Long Abominable Poems
Long Abominable Poems. Below are the most popular long Abominable by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Abominable poems by poem length and keyword.
A clatter of human hooves
drums on through an after- dawn marketplace…
the wide tunnel of mouths
reel from the splintered chorus
of jangled tunes bargaining and rattling
papaya, arabica and sushi roll orders: a fiesta
of succulent aroma whisks mid-air,
talkative faces sampling potent crops
on weaved baskets , hanging neatly
before slurpy hands condemn
them to boiling pots: the errant
noise loose like gander and hogs.
How much is this and that?
The slithering, crumpled bills drop
their tongues on purses scraped from
one week’s abominable toil.. oh, darting
fishes jerk their bellies while the array
of chicken hunks glaze under lights, frozen
and lumped from farmers’ harvest
rites... morning so luscious with grapes
colored velvet skin, lettuce tips
pulped by shiny green: and the procession
of lapping mouths reach head tone pitch,
dishes, dishes for salivating tongues,
taste buds for citrusy fruits, on one delirious
mecca to a market, market day!
......................
A Poem You Enjoyed Contest of Lewis Raynes
Entered 9/13/2016 (Old Poem)
"And thou shalt eat it as barley cakes, and thou shalt bake it with dung that cometh out of man, in their sight.
And the LORD said, Even thus shall the children of Israel eat their defiled bread among the Gentiles, whither I will drive them.
Then said I, Ah Lord GOD! behold, my soul hath not been polluted: for from my youth up even till now have I not eaten of that which dieth of itself, or is torn in pieces; neither came there abominable flesh into my mouth.
Then he said unto me, Lo, I have given thee cow's dung for man's dung, and thou shalt prepare thy bread therewith.
Moreover he said unto me, Son of man, behold, I will break the staff of bread in Jerusalem: and they shall eat bread by weight, and with care; and they shall drink water by measure, and with astonishment:
That they may want bread and water, and be astonied one with another, and consume away for their iniquity."
Ezekiel 4:12-17.
Ezechiel is a Hebrew prophet of the 6th century BC who was exiled to Babylon in 587 BC.
read it about food
Son of man read it again
in Jerusalem.
" I can't breathe "
The last words of George Floyd were
" I can't breathe " echoed his voice and called his mother's name
but
the man who supposed to uphold the law
the man who had sworn to protect every citizen's life
the man who the government represented
unmoved remained to George's pleas
thus
harder and harder he pressed his knee against George's neck
till George's soul "disgusted " left injustice's domain! *
© Demetrios Trifiatis
29 May 2020
* I returned today because I would like to vehemently denounce this act of unimaginable inhumanity and barbarism plus the misuse and abuse of power by unworthy representatives of the state!
I am certain the person who committed this abominable crime would forever
live in infamy while George Floyd would be residing in God's domain!
RIP dearest George for justice would prevail!
*Image of Child Sad Suffering provided by Pixabay.
Not Of This Earth
Poetic Form: Narrative
Asymmetric mistrals warp speckled vaporous pallidness toward rhythmless voids. Obviates an evacuating azure as a midday star pivots to a twilight qualm. Numinous absent souls of supine prying pupils, yon ethers sinister obscurities, caught in stained oblique ocular whites. Drunken sanguineous veins to gluttony as impish tinkers sporadic doubts riveting telltale images. Metallic aerials ousted the clouds to unperceived iniquity.
Exhausting times since the alien armada infested Earth in a furrow of carnage. Abominable hordes disembarked, eviscerated whole metropolises. Hideous beings, an abysmal sight, smothered the remote vestiges of our civilized world. Cities ere their decimation had numbers reduced in fleeing desperation. The annihilation of life on Earth engrossed thoughts upon the scraps of humanity left. Ravenous creatures generating utter rampage to and abroad, slighting none to decay. Be they mortals or breathing existences of our lesser kingdom, perished in the bloodletting. Some kept as breeders for the succession of consuming time.
A cohort strung of plain folks, thrust as one in a nameless realm, sought ephemeral refuge in a subterranean hollow expanse. Bestill for the scarcity of fragile credence as the intrepid one, espy a grotesque glistening of crimson blood, secreting from the sheathed hoariness of fangs. Sentient rouses heedful footfalls per monstrosity exposed jawbone, that swapped shrill for snorts, neath laden eyes that had shrewdly scowling luminous orbs. Creepy anvils pierced hairline, afeared incus, sensitively measures close octaves, spurs the labyrinth's nerves. Alas, its vulgar pelt of bulky fur stretch hither and fro, bars clamors reach.
