Long Abetting Poems
Long Abetting Poems. Below are the most popular long Abetting by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Abetting poems by poem length and keyword.
I found a photograph today.
Its discovery agitated my emotions
and I caught my breath.
There you were - suspended -
like some ancient fly held
eternally in amber.
Pose, expression, frozen - always.
I found a photograph today.
It awoke a memory long forgotten:
It was a hot sultry day.
We had travelled to our arrival
and we argued, our tempers
shortened by the blistering heat.
My neat linen skirt had creased
- like my mood - and you were rude.
What did you say? I can hear the tone
but the words are gone now and
suddenly unimportant....washed away
down the plughole of insignificance....
Gurgling then gone - lost in the
annals of broken promises and accumulating
hurt which precipitated our goodbye.
I look into your petrified eyes -
eyes that sparkled when I loved you
yet metamorphosed into damming hate at times.
Is your hand touching mine?
I remember when it did - tenderly -
I remember your fingers .... graceful somehow,
artistic, creative, piano playing, painting,
then hitting, hurting - same hands yet tender no more.
Same hands, there in the photograph, no, not touching.
I found a photograph today.
Its discovery rankled my emotions
and I held my breath -
like I did when you frightened me
with your unpredictability.
Your ability to swing from light to dark in an instant.
Yes, I found a photograph today
but its gone now .......
Torn to tatters and thrown into the wind.
Therapeutic in its destruction.
Aiding and abetting reconstruction
of a future without you.
You're gone -
washed away -
gone - down the plughole of insignificance.
Gone in the cleansing of reminiscence.
Gone, gone, gone........
....................... and forgotten.
How Absurd it Seemed
Ah, those memories, so well refined, reworked, revised to meet the failings of memory – or the shame of remembrance. Tinged now with humor’s hubristic insolence, fleece covered shards of broken lives reassembled in a grotesque collection of stained glass pleading with the moment for forgiveness. Time, imprisoned for aiding and abetting the fugitives, providing refuge for the tattered transgressors, disguising the thoughts, denying the actions, suffering the consequences of eternities amnesia.
how absurd it seemed….
…in a family of black sheep
…to be the black sheep
John G. Lawless
©7/16/2019
M idsummer castaway
E nchanted by a spell
R avished by a sea temptress
M aiden with the raven hair
A balone were her eyes
I dyllic elixir sweet her voice
D ownstream she led the castaway
S eabirds followed the seductress
E astward once the sailor was bewitched
R ocking to the rhythm of the waves
E merging lost at the other end
N eptune’s curse abetting the nymph
A dieu lost star-crossed captive
D reamworld is your final destination
E ntwined in the arms of your seafaring goddess
AP: 3rd place 2025, Honorable Mention 2022
Now you know full well what they're about, they're about using you
aint know better than wizards of wall street, rockin the beat with a juke.
Vegas bookies abetting frauds taking odds right against you,
left to die in the streets, exasserbated by your mental masturbated mood.
Playing russian roulette with only our head at the gun,
stirring up hatred for fun
the quest we're on is, when are you going to join us white folk
brother to brother arm in arm
most of us been waiting for you, we also the ones sounding the alarm
we hear the sirens in the street, we cry when your babies cry. We got Georgia....(guidestones) on our minds.
Now we aint made inside from some flesh that aint pink.
Same as you, we were derived, from Adam and Eve.
Each of us alone the only thing we got is each other, that's ALL there IS. Sister and Brother.
We have a common enemy, that which takes principality against us.
With Sins many fetishes of cowardice de unrelentus.
31 flavors so many ways to taste, the victory of defeat, disunity caused by cowards with immunity at rocky road place. hobbledstoned in the streets, Hoodwinked with their nuts in our face.
Don't rub it in, like "now you're on top, we got Obama!
make people suck on my chocolate dipped cone of invincibility pop docudrama.
I bet it makes the taste of vanilla so sweet,
but instead leaves a bad taste, in the palate of the nationality.
Too much high flying, smack talking, maligning personality
there aint no union in a "aint seen nothin like me"
I think you better stick with a spoon,
instead of the knife in our backs
a silver one for coddled athletes, and hip hop tools, im just saying dont say "always bet on black", thats racist fool
You got nothin else but race baiting to do,
besides your backupsinger's,
even when they more talented than you.
I see some people walking on eggshells
where the chickens have come home to roost,
making omelets with and sales of those with lower IQ
the yokes of goodwill and the r(o)(o)sters, themselves, Santaria tools .
