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Long Passion Poems | Long Passion Poetry

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

See also: Famous Long Poems

Long Poems
Long poem by Victoria Anderson-Throop | Details |


                                                          SEX ON A CLOUD

                                                            (HER STORY)
                                                      She grabbed his voice
                                                     Through conference din
                                                     Sought to win his gaze--
                                              But crowds of gabbers tottered in...

                                        He missed the sexy nod she sent his way--
                                      Distracted by a phone call--
                                                               faded from his day.

                                                         But oh his face....
                                                      Would not be gone....
                                                      bony visage--home
                                                          of passion's eyes--
                                                       Fate teased in him
                                                           her Paradise--

                                                           Upward Man
                                                   Brash Upward Plans--
                                             Such a heart must be attached--

                                                       Her stubborn mind
                                                    holds fast to dreams,
                                                         bows to Fate--
                                                   but loathe to schemes....

                                                   She stalked his dreams
                                                       The night is theirs
                                                          Palm to Palm--
                                                    All answered Prayers.

                                                            Eyes exult
                                                      Besieged by bliss--
                                                     becalmed by thoughts
                                                          of moonlit kiss

                                                       she Owns his Face
                                                 sweet charmed caressing
                                                     that leaves no trace
                                                       but silent blessing

                                                              (HIS STORY)
                                                           Over a shoulder
                                                             behind a pole
                                                            he saw a face
                                                     that grabbed his soul
                                                           wild hair so red
                                                       his heart caught fire
                                                          hands of grace
                                                      could capture choirs

                                                          Laugh of bells
                                                       tolled 'cross the hall
                                                       he moved toward her, 
                                                           then had a call--
                                          stepped out in search of quiet space,
                                                           cut short his call--
                                                          yet lost her face.

                                                           She was gone...
                                                            Another man?
                                                            Abysmal sight....
                                                            a f_cking awful
                                                           maddening plight.

                                                         He's lost his chance,
                                                          in town
                                                                      One Night.

                                                         Her essence brands,
                                                         Flays bare his heart--

                                                          But business tugs him
                                                                     Seas apart--

                                                            tho hard to place--
                                                   She's the tune he can't erase.
                                                              a love so fierce
                                                           Each night they tryst,
                                                            shake clouds above
                                                    grant them every lover's wish
                                                              She nuzzles love
                                                            and slips o-er him--
                                                           encased and blessed
                                                              in  Passion's Glove.

V. Anderson-Throop
Sept 2013

Copyright © Victoria Anderson-Throop | Year Posted 2013

Long poem by cassie hellberg | Details |

over and over agin

sometimes i talk to myself, 
my mind is racing,
i dont know what to do...
so hard to explain.
depression isn't a stage
or a faze some kids go through
it shatters you...
i saw it all. 
she cried silent in her bed,
blood stains covered her favorite jeans,
her every shirt,
long sleeve ofcourse...
she suffered through it all with few people to call friend
and more to call enemy
even more to say where quite dissappointed....
her first name in school,
not started by a bully
or a mean rival,
but by her sister, 
and it echoed through her soul,
repeating in her mind... over and over again,
like the ripples of still water
when a pebble is dropped
flash frozen in time
over and over again...
It was the first name they gave her,
millions where created over the years,
some unique
some repeating again, just as the first had..
gothic they called her,
emo, fat, ugly....worse things.
but in her mind, things where worse.
everything was repeating,
over and over again,
finally she believed it. 
she asked for help, from everyone
tried to explain to parents she wasnt well,
got called a psycho for asking to see a theripist,
not from a teacher,
not from a class mate,
but from her own father, who wouldn't, couldn't,
believe there could possibly be a thing wrong....
finally, crying, she confessed her bloody secret to a teacher.
rather then giving her time,
she is sent back to class crying her eyes out, as if she wherent going through enough...
she is sent to the principals office a few minutes later, after breaking down in class...
the princlipal says she needs help,
sends her and her dad for a risk evaluation,
her dads crying as she shows him her cuts...
they walk into a hospital room, 
it smells of chemicals and hand sanitizer,
the lady at the desk gives her a smile.
then she goes into a room with a lady,
her cheeks are sunken in and shes wearing way too much makeup,
the girl is gaging on her perfume,
and she looks really intimidating....
her dark brown hair looks dead and flat
even though its a bit wavy, 
and she wears somewhat of a mocking frown.
asks her all these questions,
is mommy beating her?
is daddy raping her?
is she doing drugs?
not alot
is anyone beating her?
did anyone molest her? 
oxcarbezapine, trazadone, citalipran, clinazapam, colonipan,
valium, lithium, more.......
and thats what they gave her,
some numbed the pain
some brought it out
tearing through her organs,
she became an addict by the time she was fourteen....
over dose after over dose
some for pleasure
some for pain,
gashes on her legs getting deeper,
this time she didnt tell a soul,
not even those she had come to call friends....
wakeup she screamed in her head over and over again
as she dropped weight like it was nothing....
you cant controll it she argued as things became worse. 
at age fourteen she attempted suicide,
she didnt quite succeed.
the medication took away her aappitite....
she liked it
she hated her body
hated herself
felt out of controll
found a new way to cope
as she shoved tooth brush after toothbrush down her throat
to keep her body from nuitrients...
as she whent weeks and weeks spitting food into napkins and making excuses 
I ate at my friends house....
spoken as a whisper
heard like a sentance
echoing in her mind over and over again,
along with that word, all the words,
ugy, anoying, stupid, fake, worthless, nothing...
one bite she would say
rocking back and forth
craving nothing but food
her body racked with hunger pain
one bite and there she was again
over and over and over again
back to a toothbrush
this time she sees blood
she saw her ribs
she saw her bones,
it wasnt good enough,
she almost died, again....
choking on this deep dissappointment in herself,
gaging on everything they where pushing down her throat, 
their words, and their insults, their criticism.... their drugs
all shoved down her throat like candy
and just as she was was trained to do she swallowed despite the bad taste
or the hurt
or the fact that at the rate she was going she would be dead soon...
and you know why? 
because daddy yelled 
and couldnt accept what was happening
not because he wanted to hurt her
but because it hurt him,
and she let him believe,
because she could take the hurt if it meant he didnt have too.
because mommy didnt want to sit in her room all day
smoking weed
doing nothing,
practically having us raise ourselves,
she didnt mean to take anger, or frustration or hurt out on her daughter
she suffered everyday in her solitary confinement,
and from a young age she accepted her bedroom was the cage
 her mother had created for herself.
because sister didnt want to effect her the way she did
she was just frustrated
fed up with the way things where
scared, she needed someone to take her cruelty
and to help heal her pain...
because people in school
who where so cruel
had to have learned from somewhere
and she wasnt going to play into their games,
and they knew she was an easy target
because she would never attack someone so weak
and she accepted her suffering was a sacrafice
to help all these people....
to help her dad,
her mom,
her sister,
every person who was beaten abused or hurt
 and felt so weak at home they wanted to feel strong in the one safe place they had.
because depite the fact she had died inside,
and almost passed away on the out,
it was a saccrafice she was willing to make
so that no one else would have to feel that kind of pain,
and they all inflicted it and broke her down'untill there was nothing left but a shell
of somthing that could have been
and never had the chance
and why? 
because she would take it and wouldnt strike back,
because sometimes "just taking it"
isnt so much about the weakness not to do anything
but about the strangth not to hurt others the way they hurt you...

