Long Ascendant Poems
Long Ascendant Poems. Below are the most popular long Ascendant by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Ascendant poems by poem length and keyword.
An anti-resolvent-fume-
of-infest-chokes-out-integral-yield of humanity.
Thick as molasses, blackstrap morass of emnity.
Blight is apathy, and apathy is blight.
A Void, a claim farming the abyss.
Marketing it's lie, on sale.
Though it has a monopoly.
PolyEntropy.
In the garden of life; an empty field of dreams,
lays unintended on its side,
untended save for the shadows
that yield a mock harvest.
Decay on display of manifest.
The sky, descended as a Judas Ascendant,
it's belly gorged with malfeasance.
Exotic particles curse the ground
like wormwood in ritual burn, cache of ashen incense.
Libra sells you back your rye, mildewed and palmer wormed, to bore in at the destitute
at double price, double dealing
with the wages of Sin and Death.
Doubled down.
Doubled over.
So the pendulum swings
in shadows deep, a soul did sleep- in
Crimson and Clover, over and over, so over
the Lords of Plunder.
Its essence lost, a memory weeped as it counts
the costs.
Whispers of sorrow, a silent scream,
in the Wilderness-
under project Blue Beam/Warp Speed.
In the void, the soul did dream of cover
by militias of truth needs to redirect the beams.
The sky, a jumbotron of betrayal and lies,
false witness to commercial treachery
portrayal in its thespian guise.
Cursed particles dance in the wind,
like venus flytrap babys breath.
A haunting reminder of the wages of sin,
the touch of death.
The scales of justice are unbalanced and frayed,
black judgment, jury, executioner-DOJ.
Truth and falsehood in a deadly coliseum
where devouring Lions roam.
The rose of passion, its petals torn,
as humanity's innocence is forever shorn.
As the pendulum swings, a dance of despair,
seduces in masked charade in the wings.
Hope dwindles
in the poisoned communications air.
Ploughshares turned to weapons of hate,
In a world where love is overshadowed, here,
eclipsed by the tech magistrates in monopolistic
fare synods.
The farms bought by syndicates who will use starvation as cattle prod,
obedience broad, shock and awe.
The World Economic Forum is a synod,
a syndicate of Lawless Ones using purse strings to strangle us into submission.
Submission to their Fallen Angel false Gods.
The Land of Thunder Dragon,
The blest estate of saviour Guru Rinpoche;
The Last Shangri-la reigned by prophesied Wangchucks lineage;
Mighty Palden Mahakaley,the redeemer of the Dragon Power,
Sacred constitution,the holder of peace and order;
Graceful Jekhenpo,the guardian of religious theology
Ye all, the drums,the flute and the trombone bring,
Yellow and orange drangon flag spreads the peace of wings;
Gleeful fairies and deities join to crown His King,
Ere,pay I submit my sublime bow,
With words and hearts with full devout I avow
Song of mirth and serenity we sing and share to the whole beings
Oh,mighty Geser Gyelpo,on the magninoumous throne thou shines,
Showering compassion and happiness from thy heart sublime
The king of might and wise,Drukpas beacon of hope,
Who strives for the welfare of all,the real Pope
Thou espoused humanity, decency and love for all
Bhutan,the land of minute Eden we enthrall
Bhutan,the land of Gross National Happiness,
Unity leading to the Land of tranquil loveliness,
Come ye! Afar, Nightingale, sing thine song of victory;
Far and wide,the great musicians play their song of happiness admiringly
Hark! Thunder Dragon singing above,
Magnificent light sending his happiness and love,
The pristine greenery and serenity of nature sways gleefully ;
Soaring skylarks flourish the tune of peace cheerfully,
Here, the young poet,graciously inking his cordial gratitude ,
Where none can ink and pen his line in verisimilitude,
It's from his unclouded heart that speaks the truest delight
Bring the clarinet,trumpet and saxophone
Let's sing and play your triumphant
Upon thy ascendant we present our earnest acknowledgment
To honour His Gesar and his throne
With equity and tranquillity this nation will breath
Under the magninoumous reign of His King we sheath
Grandeur,thou my potent King,
Thine charismatic reign continues to gleam like endless ring
May the people be blessed forever
With our clean body,mind and speech,
We offer you the prayers.