Unter den Linden
I have a soft spot for the German language
when a toddler, I had free access to a military camp where they had enormous horses and let me sit on top of one of them (looking up horses,
I think they were Belgian draft horses)
Since I was 5 years old at the time, I reserve the right to be wrong
My mother said I could speak a little German
I don't think so, but when the Brits and the Americans came, my few words of German were too soon forgotten.
In the late fifties, I was onboard an old ship that
had survived the war but needed its motor seen to in Bremerhaven
the town bore scars of the devastating war
but there was full employment, and everyone was doing something worthwhile, like the farmer who took
took food scraps from ships and fed them to his pigs later, sold for slaughter through ship-chandelier to the merchant ship.
No, Bremenhaven was not Unter den Linden
Not a tree left, cold had the aftermath been
It was spring walking along streets where people sat out telling stories and laughing.
There was a sense of comradeship that made me feel the trauma they had gone through.
At that time, there were no beggars, and no one was following me around in the hope of getting some coins, which was annoying in places like Kingston in Jamaica and other places
Germany has not hitherto played the leading role
a great nation in Europe, this is because the burden
of the Holocaust, a burden unfairly put on the Germans alone to bear, is coming to an end,
also, I think so is the headless policy of not being critical of Israel's policies, which makes many countries
guilty of aiding and abetting the genocide of
of the Palestinian people
An earth in exhale of sigh, rising up, rising down in lungswell
till the air and forest becomes flash paper dry
Eoning as its corner eye looks in disgust
at the red flashed sky mirroring the pits of shale
The Unmooring of the World A Copses of Souls impaled by the by and by
Of the Deepest Slain in the coals
A Tumultuous, Ebb and Flow of broken Souls
Flotsam and Jetsaming in Sheoles foam,
An Eon in the Night that has never woken from
untended its suspended slumber
A Mournful, hell mouthful-Inflamed sliver of Echoed choking ember
tasting the not yet, but impending scape of Morpheus pudding cloud
Lifts its lids quickly open to a distances closer screaming for crying out loud
on the cores plasmatic searotic river gushing in gushing out
like a locomotive trudging errant, but right on time
Wave of signs, sine wave and sin city hives
Yes, we're right on time
......To be taken as the spoils of the dead, left for, the unspoken for
Unraveling the Sorrow of All that's Fallen, to the stakes
aiding and abetting our own Olympus in death throes faces
under anastesia of strobing
Unbound to Eternal Sorrow, Unbound to Eternal Despair calling
Unveiling of the Mystery of the Unseen, Hollows
EonS, Foremost- Slain of Raven eye of Savant Kingsgame Throne again St.
To unweave itself cleaven to token Fear-
A Mournfold, In flames A Shudder of Echoes morse coding the remains "distress is near, distress is near!"
and of negative ion of droplet spear?,- Unbreakable pandemonium-arears
A Copse of Souls A neural shame's-acidic tear Unveiling of the Mystery
of the Unseen here, swearing by name, taken in vain.
PythonPotamus, "Abaddon" Quetzacoatliciously rises from the pit.
Helliopolis' ruins remains; "in the thick of it."
Ra, "Familiars the breeze" a God-imposter, sedicious, piece of Set.
Set Ing the diodes of scene.
All the same, on demand-
quid pro troll for human sacrificing...
icing in their assumed, -
exhumed names of representation-glands,
Idols in strange hands.
Decorating blue,
filling with strangers to one's own land.
Paradise Lost, seeking ills, -ills, ill gotten gains.
Kismetic Frosts relations
of cover-incestuous-religions
summoned in symbiotic trends,
of the means of the end.
On Alien soil, Ra, soon to return
to asphyxiate freedom's change, of wind,
whisping death's-bloom.
DeCoffinated break, drink !
Skywriters, Contracting...
Watching in aiding abetting, the elites.
The discreeted
scuttled upon the otherworldly-
Chariots called PleasureCrafts and Triremes and Juggernautivity Nets.
Lasers to strain in loom, everything you say or do-
you... buy, sell, eat, drink, breathe, think?
Utopia, Trojan Whores Riding a Beast.
I had been placed in chains
Where the cripples shed their canes
And the blind regained the art of seeing.
It was a robbers’ den
And as all God fearing men,
I had assets needed freeing.
Sometimes the poet’s muse
Is a bride who will refuse
All his conjugal solicitations.
He must lure to bed
Any tramp that turns his head
With unchaste alliterations:
And so it goes...
He’d lived his life alone
In a hermitage of stone
Where he rang those bells for all occasions;
Like the feasts of saints,
For the widows’ sad complaints,
And for joyous celebrations.