Copyright © cassie hellberg | Year Posted 2013

Long poem by T Wignesan | Details |

Prizes for Ultimate Sacrifices - Part One

Prizes for Ultimate Sacrifices

    prizes for the abstemious  for abstinence  chastity ?
                 the countless occasions for love you let slip                                   

          prizes for stopping 
                                   smoking by yourself  
                                      drinking even Bordeaux
                                  munching on the meat of beasts
                                      crustacean flesh  fish  fowl or eggs                
                      for honesty with oneself        
                 for commitment to lost causes
                                    the ability to see through their deviousnesses
                                and refraining to do anything about it at all
                           for helping them at one’s own peril                                                            
        for giving away what you direly need for yourself and your dependents
                   for not thinking of your own future just to bolster someone else’s
               for depriving yourself of the pleasures of the day
               when you can go out and buy them with what you got and still have enough leftover 

         for spending hours and hours every so often just listening to those who need to unburden themselves on you while you serve them aperitifs then coffee/tea and finally end up cooking dinner and bedding them down in your only bedroom while you may hardly stretch yourself out in amongst the books and things and boxes of files of unread drafts and such and wake in the middle of the night because the suffering soul behind the wall is moaning and tossing and apostrophising aloud in your bed calling your name out at every fiery phrase for all you know accusing you for all his troubles plus those of his friends near ones dear ones and/or dependents

      prizes for doing everything by yourself
          looking after yourself  cleaning the kitchen washing the clothes by hand doing the dishes in cold water showering cold to save on hot water repairing the car with spare unfit parts from the breakers learning languages all by yourself typing your own manuscripts and those of others starting your own journal and publishing others typing writing setting up photocopying designing printing binding marketing writing letters and posting them after long waits at queues attending to the plumbing redoing the parquet papering and/or painting your own but rented walls shopping on the cheap after hours and hours of comparing prices at different places keeping tabs on your dependents defending yourself against marauding civil servants politicos fighting your own legal battles after reading up on difficult incomprehensible legal texts writing dozens and dozens of letters before you take them to court and lose because the blasted bugger who represents you in the civil case makes it a point of holding back the essential documents which you know were never submitted to the judge although the list of documents exchanged lists them and you can’t check on the judge’s file because you are not a lawyer or solicitor legally constituted in the case and you need a lawyer to represent you in a civil case

      prizes for putting up with women
                                               who tell you they love you to distraction and would rather die than be parted from you even during the live-long day who vow by suttee but who use you make you marry them by piling lie upon lie present you with a baby not your own while they get pumped by others and let you share the slime the spittal and the shit in their system and the syphilitic rot that will gnaw at your spine years and years hence and leave you with the baby to bring up while they harrass you with complaints and cases about how you may be bringing him/her up with right of access charges rights which they never really exercise themselves and when the baby is no more a baby come around to collect the lad or lass as a crutch for their old age by telling him/her all the lies about how you let them down how you tortured and beat them up how you shat upon them how you made them slave day in and day out and to top it all didn’t bother even to shag them 

        prizes for keeping quiet and taking it all
    in without riposte without carping without being even rude in return
               for bearing with all the slithering over crimes they rob you cheat you  shit with your wives twist your children’s minds up into a multiple Turk’s head  commit missed murders against you and when you discover their intentions the criminals commit more crimes to cover it all up use misinformation as a superpanacea to lull themselves into believing they are innocent dogooders after all doing it for the patrie for the defence of their nation the raison d’Etat without making it known how you the victim without a proper background without a useful education without friends who would swear by you without the citizenship bestowing rights without the State any state on your side without the passport to secrete yourself away without a job without the money put away for the purpose of facing up to them these the faceless cowards hiding behind their secret societies their secret services their secret cabals their secret clubs schools lodges cafés cabinets centres yachts arts and crafts academies royal this and royal that my foot college unions parties and programmes                               