This poem,I dedicate to the 5th King of Bhutan,coinciding with the Coronation Day of HM Khesar.
Tower, buzz and scurry
Oh great resilient city
Ahoy!
Alive. Scramble bustle earth's
ethnicities
On lurid quests--
A pendulum of tantric turmoil and
Blessed harmony
Quixotic city--brash,
Sangfroid merotomized and
Chrematistic--metro nonpareil.
See a myriad melange of
Tortured splenetic
Souls and great spirits
Noble and soothfast
Great city, your hecatombs
Of underground trains
Roar scream in
Hodge-podge graffiti attire
Fat fuming brattling buses
Grunt their huffpuffs,
And nervous cars scissorcut
Impatiently betwixt tarred and
Cemented streets
August and capacious
Ferruminated grey glass and steel
Towers--Aeeries in obeisance to the
Heavens, erupt in anabasis at the azure
Pearly welkin,
Humming diapasons of marvelous
Melismatic tunes
A gallimaufry of cacaphony and
Sweet sounds--the
Great Metropolis persistently
Thrives.
Streets adorned with sylph fashion
Models, conute churls, street
recrement--dazed and forgotten men,
Enticing shuck and jive
Blandishing street vendors,
Natty brujo business gentry
With their helotry on a
Ferris wheel of daily
Triumphs and defeats and
Cheeky mendicants
Shuffle along allegro vivace
Howling chorus songs amidst a
Torrent of raining dollars and
Coins floating in the skies over
The brazen metropolis.
Snuffling restaurants like hives
Humbuzz the grandiloquence,
Pithy slang and sententious
Persiflage of the day.
A truly syncratic parley
Of passions sentient
Of crimes basilic
Of arts sacerdotal and gratuitous
Of fashions arabesque and outre
Of plays frivolous and profound
Of music sericeous and truculent
Of money pursuits solonic
Of loves ascendant and descentdant
Of rejections mournful and joyous
An e'er persisting cha-cha-cha and
Boogie-woogie of the fierce
Bustling bubbling bold city,
Pendulumming pandaemoniums and
Resolutions, day
Upon pertinatious day.
David John Hart 2003 USA
Buried once beneath pressing voices, it is boiling up like a rising jealousy. This is
placement. The ascendant. Beating,
beating, beating. A steady flow of analytical pauses burning up through every extremity you
never knew how to use.
This is placement. The ascendant. Beating, beating, beating. Every stinging conviction
such a foollish man never knew
was holed up inside him errupts. It is volatile and it is painful and it is promising. And it
comes into you and it comes out
of you and it’s beating, it’s beating, it’s beating. You can’t ever ignore it. No, a foolish man
could not deny its presence.
Couldn’t withold its beating. You pace to wear it out and it lives in your footsteps. You blink
to make it stop and every
eyelash leaves a trail like you tried to shake your head at the stars at midnight. Yes, you
can clench your fists so tight
your nails dig into your palms and you bleed and the sweat pours salt into your wounds
and there it is. There it is,
terrible,consuming and inconvenient only because you forget who it is. You forget where it
comes from and why it is
there. You forget why it is within you because you are foolish. It is there because of you but
you are not at fault for it. For
fault is for the weak and it should not make you stumble and it should not make you stutter
when you speak of it. When
you speak of its beating, beating, beating. It is not a drum and you should not, you cannot
march to it. It is not the blood
in your veins or the heart that injects and protects and projects though that is where it lives
and no foolish man, no man
at all could drain himself dry of it. It will occupy the space on the floor where you try to leave
it and it will grow because
you will feed it and it will drown you because it knows you need it.
.
It’s midnight on June 24th. We’re returning from a “Hot Wax” concert - they were wretched. We’re heading back to Paris tomorrow, so we decided to just stop at the (Kube Hotel) lounge for nightcaps.
Everyone was stirred-up and tight as a violin string when we heard that the “Extreme Court” threw out “Roe vs Wade’s” constitutional guarantees - the latest signal of Americas ascendant entropy.
