Long Abrogate Poems
Long Abrogate Poems. Below are the most popular long Abrogate by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Abrogate poems by poem length and keyword.
The Carnivore Within...
Meaty morsels besiege
this vegetarian advocate
yet, the atavistic Jainist within me decries,
egg hen hies his, and lamb hence
carnivorous ache that won't abate
case in point being on the horns
hoof ah dill ham ma, neither willing,
nor ready to abdicate
nagging, succumbing, and writhing,
asper Pavlov's dog salivation,
Ike hen not obliterate
every now and again curr raven
hunger for game, though aye abominate
hone beak able unethical abuse
delivered sans electric ham not prod,
nor pleased, when yours truly doe eth abrogate
his staunch conviction against
merciless maltreatment of animals
which doth exhaust and accelerate
environmental degradation, and realized
moo mints agoo, a temptation did accentuate
bull dozing tenuous die hard longing,
how quickly temptation,
recidivism, and predilection to accommodate,
and appease feeling mouth watering za eel
for ma ham mulls hamstrung taste, I did acclimate
and acquire ineradicable taste primal beastie boys
relished after the hunt squatting by flick ring fire
with other village people
tearing killed deer - if accurate,
nonetheless a grievance
(akin to heresy) as a traitor
Joe against fundamental aversion to reactivate
cow hard lee self betrayal caving against tenets
regarding aversion to the very business
of slaughter (houses), and I eve hen advocate
against gluten free NON GMO free ranging
creatures, who can experience pain
and suffering, some display affectionate
behaviour, plus without doubt agitate
without success to savor natural longevity,
perhaps becoming family pet,
whose tender loving (vittle) care will not alienate
said domesticated innocent
porpoise full chums
hoof found a caring home, articulate
ting compassion, tha hare fore,
a conscientious baldpate
or hirsute organic caretaker,
would neigh ver deer stirrup the roost
ruffle any tail feathers, only celebrate
affection, and mane lee horse around!
In youth's frantic clutches
Addicted to vapid touches
Love children spawned in shaded hutches
Existing on euphoric highs, painless crutches
In middle age, lust morphed into longing
Spent body in static sphere now belonging
Neglected prodigy seeking shelter in availing arms
Licentious, pretentious friends fled in swarms
Sins of youth girdle my deserted gates
Promiscuous flings my esteem deflates
Rebellious children their fealty abrogate
Venal lovers rue my chaster estate
In deep morass, my withered soul equivocates
Bridging divide of self pity, butressing hope inflates
Then residual pain with due penance heart conflates
Seeking self forgiveness; from others proffering rebates
Healing balm of inner resolve soothes empty soul
To wayward children unconditional love tendered not in
part but whole
To fair weather friends only distant compassion will dole
Forthrightly, to bring uplifting, sharing friends into my
foal
In a small stretch of tempo, I forgot your fame.
In a small stretch of tempo, I forgot your name.
In a small stretch of tempo, I forgot about the inauspicious and piteous moths that were attracted to your irresistible flame.
In a small stretch of tempo, I forgot to abrogate your lovers game.
In a small stretch of tempo, in the delay of my deliberated falseness, in my delay of barefacedness, infused by fierce streams of atrocious schemes, and baleful dreams.
In a small stretch of tempo, I was captured by you.
In a small stretch of tempo, the old had no power to cut into the new, from a small sum of time you sieged my body, permeating it, filling up spaces, touching barren places, erupting bridled desires, causing seismic waves of pleasure with; intense and faultless measure. In your arms and while my head rested against the swell of your chest, I inhale voraciously the sweet smell of your beautiful sculpted body.
At rest in an intoxicated mindset, I felt abundantly content; a perfect segment from my antecedent shameless intent.
