of kids excitedly screaming..... delight
Sticky jelly sweetly smeared on...stickier chins
Un eaten sandwich crusts, piled on paper plates
Childs surprise birthday bash .....soon begins
Balloons and taffeta ,..wall to wall adorned
Birthday girl is 5 today...huge silver banner says
A Drinking and spilling ...fizzy drinks mayhem
Mums being  hens ,watching...hectic party ways
Music  repeated a party music  loop.. blaring loud
Mums jostling for sticky kisses and dances in tune
Music stops , chairs are chased ...upended
Be down to one chair and two mums..... very soon
Chocolate smeared hands and funny
Paraded cake  lights dimmed .candles five burn
Whoops of sheer delight ..a birthday song sang
Big girl now...proud smiles , ritual blow...her turn!
Giant painted face ...bushy red fierce eyes
White cheeks nose teeth, draws a frown
Hushed quiet ..parents and children alike........waiting !
It doesn't  look so funny up close,....
.the children know 
Its not a clown ..........

Copyright © Ian Guyler

Long poem by rebecca travis | Details |

She doesnt think someone loves her

Because people have made her promises in the past and they’ve broken them. Because no matter how hard she works or how good of a person she is, she doesn’t believe she is worthy of love. Because she’s had too many people leave her – both intentionally and unintentionally – and she doesn’t want to give them the chance to leave too. There are a million reasons she might not be able to believe that someone could her. And there will be a million more in the future.
She’s been through so much. She’s had moments where she didn’t know how she was going to keep going. Moments where she didn’t think she could get out of bed, and worse moments where she did get out of bed and she felt like an empty shell while she was walking around. At some points, she was so lost and so torn up that she wasn’t even sure if she was real
Sometimes she can’t believe that someone could love her, but other times she wants to believe that someone could love  her, but that’s hard, because that would just be too good, and good is not what she’s used to. She doesn’t want to love someone and then lose them. She’s scared, because having someone and then not suddenly not having them is a lot scarier than being alone.
She might be extremely secure with herself, or she might think she is nothing. She might be somewhere right down the middle. Regardless, she can’t believe she will find love with someone l, because she hasn’t seen it yet. She’s seen some beautiful love, but she has a hard time remembering that kind of love when she’s watching the sadder stories unfold. She’s seen her friends get hurt, and she’s seen her friends hurt other people. She knows that breaking someone’s heart doesn’t always mean you’re a jerk or a heartless monster. She knows good people hurt other good people. Sometimes one person just doesn’t love another in the same way. Sometimes they did love that person and then they fall out of it. Either way, they have to be honest with themselves, and they have to be fair to the other person. In the end, someone always gets crushed.
Maybe she’s afraid to love  because she’s been the person that’s broken someone else’s heart. Being hurt doesn’t always have to mean you were on the receiving end. You can hurt yourself by hurting someone else, to the point where you can’t even breathe and you hate waking up in your own body, knowing what you did and how you made someone else feel. Maybe she loved someone but knew they weren’t the right person for her, so she had to leave them. And now she’s worried that you’re going to do the same thing to her. That, even though some loves her and they kindhearted and they have the purest intentions, they still might have to walk away. She knows there are so many reasons why it might not work, so instead of paying attention to the one reason why it will, she focuses on the ways it won’t. It’s called self-preservation, and it’s all she knows.
She listens to love songs and she lets them pass through her and she wants them to be her life. But she can’t. She wants to be that sickeningly happy. To be so in love that you laugh at things that aren’t that funny and so in love that you aren’t fazed by rude people or stressful situations. But she won’t let herself give into the fantasy of leaning her head against a train window and listening to that song and wearing a dizzying smile as she thinks about someone. She’d rather stay on the cautious side. This side of things is not thrilling or exhilarating. She doesn’t get goosebumps, and she doesn’t feel as if you need to go outside and run a mile in order to get rid of the boundless energy you feel just from thinking about someone else. This side isn’t living. But it’s safe and secure and she has a grip on her head and her heart. She doesn’t feel shaky or unstable. She’s in control.
Maybe, technically, she does believe that someone could her. Somewhere inside of her, once you get past all of the defense mechanisms, she is soft and she feels things and she believes that someone could love her. But this is also the part of her that is the most vulnerable. She knows that if she’s going to let herself feel what they are telling her and if she’s going to believe that someone loves her, she’s going to have to expose her soft side, her vulnerable side – the side she works the hardest to keep safe.
She wants to trust someone. She wants to believe that they will be different. She wants to give them  the chance to break her into a million pieces. But they’ve  to meet her halfway. They have  got to let her know that they are scared too. They have got to remind her that they are  just as much at risk, because she can break them into a million pieces too. If she can’t believe that they  love her, tell her anyway. Every day. Show her. Make her understand that theyre  not going anywhere. Because at the end of the day, you want her to be staring out that train window, thinking only of them.