(Continued in Part Two: owing to length restrictions)

April 2, 1997 –From the collection : longhand notes (1999)
© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2016 

Copyright © T Wignesan | Year Posted 2016

Long poem by James Inman | Details |

Last Call

We sat at the end of the bar in a seedy place on Seventh street.
Nursing our drinks, we both had a bit too much that night.
My Whiskey Sour, you could tell everything about me by my drink,
always a Whiskey Sour, no mystery here, was still about half full.
Her's, this time a Strawberry Daiquiri, she drained with ease.  
"Set her up another Bar Keep," I sad to the burly tattooed man behind the counter.
She quickly responded with slightly slurred speech, "No, make it a Frozen Margarita!"  
She had been mixing her drinks all night.  The bar man grabbed her glass and placed
it in a small sink full of sudsy water.  "I told you, two drinks ago, last call, now dude drink up
so I can get out of here.  For Christ sake its 2:38,  I should have left 30 minutes ago."
The bar's last patrons had indeed left much earlier leaving only the two of us.
I touched Sarah's, or was it Sandy's, hand.  What difference does it make?  
She looked at me trying to focus her eyes, her expression bland.  Eyes roaming 
unabashedly from face to groan and back again.  She sighed heavily and turned 
back to the bar tender and pleaded for one more drink.  "Anything she said,"
trying to steel herself for the inevitable culmination of our evening, 
as if one more drink would make a difference.  The only response she got was
a short firm, "No!"  Grinding my teeth, I threw two twenties on the bar and grabbed her, not so gently, by the arm.  She half slid, half fell off of the bar stool she was sitting on.  "Lets go I said," leaving my half empty glass on the bar.  She stumbled across the floor towards the door leaning heavily against me.  She was tall and beautiful in a slightly used sort of way.  Not young but not old enough for wrinkles, just a few laugh lines around her eyes and forehead.  As we reached the door I thought I heard her mumble something about getting this over.  I didn't care.  I knew she should have been going home with someone a lot better then me.  

As we stepped into the damp, cool morning breeze, head free of the stagnate dead air of the bar, my senses cleared slightly.  Still, when I heard the sound of the vibration in my pocket it took a moment to register what was happening.  Stephanie(?), giggling beside me pressed herself against my pocket letting out a low, playful, "MMmmmm," making it impossible for me to get to my phone.  I pushed her away and she giggled some more as I fumbled for it.  Pressing the button on the screen my ex-girlfriends disheveled face appeared.  She had been texting me all evening, most of which I ignored.  Why I answered her call this time I don't know.  Deep purple and black bruises ran the length of the right side of her face and she seemed to have a chunk of hair missing from a red spot on her temple.  She halfheartedly tried to cover it with a wispy lock she pulled down over it.  "What?" I said gruffly.  The phone was set to speaker.  Tears running down her face, she said, "I love you."  My response was quick and indifferent, "Yeah, tell it to someone who cares.  Like maybe your new boyfriend."  

She dumped me for a new guy weeks before but kept calling me and telling me how much she still loved me.  She said she wouldn't have thrown me out if I had shown some feelings toward her.  She said he was sensitive and emotional and cried in her arms.  Yeah, he cried all right just before he beat the hell out of her.  I should have known when she started coming home with the bruises on her body.  He was careful at first not to hit her in the face.  I looked up and reflectively glanced down the street.  You couldn't see her apartment from where I stood but it was just a block down the road off Seventh on Stanton Ave.  I came home early one afternoon and found them there.  She was lying on the floor with blood trickling from her lip.  He was standing naked over her, hands curled in fists.
I lost it.  I beat him until you couldn't recognize his pretty little face, all the time hearing her screaming stop and trying to push me away.  When I finally stopped he was lying motionless on the floor and she was hitting me on my arm yelling foul expletives at me.  I looked into her eyes and realized I felt nothing for her at that moment.  I remember saying just before I left, "Baby, you've just missed your last call to wake up."  I never went back.  I understand he spent several days in the hospital.

Looking at her on that small screen with tears in her eyes and scared, sad look on her face I wanted to feel something for her.  I didn't.  We had a good thing and she threw it away for some psycho.  Now she'll just have to live with her decision.  As I looked at her pleading face I heard a angry voice in the back ground, "Who are you talking to!"  She glanced in the direction of the voice and turned back to me.  I watched as her helpless look became determined and she leaned over and picked up something from the table beside her bed.  Her sweet, tear filled blue eyes looked directly at me as she raised her hand.  "I love you," she said.  In an instant, before my inebriated mind could fathom what happened, I heard a loud bang reverberate down the street from the direction of her apartment and there before my eyes I saw her head explode like the pumpkins we used to throw from the roof tops after Halloween.  Beside me, Sherry (shit, it started with an S), who ever, let out a gasp.  A moment passed and I grabbed her by the hand.  We started off in the direction of my dumpy apartment.  I couldn't help but to think at that moment, that's the last call she'll ever make.


