Long Affliction Poems
Long Affliction Poems. Below are the most popular long Affliction by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Affliction poems by poem length and keyword.
What is life without joy and happiness?
what is life without self honour and pride?
Upon this mountain hell i lay every day
Battered and frustrated
A man of sorrow, forsaken
My spirit groans for mercy which failed to come
All is taken away from me including the smallest pin
of what is life without a mother?
painted black and red
I mourn every seconds for that pretty damsel
swifter that the eagle, my heart pounded
Joy whispers sadness in my ears
and tears becomes my friend
In despair i feast and dance sorrowfully
they mock and throw me around like a forbidden coin
men are evil, my spirit moans
Raising my eyes to see my ears
i could tell of their wickedness
my goats, cows and jewelries gone
Hear me evil souls, the nature has its judgment
Once in life, it cometh and it hard to escape
It hard to escape the judgment
look at father native compound
it been taken away by strangers
those who once dance with us
In good fortune and share our breads and barns together
NOw, they are against us in fury
Dare point us in the face and laugh
Hear me old friends, nature has its judgment
The nature has its judgment, beware
In my old age. bitterly i weeps all day
in affliction and harsh labour
my foes had become my masters
the roads to my hut mourns
my compound groans and grieved
None to comfort me, all my friends had betrayed me
All the splendor has departed in the air
this is why i weep and,
my body shivers
My eyes overflow with water
All who pass my way clapped and laughed at me
Enemies open their mouth wide against me
my grieves are many and my heart fainted
i am in torment within, disturbed and distracted
I remembered my wandering and pains
In the dark forest alone
Covered my self with anger
perhaps my father had sinned
And i didn't know and,
we now bore the pains
Getting brad is at my life risk
Because of the sword beneath
look and see our disgrace
Those who pursue us are at our heels
my siblings scattered abroad sorrowfully
No one to caution us and drag us back
Till end i know the earth has it judgments
i shall sing beautifully with joy in other phase of life
when the gate shall open.
ALL RIGHT RESERVED (C) JOHN CHIZOBA VINCENT 2013
A DREAMERS PLIGHT ON JUDGEMENT DAY
Give solely sovereign sway & Masterdom.
The air nimbly & sweetly recommends itself unto my gentle senses
To commend the ingredients of my poisoned chalice.
But this same thing we desire the most
That makes us say 'the one I love the most is the one I hate the most'.
The love that follows us at times is our trouble.
How tender it is to love the babe that milks me?
And make my face vizards to my heart,
Disguising what they are.
False face hide what the false heart knows.
From a dream, I hear a shout; a loud one
But hear it not, the dreamer; for it is a knell
That summons thee to heaven or to hell
For sleep is the cousin of death
Which keeps the face pale as lights thickens,
The crow flies away to the rooky wood.
Nights black agents rouse to their preys.
As a dreamer wakes unannounced from nightmare
And eats his meal in fear
Sleeping in the affliction of those terrible dreams
That shakes him nightly.
The torture of the mind which maketh lie
In restless ecstasy...
My virtues will plead like Angels trumpet-tongued.
Upon the sightless winds
Shall blow the realities (of life) in every eye,
Restrain in me the cursed thoughts that nature gives way to in repose.
Innocence & pity like a naked new born baby
Striding the blast or heavens cherubim riding on an horseback
Then arose to escape the thrills of the instant
Living a coward you ones own esteem.
And I asked: is it nights predominance or days shame?
But knowing where my path leads to; I follow my journey
Even when the dark night strangles my travelling lamp.
Would nature hold God's benison from those
That would make good of bad and friends of foes?
Maybe with vivacious or flushed face, we all go to the grave
After life's fitful fever, we sleep well
And be not disturbed, nothing touches us further.
Just like a possessive man trust are their great grandmothers
He sleeps well not, because six feet of solid earth
Hath not keep her permanently underground.
She would creep out - so many Lazaruses from the grave
But after the dead which goes to peace
And at the end, hears a voice cast from pure gold, calling
Heaven or hell, the book chooses
Even he who was left unwept, untombed,
A rich sweet sight for the hungry birds beholding
Leaves for a permanent and eternal home.