Copyright © rebecca travis

Long poem by Mark J. Halliday | Details |

Old and new Halloween poems

 No Halloween Candy

I can't get no Halloween candy.
I can't get no Halloween candy.
But I try, and I try, and I try, and I try.
I can't get no.  I can't get no.

Well I'm walking door to door.
And a man comes out to greet me.
But he's telling me there's no more.
So he says he likes my outfit.
What he really means is "beat it!".
I can't get no.  No no no.
Hey hey hey.  That's what I say.

I can't get no trick-or-treat candy.
I can't get no trick-or-treat candy.
But I try, and I try, and I try, and I try.
I can't get no.  I can't get no.

So I'm dressed up like a zombie.
Saying "trick or treat" and "thankyou ma'am".
Still my pillow case is empty.
It took forever to put on this get-up;
Spent two hours just on make-up.
I can't get no.  No no no.
Hey hey hey.  That's what I say.

I can't get no Halloween action.
I can't get no trick-or-treat action.
But I try, and I try, and I try, and I try.
I can't get no.  I can't get no.

Still knockin' on those doors.
I'm trickin' this and I'm treatin' that.
Just trying to make some scores,
But the lady says come back early next year.
I'd be better off just bummin' beer.
I can't get no.  I can't get no.
Halloween candy.  Trick-or-treet candy.
Halloween action.  Trick-or-treat action.

 Black Carriage

Death's dark angel
Black carriage drives
Collecting lives
Final rewards

The carriage has
Matching horses
Pulling courses
All of them black

Death follows you
All of your life
Toil and strife
Can't escape Him

When it's their time
They all object
There's no respect
Everyone dies

Thanatos rides
The Banshees cry
Valkyries fly
None of them care

 Zombie Apocalypse

Nature's gone insane;
Cannibal cadavers creep.
Zombie apocalypse...

 Cannibal Morticians--A Halloween Poem

Nobody looks closely
At corpses in a funeral.
You usually just see
Their faces and hands.
Who checks the bodies?

Of course it’s assumed
The bodies are all there.
They are rarely exhumed?
During the embalmings,
How much gets consumed?

Some parts are for science,
Or given as replacement organs.
Maybe out of defiance
To laws and mores, parts are
Eaten by one without conscience.

If I were to voice my suspicions,
I’d ask who handles corpses,
Using which institutions?
Mortuary workers look well-fed…
Are they cannibal morticians?

Halloween At The Bates Hotel--revised

Halloween at the Bates Hotel
The attendant in the Ghostface rig was kinda creepy,
When I came in to pay the gas I owed.
“Is there a motel nearby? I’m really sleepy.”
He pointed down a dark and dreary road.

No kids were Trick-or-Treating that Halloween night,
Nothing was open.  I couldn’t buy nor sell.
I could barely see. There wasn’t a single light.
Then I saw the sign for the Bates Hotel

The clerk in drag, carrying a dripping blade,
Said they had a sudden opening;
But first he had to get the room remade.
“Why don’t you stroll outside, see what’s happening.”

Some spaced-out dwarves were shuffling ‘round the mortuary,
While a Tall Man looked down from up above.
Nearby a big dude in a goalie mask was swinging a machete,
Taunting a burned guy wearing a freaky glove.

Another dude was gardening, cutting something at night,
Sporting a leather mask and a gas chainsaw.
But a walking-talking Good Guy doll gave me the biggest fright--
He was probably the weirdest thing I saw.

I decided to head back; this town gave me the ‘willies’.
A big shape and a clown grabbed me outside the Bates Hotel!
“I’m Mike Myers, and my friend’s name’s Penny.
We’ve come to convey you back to Hell.”


Someone's at my door
Late night wearing a clown mask.
It's not Halloween!

Scary Moments

Something’s lurking in the shadows. Something’s hiding in the dark.
Something’s out there by my window, so why doesn’t Fido bark?
Something out there wants to get me! I am losing my sang-froid.
Something wants to disappear me. I’m not being paranoid!
I used to have a neighbor woman--We cannot find her anywhere.
When I called for some patrolmen.  They did not show ‘cause they don’t dare!
Something outside isn’t human-- or at least not anymore.
A cannibal or psycho axeman, or just a clown covered with gore.

I’ve got the willies something fierce. Those shivers just won’t go away.
I’m not ready for the hearse. Too scared to run…too scared to stay.
Someone’s walked over my tomb, or given me the evil eye.
Something’s out there in costume--Trick or treat, it’s time to die!

Something’s out there by my window, so why doesn’t Fido bark?
Something’s lurking in the shadows.  Something’s waiting in the dark.

Copyright © Mark J. Halliday

Long Poems