Triple Prompt- Hear the Calling: 3rd Place


Copyright © James Inman | Year Posted 2015

Long poem by Victoria Anderson-Throop | Details |


                                                   PASSION OF CONVENTION

                                                            (HER STORY)

                                                      She grabbed his voice
                                                     Though conference din
                                                     Sought to win his gaze--
                                              But crowds of gabbers tottered in...
                                        He missed the sexy nod she sent his way--
                                      Distracted by a phone call--faded from his day.

                                                         But oh, that face....
                                                      Would not be gone....
                                                      bony visage--home
                                                          of passion's eyes--
                                                       Fate teased in him
                                                           her Paradise--

                                                            Upward Man
                                                   Brash Upward Plans--
                                    Of course, his heart must be attached--

                                                       Her stubborn mind
                                                    holds fast to dreams,
                                                         bows to Fate--
                                                   but loathe to schemes....

                                                        In sultry dreams
                                                       The night is theirs
                                                          Palm to Palm--
                                                    All answered Prayers.

                                                            Eyes exult
                                                      Besieged by bliss--
                                                     becalmed threshold
                                                          of moonlit kiss

                                                       she Owns his Face
                                                 sweet charmed caressing
                                                     that leaves no trace
                                                       but silent blessing

                                                               (His Story)

                                                           Over a shoulder
                                                             behind a pole
                                                            he saw a face
                                                     that grabbed his soul
                                                           wild hair so red
                                                       his heart caught fire
                                                          hands of grace
                                                      could capture choirs

                                                          Laugh of bells
                                                       tolled 'cross the hall
                                                        just as he moved
                                                            he had a call--
                                          stepped out in search of quiet space,
                                                           cut short his call
                                                          yet lost her face--

                                                           She was gone...
                                                            Another man?
                                                            Abysmal sight....
                                                            a f_cking awful
                                                           maddening plight.

                                                         He's lost his chance,
                                                          in town One Night.

                                                         Her essence brands,
                                                         Flays bare his heart--

                                                          But business swirls
                                                        Worlds...seas apart--

                                                            tho hard to place
                                                     She is a tune he can't erase

                                                            the Dreamers tryst
                                                            shake clouds above
                                                               Moon Shadows
                                                              She nuzzles love
                                                            and slips o-er him
                                                              in  Passion's Glove.

V. Anderson-Throop
Sept 2013

Copyright © Victoria Anderson-Throop | Year Posted 2013

Long poem by J. W. Earnings | Details |


Please, save me!!
Solitude is speaking, oh so lonely...

We have plenty of gain 
In our pockets, overflowing with light
You are like an airplane,
Landing safely from a fantastic flight 

My beating heart can't take this anymore
The moment you slammed the front door 
Keep me tucked in the files of your mind or I'll cry 
I'll keep you in my memories until the day I die 

The time ticking a reminder of the passing away of today 
As you run away from it all and you never quit standing tall 
I know you graduated High School all the way...I know you passed all your classes yesterday,
But you must pass the test of surviving this winter's fall
Follow me in the Grove of Somewhere Only You and I Know
Weep no more, waterfall of wiped-away wishes...know that I care for you, even in the darkest hours of woe

Nevertheless, you're a mess this time - stop your shouting doubting 
The hour glass is running wild...running wild...
Yes, you are running out of time, so save your breath and pouting 
The hour glass is an unbroken orphan child...
Mentally pictures make me feel sick in the stomach
Yet, a feel-good sickness that leaves me to ache pleasurably; I must be building a mental six-pack
Hourglass collides from your grasp
Hourglass shatters...once bulletproof to the touch
Hourglass makes you a worry-bug and you let out a ghastly, raspy gasp...

Did you forget me once upon a time? Time?
Am I not your happily ever after?
Did I do something wrong, my love so sublime?
Was I just a distracting disaster?
Have I to fall and you to stand your ground? I'm without a sound 
I swore in my living soul that you are my sky-ground...gravity-bound
The past is a lesson to learn one of these tattered and torn on the floor for many days
The future is a blazing fire that devoured your uncanny ways
Caving in my snowed-under desire for you...ignite me, I'm an empty matchbox 
Craving your phase of craze and your lazy, crazy nature, a grumpy bear and a funky fox
I'm lazy's the norm 
You're too picky, you like me lukewarm
Let me wriggle my way towards you like an merry mirthworm
You are like that last pickle in the jar you can't catch are as cold as my gloomy dorm 

Nevertheless, you're a mess this time - stop your shouting doubting 
The hour glass is running wild...running wild...
Yes, you are running out of time, so save your breath and pouting 
The hour glass is an unbroken orphan child...
Mentally pictures make me feel sick in the stomach
Yet, a feel-good sickness that leaves me to ache pleasurably; I must be building a mental six-pack
Hourglass collides from your grasp
Hourglass shatters...once bulletproof to the touch
Hourglass makes you a worry-bug and you let out a ghastly, raspy gasp...