Following that, was a ruling that threw out New York’s gun restrictions. “Republicans wear compassion like a costume.” Anna pronounces, “what “right to life” *IS* there, if every nutcase can walk around with a machine-gun. Haven’t they been watching the news?”
Leong, who’s always willing to discuss the superiority of the communist system, susurrates, to no one in particular, “Abortions are legal in China and unless you have a hunting license - guns are illegal.”
“Maybe we should move there,” Lisa says, ingenuously, holding up her drink toastingly, her face tinted a gleaming, bourbon gold in reflected light.
Returning to our suite, 3 hours later, Sophy’s adopted a mode of travel involving swerves and leaning heavily on things. Which Leong, who was not doing much better, finds hilarious. “Use your signals!” Leong says after barely dodging one of Sophy’s flailing arms.
“Two loves I have - of comfort and despair.” Sunny quotes, in her richest, Shakespearian voice.
“There’ll be no uncomfortable beds tonight,” I say, searching my bag for my phone, which has the suite key in an attached card-holder. Charles’ room is directly across from ours and I see him shaking his head as both of our doors close.
We’ve adopted a motto, “live to exhaustion,” and I think, to myself, that we’re living up to it, as I flop onto my bed and the world goes dark.
.
slang
wretched = very good
awakes, striding seamlessly towards the
trajectory of daybreak. Abed, passionately
attended by orectic thoughts; of whom
early on was created from man’s thoracic cage.
~Envisages;~
Without the least trace of compunction; exfoliating the
Saccharine damped canal with the tongue. Combined oils
and aroma lingers on the lips. Though the stiffened, unbridled,
solid thick muscle would supersede the tongue as the
warm tightened canal adjusts to its width inextricably.
~Pausing~
Waterfalls pouring profusely
Eyes trudge backwards
to that of yesterday
Fingers ascendant
to the nearest limb.
Digits of the foot holding forth
discourse with the sun.
~Orgasms~
Simultaneously
In due course.
Garnished bed linens
Accompanied by
Whitish fluid
~P-H-A-N-T-A-S-M-A-G-O-R-I-A~
"1st Pace Winner"
Contest Name: Best Descriptive Poem
Pace, G
INK-U-SCRIPT
The calling gull leaves her nest
her wild magic cleaves the nimbus.
An avian aerialist suspended aloft
she sails on tapered ribbons of cirrus silk,
ruffled sea breeze ironed ‘neath her lustrous wings.
A wind witch, she defies and defines the w - i - n - d…
a weaver of worlds, knotting strings of stories as one wampum belt
in union with the sea’s connection to land and air.
She steals the sough from the surf and the sigh from my sinew;
my guide to a mindful haven. This nurture-maven
glides among bouquets of pink-peony-cumulus.
She; my blue-sky-muse in celebration!
She; my compass rose, mediates my meditation.
I unfurl fresh wings, a night-to-day tern, and claim my turn with the wind
no longer a granite stone asleep on sand. I soar
from the glacial-age strand and lift through fog.. brief my tryst
with mist. Eyes blessed by the crest of a humpback’s breach.
I distill myself, my will; a droplet, tear, a sphere free of guise.
An ascendant of moon-magnet tides yet a descendant
from stratus to stratum, I settle upon the cliffs along the coast
in union with my soul’s connection to body and breath.
In the cup of my hands I hold the sun and drink its yolk,
white-cap breakers below chant a soluble sonnet.
From my inner dark, a flint-spark flares as I find what I lost.
My heart, akin to a wild cranberry, reborn from the womb of dawn.
I inhale the moment. Red clay cliffs, lifeblood, fire-skies merge.
Windswept pitch pines croon as I grow roots for my tabernacle,
cosmic beams stream through stained-glass-eyes.
The calling gull rests. A distant, silent witness to my quest.
My pulse a psalm as I emerge; a cathedral lit by sunrise.
Summoning the face in the Mirror the man calls
“Mirror, mirror on my tasteless bedroom wall,
Am I the only righteous dude who’s got it all?
I’m a Twitter tweeter in everyone’s face, no jest
A god-like prototype ascendant above all the rest
No one can finagle, lie, cheat, and steal
Like me, the master architect of a shady deal
Mirror, mirror, am I not the sovereign Top Dog
A business guru and vastly envied pedagogue
Give me your answer as you usually do
I await your reply ever predictable and true.”