Cavernous chambered partitions mimic as trepidation ebbs nevertheless. Unceasing progress to that bemused destiny, as anonymous atrocities, plague each within their shells, e'er crucifying the last semblance of their true selves. Ardent impulses seeping via their lithe ruby channels, crossing neath the bits of their betraying skins, as they escape the nebulous sepulchral. Beasts at 6 o'clock, tho' what unknown lurks yon pits facade, save a future yet to be titled.
2021 May 12
Today there's a War of the Words going on
Today there's a War of the Words.
It's taking place all over this beautiful land of ours
Polluting our precious air and clear-blue streams
Muddying our forests, our meadows, our parks,
Trashing our buildings, our subways, our cityscapes.
Today there's a War of the Words going on
In our workplaces -- our offices, factories, and construction sites
In our schools -- our classrooms, corridors, and teachers lounges
In our palaces of entertainment -- our theaters, concert halls, and sports stadiums.
Today there's a War of the Words just about everywhere you turn;
It's almost impossible to avoid being a minor casualty if you have two ears.
Because today there's a War of the Words going on around us:
Foul-smelling and tasting, putrid, gross, abominable, wretched,
Horribly inexpressive, unacceptable, not-so-long-ago prohibited
Unthinkable even, insensitive, insensible, but uncensored
Curse Words.
There's a War going on, my friends: A War for the Soul of this Nation:
Let us return to civility, to civil discourse, to reasoned discussion
To toleration of others and others' opinions or idiosyncrasies
To a time when rage was not found on the road or the radio and
Rants were not heard from nearly everyone on everything everywhere.
America: Let us win
This ongoing War of the Words
Let us self-censor our
Curse Words
Entry in "Societal Discontent" contest, sponsored by Brendan J. Simons
Deadline: April 23, 2018
Abominable barrage bombards
fortified barracks show
warring subsequently, incandescently,
and brilliantly doth glow
biden time, this
garden variety Joe Schmoe
hunkers down deep amidst disarray
within arched bunker poe
wet tickly donning
pence sieve stance against row
battery weathering incessant assault
invariably waiting for Godot,
albeit devout atheist doubting Thomas
suffers major blow
wavering, vacillating, undulating...
ominous foreboding,
viz more'n one circling crow
decries status ranking sincerely
truly posthumous hero
reconnaissance delivers...
yup absolute zero
looming dark shadow
futile against inconsolable sorrow
anonymous bookish deadened
erstwhile febrile fellow
good as gone, cuz yours truly...
fresh outta ammo
resigned killed in action
another unmarked grave
housing lovely bones
courtesy contemplative bro
charred body foretells, know,
and promises not one daisy will grow
despite fervent obeisance
soul fully do I futilely bellow
worse fate than death
i.e. gulag archipelago
feebly decrying, lamenting,
lamely pleading against
bleak unfair in apropos
sentence never granted furlough
never to witness celestial amarillo
beatific, cathartic, fantastic...,
nor chase gold pot end of rainbow
all pleasant dreams, I must forego
seek neither fame nor glory hobo
content whiling away (Billy me)
idolized time solitary Homo
sapien re: me tortured afterlife
enslaved forever guilty "fake" pharaoh
moans... suddenly joyous tears flow
aforementioned psychedelic mashup
figment of imagination - psycho
illogical gallimaufry, hallucinatory,
and illusory expo
attempt lame analogy how I wallow,
when setting sail
to launch crafted poe
whim, whereby invisible
battle scars attest
successful amphibious ambition
inundated battling lightspeed tempo
competing ideas exhaust
thus, I seek comfort of
soft cloud like pillow!
Searching the night for the demons that ride in silent screams,
Behind the veil of shadows full of several levels of images like dreams.
Asleep in my wake, aware of what's inside my cerebellum cortex,
Is another realm of deities that explode out this side of the vortex.
A memory of deformities, twisted mind of the inner dementions,
The cruel entities of mental torture with brutal malicious intentions.
Created by mistake, this abominable side of hell,
Leaving mortal fragments of delusions locked away in this shell.
My way, my will, my black's blacker than the solitude of Shoel,
Always, in all ways of manifestations in total f*cking control.