Yearning for your shelter
I am a desert, I thirst and swelter
Come back to me, water angel...I am dry with disdain
Depart not from me, my pouring sun...bathing in your rain...
I waste away...a day without you is like a year of loneliness
I pace back and forth in my road of less-than-your progress 
Wow wow ooooh 
Wow mmm hmmmm 
Huh huh 
Ah, ah Ashamed of losing you
What do you mean when you leave my side?
Oh, oh going undercover too 
Underestimated, but upgraded by your touch of love that's been pushed aside...

Show me how to move 
To your joyous groove 
I pledge allegiance to your adoration 
I honor you with unwavering elevation 

Ahhhh ahh ohhhh 
Do tell me...why you left me in the dust?
Do tell did I hold on to you, even when you almost lost my trust?

You're a flaw so perfect
You are like an insect,
Crawling on my skin 
Where have you been? 

Nevertheless, you're a mess this time - stop your shouting doubting 
The hour glass is running wild...running wild...
Yes, you are running out of time, so save your breath and pouting 
The hour glass is an unbroken orphan child...
Mentally pictures make me feel sick in the stomach
Yet, a feel-good sickness that leaves me to ache pleasurably; I must be building a mental six-pack
Hourglass collides from your grasp
Hourglass shatters...once bulletproof to the touch
Hourglass makes you a worry-bug and you let out a ghastly, raspy gasp...

Spectacular Spiders weave their webs of wretched, warped-up masterpiece 
I hear you, intense with your speech 
I see you, tensed up and that's not what I want you to be like, so please give me peace
You were my shiny shore at the beach, now you're a seagull beyond my reach 
Dancing around the fire of my passion Room for Shames 
Surrounded by your gaze, your lips telling me the sweetest of names
Eye Luv U
I think you do too...don't deny it, for it's true believe it or're HOTT
Eye unluv U
When you do the things you do that make me rooted to the spot...I'm NaUgHt

My beating heart can't take this anymore 
The moment your hour glass broke in two, I can't cope with my moping 
It didn't mend my heartache deep in my chest which so happens to be sore 
I wait for your approval; in return, I get let down by my condition of high hoping 

The time bomb is about to blow out of proportion
Your words are like bullets, heading my direction aimlessly  
Time is time to make it up to me - too bad, so sad...get over it and there'll be next time possibly 
You aborted my love for you with your Hatred portion 

Solitude is my only friend lately...

Copyright © J. W. Earnings | Year Posted 2015

Long poem by Gerald Dillenbeck | Details |

Breathing By Design

"...making this shift [from ego to Authentic ecoSelf] usually requires inspired [inductive Right to Left +health-reiterative messages] intention and consistent, diligent effort [and a supportive vocational and residential and eco-logically balanced environment.]"

"And the way this is achieved is through using the greatest gift that evolution has given us: the power of [polyculturally healthy or monoculturally pathological] choice [for ourselves as for our potential future regenerators]." Andrew Cohen, "Evolutionary Enlightenment", 2011.

PermaCultural HumanNaturalOnly Choice:
ReGenerative Health/EcoTherapy for all
or degeneration of Earth's bio- and eco-systems,
including political and eco-not-so-normic deductive-competitive,
enculturation system dominance.
Free Choice to intend and will Exterior Landscape behavior 
confluent or dissonant with 
Interior Landscape 
metaphysical language enculturing ecosystemic iconically
analogical information, 
exegetical rich-resonant normative strings 
of historic WinWin "Yes" polycultural choices of genetics,
DoubleNegative FoldFunction and FlowTrend memory, 
regenerative (RNA/DNA) iconic syntax, 
in either PresentAptic Polycultural tense and ionic-elational distension (concaving), 
or PastAnger SynAptic Predicates FutureFear avoidance,
cognitive-affective personal and cultural dissonance.

FutureFear Choice Corollary: 
Monocultural Lose-Lose decay 
and decompositional preparation 
for composting future natural health/ecotherapy 
co-arising regenerativity of time's incarnation into space; 
reverse-temporal-neural double-dimensioned (bilateral-linear) 
therapy WinWin clockwise self-perpetuating polynomial health-rationality
egoLeftYin/ecoRightYin chronic cognitive-affective stress
of trying to find regenerative health
swimming through a sea of mediated and immediate
dissonance-pathology hell.

Present CoPresence as DiPolar Bicameral Basic Attendance Corollary:
Positive DiPolar Meets and Greets and WinWin intends
as AngerPast Teaches FutureFear 
how and why and when to co-arise 
(-,-) Double-Negative LoseLose
equals Double-Positive PolyNomial-PolyReGeneration
WinWin as YinYin Balancing DoubleNegative
PositiveYang Politically EcoNormic.InFormating 
SelfOptimizing CoGravitational SpaceAsTime 4D Systems.

The logical conclusion of overpopulating
overly-competitive and aggressive human natural dominant trends,
of suicide and other irrationalities
and errors in self-enculturation
through evolutionary cooperative sciences and arts and history
and myth and logos-icons of symmetric rhythmic exegetical (0)
CoPresent Soul of ReGenerative
Balanced CoGravitational Time,
deciding to head toward hell of anger and fear anyway,
not taking time to recall these are Angry Prophets of Past Sins,
predicting lack of even hellfire's last flame of Fear's SelfHatred,
awash in self-perpetuating not-not reiterations
of disbicamerolling negentropic chaos.

