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Long poem by Silent One | Details |

Love story part two

Part two: Outbreak of civil war

Imaani’s world is falling apart around her.  Protests against a dictatorship government go out of control as activists are brutally killed.  Rebel groups are formed and a civil war breaks out between rebels and the government.  Imaani’s life is in danger as her father is a political activist.  Her father is arrested and her mother dies after a local shopping centre is bombed. 
Oh my beloved, I must leave you now.  War has broken and I must hide myself from the world.  Be patient my beloved, if our love is true we will be together soon.  
Mathias is heartbroken and alone once again,
“Don’t tell me love hurts,
It hurts just like death.
Everyone has a love story,
But my story I can never tell.
No one ever taught me how to love,
I only learned through experience.
Loss leads to pain, sorrow and no hope for tomorrow,
If pain is temporary, then why do i feel hollow?
No one ever told the truth to me,
About growing up, and the troubles I would face.
Everything I was taught,
had not prepared me for this.
Love is like the sun,
The closer you get, the quicker you burn.
Lies and betrayal will destroy your trust,
Your mind will be at war and there will be no peace.
Maybe it was never meant to be,
especially when you feel you never tried hard enough.
So, is it better to let dreams fade away?
To break two hearts, that are meant to be?
With so many doubts and so many questions,
I guess I will never know the true answers
In a society where love can be a taboo,
A beautiful love, sometimes cannot blossom
What kind of world do we live in?
When society cannot let you be you.
So don’t tell me love hurts,
It hurts more than anything.”
As the war becomes more brutal, a refugee crisis hits the country.  Imaani is forced to leave her home,
“Society has shunned me and I feel neglected,
I am like a foreigner, so it is time to say goodbye.
There is nobody here of mine, so I will be leaving,
colourful memories have faded away, all I see is gloom.
All those I loved have been stolen from me,
taken away by the evil brutality of man.
Their voices still echo around me,
their screams continue to traumatise me.
Derelict streets and buildings are all around me,
with haunting sounds of happiness and laughter.
All around me is pain and cries of injustice,
atrocities that the world turned a blind eye to.
All has been lost, so I guess I will be leaving,
disappearing behind a trail of sadness and sorrow.
I will soon be forgotten as will my childhood memories,
forced into an unknown fate as I become part of the Diaspora.”
Mathias’s world is falling apart.  He loses his job and falls into depression at the sudden loss of his soul mate,
“Life is a poisoned chalice, full of betrayal and hypocrisy,
an evil society which breaks your heart and then mocks you.
My destiny is a deceitful one, full of deception and regret,
there is no happy ending, this is no enchanting fairy tale.
I feel no love and have been left all alone,
nobody really understands, so I hide myself from them.
I have become indulged in a dimension of deepest despair,
within an abyss, where darkness is my only loyal friend.
so many tears have been shed, I have drowned myself in sorrow,
I am drowning in what feels like the deepest ocean and I cant swim.
I am falling, but no one is there to catch me,
my emotions are out of control, my mind is betraying me.
My heart is so fragile and sensitive, it is hurt by the smallest thing,
these voices in my head are driving me insane.
I am going crazy, when will it all end,
as no longer do I have the strength to carry on.
As every sigh becomes deeper, I contemplate my fate,
is life really worth living, what do I have to live for?
Help me please, no go away, leave me alone!
I await the final betrayal, so then I can say goodbye forever,
I will leave without a trace, without an explanation.
But, please forgive me, I never meant any harm,
I can't help it, I'm falling,
and no one can catch me now.”
Months go by and there does not seem to be any end to the war.  The powers of the world stand by and look on, not intervening as they have no political gain from the conflict.  The refugee crisis increases with overflowing refugee numbers in camps around neighbouring countries.  Imaani, has not eaten for days and is a shadow of the woman, she used to be,
“Do you hear my call?
Here, I stand,
battered and bruised.
Thirsty, hungry and confused,
do you hear my call?
Look into my eyes,
they have ran dry, no more tears.
The world has become blind,
they do not see my suffering.
The world has become deaf,
they do not hear my call.
So hungry, that I cannot sleep,
so tired, that I cannot sleep.
Life is a chance of luck,
a child born into luxury,
a child born into poverty,
sadly, a definition of what is to come.
soon, I will be gone,
but my plight, must never be forgotten.”
Part three: The union
Imaani has not forgotten the love of her beloved even with her life in extreme danger and close to death she calls out,
“I was never a poet, 
but your vision became my poetry,
I had heard about love,
but only your existence turned me into a lover.
I thought romance was dead,
but, your companionship, seduced me into a romantic.
I was never a musician,
but, now I compose melodies to describe what I feel for you.
I was never a believer,
but, your beauty made me believe, now I worship you.
I have never asked for anything from God,
I enjoin my hands and pray for your return.
I search for you with every sunset,
I search for you with every sunrise.
They mock me and say you will never return,
soon you will forget and love again.
Happiness or sadness, no matter where, my love will never change,
for those whose love is true, devotion always remains.”
A voice whispers into the ear of Mathias,
“Do you think you have time? Go to her, to your beloved.”
To be continued...

The Silent One. 20 August 2015.