Get set.
VickWizzy
Vick Manuel Poetry {VMP}
Copyright ©2009.
please lemme know and honestly profess
if profusion of words create a lingual Loch Ness
(when hens canst come home to roost
especially, encountering
the following conglomeration
in matthew scott harris patois).
He readily admits writing inventive
attempts usually ten tubby a literary mess,
thus finding innocent cyber cruisers
Angle fishing for Saxony fundamental fluidity
courtesy of Freudian stream of consciousness,
gabbling gibberish, muck not done on purpose
and certainly less
to impress.
Gnome hatter intent toward
cogency, fancy ingenuity,
levity, the inevitable
resultant wrought gobbledygook
fascination for Lingua Franca
feeble endeavor splutters, splinters,
and splatters Asia Yukon guess.
Paramour status analogous with twenty six letters,
sans En gull Lush Mother tongue confluence
finds me submerged (as an Arctic Monkey)
swimmingly enervated
via erotic laced sentiments
perhaps finds bravely daring soul madly
hollering, gesticulating floundering,
(in close proximity to Davey Jones's locker)
to avoid drowning at sea
perchance comprehending passionate influence.
Upon espying a signature poem of mine
forces one pre ponder ring lurking predilection
tib hush anonymous re:
dears (dares) adventuresome mettle
taking him/her to the brainy
(briny) deep brink
Icon fess
this (NON FAKE) pretense, why
aye metaphorically express
(via medium of ordinary Anglophile
alphabetic wanton soup,
or figurative egg drop bub
bling broth (el) doth brew)
pronouns Sibyl affectation
affliction sans plethora,
where each ladle full adrip with
richly flavor Verdana Font lee
and sincerely textured vocabulary.
Pluperfect mortals beings undoubtedly feel
(blindsided, how this hunger stricken author
suffers said sesquipedalian syndrome
particularly expectorating flashy
hoping tum bark on successful literary quest)
hyper aware aspiring paperback writers wannabe
might stoop to conquer, cheat, cadge
vis a vis plagiarize plethora
amidst storied plentiful English droppings.
Rather than succumb pretense feigning paucity
temptation to bask exultantly,
professed glorious unrequited love
announcing required sworn vow,
(el lye ding) avowed consonant covenant.
Form:
The interrogation threatens to shudder like an earthquake
A long index of accusations spread out among the atmosphere like a blazing forest fire
Satisfaction, the officer and venomous umbrage, the criminal
Self-appreciation, the quiescent defense attorney with no right to be there
Misery, the boisterous dauntless prosecutor
The months of the annual calendar, the jury
Pain, the almighty judge
It’s a court case already divested from the defendant
Why should it not
Bother, why bother
Its past the millionth time in 216 divided by the jury
Satisfaction has seen countless rewards of capturing umbrage
Satisfaction has felt the boundless benevolence of glory
And foaming at the mouth, glowering with muffled respected fury
Sits umbrage, staring out blurred vision
Victimized in his own apperception
What’s the cost, the damage total; what has befell, befell reality
The anathema of fate or rather the favored affliction of fortune’s fool
Within a realm of possibility it may perceive to be both
A pebble laced with a thread thrown into grass only miles away
To be reeled right back in like a helpless fish on a line
The audacity, the audacity; oh just hush
Silence is golden and this silence is benevolent
Joy was once prevalent in the company of such disgrace umbrage reigned
Together they were serenity, a mixed graceful period of harmony
Such a song sung by dual owls in the presence of the lightened darkness of night
(sigh) …I can’t do this anymore
Make a world, create a story peacefully
Creating a plot circulating, tip-toeing around the issues placing bait in front of my eyes for me to take
What is wrong with me, my life
One word, a sharp enough blade to stab in the ankle to slaughter Achilles
In this case, me
The poet’s banishment, scourge creating a series of nine lashes
Still runs deep, refuses cessation
Proceeds to feed on every ounce of merriment to permeate through the cracks
Melancholy has produced to invade back in
What’s the cause this time for it to attack
A few simple words, reflection, swift defiance
the bruises upon the right appendage whispering, begging for more scars
FOR WHAT? ! ? ! ? ! ? !