Then stop
you still empathically elate positive nutrients,
all heading in a more cooperatively polycultural direction
appositional nondual dipolar bilateral-linear
reversed wu wei Tipping Point 
of an endosymbiotically positive-positive CoPresence
ReVolutionary inhale with exhale economics.

If you are still breathing
you have already begun this practice
of absorbing both positive nutrition and toxins,
co-arising collateral negatives, fear and anger,
teaching your oppositional anti-death MidWay WinWin,
while those FearAnger Twins inevitably follow
planned or unplanned
eitherway increasing consistently aggressive Yang ballistic Way,
toward Ego's ever-faster inevitable demise.

Ego without EcoRight CoPresence
always loses in Ego's own Win-Lose dominating way.
Incarnations die to fuel further regeneratively healthy incarnations.

This ecology of diastatically rational life
predicts continuing BusinessAsUsual,
breathing positive self-dominance
while intentionally absorbing more anger-fear fighting nutrients
than love-peace synchronously-flying menu choices,
and to thereby emerge
ecopathologically even further anthro-centric,
monoculturally fixated, 
hypnotized by our own fear of fear of ego's death,
absorbing further toxins and collateral corporate insult,
self-abuse and other-neglect,
violence and cognitive-affective dissonance,
addiction to possession and dispossession
of ego's increasingly constipated
anger-fear ruminations,
with negative loser messages.

WinWin cooperative co-regeneration optimization
would be just the opposite of competitive monocultural,
ecosystemic political and economic
private and familial 
BusinessAsUsual double-binding negativity.

Our ecological and economic cooperative project
of natural regenerativity
as also spiritual ecoconsciousness 
basking in love of health and timeless co-relational security,
empathically and deeply attends,
sitting within LoseLose competitive decomposition,
embracing our shared BusinessAsUsual predative/co-messianic
dis-assembling each dominating seasonal stage
of LeftEgo's struggle with RightEco's Present CoPresence 
Love of Harmonic Balance,
Septum DiPolar Yang/Yin Dynamics of Time as Breath.

Copyright © Gerald Dillenbeck | Year Posted 2016

Long poem by Eileen Manassian | Details |

Where Gladiators Fought

Part I

Where gladiators fought for life,
we meet to fight for love
The constellations in the Roman night sky,
celestial spectators, bathe the Colosseum
in the white blood of light
The night is throbbing with the heat of our battle,
our cries, more passionate than any that have gone before

Part II

A short while earlier
A well paid bribe found us in the remains of the Ludus Magnus,
the remains of the old Gladiator School in Rome
where lies buried
a hidden entrance to an underground tunnel 
You pull me with you into dark underground world of legend
By light of a flickering torch,
we travel into the entrails of the behemoth,
coming in time upon the holding rooms
My breath catches 
I hear the sounds of man and beast
carrying through the thin layers of time:
Slaves, criminals, debtors, all awaiting their fate…
Animals pawing, grunting, starved for food
Dying to kill to stave the gnawing pain
Waiting to be lifted up into the arena
Waiting to fight 
Waiting to live or die

Part III

We break into the hypogeum
The crispness of the night air stings us
The vastness of it all paralyzes all thought
Rome comes ALIVE
The resurrection of history enflames us,
and as we mount those final stairs up to the arena,
I feel your excitement blazing through me
Your grasp is almost painful in jubilee
“We are here…HERE!” Your voice is laced with the sacred.
Between those famed arches…XIX and XX
We stand 
You and I all and 50,000 ghost spectators
Here at the East Entrance
The Gate of Life Looms above us
True gladiators passed through these very gates 
Here the applause coursed through their veins
And thundered to the captives below…
Here I stand
Quivering with the knowledge of all this night means to me
That thunder reverberates through MY body
I can hardly breathe
Your eyes are looking up at tiered levels
while mine look ahead
There is the walkway connecting the east to west
At the far side is the Libitinarian, the Gate of Death,
through which dead gladiators were dragged,
their bodies dumped in the Spoliarium 
to be stripped of clothes and armor
Life and death
Here, they converged
Here, they fought
On this night
I know
I will strip myself of my clothing and armor
I will let down my defenses
and give in to your onslaught of passion
Here… I will die to all but your eyes

Part IV

I walk, quietly, with purpose
Here….in this place...
my virgin blood will be spilt
Halfway between life and death, I stop
I turn towards you
My voice reaches you on the night wind
“Come to me!”
I see you move towards me
My mighty gladiator
You who have fought my demons
You who have slain my nightmares
You who have held in check
A savage desire for possession
As you stand before me
I wonder if you know
Tonight is the night
You will plunder and ravage
to your heart's delight
your just reward

Part V

You find a place to keep the torch upright
You see the blanket I’ve spread on the ground
I answer the question in your eyes
With the curve of my lips
I steady my hands as they work to undress me
I feel my body burn in the warmth of your presence
Your eyes undress me faster than my hands can,
and yet... you are....immovable
You stand transfixed
You wait until my only covering
Is my flowing hair
"Make love to me
Here, my gladiator
Come...claim your prize."
I reach out my hand to you
and in a moment
before my next intake of breath
you've come to life and crush me in your arms
Your mouth claims mine
like never before
seeking more
your tongue explores
demanding, commanding
it takes what it will
You pull me in to you 
Your hand in my hair,
my breath is raptured by your sheer strength
Your mouth travels along my neck
Hungry….like a famished animal finally set free to feast
You devour as you reach my cleavage 
I lean back to let you savor my breasts
For the first time
to taste 
You’re down on your knees
your tongue encircling my navel
going round and round and dipping inside
This prophetic dance of what is to come
washes over me
as you lower me to the ground
In a moment, I’m looking at the stars
The two brightest ones being your eyes
You are above me
You are everywhere
Kissing tasting touching feeling pleasing
Finding my voice, I pant...
“Don' gentle!"
I’m gasping with the effort
of all I need to say...
of the weight of feelings...
raging within me
"Don't...hold back anymore
Take me...