Copyright © Silent One

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 Brian Johnston | Details |

Driving Alone Through the Sand Hills of Nebraska

My love is light (a fairy kiss?)          
               Like the pressure of sunbeams on your cheek, 
        Ineffable, and yet capable of changing lives…
		Darkening skin to a more attractive hue, 
		Pushing spaceships to distant stars (given time) , 
		Even causing cancer given sufficient lack of love for self.
        For love is not about just getting needs met by another, 
        No, love is more like a laser's coherent beam….
                For in reflecting back a portion of what is given, 
                The power of what is being created grows
                Until it can cut through the hardest steel
        And span the gulf between galaxies.

Poetry too grows through the cross-fertilization of newborn lines, 
        The lines of this poem insist that I record their birth.
 	        Each new line grabs me by the scruff of the neck, 
		       Forces me to hit the brake, grab my pen, 
		       And claim it in my family bible…
	        My only children, clamoring to be set in ink.
         As these Voyagers' pass into the present state of my art
                (Some that I barely recognize in their profligate parentage
	               Of older verse's new verse's newer verse still)          …
		               Somehow still carriers of my own genetic code.
                They press my design against the blank page
	                Flying in search of, homing on… your heart.
My love's intent is simply truth (do you want less?)          
	 Would you have me downplay 
	 	The warmth of our connection
                        Because it is complicated by here-to-fore
			        Unacknowledged passion, spiritual connection, 
			        And the remnants of former relationships
			        (Even those still gasping for breath) ? 
		        Or feign a lack of attachment to it's denouement
			         In a solitary attempt to feel safer? 
	 No matter can restrain the effects of gravity
		On the orbits of other bodies in its field of influence, 
		 	Gravity that binds us all in deep wells of space-time.

 Your kiss of greeting…
	After so many years of imagining such a possibility, 
	Imprinted deeper than even my memory of our first meeting, 
		Our moonlit shadows touching as we soaked naked
		In the steaming waters of a volcanic mountain spring.
	This new conjunction of souls occurred in God's clear view, 
		Without artifice or scheming on our part
			And rocked my inner core to it's depths, 
	Organizing molten currents of confused turbidity
	Into a magnetic flare of such intensity
		That iron flew to my spine
	Inspired me to finally declare my love
		To acknowledge your impact on my life…
	And after a period of gestation
		Gave birth to this poem of celebration.

 Back to Nebraskan reality and a new mystery…
	I pass an overturned car, 
		Its wheels tied by yellow police tape, 
	A metaphor for my life perhaps
		'Damaged but still salvageable.'
	The windows are broken out, 
		The occupants removed to a distant hospital somewhere
			(Hopefully arriving alive) , 
		Their odds and ends of life scattered like garbage
			On the inverted ceiling of their car.
	The explanation, perhaps, is the water still standing
		Several inches deep on the road side near the wreck? 
	A sudden orgasmic release of cloud in a desert….
		The car tops the hill to find the highway
			Buried by a lake of dimensions only God can know.
		Who would expect such a thing in Nebraska's sand hills? 

And what does it say about me finally
	That I am so drawn to distant objects, 
        That the two women given access to my heart are
		Both still tied to failed marriages
			By dark chapters I am not part of
			And innocent children who need their love? 
	And at our age where is the partner without a past? 

 Is this all that God has planned for you and me, 
	That we 'just miss' every thirty years or so? 
		I know there are times I am afraid to trust another's love, 
			Cannot even hear words of genuine affection.
		Perhaps this explains my attraction to women
			Whose availability might really be in question? 
		Maybe I'm afraid to let a real lover in? 
			Is the simple dream of love a better choice
				Than the chance of finding real love anew
				(Even love with an expiration date) ? 
		I think I'm more distrustful of my own heart's passion
			Than I am of women being unreceptive to my love.
		Do you struggle with similar feelings? 
	And is it my lot to only remember passion like this in a poem
		While you spiral away to unimagined rendezvous'? 

The coldness of space is not after-all
		The simple absence of heat…
	No, in human dimensionality it is more the absence of others…
		Others who both shine life force toward us
			And reflect our own light back to us, 
		Who collide with us physically and emotionally
			Altering our pathways forever, 
				And who crater the façade whose design
				We imagine belongs to us alone.
	The void of human space-time is a true 'black hole'
		Sporting only star death fragments of the 'Big Bang.'
This is all I really know…
	I treasure the memory of our 'fly-bys'
		Even if that's all they ever are.
	And if I'm lucky this joy, 
                This celebration of your existence, 
	Will continue to pour out of me in songs and verse…
		For your ears always (if I am so honored) , 
			For God's heart (as I was born to honor Him) , 
	And to the stars alone if I have only them for company.

Brian Johnston
August 2009
This poem, like 'A Walk Near Blunt, ' began during an actual drive from South 
Dakota to Oklahoma and then took on a life of it's own. These 'real life 
narrative' poems are part of an attempt on my part to give precedence to truth 
and content over form and rhyme. For readers with an interest in science, I 
hope you also enjoy my attempt in this and other poems to bring my love of 
Physics into the world of poetic imagery.

Copyright © Brian Johnston

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 Mary Oliver Rotman | Details |

Randomlings 1-34

Randomling 1:  Matthew Macfadyen

I believe I'm in love with Matthew Macfadyen
He inspires in me a terribly bad yen
But as poetry goes
His name 'spires woes
Cause nothing rhymes with "Macfadyen”.