Speaking, the Mirror says objectively and with candor
(In a monotone absent alarm or apparent rancor)
“Attempts to equal or best everything you represent
Were absent any skill and lacked the power to prevent
Lying, cheating, scheming and copious immorality
Of the traits you epitomize in your relentless duplicity
Bright green dollar signs were tattooed on your rear
And as a 14-karat schlemiel no one was your peer
But today your lofty roost has toppled it would appear
To a superior arrival a compassionate and powerful rival
Usurping your reign and promising you a bleak survival
For Honor, Humanity, Ethics, Quality and Morality
Bonded as one and effectively challenged your inability
To behave as a human or exhibit any values or maturity
They had the muscle and perseverance to permanently uproot
Your corrupted regimé that is für immer (forever) kaput
You will never again be hailed as a preferred persona
You will dwell with your ilk as persona non grata
Even if Hell should freeze over (an unheard of phenomena)".
Carol Zic
An 81-year old woman, widow, and U.S. Navy WAVES veteran
January 15, 2017
Preeminent is the birth of Christ.
We worship his life and seek his devise…
His dominant presence arises.
Aroused is our spirit.
Our soul is incandescent.
We are obligatory to the glory of God.
Luminescent is the essence of The Holy Scripture.
We sing gloriously.
We pulsate victoriously.
The Gospel is our voice harmonically.
Christ died on Calvary.
Hoisted to achieve amazing deeds, our life is a radiance of Heaven’s lights.
We worship the life of Christ.
Ascendant to prophesy of the world, peace is influential while war destroys.
Famine is metaphorically dumbfounded for the knowledge of God’s apostles.
Walk in rightful luminosity.
Insofar, your life is brilliance perceived.
We shout gloriously.
We pine exultantly.
The Gospel is our harmonic expression.
Christ died for our salvation.
Today we praise Christ, the Son.
Today we praise God, the Father.
One does not supersede the other.
Thru the Holy Spirit, we thump.
Through the Holy Spirit, God sends his Son.
The beat of our heart pounds in prayer as we bow.
Knees bent, by all means, amidst effervescent shimmering.
Croon praise!
Beatify the Lord’s way!
Our reliance is devoted to the Gospel resonated!
In mantra fortifies giving the highest praise to the life of Christ!
Refrain via song augments the Father and the Son.
Thru the Holy Spirit, we thump.
Through the Holy Spirit, God sends his Son.
The beat of our heart pounds in prayer as we bow.
Knees bent, by all means, amidst effervescent shimmering.
______________________________________________|
Penned on September 07, 2014!
From the Earth's deep slumber, ancient Gaia woke in pain, Whispering a plea to futures, a celestial rain, A trillion hearts of teenagers, called by name, Five champions arising, their destinies the same, For Gaia's love, they answered, to cleanse the Earth again.
From the Earth's rich bounty, one with grounded might, Fire's burning passion, shining ever bright, Wind's ethereal freedom, soaring through the night, Water's flowing wisdom, a cleansing, gentle light, And Heart, love's true essence, banishing all blight.
"Earth! Fire! Wind! Water! Heart! Go, Planeteers!" they cry, A symphony of elements, reaching for the sky, The elements converge now, as the dark shadows die, A hero then ascendant, with a vibrant, azure dye, Captain Planet answers, where hope will never lie.
With skin of deepest azure, hair a verdant sheen, The elements entwined, a force yet to be seen, His strength like mountains rising, a powerful machine, Against the Eco-Villains, with motives dark and mean, A champion of the planet, perpetually keen.
Through toxic fumes they battled, in poisoned waters deep, For futures yet unborn, promises to keep, Each lesson learned with courage, from slumber they will leap, The show's goal now unfolding, secrets it’ll deeply keep, To teach the world awareness, from innocence to steep.
A legacy enduring, in hearts both young and old, A message clear and potent, a story to be told, "The Power is Yours!" resounding, like legends of pure gold, A call to action ringing, a story to behold. Captain Planet's promise, forever to unfold.