Your hands reach for mine and pin them down
My breasts heave, my body rocks
as I feel you plunging into the moistness 
that your very presence always creates in me
But this luxuriant degree
Pain mixes with pleasure again and again
As I hear your grunt and groan
Your ecstasy comes in manish moan
And I close my eyes to the Roman night sky

I sigh
I die
To the world
I am reborn in you
I hear your victory cry
And feel your jubilant release inside

Part VI

They fought for life
We fought for love
My fingers run through your hair
Your head is pillowed on my breast
My heart beat a reminder
Of what you have won
A gladiator’s reward...

in the arms
of the woman

For Justin Bordner’s Contest
Make Love to Me in that Ancient Place
November 16, 2014

Copyright © Eileen Manassian | Year Posted 2014

Long poem by Gerald Dillenbeck | Details |

Great Ironic Co-Arising

Positive nutritionists co-arise!
Now, while toxins mutually self-immunize,
then co-subside,
then decompose,
to implicate potential revolutions.

cooperating abundance of Self with
as by of Other!
Now, while decay slinks into silos of
"That Life's Not My Matter",
no dual-dark reductive paternalism for me,
not enough positive energy,
so co-subside into odious cacophony.

Co-Arise cooperative health
to co-subside monopolistically competitive wealth.
It's a better system
plus more wisdom
to turn our trees of hierarchy
right side left
upside down
to grow this networked co-bifeminist matpatarchy,
Win-Win swimming circles
diving among and parching
revolutions of Lose-Lose marching
in co-subsiding wilting squares of post-gaming era loss.

Co-arise this permaculturing revolution,
warriors with tools regenerating evolution,
nondual pairs of opposition
to suppositions within co-arising proposition,
subjects of by with of for healthy holy wealthy objectives,
monocultures co-subsiding into slow-emergent polycultures,
multisyntaxed paradigms co-arising polypaths,
multisystemic consciousness permaculturing,
     healthy function with formal beauty,
     fractal-crystals with faceted octave-holonic neutrons,
unfolding four dimensional temporal st-rings of electrons,
root squaring RNA's Bicamerally Dynamic EndoCreational Vocation.

Co-arise permaculturists of RNA/DNA life-systemic sustainability!
Co-arise polyculturists of eco-metric polynomially square-rooted form
and functional full-octave diversity
for all six fully-conscious autonomic senses,
pre-languaged awarenesses!
Co-arise organically nutritious gardeners of food
feeding all six sensory receptors,
     listeners to and of nature's luxurious harmonic sounds,
     dancers of fractally-balanced chi-time,
     breathers of resonate sound 0-sum mind,
     seers of mutual-coredeeming economies,
          political and familial relationships,
          physical, natural, spiritual, co-conscious regenerational medicine,
          and communication health optimization,
          polypathers of meta-systemic logos-wisdom
          prime temporal logical syntax
          for Yang/Yin relationship information polynomial balance.

Co-Arise human natured DNA
     with Earth-natured RNA!
Co-Arise RNA with Time's encultured memory!
Co-Arise every cell programmed for regenerating health
and cooperative wealth
     with photosynthesis.
Co-Arise paradigmatic syntheses with power of Yang,
with polyculturally transparent binomial YinYin
     sweeping WinWin systematic gaming theory,
     laughing not-not reverse-ordered double-bound Yes!
     growing dual-dark embryonic st-ring universally unitarian network,
          nesting convex negentropic polynomially co-forming spacetime.

Co-Prehend decomposition as contraction
with regeneration as expansion
of form with organically intelligent function.
Co-Redeem polyculturally cooperative investments!
Co-Mentor nondual messianic dreams,
     prophetic streams of healthy wealth.
Co-Incidate fully populated deductions 
with their non-polynomial zero-ionic opposites!
Co-Meditate ecotherapeutic medication toward healthy wealthcare!
Co-Passion RNA's ecojustice evolution of equi-valency,
copassionate peace,
co-arising polypathic consciousness,
Win-Win Wombed in this world wide web.

Confluate what would otherwise radiate
     as one-sided and mono-dimensional noisy chaos
     of linear mono-reductive historic time
     overly redacted from permaculture's 4-prime intelligence syntax,
          poly-neural tribal space of 3 reflecting 1 bilaterally decompositional
          non-polynomial space as c-squared equivalent time.

Co-Arise this moment's integritatively sublimely hued potential!
of beauty's wise and wealthy healthy climax
within beloved co-consciousness of heart and mind 
as bicameral breath, heat, fire, energy, informating intelligence
alternating with yin-yin's syntax
positive relationship
zeroism's confluence 
with Positive concave explicate-ordered Yang
Left-dominating deduction
convex implicate bilaterally temporal-primal RNA-ordered,
as positive uracil functions equivalently 
with double-binary ionic balancing reverse-cytosine,
+/- c-squared
equals (-,-)co-binary bilateral-time-squared information.