Randomling 2: Birthday Wishes
For my birthday, I would like a man.
I wonder---can you get one from a can?
Or maybe from a catalog?
Maybe I'll just get a dog.

Randomling 3: Yet Another Cat Poem

toddlers in fur
senior citizens with retractable claws
lions in their own minds
lunch in the minds of dogs.

Randomling 4:  Desert Woes

A sage river in a field of sand:
         so flows hope in a barren land;
                   the crippled heart in prosthetic steel,
                             hacked and scarred, a vulture’s meal.

Randomling 5:  Dark Poetry

Follow poetry to its source;
There find heartbreak and remorse.
Follow poetry to the bitter end,
And there find death, its bosom friend.

Randomling 6: Ode to Bananas

an underappreciated fruit
sentenced to banananality
because yellow is their long suit.

Randomling 7: Untitled  

this heart is closed to deposits.
There's no more room for pain.

Randomling 8: Untitled

My heart is sealed in a cold steel vault,
and I’ve lost the combination.

Randomling 9: Joyce Kilmer 2015

I think that I shall never see
A man as useful as a tree.
One has uses by the score;
The other one is apt to snore.

Randomling 10:  Bedtime Prayers

Now I lay me down to sleep,
A leaden heart is mine to keep.
If I should die before I wake--
Now there’s an offer I’d gladly take.   

Randomling 11:  The Devil Wind

Fury with a smoky tail
Eddies of destruction
Deceitful beauty, enchanting danger
Death sporting a makeover

Randomling 12:  A Boy's Best Friend

Your penis—it is not a toy
I told my little son.
O yes it is, he parried me
It's quite my favorite one.

Randomling 13:  Fault Lines

I have a bathroom mirror
that's grown faulty over time.
My reflection is no longer true;
it's developed little lines!

Randomling 14:  Shakespeare 101		

“To be or not to be. That is the question.”
--What question?
THE question!
--Whaddya mean, THE question?
Never mind.																		

Randomling 15: Christmas?

Peace on earth to men of good credit
Who give the gift of corporate profit
in the holy name of commercialism.

Randomling 16:  Musical Believer

Though my conscience sleeps,
wrapped in the Valium of
agnosticism, it awakens to 
the music of Mozart--
once more knowing God
by the sound of His voice.

Randomling 17: Vacuum

I didn't write a poem when you died.
The words would not come.
Perhaps I felt too deeply,
perhaps not enough;
maybe I died too.   10/06/01

Randomling 18: Insanity

Insanity is underrated
Its drawbacks,much overstated.
How else to do what you darn well please
And accomplish it with so much ease?

Randomling 19: Dog Day Afternoon

salt, waves, undertow
I don't know what's going
on here, but I'm HAPPY!

Randomling 20: Opposites Attract

i am matter---love, antimatter
never to meet save to explode
i am space, love is time
parallel dimensions never to meet

Randomling 21: Puppy Love

I ride a leaky newspaper raft
Adrift on the linoleum
Anxiously awaiting an
An attack of smelly
squirming happiness
covered in fuzz:
Puppy love.

Randomling 22: Newton's Poultice

Apple falls from tree
Newton (ouch!) takes notice
Comes up with law of gravity
while wearing a poultice
on the solstice

Randomling 23: Ticking

And the clock on the wall kept on ticking
while my life fell apart all around me.
Sweet memories faded to shadow
as my heart fell to pieces inside me.
And the clock on the wall kept on ticking
Relentlessly ticking, ticking
While my life fell apart all around me.

Randomling 24: Untitled

a mosaic assembled from
shimmering, glimmering
tiles of delight and
black-glazed stones of despair
interlocking snowflakes
in seamless beauty

Randomling 25: Seasonal Lament
Daylight shrinks end at both end as summer falls into the arm of winter. arm
Randomling 26: Untitled
I didn't want to love you.
Randomling 27: Pills Depression is days and nights curled fetal-like in a dark room, no interest in the world outside, idly wondering if there are enough pills in the bottle to kill you, then thinking it's not worth the effort to find out because you're dead inside already. Randomling 28: Guilt By Association Fresh morning light frames the cat, surrounded by piles of dirt and deceased plants, looking innocent. Randomling 29: Bell the Cat How do you give a cat a bath? Maybe you can do the math. All I know is she stinks to high heaven. And of us there are only seven. How many humans to bathe a cat? Definitely more than where we're at! Randomling 30: Muse
I want to write a poem using the word gossamer. “Gossamer.”
Randomling 31: Ripples
Canoes rock gently under the waxing moon. Black water ripples, painting a beautiful scene under the scented pines.
Randomling 32: Sunshine Waterfall I cleanse my face in a sunshine waterfall, luxuriate in a sunshine shower. Waterfall flow and warm me; sprinkle lemon drops through my hair. Randomling 33: Salon Treatment Hurricanes scour everything they touch, then rinse and blow dry. Randomling 34: My Window Blue sky pokes its face through the canopy of trees. Heat wave is over!

