Long Abrasions Poems
Long Abrasions Poems. Below are the most popular long Abrasions by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Abrasions poems by poem length and keyword.
A rhyming thank you written in verse
To the wonderful women and men who work as a nurse
They do so much more than just first aid
Considering their responsibility they should be better paid
They assist in the process of creation
They are even responsible for drug calculation
In crisis situations they aid in evacuation
Nurses need to be treated better across the whole nation
They are faced with the challenge of an ageing population
They work overseas and help the poor
For those incapacitated they come to the door
They are on the front line during times of war
They have a duty of care legislated by law
On a daily basis they are faced with death
They are with a patient for their last breath
They work long hours without adequate pay
They face trauma and grief day by day
They have to work at a rapid pace
Often having to rush from place to place
Due to cutbacks they are often short of staff
In some areas staffing is less than half
Our healthcare system is in a state of demise
C’mon you politicians give nurses a pay rise
They deal with patients who are disorderly or wild
They provide comfort to parents of a child
They encounter various problems with people’s health
They don’t discriminate the poor or those with wealth
They assist in the prevention or destruction of disease
They are expected by some to do this with ease
They are ordinary people doing extraordinary acts
Don’t question them unless you know all of the facts
They deal with issues that cause stress
They treat patients who are in distress
They deal with patients who want to fight
They deal with patients who sometimes bite
They help patients who are deaf or without sight
They work seven days a week both day and night
They assist a patient who has lost their mind
Their mannerisms are generally pleasant and kind
Only recently have they been given reasonable superannuation
The government must do more and increase remuneration
They are highly educated, instructed and trained
When facing trauma their uniforms can get blood stained
They deal with cuts, abrasions and breaks
Constantly they have to avoid making mistakes
Nurses without a doubt do a wonderful job
They are the blood supply that keeps our hearts a throb
I am so proud that I have a sister who is a nurse
To you my sister and your peers I give you this verse
4/22/17
No intentions of being misleading
Could go by bleeding
Is one way of leaving
As the heart stops beating
And the lungs stop breathing
Also could be caused from exsanguination
Across a pagan nation
Could go by strangulation
Which'll cause and make abrasions
With no intentions of making a statement
Pulse rapid then slowing
Could go by overdosing
Knowing
It comes with the risk of choking
Could go
While on the road
Or in your own home
You just never know
The voices calling
On any side of the walling
Could go by falling
The outcome would be appalling
Yet enthralling
Like something never before seen, or only in a drawing
Above the Earth's layers
Could go by the might of Mother Nature
Whether your on land or in a ship as a sailor
The odds just may not go in your favor
Sooner than later
The sight of even greater danger
Among objects that are inanimate
Could go by accident
Tragic and just about as bad as it gets
Near and far from any waters with halibut
Only an earthling
Could go by burning
With zero chance of returning
Might be considered disturbing
But there are technically worse things
No guarantees
Could go by disease
Anywhere, not just by the seas
Or any trees and leaves
Whether your a kid, teen
Or ninety three
Regardless of if it involves being annointed
It's been one heck of a voyage
Could go by poison
Which could be quick or miserable and far from joysome
I'll tell you what it wouldn't taste anything like Hoisin
And like usual fingers would probably get pointed
Due to one too many mistakes
Could go up in space
On a ship or base
At a slow or rapid pace
Whether or not the pulse began to race
All of us are fallible
Could go by getting eaten by a cannibal
Or some kind of animal
Whether or not their claws are retractable
Nobodies laughing
Could go by crashing
Whether or not it's your fault, still come the sirens and lights flashing
Like they say nothing is truly everlasting
Before during or after nine
Could go due to it being my time
Which would be fine
And rather benign
Except that I need to finish this rhyme
By: Dalton Ogletree
Pt. 2
with her a tray of stack flapjacks, crisp bacon, and a foam cup filled to the rim with apple juice. I remember that she came once before, and I was glad to see her again. Her face was without concerning lines, and she had a pleasant aura about her.
I was exceedingly voracious, and so she didn't need to encourage me to eat.
