Long Abscess Poems

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


Premium Member Root Canal

The Paying (I wish) Public marvels
at what comes out: those explosive, star-spangled
phrases and melodies (the few times I get it right);
but what of the great-real that went in, the life-struggles, 
the tears, the soul-smothering isolation – not to forget
the little left of me, squirming squiggly, imprisoned
with the many nameless, sparsely filled, crumpled-up 
white-pulp battlefields in the wastebasket – my inky piles of bones – 
clawed-out guts (the years of painful extraction, 
likened to going to the dentist, then being told, that I have a serious abscess, 
needing an immediate Root Canal, though unfortunately 
Covid has prevented our delivery of anesthetic)...

Oh well, here goes again:

Roses are red – so is a poet's blood;

The moon strings silvery, strum-able beams – 
myself too busy to play them, running on a
treadmill, going nowhere, in my Write-blocked-nightmare, 
ominously pulled from words my stalled mind should be chasing...

So, my Love (Poetry), she does
and she does not – till one
mightily fit for publication:)


Premium Member The Kiss That Never Was Ver 2

Entwined in a lovers sweat
Passions sated, as a cool breeze 
Brings in the scent of the night
Tongues tasting of wine, fully satisfied

Eternal happiness, could this be?
Or should I run under gloomy tormented skies?
Hand in hand we traveled, across the fields of love
Into historié 

Sur le pont d’Avignon
We danced the night away
Round and round did we go
Our love fell into the Rhone

Devotion seemed a certainty
Love was passions muse
Broken, life fell in the abscess of my demise
All I truly desired, left sur le pont

The battle of Avignon left me defeated

As my memories fade, melancholy recalls to me

The kiss that never was

Meant to last

Seeker

the land is filled with an abscess of abhorrent disembodied souls 
and their bleats are heard through parallel dimensions in which they troll 

some stagnant in purgatory some waundering endlessly in search of a vessel to hold 
travelling the bottled neck passages of hades paying the fairyman's toll 

no bouqet of roses no arrangments of flowers
just remnants of cinder and ashes brought by the hours 

realities manifested by the thoughts in our minds 
alternate dimensions are possible with the construct of time 

comprehension is beyond the grasp of average intelligence 
disbelief has become dogmatic relevence

humans have adopted a bravado of ego and pride 
along with the blistering ignorance that coincides 

deceptive and manipulative voices like liquid water that drowns out reason 
a year without light and death has a season 

the balance is infiltrated and ying is greater than yang 
no resonance from speech just slurs from slang 

a twist of the words a serpents tongue 
a hiss is whats heard air from lungs

the breath of life forced out in a whisper 
and truth is manipulated by the tongue of the twisted 

before you open your eyes open your mind 
if you truly seek the truth than it is the truth you shall find
Form: Rhyme

The Tooth About Tooth

In the beginning there was tooth
One tooth and no other

Then about the time of Cane
According to the ancient text
Another tooth grew out of nothing
Similar to the chicken and the egg debate
but a different kind of debacle
Unsolved to this unholy day

About the mouth on the other side of it
Spoken but not said
Grew yet another tooth with teeth about
Destiny revealed three teeth in all
Called by name “teeth” from that day on 
Until they fell out of favor

The tooth about tooth is true
I saw it with my own two eyes
One tooth left, one on the other left
A center tooth in the center... That's right

Call it what you will between each other
A story, a non tooth debate, a fake

There were other teeth about the mouth
Some were quite sharp, biting, even tiny

This tooth was about pain, an abscess
In need of pulling at the moment      
With the absence of malice or malicious intent                           
Brought on by the ultimate sin of sugar indulgence
Decay came about but will not be tolerated

Tooth about tooth can be frightening too
Dentistry has come a long way these days
Given the ways of oral hygiene cleansing
Let us pray

By the intercession of angelic forces
Some teeth were saved
Let us pray

The one true tooth was doomed 
Decay set in on the chosen  root 
Nothing is worse than a cavity
Holes in the head are not holy 
Should not be empty or void

Children should not eat candy
Should not be consumed by truth
The tooth should be considered first

There was, is and always will be 
One true tooth to suffer through
The mouth knows what is coming 

About other teeth we can not vouch
But about the tooth about the center 
It is the one tooth that must come out
Extraction!.... Ouch!

The time of Cane has long passed
Nova-Cane has come at last, Amen
Form: Verse

Parochial Propensities Promote Personal Pet Peeve

Particularly pronounce abscess,
when rites of spring accursedness
prevails, asper testament, sans swell
scored psychological achiness
recording minecrafted history, 

viz secreting acridness
permeates profusely predicated puberty,
akin to ambling au naturale adulteress
plethora plush plumage plus perfume
presage prickly profuse inauspicious pre/

post pubescent and adult affectlessness
propensity poisons primary predilection
pummeling poking pillorying
perpetual purgatory with aggressiveness.

Now translated into bumpy
layman's/woman's terms, aye
communicate, albeit stylishly campy
adhering, colluding, and choppily try
trending without trademark obfuscation,
nonetheless, a feeble
attempt might still defy,

an honest to dog ambition to express
how blooming in the dales less
sons glee aware, how lovers press
lips close together, when yours truly
shuttered himself in bedroom
of boyhood home to cope with stress

thus denying, depriving,
and destroying bone
a fied hankering,
asper this pooch hood doth hone
ache, never to experience puppy love
til pooch later in life,
when he became at present

male version, sans crone
revisiting, reliving, and
reflecting being alone
without ever touching, savoring,
and rubbing smooth cheekbone
of a lass - see, this thy reason
Matthew Scott doth bemoan

observing young bucks,
who liberate kickstarter jangling hormone
he oozes with envy those whippersnappers
gathering rosebuds while they may intone

enjoyment, qua the vitality, virility, and victory
before youth fleetingly passes versus millstone
weighing heavier with each passing year
before the grim reaper doth phone!