Copyright © Mary Oliver Rotman

Long poem by Ravindra K Kapoor | Details |

Yoga in Poem A Novel Approach Step 6

Yoga in Poem A Novel Approach Step 6

Brahmari Pranayama or Humming Bee Breath

IMP. NOTE: Temporarily I am stopping new episodes 
of Yoga in Poem due to personal reasons and will try 
to restart Yoga in Poem at a later date…

How to do Brahmari Humming Bee Pranayama

Sit in Sukhasana (Step 1) or in Padmasana in the morning hours, if you have achieved easiness to sit in Padmasana or else sit in Sukhasana. It is important that while performing Brahmari your stomach should be empty and bowls clear. Sit erect while practicing Brahmari in a neat and clean, quiet and calm place preferably an open place.
Raise your both arms and bring your all four fingers as a screen on your eyes. Now close your ears by the tips of your thumbs in such a way that your index fingers are touching your eyebrows and the middle finger the inner corner of your both eyes and other two fingers rests on the slopes of your nose and face joints gradually.
Take a deep breath and fill your lungs with the fresh air and then exhale slowly from both the nostrils while creating a humming sound. At the time of doing this do not open your ears and keep pressing it gently so that your humming sound gets more clear and it create vibrations in your mouth, throat, ears, eyes and even other parts of your body ( this stage would come when you  practice this exercise regularly ) 
Try to creat the humming sound continuously as loud and  clear as possible for you. 


IN PRAISE OF BRAHMARI PRANAYAMA We all know and accepts The miracles of Sound On everything which Surrounds us. We live, we love, and we work We play and we laugh With one or the other kind of sounds Often We become harsh or soft Even we weep and sometimes We hate with some or the other kind of sounds only These are all the effects of Different Sounds Which make us What we are and what We become as a man or woman in life Kind hatred or benevolent A lover or a hater A teacher or a Poet, a writer or an artist or a Musician A leader or a preacher Or even A dictator or a Don. When sound comes From a serene source It binds the hearts Of millions And we began to love and adore That sound and even that source And keep it as a source of energy and joy. But when it comes from A biased mind and selfish source and Tries to destroy our peace And began to dictate us We feel fed-up To bear that sound And then we try To get rid of that source or sound. Brahmari or the humming Sound Is one such elegant self-music Which opens our heart and mind With its vibrations To fill life in those dead or sluggish Nerves and spine To restore The Melody not only In your voice but also in your heart and mind. Brahmari would Restore your love and even your confidence Thus Bringing your beloved more close to you And you to your beloved Which often Becomes a soft target of differences Because of Age effected unnoticed deeds and actions. Brahmari gives you the boon of Music and melody Even when age has taken you On the withering heights of life And You often find yourself standing alone Looking for someone to Restore your energy and mind. The miracles of Humming bee sounds Brings an instant coolness To your otherwise Anguished mind and heart Which began to enjoy The colors and moods Of Love and Life As A peaceful mind Is the dwelling place of heavenly gestures And even of God. The regular practice of Brahmari Balances your hormonal secretions Invigorating the thyroid gland And thus increasing your metabolism. Even Brahmari balances Your blood sugar and helps Oxidizes fats In our body and It completely removes the causes which Leads to the curse of human body The Migraine By giving you the joys and comforts of Relaxation which ultimately Soothes your Heart to pump more actively The fresh flow of blood To your nerves and mind Thus making your pressures To work happily Without crossing the limits Unless you have done some extreme wrongs. It’s a boon for those Who suffers from Diabetes and heart problems And a real gift of God For those who are in pregnancy As its wonderful effects on Human nervous system Effects the pituitary gland To balance the growth and control Of hormones in our body Thus the practice of this wonderful Pranayama Pave way for easy and trouble free Child birth or delivery. I often ponder What a treasure of blessings Yoga has given to the world and Has exposed In these simple and wonderful Breathing exercises To make every human being More befitting and joyous To enjoy the blessings of Nature And Thus elevating the human body to absorb The Beams of the Light and Love of God. Ravindra Kanpur 4th Aug. 2013
Duration: Not more than 3 to 5 times in a day in the beginning. Maximum 10 to 12 times only in a day without any force beathing or straining yourself. Precautions: 01. Never perform this Prayanama while you are lying down 02. If you are having any ear infection do not perform Brahmati till your ears get rid of all infections. 03. Do not hold your breath while doing Brahmari and Heart problem persons should do it under a trained instructor only. 04. Do not perform it when you are not empty stomach and try to perform it preferably in the morning/evening hours only. 05. If for any reasons you do not feel comfortable stop it and take few normal deep breaths IMP. NOTE: Temporarily I am stopping new episodes of Yoga in Poem due to personal reasons and will try to restart Yoga in Poem at a later date… My Gratitude Brahmari Pranayama is a boon for human being brought mainly in the lime light of the world by Swami Ram Deoji about 20 years back. Ravindra

Copyright © Ravindra K Kapoor

Long poem by Trisha Sugarek | Details |

The Ash Can

The Ash Can  ©

I got the call on Sunday night.  I was traveling on business.  When I looked at the caller ID
 I wondered why my husband’s boss would be calling me.  I was unprepared for what
 he told me and my legs turned to water when he said that my husband was dead. 
 ‘A heart attack?  An accident?’ I asked.  ‘No’, he said, ‘John committed suicide.  
 They found him in your garage this morning.’  I heard someone screaming and 
wished that they would stop so I could hear the rest.  His voice was very far away
 and the woman just kept screaming.  ‘Shut up! Shut up!’  I need to hear.  I clapped my
 hand over my mouth when I suddenly realized it was me who was screaming.
 I don’t remember hanging up or getting on the plane. (beat)  Yes, John and I were having
 problems and we had been separated for about three months but nothing was official. 