She too disappeared through the steel portal, but this time dolly and I followed her.
On the other side , there were large and small numerous forms of peculiarity.
The brightness of the sun penetrated through a large window and freely occupy the rooms.
The populace was shepherd by stiff characters.
Dolly and I felt out of sort, yet flashes of memories of this place stole into my encephalon.
One of the stiff characters rushed towards me and ushered me to another large peculiar room. I was frail against her strength. She placed dolly in a wet chair in the room. Dolly gazed at the floor, and I could not see the pain in her face, but felt her misery.
The stiff character, who had the shape of an immense melon, removed my clothes and shoved me under a shower head. The pressure of the tepid water soothed the long raw abrasions on my body, in which I had no memories of how they came about.
With fresh raiment and dolly in my arms, I felt anew and I willingly let the stiff character lead me back into the population. With the stiff character at my side , I walked the grounds and fed the geese that waddled onto the thick lawn. Greedily I inhaled the scents of magnolia trees and azalea bushes.
The events of the day were quick and hearty meals. The tear of the day came when I was swept back into her world.
*****
I clawed at my arms and struggle against the unwanted phantom of my despair.
He called himself my originator, the ruler of my existence, and he proved his power over me routinely. I am ignorant to the start and the reason of his savage encroachment of my body and mind.
As far as I can remember this world that I lived in has been an eternity.
Sgt. Bedlam of heavy artillery reporting sir
Bedlam I want you to pick the runt of the litter
and turn him into an agent assassin
with the clandestine power of hypnotism
yes Generalissimo I am here to obey
decked out like a burlesque revue warlord
his Mauser cigar lighter on his belt
a curlicue mustache and a pie tin helmet
Opal his opium fiend gun moll squirming in his lap
was our Generalissimo
Bedlam weighed the coming abrasions
concluded we are our scars and furthermore
if adaptation is survival so is parasitism
cleared his throat noisily and bowed an exit
later that fate laden candle lit night
he made a deep study of his globes and charts
Europa Asia Oceana the Steppes the Savannah
the Scorched Hills of Malibu
a map addict re-educated in the cleanup of '89
his bell-shaped curve insisted love me
server and served a beautiful thing
if one enjoyed giant jungle arachnids and leeches
and centipedes that crawl up your butt
to lay millions of eggs when you sleep
where the laws of physics become
a tumbling burbling retinal stew
geysering steam and sulfur and mud and
where was I oh yah
yet a thing of beauty was Opal to Bedlam
he heard scratching and purring at the door
it was she incognito in an iguana skin
we must escape this hideous circus of shame
she coo coo rooed as her tongue dove into
the holy fissure in his brain
and he threw caution to the feral hogs
forgetting good posture he oozed upon Opal
I bet you think you make your own decisions
she cloyed and again he tossed caution
into a cauldron of grunting mammalian rut
for several hours perhaps the entire weekend
it's easy to rewire a human
you just give them a little epiphany
and bingo ownership
his hypnotic gambit paid off in ducats
the Generalissimo slept like a corpse
the pet centipedes concluded their labors
his ex-kingdom rejoiced at their new liberty
and that's anarchy for ya
From "Engine of Didactic Beauty" available on Amazon
Artist Portfolio: http://walteralter.byethost32.com/
I fall a raindrop from stratus to stratum
birthed from clouds pregnant with thunder
a lion’s roar —a pride in the sky— fierce!