Forget it….it’s nothing
Satisfaction has pardoned me, set me free
Umbrage, my twin has taken over me
To another bridge, we sit and sulk over a failed attempt at flight
Cause we willingly defy the right to say goodnight
Dumbfoundedness still prevails three weeks later...
when held spellbound courtesy grifter
Flim-flam man left lasting emotional whiplash
his derelict perfected artifice
to hijack every last cent
smarted me with indelible smash;
living daylight delivered I kidney you not
envious affliction affecting
last named member and founder of the Byrds
with crosby, stills, young and nash
entire corporeal being turned to hash
condemned state yours truly relegated,
cuz cremation unaffordable, though pulverized
and transformed into powdery ash;
Impossible mission to conceptualize
transmutation into cremains, the brain
lodged within me noggin
ill equipped to envision mine gray matter
even after asking mister Google to explain
that cremation takes place
in a specially designed furnace,
referred to as a cremation chamber or retort,
and exposed to extreme temperatures –
up to 1,800 degrees Fahrenheit–
leaving behind only ashes.
Following the procedure,
a cooling period required
before the remains can be handled.
Yours truly can best attest,
when succumbing as victim to virtual heist
I most likely flip flopped
into one percent atavistic Neanderthal state;
a surprising revelation
23andme genotyping results
yielded said presence of proto human
after analyzing DNA
courtesy saliva sample from eldest sister.
No other logical satisfactory explanation doth chime
lapsed consciousness, hence reasonable rhyme
whereat one twenty first century mortal man
virtually travelled in time
cast into nasty, shortish brute
obliging deft inducement
outsourcing valuable dough.
Though aforementioned far-fetched notion
smacks of high skepticism,
yet no more ridiculous than
hominids over bajillion years springing forth
from flotsam and jetsam in the ocean
I may as well broach another theory of creation
(just came to my mind),
that divine omnipotent wizard
sprinkled magic potion
across primordial sea
after watching an advertisement promotion
claiming said product
contained the seeds of life and white lily.
Convinced that snake oil salesman
wrought deleterious influence
triggering a debacle that rocked
the financial market,
(albeit constituting one singular naked ape),
an attorney general based in Philadelphia
believes I presented a convincing case,
which hopefully witnesses
recouping all or most of my funds.
After a solid decade of what can only be described as the worst of luck.
I've grown accustomed to living a life of pain and misery.
Fearful of this new uncertainty, again left helpless and unaware
Although uncomfortable and confused, I continued onward with my life.
The diagnosis is only the first painful and stunning blow.
Amazed at the unbelievable power of something microscopic in nature.
Specialists in the field call it a virus, I call it being condemned.
Now likely sentenced to a treacherous and pre-mature death.
The full extent of this revelation leaves me struggling to understand.
In one invasive procedure, they pluck away a piece of my liver.
While countless needles drain my tainted crimson blood.
Both attempts at deciphering the enormity of my affliction.
After the final drop of my blood is finally collected, The doctors hold an answer.
They give me their assurance of a definitive and timely explanation.
The phone rings, the doctor is ready to reveal his final prognosis.
It seems treatment is possible, and success may be achievable.
Astonished, I wonder if I have dreamed the entire conversation.
But, unbelievably his spoken words are determined to be truth.
Many human beings, not so lucky, to receive this rare gift of life.
The feeling is strange, following so many years of horrific nature.
Reluctant to savor the moment, fearing that it may suddenly disappear.
Death has taken me three times prior, at birth, and twice before thirty.
All three instance came without prior warning, unannounced occurrences.
Left this fourth time, to ponder death's arrival, this time, not so lucky.
I dreadfully contemplate what, if anything, exists after crossing over.
A fear that has plagued mankind since Eve took that first fateful bite.
The reaper achieved his goal, but I was unwilling to cross Phlegethon.
inexplicably, each time my soul has been revived, prior to complete loss.
Mind and body replenished with life, but some part of me remained deceased.