In a small stretch of tempo, like the break of day and a timely resurgence of a nimble mind I realized that through the dull substance of flesh and encephalon, I did not adequately measure the art of your scope. With newfound hope, and like the hands of a clock swiftly pasting the minutes across its face, I put my plans back into place
Looking At The Light From The Bottom Of The Lake, copyrighted 2017
No secret the Don did abrogate,
his strict ban barring employees to acclimate
themselves, to live within United States
legal tender, and accommodate
themselves comfortably anonymous,
though "NOT FAKE," but accurate
reliable, trustworthy, et cetera
resources who did activate
my awareness, his hired hands receive adequate
pay, (perhaps greater than minimum wage),
despite the fact he does vehemently administrate,
adulterate presidential decrees, and thus
passively advocate, those supposed:
intruders, marauders, and pillagers
(rapists thrown in for good measure),
thus being party to affiliate
with contrary doctrine makes
him more than a flagrant hypocrite
since such migrant fiasco does aggravate
me as well as innocent lives that aggregate
within a country, whose motto rather than alienate
purportedly offered sanctuary:
"Give me your tired, your poor,
your huddled masses
yearning to breathe free, the wretched refuse
of your teeming shore."
No excessive effort needed to insulate,
expedite and ameliorate
the woeful plight of ordinary peoples,
whose culture club, those very
governments aim to annihilate
driving a figurative wedge (gee),
I decided to annunciate
(a spurious whim), and suspensefully anticipate
if affection toward asylum seekers will arise
decrying duplicitous action (exhibited by
commander in chief), undoubtedly
other citizens do not appreciate
(minus the bajillion dollars purposelessly
allocated to erect a skyhigh wall,
when more humanely appropriate
measures beg attention at
less expense I aver and approximate
and avoid unfairly incriminating, but to arbitrate
(with some degree of justice) pitted
toward migrants flagrant human rights violation,
those in power arrogate,
and wield for the luxury, exploitation and convenience
of those wealth mongers, who fail to articulate,
how when families got rent asunder fallout does asphyxiate
the human species in toto (including
Dorothy, Cowardly Lion, Tin man and Straw man).
Embracing Poetry
Freedom on the lam, where the poet sings
To hearts that are imprisoned against their will,
Inspires the bereaved mind to spring to life
And uplifts hearts to bloom and burst liberated
When the pain of incarceration ceases.
“Gloria excelsis” in the world.
Frolic away, poet, and tell the world,
Encouraging bosoms to join in song,
Birthing new beginnings where weed growth ceases;
And let fresh hope generate unfalt'ring wills
Smothered with deeds abounding with liberties;
Death is certain, but poetry is life.
Martyrs forced into cages forfeit their lives
While conquerors plant flags around the world,
Stealing wealth, and curtailing liberties,
And muzzling the lips of those who would sing
Of freedom’s great joy without broken will,
With gladness boasting liberty’s song ceaselessly.
Were I to stretch the cage’s bars ‘til strength ceased
And purge authority aspersing my life
And mock their failure to immure my will,
As I sail poetic rhymes in the world
With hearts of fellow poets yearning to sing
Vociferously with new liberties.
But destiny’s path squashes liberty,
And lungs collapse when inflation ceases.
If evil is not rebuffed, who will sing the babe
To sleep with dreams of a future life obtained
Through sacrifices for Erato’s world,
Inheriting bold character and will?
Still, they rehearse scripts to truncate my will
With mulct and abrogate my liberty,
But not you, dear poet. Nix not of this world,
Whose toes skip over bloomed fields while mine cease
To dance in delight to the verse of life—
Ill speak they your name, forbidding me to sing.
Ere my will dims, indulge me with a song
Describing life’s passion for liberty;
Let my heartbeat cease in joy from the world.
***
Notes:
Gloria excelsis (Latin): Glory in the highest.
Erato: muse (Greek mythology) of lyric and poetry.
Urania: muse (Greek mythology) of music, song, and dance.
Faraway in an unknown
Unknown distant land
Land she sleeps
And wake all alone
All alone she lives
Lives and waits
Waits for me to come
Waits for me to come
Come take her to be
mine.
Every morning
In that faraway
Distant and unknown
land
She sings and sweeps
Like the African Woman
she is!
...Inside her
Is my child
Yet unborn...
It is to you
My unborn child
That this address is to...