armed with lightning’s rip and slit
the scythe of claw and tooth finds its prey
knifing sunset’s skin desecrating cranberry rays
it’s red demise fills my see-through-eyes
Sun’s canvas shredded
I fall through tattered pages of watercolor-layers
accumulating dust and blood of the slayed day
I arrive not a predator but a peace-maker
my raiment fleece of lamb not mane of beast
I come to rest
a drop of rain who clings to a windowpane
… translucence transforms me
inside a room I see myself with my possession-pain
a swaddle-bundle I rock to soothe
pain held against my breast like a newborn
crying to be fed
nurtured with lemon-squeezed tears
and sticky sick-sweet milk of revenge
my fingertips trace my descent down the glass
I pray not to let the dark moon be my doom
I know myself like turmoil-seas know the shore
let the salt-sea’s seethe meet still grains of sand
abrasions cleanse one of crime and grime
I know myself like the night knows the morn
let the night be a knight
and capture rapture with light-swords of dawn
I know myself
the games I played with leather fringe and lace
his Marlboro face the Moët taste
the magnet attraction pulled my limbs apart
I am a tear liberated from the storm
free to fall free to fall oh I had to fall so far to be free
fall from heights where lust-wishes glisten
slip the stardust handcuffs
fall from nimbus find the limbus of self and soul
find a way to rise above black seams
and wanton scenes of my scream-dreams
translucence transforms me
I let go of the windowpane
and die to myself casting off pleasure of pain and sin
I fall to silent-sister soil inhaled to be exhaled
on dizzy wind-whimsy-warmth of first light
I fall a new drop of dew wet with sky light
as I bear Love's cross like a white lotus bears its muddy birth
The once magnificent garden had become a paradise of weeds towering high
Ragwort and dandelion shedding their seeds took over the lonely asylum
Rakes shears shovels and secateurs rested where Tim had left them to dwell
Mocking and taunting stinging nettles and thistles covered lost fallow ground
A pair of torn mouldy gloves saw out what remained from their glorious toil
Lawn mower broken leaking passion and oil onto a blunt brush cutter’s blade
The earth worms and termites were fine with it for they needed no help
Planks of wood assembled for building a den sheltered rotten remains as
Tim spread his sorrow in undergrowth of pain overwhelmed in sadness
Ants had a field day as they licked empty tears and traced a rancorous path
Birds feasted on ripe fruit sprung upon bees licking nectar and honey
Clouds shielded demise and even the milky way appeared rancid and foul
A single rose had survived scratchy and thorny in need of pruning and care
One prune dangled seductively as soon as Tim looked into a Fairy Queens’ smile
‘I am your soulmate in waiting’ and ignited like tinder he gave her the plum
‘My calls for a Prince willing to present me with yew have been answered’
As soul transferred onto soul they merged and smelled fragrance of musk
From either side of the rose bush they reached out and from where spikes
Inscribed scrapes and grooves into fragile parched minds handing out
Resurrection and union mingling with hurt blood scuffs and abrasions
Tattooed the message of faith hope and kindness in the shape of one heart
They still bear the scars and kept thistles and nettles as a soothing reminder
That true love survives suffering and surrender is sweeter when shared
09th June 2019
1..A rusty door-nail leaks a drying crust.
2..The taint of copper pennies.
3.Salt licking the scars of the unhealed.
4..A sunset burning dry corn.
5.Eyes bruised by anger.
6.Lips cut by stinging words.
7.Money burning holes in red letter days.
8.A fledglings mouth bleeding hunger.
9.The abrasions of fiery passions.
10.The plasma of inflamed desires.
