Long Aftermaths Poems
Long Aftermaths Poems. Below are the most popular long Aftermaths by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Aftermaths poems by poem length and keyword.
I can bring you a holy war.
Of souls and sour things…
I feel your slings and arrows of poison sight!
I dealt with your Hypocrisy your lies, your bitter night.
I simmer in your black bile of self-loathings
and
small Petty aspersions
and
Other annihilations!
I can bring the rain, the rage the righteous holy war of faith and abandoned grace!
In your ignorance and hysteria, they’re abject hypocrisy, I boil in brazen apathy and sour thoughts…
I can bring your whole-e-war
to your Door steps
to your living room
to your sycophantic neurotic soul.
You fester with black bile of Lies, hypocrisy
At its finest a testament to your Atrocities
As you think you’re aristocracy.
See!
See the harrow narrowed duplicity or poison animosity,
I bring you holy war and holocaustic ash.
Bombastic.
Fantastic.
Annihilatistic, dead?
A jihad of the soul and flesh.
A holy war.
Feel the coming rage,
in an age, at the brake of day.
I will rule my inner dominions.
I can bring you your holy war
of wars
the war of souls and flesh…
The war of machines and man made of history
Of souls and sour things blackened to ash
Holocaustic aftermaths…
I feel your slings and arrows of poisonous second sight in profane fluids; blood n sack cloth and lashes as lies; damnation crimson crime,
Feel the ruination of lies and ash in night!
I dealt with your superiority, your fictions
your scalding eyes, and ragged lips, stained,
And heavy thighs under raven eyes…
I simmer in your black bile of loathing and small Petty aspersions burning away in nihilistic ash.
Lady, come and lay your head beside me
let us share with the moon this secret idyll
see the shooting star carve sky with promise
as silvery light caresses soothing us
Lady, come closer share with me the night
lay in my arms and give me your essence
wrap me up in the heat of your passion
love me til that little death overcomes
Lady, as you lie glistening in moon light
still quivering with aftermaths of love
sated though I am the sight of you stirs
with your hair tangled and in disarray
Lady, love me again the night's still young
let us dance once more love's passionate dance
as the moon beams play and twinkle at us
too soon night becomes day and we depart
Give peace a chance, will those of nobility declare
Intelligence of spirit, who could ever compare
Valiantly fighting the evil in the world, unwilling to fail
Earnestly helping those needy, without ever becoming frail
Peacefully sacrificing time and energy without ever reconsidering
Endangering themselves to constantly make a difference
Antagonizing the establishment for an instance
Coming home with battle scars to wear and none to share
Emphasizing they are not heroes, only that "they care"
Angering all others, for showing they disagree
Considering the options with nowhere to hide
Hiroshima and its aftermaths, would never subside
Attempting to disrupt, what those warmongers insist
No necessity to justify, the results do persist
Coming full circle does our world continue to exist
Ending in oblivion, if we don't learn how to desist
Dead trees, like twin towers,
waiting for their ultimate fate.
A chosen place laid with flowers.
Somewhere, beyond pale, gate.
Disappearing in the clearing.
Never been, never there; it was.
Darting dear, hide and seeking.
Behind tree, then galloping and goes.
Sitting alone; no one’s speaking.
The dear, quick imagery of prose.
Disappearing in the clearing.
Never been, never there; it was.
Backpacking Black Forest paths.
Eating in Spanish and French cafes.
The stumble and bumble aftermaths.
Tourist adventures by night and day.
Disappearing in the clearing.
Never been, never there; it was.
A creaky swing, standing, jumping.
Scents of honeysuckle, innocence-sweet.
Feet tapping, beating on truck tire, lumping
All of childhood into a dream-conceit.
Disappearing in the clearing.
Never been, never there; it was.
An urn or fresh-dug containing chill.
Homage paid until the distance spares.
Markers rarely scrubbed by quill.
Eyes hidden from view; stone stares.
Disappearing in the clearing.
Never been, never there; it was.
Fresh rain water, washing over book.
Black and blue ink, morphed-watercolors.
Words drowning, nevermore, forsook.
Shelf of particles, binding sours.
Disappearing in the clearing.
Never been, never there; it was.
never there
it was…
Here I sit alone
Alone in the dark
No light anywhere
Not even a little spark
The lights went out
Halfway through the storm
Life tomorrow will be
Nothing like the norm.
Hurricane Zeta
Came through with a fury
To the shelter
We must go in a hurry
The winds were so strong
And blew with such might
Listening to the howling winds
All through the night
When morning came
Without the normal lights
Looking around you at
The aftermaths fright
Trees were blown down
And powerlines snapped
Moving along carefully
As not to get zapped
2 days so far we've gone
Without electricity
Who knows how long
It will continue to be.
10/30/2020
Can’t help that I am dangerous but cautious
Been in situations that left me broke down in this world lost in this
Feel the pain that has drained my eyes peeled my skin away
Aftermaths of traumas that don’t go away
I am built Ford Tough with a chevy engine
Cherish what I have so Im always fixin and mending
Heard more of the mistakes Ive made in life then the decisions that were right
Is there ever a day that doesn’t feel like I have to wake up and fight
You can’t please everyone, That I know
Hurt feelings from the closest ones, That I Know
They are the hardest battle
Hard skin outside, inside fragile
I know the damage of pain so I reverse the game
Even when they hurt me, I still love them the same.