Stimulant

Feeling I got so doubtless
Which absorb me as delicious
Which I belief one can't do sans
It has helped me a lot of times
Passion             for        progress
How would success comes one's means
Sans this feeling so immense
How would one pursue great things
Sans  this   feelings     so  immense  
Outweigh only inflicts mind and sense
Which might spit venomous abscess
As    the   Mozanbique    spits   its
Venom. I greedily read some poets
who their works seem voluptuous
As  cute stuffs in elegant dresses
Which often drag me to put more effects
Upon              my                  process
Passion is a stimulant that empowers or gears
A person toward great things
Of this Mother earth and of Holy place
However it depends on how its get one's hands.


9/8/2015



Note: for a person to have the right hand of the Might or the other, he needs passion to imitate either  HIS Prophets deeds or other prophets.
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member Tired of Explaining

Tired of explaining      (a twist from ND. poem)

Ignoring the presence of my stillness==
As you walk with bitterness== 
Your radiance is no longer true== 
A melody with seduction over due== 
The song so bad wiped out by you== 
Rotating my abdomen== 
From the soul==
The worms inside== 
They all die==
Under your control== 
Separating the way==

Is as if though== 
All the beauty in the world== 
Up and lived==
You are more than I need== 
Drowning in my own abyss== 
Judging you one==
Right after the other== 
A hellish so profound== 
Revelations passed so suddenly== 
Expression of limbo, I replay== 
The revenge== 
The revoke== 
Suffer catting my oxygen==

They illness== 
Then lifeless== 
They identify== 
Then disgust== 
Never play the sensitive== 
Feel my needs==
Like the wound full of abscess==
A sore to never go away==
Yes like the illness== 
Then lifeless== 
Dropped addict== 
These shivers down my spine==
Identify, escape, abuse of certain== 
Announcing it even more== 
Proof that I am found== 
Out of love==
 
The mind finally receives==
Revolution with open eyes== 
The heart is trapped to proceed== 
Cleverer than the open skies==
Old sweat glands in my hand== 
Retiring the mind== 
The best of my heart has no stand== 
Died from your retrieving cries== 
Advancing to my knowledge== 
The darkness that you lend== 
DISCLOSURE== 
to== 

In the depth of your eyes ==
I run before you hypnotize== 

Oblivious to the Valley of your wits==
 
Refusing to relive the song== 
Feeling that are gone==

Never will it feel right==

I still feel the rotation==
Exhale went out your soul== 

Exiting far from sight==
Revoke an end to your light== 

A kiss of death to your good night==
A kiss of death to your good night== 


(To: Nathan Dilts my way of explaining love over due)

Premium Member A Healing Knife

 

          Have you ever heard of a heart  
 Once accepting of love, now coldly distant?    
   Once pristine, now tainted with distrust 
              And full of gunk inside?

              Now, it's unsure of itself,
    Playing it safe after being torn in half 
 One too many times, fearing yet another 
         Dose of misfortune's poison pill.

           Now afraid to unlock its door  
  And leave it ajar for love to walk back in. 
        May courage be a healing knife 
           That doctors this poor heart

               May unconditional love 
            Dissect it, drain its abscess, 
          Then, stitch it shut as a tailor 
                 Would a split seam.



Date posted: 04/02/2016

Premium Member All Hallows' Eve

At first I thought it a
random drop of light -- why
not, the universe is full of
yet to be diagnosed, while 
remaining natural mysteries. 

Searing through the dark overcast -- 
perfectly oval, left was a singe, sign of
novel, puncturing intrusion, on what was
already a hoard of unusual flashing nimbus. 

Came a rumble and a roar! 

Such putrid blast! -- common to the bowls of a glutenous fat man, 
at a smorgasbord.  Dark insatiability continued.
A thickening! Bloating stench of atmosphere.  A sense that
could only be likened to pure evil.  Dared seemed my formidable 
curiosity!  Stars, a flickering mass of descending glitter -- 
Was there no bottom to this luminous fall?
I shuddered to think....  But could not turn away. 

What negative presence, had come to disturb the restful nature
of a Southwest summer's night? I did not know.  Could not venture
even a morbid guess.  What all consuming demonic presence -- light alone
seeming incapable of subduing -- rendered every foreboding blotch 
amusing to me!  Entertained my curiosity.  The fouler the contrast, the more
excited became a deep, dank, primitive fantasy I long harbored somewhere inside.  Was it simply spirit 
being infected by a transient, though treatable abscess? Or something far more primitive?  Malevolent?
An enchantment that could not be, once entertained, so easily subdued, extracted from the mind.  From the heart.  Impending doom for a foolishly inquisitive soul.  The ancient document, the incantation
I held in my hands, seeming to radiate an offer of unbridled power.  What would I do?
What would anyone sane mortal do on All Hallows Eve?  Burn the damn thing!

Premium Member a poem inspired by glitchore that will age poorly probably

Fingertips click a
desperate breakbeat
as eyes glaze over
in blue light baptism
please overwhelm me

Binary jungle,
you glowing cesspit
through the clipping
curtain echoes a choir
of post-post ironic
agoraphobics. 

Dopamine is a myth,
an expired meme 
deemed mega cringe
Let the file rot into 
informational abscess

Here we all wait before
Heaven's blockchained gate
tired of partaking into
a satire so removed from
a cogent solution,
It is simply void.

Here is coldest oblivion in
this stupid cyborg machine,
but the world is so 
Y2K heat death-core
Whatever that means

It turned a generation
made us abandonware
Just to feed us nostalgia
for times when we
would bother to care.

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