11. Poinsettia’s in a snow storm.
12. Droplets of deep regret.
13. Squashed cherries, red berries, and ladybugs.
14. Clawing finger-nails.
15. A surgeons restless dreams.
16. Iron oxide in ferrous rocks.
17. A bull, a matador, and a slashing fear.
18. The breath of a bucking bronco.
19. Poppies thriving on a battlefield..
20. The face-paint of warriors
21. The face paint of the murdered.
22. The skull stomping feet of Kali.
23. Daily pinpricks.
24. A wet dagger in the dark.
25. Prints in a crime scene.
26. The blushed snorts of a wounded deer.
27. The prayers of a sorcerer.
28. Hands washing away guilt.
29. The chaotic splatter of magic.
30. A thought tied to revenge.
31. The spurts of feeding frenzies.
32. Gills caught in unbreathable air.
33. The dark secrets of vino veritas.
34. Rubies bathed by candle light.
35. An aroused areola and nipple.
36. The pulse of a ********.
37. Sandstone at sunset.
38. The nightshade luster of tomato skins.
39. A bad moon rising.
40. The froth and suds of a punctured lung.
41. The tears of a Sufi poem.
42. Menstrual flow in the time of the moon.
43. The eyes of a night hunting cats.
44. A mime artists poking a tongue.
45. The lining of a dictators coffin.
46. The simmering heat of fevers.
47. Reflections in a sleepless eye.
48. The body heat of love.
49. Birth and the open womb.
50. The end and beginning of all that live.
Tim had entered the state of a corpse while
the chorus assaulting his purulent soul festered
Callouses on his corpus callosum pretended
there was no connection just chaos exhumed
Corpuscles splattered astray ice in his vessels
in the same vein of demise as so often before
He stood at the pons dissected in cerebellar
disconnection nauseous detached from brain’s stem
A sequence of rapid succession seceded left overs
Hailstorms of concussion hailed hell freezing over
Snow gathered fast only that the crystals were black
Thunder and lightning electrocuted his passions
A squall out of nowhere invited rapidly raging squalor
Violent tempest arrested in sunken emotions
Blistering blizzards invaded the shelter of survival
Flooded with emptiness he crouched in the corner
of his neuro-toxified mind complicit of oblivion
He had tried the loneliness of a desolate desert
but then sand storms seeped through his pores
poured increasing abrasions towards ashes from dust
A vicious assault broke all defences’ containment
as he listened to the dispatch of an exploding skull
Caustic corrosion dangled from sockets of blinding sight
Tim attempted to drown himself at the oasis only
to find the mirage dispersing convoluted conclusion
But whirl winds returned him to the point of departure
He lingered at the crux of pontificated bridges
crucifix in hand and resolved to jump from the past
Ready to escape from judgement he stumbled and
fortunately the overpass had collapsed due to the storms
Faced with the murky slate of destruction he
gathered the debris and waited for fate to abate
04th October 2018
About Pain
What is pain, how does it hurt?
Do you know, would you know?
Life begins with pain, for someone else.
Eventually finding its way to everyone else.
Existing in our existence, intertwined,
varyingly guised in its approach.
Bruises to abrasions. lacerations to gashes.
Trauma is just one of its varying fashions.
Love, betrayal, family and friends.
Social deconstruction of personal intimacies,
another chamelic masterdom.
Depression, psychosis, internal stressors
of the mind.
Psychological stability unbalanced by this
cloaked marauder.
Belief, faith, value and dignity.
The fabric of the soul unwoven by this
camouflaged assailant.
This omnipresent, omnipotent, indiscriminate,
superfluous, hunter of happiness.
Waiting, lurking, like a predator in the brush.
Salivating, to devour all aspects of life.
So that even in death, someone else
feels pain.
I remember as a young child,
sitting on the stone steps
of my South Philadelphia
neighborhood,
Inquisitively witnessing
the massive amounts
of scattered debris,
sprinkled across
the concrete sidewalks
& black asphalt streets...
Like a nuclear waste site
of embittered souls in retreat,
from something I had yet to really meet,
but what interested me
was the clear
& dark
& brown
& green
empty broken bottles that seemed
to create its own dangerous art form,
that spelled lacerations & abrasions...
upon our beautiful African skin tones...
when we tripped & fell
against the portraits frail details,
which were once completely filled
bottles of bubbly ginger ale...
& Pepsi
& coca-colas
& mountain dews
& doctor peppers,
that seemed to capture
the juicy flavored dreams
& lives magnified inside,
the revealing glass receptacles
of thirst quenching desires...
Now guzzled up
by the romantic mirage of life,
where many had not become recycled
and was savagely tossed like dice...
shattering onto inner city floors
now called ghettos
& hoods
& boroughs
landing in tar & concrete crevices
like too many needles in a hay stack,
fragmented, kicked & ravaged -
but not unnoticed...
because, now whenever I am
walking down my block thinking about
my next moves to empowerment,
something slightly glitters
from within the dark
sparking peripheral vision -
sharply piercing my eyes to notice;
and I am reminded of all
the shattered lives, that lie
parallel amongst the debris
of all these broken bottles...
Ray X. Johnson 5/18/99