We cowardly witnessed the genocide of many human beings
Live, live, live in real time
That was an odious, callous and vicious crime
We said nothing, absolutely nothing about the sad and awful events
Many of us were either silent or complacent about everything
Even God was absent and quiet. He did nothing, nothing
Evil doers are not humane; they are hardcore criminals
We witnessed the bombings of babies, buildings and animals
We saw the massacres and the aftermaths. We could smell the blood
And could hear the cries coming out of the television screens
We saw the live and dead bodies, the hearts, the livers and the spleens
Rotting and spoiling in the filthy streets. The color of the mud
Is grim and abnormal, because of too much sufferings and tears
Too much pain and misery, too much disgust and shame
Too much atrocities and killings. We all know whom to blame
We know who are responsible for so much evilness and wrongdoings
Humanity got thrown out of the window in this part of the universe
We wonder if these two legged machines have a heart and a soul
We wonder if they ever look in a mirror, in a clear pool
We wonder how it would be if everything were to happen in reverse
Where is God? Why this ignominious silence?
Live, live, live in real time
That’s an odious, egregious and beastly crime
How can anybody sleep at night? That makes no sense
These days, everything is live, eerie, vivid and instantaneous
Grotesque things are never acceptable, admissible and hilarious
We want peace and we dream of peace
But the guilty ones must pay from west to east
And from north to south. We want peace and justice.
P.S. This poem is dedicated to Love, Peace, Equality and Justice.
Copyright © June 2025 Hébert Logerie, All rights reserved
Hébert Logerie is the author of several books of poetry.
i never become a victim of my trials' aftermaths
i choose to shake them all off and allow the calmness of my sanity to guide me
where that direction has taken me untied the noose that stunted my personal growth
steady i do go, and the True Vibes Of Positivity flow smoothly under the soles of my feet
where i am Truly Blessed is where my WonderFull God doth taketh me....
All Colours Shine Brighter even in inevitable days of clouds and gloom
as a Direct Result, i eventually become a representative of The Latest Example....
an extension to My Self Knowledge Gained, easier is The Expression of My Poetic Testimony....
She is not made of atoms,
but aftermaths—
the kind that linger in a room long after
the lights remember to flicker back on.
Her spine?
An origami of fallen yesterdays,
creased by collapse,
but folded forward into flight.
They call it resilience,
but she knows better—
it’s architecture,
a cathedral of nerve built from
"this will not break me,"
hummed on repeat until it didn’t.
She speaks fluent scar.
Not in pity,
but in translation.
She translates grief into gardens,
anger into architecture,
your silence into a symphony
with minor keys,
because sadness, too, deserves an audience.
Her empathy is not soft.
It is surgical.
It sees you,
sutures you,
and leaves you with just enough scar
to remember you survived.
And her creativity?
It’s less coloring-book, more quantum mechanics.
She rearranges particles of pain
into poetry,
invents emotions that haven’t been named yet,
spins metaphors out of moonlight
and missed calls.
She is the punchline of a cosmic joke
you didn’t know you were telling—
a glitch in the matrix
that decided to build a garden in the code.
Not here to be understood,
but to unmake the question.
Not here to fit—
but to fracture the mold
and plant sunflowers in the cracks.
She is not your mirror.
She is your prism.
Try to define her—
and she will refract.
A humanity Slain by a black ghost flame
Because their God was an unspeakable name
A Mournful, Insane, multitude with emnity and self induced labor pains
An Eon that has never awoken - A Copt of Souls- skin of the seas soaken-
in the foamy afterbirth of aftermaths toil, in spoil
by the Unspoken strains
Alone without a soul, or meaningful, rich soils of cultivation, to be grafted in,
birthing anew, and not staying long enough to become unattended, mud from the rain and eroded by sins,
splitting image is a sea splashing your brain
i see all that you do, your stratas of civilizations
Unveiling me of the Mystery of the Unseen, in indignant stagnation
but mildew of what once was a nation
fingertips form fitting on the sill of the stranded looking after loves
dead bug
Dust dried, shriveled and Unspoken for encapsulated in your dung
The Unfitting glove, trying us on for size, tongue in cheek,
begrudging the nudge off the cliff closer
Eons are all too slow for you to fully comprehend its reign
As you grow further in age,
The light of the star
Beside you, fades, phase shifts as darkmatter
and becomes blacker still like soot on the page
Turn you cron-icon along its path
As the dark of the age "Comicon of the lost"
Engaging, you, along its malevolence you are its Priestess, caught
giving burnt offerings of garbage you made special issuance not
all your glimpses, a mirrors tear, somewhere in Time's, Lots
snapped on the dancing diadem dragons lair plot, Dune sand trap, left
"sleeping "in the rough" at the Gates Of Aurizen, a Phoenix Unrisen,
to the Denizens, of the left
Layers of nothingness-spinning placebo, cursing the dark side of our moons
And only silence in raft upon the voided rift
The Unspoken, unspoken,Apathy, ingratitude TheM Ulktra Violence
Them, Humans once lived