It's said confusion rules
At the Festival of Fools
And the scene below just seemed to prove it.
So he clambered down
And was regent of the crown
Till Claude Frollo’s hand removed it.
He smelled her perfumed hair
From across Cathedral Square
And the fragrance soothed his loss of hearing;
For her silent dance
Cast a soul ensnaring trance
Both enticing and endearing.
She was a barefoot girl
With her gypsy skirt a swirl
As the minstrels played a tarantella;
Graceful as fabric spun
From a gently setting sun,
And he pined for Esméralda.
But when the maid fell hard
For the Captain of the Guard
As a villain plotted her seduction,
His trust was put to test
On a futile, wicked quest
In abetting her abduction.
And so he bore the blame
When the warden called his name
As they bared his back to take a whipping.
He felt each lash stroke bleed,
The injustice of the deed
Set those righteous scales to tipping.
While the Archdeacon's kin,
Who was guilty of the sin,
Stalked the halls as Satan’s emissary,
A young girl’s tortured plea
Brought his fool to guarantee
Esméralda's sanctuary.
In a defiant act
When the rebel mob attacked,
He strained his crooked back to save the maiden;
And called the angels home
With the tolling of Guillaume,
Like hard currency to trade in.
He ran from wall to wall,
Hurling curses at them all,
Raining molten lead down on the rabble,
From the gargoyles’ throats
To the beggars’ ragged coats
In a symphony of babble.
But it was all in vain;
He could laugh himself insane,
Still those oaken doors were being battered,
And the dénouement
Left his ashes in the straw,
Proving love was all that mattered.
RAPED AND EXTINGUISHED IN THE SANCTUARY
Malevolent violence in UNIBEN, Nigeria
a virgin soul in a sacred home,
Miss Vera Uwaila Omozuwa gang-rapped,
bleeding like a ?? watermelon.
The University church floor and walls
couldn't surpress her screams
instead, witnessed her walls broken down,
walls preserved for 22 years, demolished.
She came to study...Sunday,
sons of Belial came to waste,
they saw the flooding tears
yet the fire extinguisher was a tool,
(even when absolutely not needed),
to quench the painful fire they lit,
as her life was extinguished,
helplessly she bleeds in blood,
profusely, I bleed in ink.
Rape in heaven's registration centre (Church)
will only get you a pleasure from hell,
typical trait and fate of a cursed clan.
Rapist...! Cruelty - aiding and abetting them
to the cognomen of nefarious filthy folks
but let this voice chant you, Vera, midnight's ire
and sing justice until lives
find sustenance from the stash of usurpers.
Here's another voice quenched broad-day light
causing a now venomous voice, trumpeted,
stronger & louder than rushing of oceans.
The truth will not be hushed
but will smell like summers distillation.
VickWizzy.
Vick Manuel Poetry {VMP}.
Copyright © June 1st, 2020.
They punch a fist in the air
Anger written on their faces
Those deaths of their own..
Having ignited hidden fires
Rushing over each other arsonist...
Reason and civility is thrown away
Adopting hardwired survival mode
They rant chant and grow furious
Distancing rules of Covid forgat
I cry with them and pray morrow
We won't be burying them too..
When the dreaded virus attacks
Who is fueling these fires now..
At a time when the neo-revolutionaries
Risk being executed by a Covid 19 virus
Distancing they are testing a hypothesis
In a battle as old as time the surge-on
Is it the Spanish conquerors who ignited it now..
Or the Arabian enslavers who planted the seeds
Or them Templer's founders of the Newfoundland
Who appeased them fires with an in God we trust
When the puritans in Salem burnt Tituba
Her confessions to witchcraft but coerced
A puritan community covering behind Law
Aiding and abetting an injustice of racism
Wait now..did they but then set her free..
Where are all the gains made in rights movements
If at the tiniest spark flames allover do now ignite
Is tolerance but a subtle retreat as peoples gather..
All manner of arsenal in battle the for domination...
Sons of a lesser God are there really any now One
Yet you do recite that he called his son from Kafira
With Kemet said to have enslaved a race chosen..
Am reminded he blessed them all.. subdue the earth
Not subdue and conquer each other
Not to exploit other's guise of labour
As they enshrine a demi-god of greed
Fondly aptly its named urban culture
This one now does call for patient(ce+...
Have they not suffered enough anguish
At this stage of the Journey-Kibrithmana
And as Moosa uplifted that bronze snake
Don a bib... We pray it not Horsemen
We heard what seven thunders spake
As angels Swoon all over the earth...
Reapers working overtime.. Jumbos