Long Artery Poems
Long Artery Poems. Below are the most popular long Artery by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Artery poems by poem length and keyword.
Today I live comfortably, peaceably
Tonight a hurricane washes ashore
Tomorrow I am homeless, secure no more...
Today I have a challenging job and work
for someone I greatly respect and admire
Tomorrow morning, the company goes belly up
I'm out on the street, carrying a sign
'Day Laborer for Hire...'
Today my country is flourishing, the economy humming
Tonight we are attacked by a nuclear superpower
Tomorrow death and destruction everywhere
In every crack and crevice, like rodents, we all cower
Why does man pray? Who does he pray to?
Insecurity pumps to and from his heart like crazy
He stands naked before his Maker, every sinew and artery exposed
Beseeching the Almighty for Mercy, eyes and heart wide-open now
His purpose no longer hazy --- energetic! ~ Long vanquished is lazy!
Broad boulevard laced with selfish desires, vain dreams
Paved with good intentions; spliced with frivolous seams
Shining beacon in the distance with opportunity gleams
Burnished with luster; with every delight streams
Availing light glowing bright; dimming all peripheral beams
A narrow path from the main artery doth pare
Sharply angling away from the gilded thoroughfare
No sign posts or guides do its obscure location declare
Its small, unappealing entrance no adventurers snare
Its rocky surface strewn with obstacles; the carefree traveler to
scare
Wise soul doth the harder path stroll
Gracefully shouldering the heavy load as they troll
Patiently bearing the reproach that trite gawkers dole
Pressing forward with a higher calling toward the goal
Sacrificing material wealth; helping the poor pay their toll
Sheltering the weak; the lonely outcasts do console
There is a monster in my bed and I let him in. I supplied the pillow to rest. His quiet wickedness I don't address. As he fondles my body while I lay still undressed. I don’t reciprocate his love or affection and he won’t allow me to stop it or reject it. That must be his thrill. Just begging for me to pet it. Like a dog. I like dogs. They don’t force me to love them. They just are. He has a darkness beneath the face, beyond the freckles and scars. He stays inside until he thinks you bought the bit that he is a chivalrous guy, but he has secrets to hide. As sweet and willing as he seems he is holding two sharp blades to your carotid artery. In plain sight but you choose not to see. You let the darkness in because a part of you believes you too are a dark fruit fallen from the forbidden tree. Another lying message you allowed your brain to receive. You are more than an object of affection, you are deserving. Sometimes we have to burn it all down to start anew. A cleansing of the medial prefrontal cortex erasing desires previously initiated for a few as I currently have a monster in my bed and I am the one who invited him in.
false encounter in a dream
need a life and a change of underwear
the next eight or ten hours will be a blur for the ages
lunch break masturbation is what i look forward to the most
no need for makeup....my natural presentation is my truth
i am a blocked artery representative for what not to end up being
i am hoping to go blind by design
i am hoping to go blank via decline
false encounter so it seems
need a wife and a prescription for despair
when i clock out, i head for the nearest home on parking lot asphalt
i pull out the latest novel shield and escape into the latest setting of make believe
the tears unshed clearly exposes my obvious man pride
the lack of surety about what's next sends me into this strange, incomprehensible freefall
i am now at this old waterslide in my mind amidst the roaring rapids apex of my latest daydream
the front of my underwear is now crusty
the back of my mind is now on summer break repeat mode with a wintertime feel with a thin frozen spring....representing the true encounter in my reality
Enemies Of My Breath.
Like a purple dragon of doom, I breathe fire behind your knecks!
With the quake of the earth, I ensue your essence to the ends of the realms.
Like a volcano I erupt with the rage of gia the mother of storms,
As my wings flap upon your backs, I enact the four winds upon your heels!
Like lightning I arouse fear within your minds, and dishearten your allies!
Driven like the rivers of time, I erode your terrain, and bring you to ground zero.
Just as I breath the last of my stamina, I consequently the elements unearth you once again.
As my incursion enacts itself upon their society, it rupters like an artery and spays your offspring from these planes.
As the eye of my hurricane enters upon your community, it dissociates you from your truth, and snaps you from the ather!
As your bastion fails i breath my finale upon your souls, your coup de grace is as follows.
As give chase like a hell hound i enact the command of the merciless sultan, euthinasia for thy foul fiends of the kingdom of bleeding hearts!
Yes my liege its has been done as of yesterday, i say as they all lay dying all one hundred fifty fold of them.