 After thirty years of marriage I never believed that we couldn’t weather this and share 
the rest of our lives together.  This was just a phase he was going through…some sort 
of mid-life crisis.  This had to be some horrible mistake, a case of mistaken identity.  
My John would never do this, leave me like this.  (beat)  

I stumbled into our home around nine the next morning.  The house looked like a woman
 hadn’t lived there for months. Dirty dishes in the sink, groceries half put away, empty 
beer cans and a full ashtray by John’s chair.  Seeking comfort I walked over to his chair. 
 Out of the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of a reflection in the mirror over the
 fireplace.  Some wild looking woman with mascara smudges under her eyes and smeared
 lipstick looked out at me. I walked closer to inspect this stranger in my house.  
She looked old and used up.  Who was she?  What had life dealt her to look so worn out? 
Oh, God, it was me.  Staring out with those eyes bleeding hot, raw pain.  (beat)  I curled
 up in John’s chair and closed my eyes.  Was this all I had left of my husband?  This slightly shabby piece of furniture that still smelled of him?  How could I tell our children?  Could I bear to go into the garage?  What would I find? 
 I knew that they had taken his body away but what had they left there for me to see?  
Maybe something there would prove that this was truly a mistake.    I rose to my feet and 
walked into the kitchen and through the laundry room to the garage door. (beat)

I slowly opened it and was knocked back by the remaining stink of gas fumes.   
John’s car sat in its parking spot, the garden hose hanging from the back window like 
some obscene snake.  I gagged and pressed the button to open the garage door.  
The passenger side window was open so I could look inside without having to touch the car.  And what I saw on the seat told it all.  There was John’s cell phone, an empty bottle of Vodka and a bottle of Excedrin.  (beat)  And something else…a second cell phone…what in the world? I was only allowed five seconds of blissful denial before it all came crashing down on me.  The second phone…the secret phone that men who cheat keep to talk to their lovers.  All those protestations he offered during the time that we were apart.  ‘No, there was no one else’, ‘I just need to find myself’, ‘I don’t want a divorce’, ‘I just need some time’. ‘I love you; I’m just not in love with you.’  Lies, all lies!  How could I have been so stupid?  Then I notice a crumpled manila envelope on the floor of the car.  Anger driven, I opened the door and picked up the envelope and the two cell phones and went back into the house.  Sitting in John’s chair once again, I smoothed out the envelope and read what was written there.  
‘Ricky, tell Sherry I love her. Tell Sherry I can’t live without her.  Tell Sherry not to cry
 for me. Sherry, I’ll love you forever. I’m sorry.....John-Boy.’  Who the hell was Sherry? 
 Did my husband of three decades kill himself over some tramp?  Some other woman 
whom he barely knew?  I picked up the second cell phone and scanned the history of calls.
  Where was area code 864? As I set the phone down my eye caught the partial title of 
a book lying on the rug under the table.  Picking it up, I read: ‘How To Keep A Long 
Distance Relationship Exciting and New.’  I opened it to the first few pages and found an
 inscription,  ‘To my tiny dancer, until we meet again.  Love forever, your John-Boy.’
My God, John, how could you?  How could you do this to us?  I yelled as I threw the 
book across the room; will this hellish nightmare never end? (beat)  I picked up the
 cell phone and scrolled down the history; Sherry Hoffman, Sherry Hoffman, Sherry Hoffman, Sherry Hoffman.  No other woman, huh, John? South Carolina…hence the long distance relationship…you’re such a fool, I told myself. There was voice mail saved and I listened to the most current ones.  Those messages told a story of a married woman who had a son and a new grandchild. 

Another sad, pedestrian story of a restless woman trapped in a loveless marriage but
 unwilling to leave.  The daughter-in-law apparently would not let Sherry see the child. 
 It seemed that John, in a misplaced attempt to help, called Sherry’s son to insist that
 he let Sherry see her grand-baby. 
 Only to succeed in blowing up that family.   The final message was not so sweet and 
sexy from his lover. Sherry had dumped my husband. (beat)  I didn’t know whether 
to laugh or cry.  I seemed to be trapped in a crazed, unbelievable soap opera.  But what 
is it that they say about truth being stranger than fiction?  I sighed.  John had always
 wanted to rescue anyone in trouble…even when they didn’t ask for help.   He had crossed
the line calling that woman’s son.  Oh, John, what were you thinking?,  I asked the empty
 room. Didn’t you know?  You were her dirty little secret.... (more)

(from my book, Monologues 4 Women) 

Copyright © Trisha Sugarek

Long poem by Laura Breidenthal | Details |

Light On the Devil's Chord - Day 6

Upon this date he spoke no more of the preceding moments, 
Tearing and hurling insult upon insult
In several directions, his tongue whipped and scorched me,
And he waited relentlessly to see the spark in my eyes fade…..
He was so livid by my silence, he began thrashing around the walls,
Grabbing a  wayside demon and crushing him into the ground…
He destroyed Death’s bass, pulling off each string in monotone menace
Glaring at me, as he yanked each off,
The whine of its timbre flooding the eerie, murky pit……

“Nothing else, but you and I,
No more music, no more beat…
Your heart alone is enough to drive me mad…”

He spat into the crushed instrument, 
And Death cowered, scampering away like a wounded rat
Picking up the pieces as he disappeared into the soot

“Just you and I, 
I will not hear another cry except from your  lips…
No cheer, except from your voice,
No fear, except from your soul…
No support from above….no love to bring us light…”

I circled him my tears glistening,
The light burning him, as he laughed bitterly
And I sang…

“Your attacks drill against your friends,
Your darkness sifts, in pending motion,
You can crush the pulse that you began,
Though you cannot end my faith and devotion.”