Morning stands up like giant in front of me, and the dogs are running like wild goose in the street, the sun is out in full force and the trees are waving in the breeze without a doubt, nothing dynamics is happening, and I feel the hunger for a good rhythm; families are torn apart and the children are left scrambling in the dark. I have searched high and low for another song to sing, but I just could not find the right rhythm.
I sat over the keyboard all night, but my imagination puts up a stubborn fight; and so I took a walk in the pitch black night, and alas the universe was asleep, and for the first time I could feel my spirit weep, for the souls trapped in the deep dying to get out, so they roam the open ground and wander around the fountain in the city, trying to make the world happy. But one man in his time must change the plan and go all the way out in the land and when the dialogue won’t do, the bullets and the guns will see you through.
You have one foot in and one foot out, but you must clear away all the doubt; you must storm the earth by surprise and evoke the living and the dead sacrifice. There is no more time to play around, and you must turn the galaxy around; there is no crown or big gowns waiting for you and nice words cannot do. You must change the plan to move along on the land. The British have the best sea men, and you must work with them to get the operation to heaven.
The global economy is feeling the strain, and you must take precise actions to end the naval games. You have to go all the way in and commit an abominable sin. There comes a time when the plates must turn down, so that the universe can move around.
Many more will die and many more will have to cry, many more will live in the street, until the mission is complete. If negotiation doesn't work, you have to get the bulldozer and start digging up dirt. The situation room is waiting for you, and the general will tell you wat to do.
You must end the stalemate and crush the head of the snake that is lurking around the gate. Open the gate and pour out the sour wine and nature will thrust them to their knees, and the mission will abruptly complete.
Open the canal and let the static water flow.
I find it humorous how folks like to say, "multicultural",
Multicultural is a very safe euphemism,
For it euphemizes mass incarceration and exploitation.
It enables organizations to create one slot for any brown, yellow, or red character
and call themselves "progressive".
Meanwhile we brown, yellow, red, and black, fight like dogs for their approval.
Well I say, their approval is of little consequence, for it is God that they must
ultimately answer.
And God sees all.
Black People, Black Queers, Black Rape Victims, are not multicultural.
We did not come here with hope, we came here in bondage and have been in
bondage ever since!
How many times must I listen to so called allies say, "But what about the
Vietnamese, for they have issues too?"
As if it should be my added burden to make sense of their problems?
My people built this nation plain and simple.
They worked for no wages and built the foundation for American prosperity.
And now "progressive" liberals think that they can grasp this experience?
How I ask you?
How can they know?
As they struggle to empathize from their rooftops.
From rooftops all people look the same.
It is only from the street that one can grasp the nuances.
Black women are not multicultural.
They are the recipients of an abominable legacy of injustice which continues ad-
nauseum.
I challenge anyone who thinks they understand, to humble themselves and
finally deign to ask me for my opinion.
For I have lived the hell of miscegenation! And the sodomy of emasculated
voices in alliances on this and that.
And even as you read this, your minds are too numb to grasp the full measure of
its venom.
And still, God loves me too.
Venom and all.
For God is not afraid of the requeim that awaits us.
No God is not afraid at all.
You may not tend to believe me
Perhaps you’ll start to suddenly
Put your logic up on a shelf
Open your mind and let yourself
See things you never dared to see
The year here was 1901
An unknown battle had begun
No news on any TV show
Or Orson on the radio
Records hid, history undone
Bored of the Loch, Nessie came first
From below in the depths, she burst
Icy shards and chill waters flood
And a new taste for Yeti blood
What an abominable thirst
But Yeti was ready for her
Hiding in snow with camo fur
An ambush teamed up with Sasquatch
They tried to take it up a notch
She knew these two were amateur
Nessie had backup too you know
Have you met the Ogopogo?
The hairy duo past their prime
Put their BIG foot in it this time
Until swooped in a flying foe
The Mothman taking up the skies
Could anybody prophesize?
Even he began to pucker
When came the fabled goat-sucker
With Chupacabra laser eyes!
They battled on, these beasts of lore
A great and magic cryptid war!
No end with all sides immortal
Then they fought right through a portal!
One witness left shook to the core
Well that was me, I swear it’s true
After they vanished, no one knew
When they’d come back, or even where
If it had been you standing there,
Then the believer would be you.
June 14, 2022
Tall Tales 3: Quintilla Fantasy Fiction Poetry Contest
Sponsered by: Jeff Kyser