...My child
Whenever, Wherever
and Whichever
Way you choose to come
Into this world
May you meet this as a
gift
From me to you!!!
...I am your father
Pride you are to me
See you not I may
And see you I may
But let it ring down in
you
That a pride to me
You are...
...This world you are
Coming into
Is a ugly beautiful place
A hopefully hopeless city
A beautiful city
With ugly villages
Which houses men
Of different varied
intents
And women
Whose animalistic
innerlings
Are covered with
glowing skins
And ready made
garments!!!
...I had done my part
My part to bring you
hither
And leave for you
A lot of deeds
Both good and not too
good
Also bad and not too
bad.
I had done my part
To bring you hither
In the best vessel
around!
And grow will you
In this truly wicked
world
To be nice and
righteous
Till you strive and
strive
To make it
Better than you met it...
Just like I
Your father...
...You know me not
My unborn child
But my news you hear
From that which is your
carrier
Of the too many bads
That I did
And of too few goods
That by me are done.
Struggle! Struggle!!
My dear Unborn Child
To better my deeds
And better your lots
For the betterment of
the world!...
...Though it be cruel to
you
Fight to abrogate
cruelity
Though it be ugly to you
Struggle to promote
beauty
Though it be a hell for
you
Endeavour to create a
heaven in it.
...For the world
Is always not what
It seem to be
And in it
Nothing remains as it is
For so long a time
Like Mariama Ba's
Long Letter!...
...So my dear child
Learn from my story
Avoid my pitfalls
Use my strengths
Understand my
weaknesses
And drink from my
wisdom pot
And it shall better you...
...For...
You are
My Unborn Child...
Regardless of the ever slow and piercing passage of more than two centuries, her sapphire eyes still remain encrusted in my memory, like precious gems on an ancient fallen crown.
Only fractures and scars remain of the come-and-go parades of fabricated love, which served only as the ground to sow the seeds of my own desolation.
Like a hand grasping thorns, is the stigma of knowing the punishment of her absence has not yet ended, and that I again, will not have in this life her guidance, her light and presence.
Images flecked with dust twirl in my mind, to the rhythm of the arrhythmia of my eternally consternated heart.
As if conspiring, time managed to abrogate all its forgiving powers and magical healing, although I admit that the constant remembering of her love, like a refreshing ever flowing brook, has always been the very best of every day in each life, briefly relieving my withered and shattered spirit.
Losing myself in the memory of the thousand details of her Venus like beauty, gives me life, flares up my senses and wafts me through the swirling smoke of hours burnt.
Clinging on passionately and frantically to the memory of the essence of her loving way, I am momentarily able to perceive this empty world, as paradise.
I miss the way her soul breathed, and how every time it gently approached mine, I´d be engulfed by the violet halo of her auric light, taking me to heaven here on earth.
I remember the glory embodied in her poised grin, as she realized how I became bewitched when she described with her mellifluous voice, details of the impossible love she felt for me.
I miss her intriguing yearning for the science of the pneuma, and the amazing knowledge she possessed about the laws that rule the merging of souls. She taught me that love conceived thus, is the only force that governs and transcends the infinite, inheriting the power to enrich life wherever it may be.
I miss her intense urge to make me a better person, despite knowing just how difficult it would be.
An unforgivable mistake from my part, left her without option, forcing her to remove me from the magnificence of her life, leaving me adrift between the jaws of the three mysteries of time, and into the hands of living death.
Rest thyself weary traveler, enter into my welcoming gate.
Tarry a while, may thy wearisome burdens time abrogate.
Sit with me, tell me of thy arduous and itinerant bourne,
And of the many roads thy feet have trod, paths now well worn!
Sup with me, partake of my bread and effervescent wine,
That for this moment in time our souls may intertwine,
Sharing food for thought, musing upon ideals to which we aspire.
May lofty reflections flow from us that others we may inspire!
Share the exhilaration of the towering mounts thou hast scaled,
And the depression of valleys in which ye sensed ye failed.
Of sere deserts where sheer determination dwelt midst thy entourage,
Facing disappointment as ye strove for that elusive verdant mirage!