He stared, his nostrils flaring,
His claws protruding in and out
Suddenly he smiled, and he was calm again
The wailing of a freshly injured demon faintly sounding…

“Tell me Loving Lady, 
Of what you recall of mortality…
What do you miss the most?
The rush of Death’s call, 
The touch of slowly falling? 
The thrill of free-will…kissing the darts…
The crushing of sadness in your feeble heart…
You have missed mortality I am sure,
You have missed the spirit of mutiny,
The infernal blaze of my brilliant core…
We need not but our voices to replay such times, 
I remember your days as much as I do mine…
Remember you used to lust and lie?
Remember when you were afraid to die? 
Those darkest nights, remember me grinning?
Remember the infatuation of sinning?
No, it was your art, and you left a trail,
So He might follow close behind might you fail…
He allowed you to suffer, to ache…to retch 
You forgot Him, and embraced my ways…
Do you ever miss those wondrous days…
Surely, surely you must appraise…” 

I picked up a lone string of Death’s mighty bass,
Feeling the metallic twine cool in my hand
The crushed demon moaned in agony beside me…

“Mortality was a rustic feat into the fray,
Many times blinded in the dark, to emerge into the day
I miss the way danger led to discovery,
In suffering greatly, I miss the relief of recovery
I miss the way it was so bittersweet, 
When the wrinkles began to appear…
I miss the sound of that single drop of rain…
Falling into the rest, never missed, always blessed…
Recalling the times I have stumbled,
I miss what now I clearly see…
I recollect darker emotions and I miss how they built me,
How they led me to the ones that guarded me to the end
So I might live in a better place where pardon became my friend…

Death’s voice intrigued me, frightened me, redeemed me, 
The falling of those around me led me to my calling,
And swiftly, failing became a past that set me free…
The test of free-will became a weight upon my shoulder,
The challenge became what shaped me as I grew older…
Sadness became easier, and less enjoyable,
When I focused my life to the skies and into open eyes

I remember the lusts, the lies, the sins—they never belonged to me
At the time, I didn’t see this—they were all I wanted to be….
I hunted to wallow in the madness and sadness of darkness…
I believed I did not deserve the wisdom of righteousness 
In my mortal skin, I learned to look deep within…
And fight off the urges…the lusts….the timey wages of sin
It became my duty to no longer allow you in…
Though my love for your redemption grew brighter within…”

The Devil clawed the bass string in my hand
And it strung an empty sound that echoed dryly all around…

“Immortality has its torments too…
See how gently I return to you…”

He never could destroy the beat thumping from my chest…
He merely hummed along with it in begrudging dedication 
Stubbornly, he sought for my pain 
But the hurt had been released  far above, where still he dared not look…

I lifted up a crippled demon and kissed his forehead
“I love you as well, demon, do not be afraid…” 
The weary eyes stared into my own, than quickly glanced in fear toward our fuming Prince…
“You understand pain, fear, and torment more than any, I am sure
Would you like to sing too?”

The Devil in rage grabbed the demon by the throat before he could answer
“You foolish woman… he is MY pet… 
Nothing else, but you and I…
He has no voice, no heart…no mind…
I give him no permission to,
And he accepts his place…
Unlike I …unlike you…”

I touched his clenched hand, and his grip loosened upon the demon
“All voices deserve to be heard,
Through compassion, let his existence ring…”

The Devil scoffed and threw him down with much force, perturbed
The demon dared not move

“WHY HAVE YOU COME HERE TO US…. To mock me…to turn them against me…?”
The hush of his question held more intensity than his shouting
 “Surely…surely not…..
He belongs in the dust, 
At my command… he can never be like us…
You love him as much as pity will allow…
We are special, Silly Being, and his fleck of existence is but a toke
To gamble with for my amusement, nothing more…nothing more….
Stop this attempt to become the idol of the underdog
Don’t be such a predictable bore…”

The demon shriveled, but remained…
Like mortality’s fate, his body did shrink and fade…
But I heard his somnolent thoughts….