Co-Arise WithOut
WithBinomial Synergetic Discernment!

Co-Arise dual-dark dawn's surprise.
Co-Operate massive co-gravitational fields,
binomially double-bound pirouette of time's nature.

Energy co-arises matter through octaved light-bionic frequencies
as bilateral time co-arises this present grace space
as YinYin co-arises Yang
as healthy bicameral wealth values integrate
     Beloved eco-sustainable cooperative economic systems,
     Climax Communities of locally articulated
     maintenance and biosystemic care plans and policies,
     nurturing polycultural design and co-development,
     ecological co-evolving health with wealth management.

Positive Co-Mentoring EcoActivists, Arise!

Copyright © Gerald Dillenbeck | Year Posted 2015

Long poem by Yolanda Wessels | Details |


For the past thirty seven years, living for me was knowing that I do not know
I have been yearning for what I do not have a name for
The knowledge of the presence of this nameless, voiceless feeling, prompted me to the tenth month of 2015 AD
This feeling without a footprint or face haunted me
Unknowingly, it remained hidden for much too long
Life became the embracement of the nameless things I yearn for and was sure to never find
Hiding behind a mask, an unwilling traveler to more despair
Smothering my humanness, unable to acknowledge or recognize the smoldering spark deep inside
I was living life; neither dead, nor alive

Born without a name, my christening name inspired by the apartment I was conceived in
Something I was called upon when my mother was cross
Being nameless, I felt I didn’t belong in this world, had no right or purpose to be here
Mostly I hated myself, but wanted other people to love me
But somehow through all this turmoil, I found my voice
A voice separating me from a life I once thought was mine without questioning it
Inside, my heart was beating, inhaling and exhaling, but that was merely being alive, nothing more, nothing less
I was struggling to breathe, daily life slowly draining all inspiration from my being
My eyes became dull, my senses oblivious to the scents and smells of life around me

Then fate intervened and my life changed course
My fingers clawed at my mask, tugging in anticipation and excitement to remove it from my face
My soul shouting to escape, urging me on to find freedom
Unsure I took my first cautious steps towards an unclear perception of future
Driven by instinct, want, need and desire for the unknown, but hoping to recognize this faceless urge in the safety of a harbor
I treaded with more certainty, passion and need to find myself, to be freed from this chains that has kept me bound to heartache, hurt and sadness
An unquenchable feeling that I finally had enough strength and courage to remove this mask I have hidden behind my whole life
I was ready to explore who I was to be, to evolve into what the universe had lain on my newly found path
This adventure on my doorstep, ready to experience the wonderful lightness of being

Suddenly a new world dawned on me when my hand was enveloped by yours 
You allowed me to see sights seen by your eyes, heard sounds through your ears
My senses tantalized by invigorating smells, awakened through the coming together of our senses
You reached out to me with caring words, kindness I’ve been hungry to hear
An embrace to break down the walls of isolation, I created as protection
My loneliness caressed away by a soft touch 
A sincerity that raised me up from the shadows beneath 
Sensual lips smiling and lively blue eyes that brightened every dark and moldy corner of my mind
A kiss that could reach and elevate all nerve endings I buried 

All senses reawakened with enthusiasm and curiosity
Light entered my irises, sounds reached my ears, smells crinkled my nose, and flavors tantalized my taste buds
My feet treaded lightly as if soaring on clouds, unaware of the sea sand so soft between my toes
My skin glowed, oblivious to the cold refreshment of the sea causing goosebumps
Sea spray on my skin; the taste of salt on my lips; a fresh sea breeze in my hair
My eyes could only see you, only wanted you
Hearts beating fast, racing breaths, bodies aroused and wanting
I wanted to be had by you, and I wanted to have you
Nothing else mattered, but to be together for a while

A weekend once wanted merely for carnal desires, became the weekend to break and dissolve my chains
This maiden voyage, now the debut of my newly found freedom
A French kiss to eclipse all others
Moments of tenderness unfolding as I became weak to your touch
Fingers and lips exploring our bodies, the sweet taste of sea salt, champagne and passion
Your guidance gave me courage to explore 
Intimacy unparalleled to previous experiences
Naked bodies bearing all, our bodies entwined as you pushed into me
A discovery of ecstatic feelings of awakening sexuality

You opened a new world for me through your vision
You fulfilled my longing, brought my desires and dreams to life
Your experience, knowledge, expertize stimulated my mind
A willingness to share mind and body with me
Your being awakening and stirring my zest for life
Tickling my creativity, inspiring to explore beyond borders
Someone as extraordinary, made me feel deserving of love again
You brought hope, fulfillment and clarity
How can I ever repay, you came and gave me so much

Energy filled my body, creativity my mind
You believe in me, that who I was, really matters
A belief that we could indeed all be what we allow ourselves to possibly be 
Our moment in time together was but a fraction of a second in the completion of our life’s journey
Only a thought in the greater scheme, like a shooting star
You came, you fulfilled our desires and you went, as if all was but a wonderful dream
No judgement for my awakening feelings
It’s beyond my control, how could I possibly experience none
Allow me to wonder through the journey of my awakening senses

Copyright © Yolanda Wessels | Year Posted 2015

Long Poems