Share with me the perils ye suffered upon the raging seas,
And the calming of the waves by God in answer to your pleas.
Ye hath borne with grace the vicissitudes of life, that I can see.
I am truly blessed by the time I have spent with thee!
Many are the bold adventures thou has beheld in thy days.
Would'st not thee now shed thy rambling vagabond ways,
And linger a while longer to fill my being with eternal hope,
To impart thy wisdom that my soul with life can better cope?
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(© All Rights Reserved)
Seedier media’s spewed a lot of late
Crude is all about lewd Bazball’s fate
Ben eschewed then stewed had to wait
On Stokes & ECB feud did concentrate
A tomfoolery catapult at a summer fete
Deranged but change won’t contemplate
Glummer fans can berate but no debate
Won’t halt dumber all out assault template
Fawn this new dawn to thrill will facilitate
Once did reinvigorate now does agitate
Ban this bland brand just a T20 ingratiate
Test tragics thirst perverse curse won’t sate
Hiss Brook took the piss & will aggravate
Ben we no longer trust and must castigate
When he then lost his zen & did denigrate
His men & all the plaudits he did generate
As Test cricket’s saviour we didn’t hesitate
Defending best sort of our sport appreciate
Stopping unwise franchise rise we participate
Tests out of date follow a reprobate mandate
Cogitate let's all just trust Bazball & meditate
New chapter couldn't create must abbreviate
Lust did rust so deviate to your ego capitulate
Ben did abrogate before he then did abdicate
You bled said in red Tests would emancipate
New autobiography a publisher did ingratiate
Was a helluva scheme to your team castrate
Then on Test cricket you literally did defecate
From embers lets remember when did venerate
Rule of cool cats & sexy sultry strut of their gait
We did anticipate how they did titillate & titivate
In the thrall of the gall as Bazball did captivate
Is this the future of Test cricket we did ruminate
Rid of Covid new bid to stop the skid scintillate
Calling card is freeing the old guard to salivate
Enjoy the game again as wins did demonstrate
The swagger turned to stagger did defenestrate
Of course horse bolted.. before closed the gate
We’re entertainers the reason they did extenuate
Facts and their foolhardy acts will still repudiate
Our chagrin as on seriously thin ice they do skate
The plain disdain for the WTC did really infuriate
England is in such a state has enough on its plate
From the ruins nothing to excavate as we excoriate
But blunder here and down under won't exonerate
Uncouth truth can’t be hid from livid fans who hate
Bazball gesticulate just a cheap buzz like amyl nitrate
He stared at the pictures,
faces of the love searchers,
twenty first century wanted posters,
scanning their rewards,
nothing pecuniary ,
preliminary,
maybe,
move on.
“Shall I advertise myself,” he thought,
no one appears sold or bought,
given to the mass,
on a screen of glass,
the physical hidden,
abrogate madness in description,
we are all still strangers,
with keyboards,
watching screens.
Laptop lap dance dreaming,
muscles screaming,
from the primal theatre,
soul said rise,
clearing eyes,
bleary plasma vision clearing,
fresh air endearing,
left behind the digital desert,
went out to speak,
parched vocal chords starved,
thirsting for voice.
No dust on the keyboard,
he moved away in dead skin’s storm,
hunched and wild,
hair hung lank and ragged,
bedraggled wardrobe on blood and bone’s frame,
almost lame he walks,
to the shower stalks,
water staving off the slaughter,
the hot water,
a dream of cascading falls,
at his feet the last days drowned,
washed to the sewer,
where screen days live,
blending easily;
with battered shopping trolleys & ****.
He dressed slowly,
went to his front door,
where the mirror smiled,
I remember you,
you once passed by often,
don’t be a stranger,
I’d rather see you leaving,
twisted contradictions of a mirror’s perspective,
not because you’re ugly,
because you’re beautiful,
and you shouldn’t be here with only me,
he laughed and said goodbye,
fresh air and light,
a missing intoxication,
he drank deeply;
walking to bid the strangers hello...
©David Nickle Read2015
All Rights Reserved By The Author