…I am but the refrain…
 Immortality….. has….. its torments….. too…

Copyright © Laura Breidenthal

Long poem by SillyBilly theKidster | Details |

Billy the Kid's Great Escape

Sentenced to hang in the town of Lincoln,
Billy made his bold escape.
Both of his guards died from thinking
that a shackled young boy couldn't break away.
I've often wondered what thoughts were going through his head
as he stood staring out that window chained to the floor by his bed,
watching the gallows being built that would soon seal his fate.
Was he planning at that very moment his greatest escape?
Did he already know that his hanging would never come to be?
Was he already aware that before night fall, once again he'd be free?
Whatever his thoughts, they were interrupted rudely
by Deputy Bob Ollinger, one of his guards while in custody.
"Word has it you said that if we ever met again you'd kill me on the spot. 
Well here I am Kid. Now's your chance. Show me what you've got. 
It's a shame that you'll hang in another week or two, 
because I'd love to be the one who gets to kill you. 
I've got 16 silver dimes in the barrells of my shotgun. 
I'd love to try them out on you, but I can't unless you run. 
If I free you from those chains will you run for the door? 
Oh by the way Kid, your Ma was one sweet dirty whore. 
I'll kill you before you hang Kid. That's a sure bet." 
"Be careful Bob," said the Kid, "I'm not hung yet."
Bob thrusted his shotgun hard into Billy's gut. 
The Kid looked up at him in pain and said, "Now what?" 
"Don't do it Bob," Bell screamed angrily,
"or you'll be the one who'll hang for sure 
for killing an unarmed man in cold blood
who was chained helplessly to the floor. 
It's time for the other prisoners to be escorted across the street to be fed. 
The Kid's not going anywhere. He's chained to the floor by his bed. 
Anyway, I took the prisoners last so now it's your turn. 
Go and have yourself a beer and I'll stay here 
and guard the Kid until you return." 
Bob Ollinger placed his shotgun into the gun rack. 
Before he left he said to Billy, "I'll see you when I get back." 
No one can say for sure if the above dialog ever truly took place, 
but one thing's for sure, 
Ollinger tormented Billy at a merciless endless pace. 
They were arch enemies who fought against each other
during the Lincoln County War. 
Ollinger was in the posse that killed John Tunstall,
Billy's employer, friend and mentor. 
"I have to use the privy Bell," Billy said to the deputy. 
Bell kept his rifle trained on Billy as he tossed him the key. 
Billy unlocked the chains that kept him bound to the floor. 
Still in handcuffs and leg irons, Bell escorted Billy out the door. 
Billy entered the outhouse closing the door behind him. 
"Let's not take too long in there Kid," Bell said with a humorous grin. 
While in the outhouse Billy managed to slip one of his hands out of his handcuff. 
"You fall in there Kid?" Bell laughed, "You've been in there long enough." 
"I'm coming out now Bell," Billy said opening the door. 
"Sorry I took so long Bell. I must have ate something bad for sure." 
Deputy Bell then escorted Billy back to the jail cell. 
Once inside, Billy spun around and smacked hard Deputy James Bell. 
Bell lost his balance, dropped his rifle and was momentarily stunned. 
"Hands Up Bell!," the Kid yelled. In his hand was a gun. 
"Please don't do it Bell," Billy pleaded, but Bell tried to run. 
The Kid had no choice but to do what had to be done. 
He shot and killed Bell, then went and got Ollinger's shotgun. 
The Kid never found pleasure in killing, 
but Ollinger would indeed be the exception. 
Knowing that Ollinger heard the gunfire, Billy stood by the window 
and waited for Ollinger to appear in the street down below. 
One senior named Godfrey saw Bell fall dead down the stairs. 
The moment probably gave Godfrey a few more gray hairs. 
Ollinger ran out into the street as Godfrey screamed, 
"The Kid's killed Bell!" 
Ollinger looked up into both barrels of his own shotgun 
and whispered, "..and now he's killed me as well."
"Hello Bob!," Billy called out with a song in his heart 
just prior to blowing Bob Ollinger apart. 
He blasted both barrels into Ollinger's chest and face. 
Pieces of old Bob lay scattered all over the place. 
Billy smashed his shotgun in two, threw it at him but missed. 
"You'll never rifle me again," he screamed, "you son of a b*tch!" 
On the balcony he addressed the crowd whose jaws hung agape. 
"I don't want to hurt anyone, 
but I'll kill anybody who tries to prevent my escape." 
In the office he found a sledge hammer
and smashed the chains of his leg irons free. 
He told Godfrey to fetch him a fast horse immediately. 
As he walked down the stairs, he came upon Bell's lifeless body 
and many eyewitnesses admit
that the Kid looked upon him and said almost tearfully, 
"I'm sorry I killed you Bell, but couldn't help it." 
As Billy mounted the horse the chains of his leg irons startled the beast. 
The horse reared up and threw Billy down onto the street. 
He was at this point his most vulnerable laying down on the ground. 
The crowd could have overtaken him easily, but none made a move or a sound. 
Once again Billy mounted the horse
and fled with the sound of his leg iron chains ringing. 
Many claim that as he rode out of Lincoln County
that they heard the Kid singing. 
Billy had escaped danger so many other times in his past, 
but this was his greatest escape ever. It would also be his last.
"I had no intention of killing either one of them. My plan was to tie and gag Bell and then get out of there before Ollinger got back, but then things went terribly wrong.....I certainly didn't want to kill Bell, but I had to in order to save my own life....I never felt happier than when I gave it to old Bob. I said, "Look up here old boy and see what you're getting". I then blasted him in the face and breast. He use to ride me to the point where I just couldn't take it anymore."
- Billy the Kid

Copyright © SillyBilly theKidster

Long poem by J. W. M. Earnings | Details |

The Inception: The Dark Side of Me

I’m broke without your love to repair me…

My young heart breaks into two and you push on the brakes…

Three strikez…you’re owt…. Get lost….that is my only plea

Our lives were at stake and we were taking way tooooo many risks…for my cat’s 9 sakes