Returning some what less than, what was my previous state of being.
Losing only it seems, what I held onto so dearly in my life.
Small pieces of hope, faith, and joy. Now left absent from my soul.
Only time will tell if this virus, will undue death's losing streak.
Or, if the Doctors confidence will be proven true, allowing me to survive.
Yet, Again.
Trigger warning ??????????
This was a pretty hard piece to compile, and definitely a personal piece to post but my hope is it may reach someone who needs it.
Withdrawals
The pain is indescribable, but with my words I can but try,
To describe the hell on earth that withdrawals will supply,
It covers every single miniscule molecule of every one of your bodies cells
From every hair follicle to each tip of every toe, your head rings like orchestral bells
You can't concentrate in fact you simply can't think as your skin begins crawling
You want to cry but your eyes cannot even weep, you cry out but no tears come falling,
While the sensation of an infestation begins to infest you under your skin,
Your every muscle has lost its strength and then the sickness and diarrhea begins,
Beads of sweat trickle down from your face,
Yet your bitterly cold, no matter how many layers the shivers continue to play chase
They penetrate right down to the bone and you cannot hide the inevitable shaking
Try as you might because of your body's unbearable aching,
It's like a baseball bat was used to literally batter you,
Nothing helps to sooth any of the pains your being subjected to
You find yourself contemplating things you'd never thought you'd do,
This poison is like the devil himself whispering in your ear he's cunning acting like a saviour
But it's evil plotting conspiring against you talking you into failure,
Just one hit and you'll feel so much better, don't suffer he repeats and replies,
While the people who love me my family are the angels shouting loudly rallying I hear there cries
And it's now a game of tennis my head is the tennis ball, back and forth you can't construe
You contemplate continuously, do I have the strength or the willpower to see this through,
Or will the devil on my shoulder finally conquer and prevail taking my soul back with him
Back to the depths of hell from which I came which was grim,
But failure would mean I would never be free of this addiction of this disease, of this affliction,
Therefore failure isn't even an actual option?
The weeks of hell you endure of withdrawals comes with the greatest reward you could ask for
Freedom, of the mind, the body and soul, withstand the biggest test of your life because for sure,
You've got so much more to live for!
November 24 Relationship to God Bible Meditations Based on Colossians 1-2
Key Verse – Colossians 1:2 To the saints and faithful brethren in Christ which are at Colosse: Grace be unto you, and peace, from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ.
LORD GOD, YOU ARE MY FAITHFULNESS’ ASSESSOR
Lord God, You are my faithfulness’ Assessor,
always hearing my sincere thanksgiving
Thank You for acknowledging my hope inspired by Your Word I’m receiving
Never ignoring me and my fruits along grace-filled living
Ever consistent to encourage me to learn from You with earnest cleaving.
Lord God, You are my faithfulness’ Assessor,
always sanctifying my proud heart’s fame
Thank You for purging my soul from worldly game
Never tolerating me along my selfish frame
Ever holy to forgive me and my confessed hypocrisy-shame.
Lord God, You are my faithfulness’ Assessor,
always instilling my desire with spiritual understanding
Thank You for increasing my knowledge by Your worthy attending
Never denying me of Your power with strength You are sending
Ever patient to prop me toward steadfast righteous standing.
Lord God, You are my faithfulness’ Assessor,
always conquering my doubt by Your assurance
Thank You for guarding my conviction against beguiling ignorance
Never belittling me along my diligent service-perseverance
Ever gracious to establish me for Your abounding kingdom’s furtherance.
Lord God, You are my faithfulness’ Assessor,
always commending my noble suffering
Thank You for meeting my needs with Your compassionate caring
Never closing to me opportunities to gain from Your wisdom-rearing
Ever helpful to transform me according to Your Scriptures’ nurturing.
Lord God, You are my faithfulness’ Assessor,
always protecting my beliefs against vain tradition
Thank You for shielding my commitment from humanistic domination
Never allowing me to be spoiled by arrogance-magnification
Ever kind to cheer me up for my offerings and sacrifice of devotion.