~Benjamin Luke Aguas.
chieftains trade their loyalty behind the clouds
high mountain king Carrantouhil commanding his Macgillycuddy Reeks
men of begotten rank, scheming skulduggery
secrets hide out of sight, Comeragh mystery shrouds Coumshingaun
flighty earls flee from the Lough Swilly shore
priests conspire, a king, a queen, a lord-protectorate exact revenge
imported evil stalks the land and soul of Ireland
near-on half give way, massacre, starvation, transportation and slavery
annexation by stealth, abomination
exposed Shannon artery, remorseless draining through lakes of tears
solidified karst corpses dissolving
into central mireland, ringed by coastal ramparts and remnant towers
turloughs disappear where the ground is leaking
playboys drink from black frothy pools of humour where the craic is good
where sad refrain gives way to rhythmic distraction
where song, stories, poetry, plays and dance merge in murky island brews
native chiefs are stripped of their Ulster lands
to control, anglicise and civilise a rebellious region
the area most resistant to English rule
official and private plantation, top to bottom colonisation
Gaelic hands across the channel disrupted
Scottish and English incomers, presbyterian and church of England
town and country, protestant domination
Irishmen uniting for briefest moments on higher ground
descent into cold depths of history
the Cliffs of Moher plunging from The Burren's bald barren bleakness
disfigured fingers pointing blame, shame and guilt
like the peninsular lands, Beara to Iveragh, Mizen to Dingle
stretching out to a new land of migrating hope
escaping hunger and abuse of long-robed men and women
the stifling heavy hand of implanted culture
two main layers of tradition now overlaying an unfathomable past
I can’t say
where life begins
and death takes over:
Oh! I know of birth
and funerals--
what the church says
and what my gut
further tells me…
but my heart often
wanders above wings,
parting shadows
to a place alone
where I encounter
a loving presence
my feeling no need
to define...
I have read those volumes
both blessed and cursed
tongued caramel ecstasy
and licked the sacrificial fires
(sweat-making chilies
and artery clogging rinds of life)
but remain
mostly confounded
though comforted somewhat
by the little I know
and concisely name--
admitting more of me
has always existed outside
my libraries of
leather diaries
and embossed references….
He had seen chicken necks
twisted and broken in Chinese markets,
the plucked dismemberment
of flapping wings.
With help,
he could have strung his carcass up
like a hog on a hook.
He would have quickly cleaved himself
from balls to breast,
but this was a one-man job.
The cadaver
had to be bundled, separated and filleted.
Strange but he knows what to do.
His hands are now sharp as scalpels.
Fingers are boning blades, lancets,
curettes and shears.
He inserts a stiletto under the jaw,
angling through neck bones, the larynx,
drawing the point downward
severing jugular vein and carotid artery.
He does not collect the blood,
but lets it wet the earth.
He watches the bulbous purple coils
spill from his abdomen.
Chitterlings and sweetbreads,
plump jewels gleam briefly
then settle on the ground
in warm mounds.
A quick slice along the breastbone,
then ease the ribcage apart,
scoop out lungs and heart,
- fat catfish from a keep-net.
Looking upon his piled substance,
he feels as if the great work of his life
had now ended well.
He watches as the meat and offal
begin to dissolve.
Soon from the pools of blood
vine shoots will emerge.
One day there will be new wine.
Praise, a chronic disease
Ruins humanity
Increases sugar in blood
Spreads intoxicants in artery
Hangs a curtain before eyes
Hides truth.
Mind dips in self-enchanting
Always seeks false praising words
Credits
Clappings
Honours
Rewards
All treasures of materialistic world !
Mind guides the human
Mind commands the soul
Instigated by mind, human
Swims in the whirlpool of illusion
Hankers after pride and prejudice,
The album of achievement fattens day by day.
Praise fascinates mind
Increases the hunger of self-publicity
Ear always eager to hear
Rejoicing in the self, self-conceit grows
Touches the sky.
Mind misleads human
Wants sensual pleasure
Eyes roam over pages of newspapers
Magazines, the screens of News Channels
To see photos of praises
To hear words of self-illusion
Praise engages brain in his workshop
Deposits sheets of self-credit
Directly or indirectly, shamelessly speaks aloud
“I am the monarch of all I survey”
Thinks: he is almighty, Omniscient
Within him,
In the inner cell hibernates his soul
All alone
Sniffs the smell of perishing body
Not ready to tolerate false praises
In each unfavorable talk
Faces jealousy, conspiracy.
Soul whispers: I’m living dead
If you die, die unknown
Nobody would talk about it
Nobody would lament for you !
wonderful fimagery
a fibulation of truth
a frenetic shark-tooth
puncturing the carotid
artery, artistically
fandom of fibs
will coddle your desperation,
lean into your fabulous
collection of fables, fry
the fish according to recipe
mendacious media robots
move their mechanical jaws
plainly stating the news -
the words they choose
according to choice list
listless and yawning
it’s never dawning on them
that the puppet master
controls the strings
of jaws, eyelids and
applause
plausible lies
they’re after
laughter in the rafters
hell’s forever after
8/15/2022
Exodus 20:16, 23:1; Matthew 15:19; Revelation 21:8