We were 1…whatever happened to that?
Who release the rat? Was that you, cat?
We are 2…what’s wrong with you? 
Why did you lose your other shoe?
There it goes again…. ……… 

Let the pain I inflict upon you 
Internalize for a second or two
You filled my cup half empty…
You ran me over by words of deception
Why did I fall in love so easily? 
How come I fall victim to you?
Flames of uncertainty overwhelm my heart…
This is only the inception
Get up from the ground, you sheepish animal
Try your best to lift your head above the surface
Dead carcasses of negativity surround you now…
Your only hope is to grab the rope of hope,
But first let me grab it for you…
*we’re made as one…body….* said the voice in my head … …. …….. ……..
You need to rest on my shoulders for the meantime
Shocked out of the bloo…. Left without a clue
Don’t touch me…don’t lust over me…
I can see dirty secrets in your eyes of envious glee…
You knocked me out by your avalanching grace
Thought of you, drowning in the waters of woe…
You touched my heart in many ways…
You blew things into proportion…but it was “one of dose dayz”
You don’t even get the clues that I show you right in your face
I reveal to you my heart’s passion
You take over me…you haunt me…
I step forward and you step backward…
Breathe into me…let me borrow your eyes…
Let me view the world in your eyes…
I want to know something…
I’m curious of what lies behind your sea-whirling eyes
Love me…DO please me…
the abyss is kissing me…
the light is fading out…
i need u
i want u
s p a y s e d  o w t  a l l  o v e  d e h  s u h h d d i n
mY LiFe IS fUlL oF errors…it ees a mezzzzzz
*IT’S TIIIIIME TO CLEAN UP YOUR ACT…………* said the voice in my head
I want to be feeling your heartbeat against my chest
I see the world beneath my feats…I’m above all…
Ill-um-i-nate me with syllabic pleajsher
My heart is skipping out on beats…I’m missing out and abandoned like an orphan, relying on a weeping widow…she bit me with denial…I was a flaw from the start….unfreeze this heart of mine…I’m as joyous as a swine, but as insidious as a serpent…but I’m feeeeeeeelin’ fiiiiiine…..ssssssssshhhh! Don’t tell nobody…d o  n o t  tell ahhhh sssssssssingle ssssssoul…don’t ma-a-a-ake a sound….you pushed me down to the ground s= s= embarrassed…I’m ready for anything right now…I’m lost, wearing an upside down frown and feel me…the pain that beats me and shreds me like paper….useless paper…I’m shattering like glass…after the kid’s ball hits through it…he’s in awe and he runs away…he hides the evidence of his foolish throwing skillz – this price is blooming bigger like a rose in the paws of the beast…you ssssspiral out of shhhhhight…I waited for you…alone….but I’m not on my own……….I’m not made as one – I’m two again…you inflict pain upon my tortured, tear-jerking soul…your veins become serpentine
To my own…we share each other’s blood
You WILL feel my pain, bud
the pressure of your gravity pulled me down callously
Distracts scar me…in a lightyear moment
Caught in a sugar-coated bliss of a dream
There’s No Medication To Heal This Hart-ake…
I ake…I crave cake…I bake in the oven…feelin’ like a flake…
I stand strong…brain damaged by your words of calculus-complicated definitions 
I fell harder…dig in my mind… 
((((( . ))))) push me in the margins why don’t you? I’m that dot in the middle of the brackets 
I want something more than what life gives me right now
I fought…I fought 
But, I’m not satisfied…
I’m loathed by many…
Maybe that’s what I feel like at times – LOATHED BY ALL
I’m unique…I’m an angry guy…
I wish I wouldn’t act like a fly…
I’m entitled to your love…
I can’t fly away like a happy-go-lucky dove
Death ove you stix to me like a leach in my mind…………
I need not man’s wizzdumb…no, not right now….
I need God’s KINGDOM and wisdom
God’s Kingdom + His wisdom = peace on Earth
It’s not dat complicated…
Do me a favor and indulge yourselves in the delicacies of sin
Listen listen listen not to the lies…listen listen listen to the heart that beats from deep within
My heart is sinking……
Patience is the key to living life to the fullest
Acceptance is the key to freedom … just try your best to pass this diff-eh-colt test
I deserve you and your gifts
Envying your talents…that’s juzz bramazing…
: ( sad to the core, 
but I don’t want to sadden you anymore
This revealed my crazyyyy side…
This darkness submitted to me and said its vows like a mesmerizing, yet spellbindingly evil bride…
I’m under your shpell……..
Change your mind….
Tear me apart and crawl inside of my cranium of titaniumb bliss….
Hardening by the minute…I crawl back into my comfort shell
Bring me to life and undo these lies in my head….
I’ve overheard you saying: “It’s hard for me to figure you out”
Dreams of demented, dangerous desire enrapture me…
Don’t choke me with your polluted nature of twisted reverie 

Have you changed your mind about me?
How do I look in the eyes of the thief?
Suck it up…I put my shoes on and I cut off the laces…I know – I’m doing this for stupid reasons, but I’m still the boy that’s bold
Thhhose laces remind me of you and I, separated forever in reality…cruel departure embraced us…we were the clouds, growing cold…
Your hugs don’t feel the same anymore, you see?
Here’s a heart/|\kerchief to wipe away your grief… … …
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Copyright © J. W. M. Earnings

Long Poems