Lord God, You are my faithfulness’ Assessor,
always accepting my worship marked by sincerity
Thank You for nourishing my submission to Your sovereign authority
Never handling me with rudeness, but by Your loving security
Ever merciful to lift me up against affliction and infirmity.
November 24, 2023
These thoughts.
These thoughts, within my head.
Must they fill me with this dread?
Angry, distant, always resistant.
Tired, weary, and so dreary.
Loathsome, fearful, oh so tearful.
Always these thoughts, these thoughts within my head.
How does one suffer this much dread, all from thoughts within my head?
Calling, calling with a mocking.
Dizzy, swirling, starts the rocking.
Tipping, tripping, knocking over.
Tell me please, when will my mind sober?
These thoughts, these thoughts within my head.
I want them gone and wish them dead!
These thoughts, oh the thoughts, all of them within my head.
Taunting, haunting, damn this dread!
Hush now, shush now, do not speak.
Settle down my child, please don't weep.
I am here, close your eyes and go to sleep.
This voice, I heard.
His voice, I sought.
Warmth and comfort arose of the words which were spoken.
These thoughts, oh these thoughts.
No longer they choke.
All because of his words, the ones that he spoke!
Happy and joyful.
Ecstatic and red.
Giddy, excited, I sprang from my bed.
Uplifted, laughing, and smiling?, he said.
Those thoughts, those thoughts, the ones in your head.
Are they gone? Those thoughts that caused such a dread?
Yes, they are gone.
Father, from your words, they have fled, they have fled!
My child, know with me, one suffers no affliction.
Those thoughts, those thoughts that filled your head.
They were the demons that caused such dread.
Your anger and distance, offered them little resistance.
Draining, tiresome, weary and dreary.
Loathsome, fearful, always so tearful?
My child, this devils sure fed you an earful.
Devil? What devil? I thought they were demons?
Hush now, shush now, they are one of the same.
It was him who was mocking, it is him whose to blame.
Such thoughts are like fire and yours set him a flame.
Now you see, now you see, this was all part of his game!
Most assuredly, Father.
For they fled from the one, the one who sent us his son.
His son who was sacrificed, to save us from sin.
Come child, go forth.
Spread this healing to all those who'll listen.
These words I have written, they came from within.
And within lies none, only but him.
Form:
Take me back to the days
Where the feel of texture and distinguishing colors among Africans didn't matter
Where the only word was black, and not pale or darker
Where the only weapon was loyalty upto royalty actually smarter
Where mother toung superiority excelled the rest was after.
Where rituals and ceremonies were significant in culture
Where oral traditions activities was a preservation of history.
Where inclusivity wasn't done based on tribe, status or age
Where inspiration and education was passed from generation to generation through storytelling.
Where people performed rather than spoke
Where the media was the speaker's tone, volume, and cadence
Take me back to the days
Where people did not blame nationality, ethnicity,
culture, economics and education
Where there was no colonial domination
Where there was no concept of slavery, racism or discrimination.
Where Africa was rich in culture and not the fallacy of primitive and a backward jungle
Where Africa was peaceful and not a race with guns and violent.
Where shouting am black and proud wasn't important because color didn't matter.
Where respect for elders remained an unbroken cornerstone in african culture
Where birth, marriage and burial rites was honored.
Welcome to the days
Where exporting and importing of cultures have become the trend
Where cultures travel through deserts, cross trade routes and through immigration borders
Where exchange disregards our notions of geography and race.
Where virtues such as hospitality, empathy, courtesy and respect is long gone
Where the only thing left are byproducts of culture.
Where multiculturalism has faded and everone hails on becoming one
The richness is not in Africa looking like Europe
What makes the world beautiful is in the diverse contributions
Welcome to the days
Where culture is paraded on an image of drum beating
Where media's notion is dancing naked or eating bush meat
Where in the midst of it all culture lost its definition
Where there is no importance in defending a territory with no boundaries.
Where technology dominated our land and mind
The struggle lies in reclaiming what is rightfully ours
I refuse to fall and cramble because I'm for the idea of sameness.
In the mind is where it all starts
I put no blame on culture, not my affliction.