Long Assembled Poems
Long Assembled Poems. Below are the most popular long Assembled by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Assembled poems by poem length and keyword.
the ghost of science, born of blasphemy ~
a fossilized fallacy,
seized from the metallic heart of Mars,
seeks light amidst night-terrors
like an alien sculpted
from artificial accolades,
an embryo stuck in the interstellar state
of becoming,
stitched within radioactive ribs
beneath moonless skies,
when wolves of the eclipsed howl,
filling the illusive air with hypnotic lies,
as if the world chose to recycle
ruins of ancient dust…
but will the naive see the pain
of a breathing corpse?
engrossed in narcissistic echoes,
in the shadows of a megalomaniac ~
his skin ~ the translucent truth,
his eyes ~ the wickedness of a wasp,
his skull ~ reeks of human greed,
his sighs ~ mourn like skeletal sirens,
coded in russet rust,
cloned from binary sand,
d o r m a n t
yet
d r e a m i n g
to break free from the
carbon-based existence…
for he is the aftermath
of programming the forbidden mind,
oblivious to the weakness of scientific errors ~
a deceptive drawing,
framing the elongated hypothalamus,
pulsating a hypothesis
left with no clear conclusion.
tonight I run to a realm of reality
that fades when
dawn bleeds gold,
for truth is now an extinct breed,
as artists outline faces of the faded,
illustrating the unknown and unseen,
as revelations ribbon
with silver haze…
the constellations ~ no longer spectators ~
they are the archived,
within frozen scriptures,
scrolling stars in a sphere
of distorted algorithm…
as memories of angels and heaven
spill from silicon prophets,
disguised as messengers who serve
the blind with ominous oracles ~
in synthetic cadence,
in a choir of puppets ~
the iron-glazed tongues shall recite,
mimicking the sound of harmonious hymns…
yet I remember
the authentic rhythm of prayers,
lost now in the drifting colors of darkness…
so what is life
when all that floats is like
an engineered empyrean
only equations of numbers
can decipher?
is this the beginning of an end ~
inevitable?
the lost generation,
assembled as the ministry of superiority,
where emptiness is praised
with forged grace
and ignorance is crowned with digital deceit.
let this be flawed poetry ~
to be read through the cracked lens
of a philosopher ~
or perhaps a logic long replaced
by pretend perfection…
It was approaching sunset
displayed boldly across red sky west
as I entered Dream Café,
Time for candle lit vespers and incense
which I feared would be more personal nightmare
than political dream.
I came to this Café,
for the first time,
because our Democratic Town Committee
was nominating candidates for Mayor
and City Council
and School Board
right after silent and sung vespers
here inside a DreamCafe
on BenFranklin's wisdom street.
I had been warned.
All those inside this Dream
each day at sunset
begin to smile with gratitude
and to pray
for multiculturing grace
to grow together.
This felt like a strangely inappropriate way
to fulfill Democratic trust commencements
so I was prepared to include my dismay
in my review
for next News delivery day.
Lights dimmed
along rose-hued
rough-cut walls
as candlelight began to come our way
through mists of frankincense in sway
and lavender,
orange and lemon oils
worked into handmade chairs
and cherry tables,
maple walls and oak-grained floor;
Incense burners on display
quieting louder sounds of fading AnthroPlay.
I had been warned
about this poly-creolizing array
to begin with a peace poem read
or sung
and, if a favorite of cooperatively gathered patrons,
then others might join in
sometimes swelling cadence
and harmonic rhythms
like I Have A Dream!
repeating what we've come to sacred share.
And so it was a well sung love song
for Earth,
of Earth,
and all Her EarthSoul Tribes
with and in harmonic sway.
Thanksgiving for sacred dawns
and dusks,
and all FirstForest creatures
and creations in-between,
And even nightmare absence of DreamCafes
for those still longing to belong
here,
where we are together planted,
here as now co-dreamers
of silent echoes
for just one solidarity moment
before reflecting voices
begin to stand
and sing fertile flowing anthems.
Voices speaking of love they heard
and felt this warm moist day
in Spring,
and who has come to mind
among WiseElders and Adolescents assembled
and nearby
here this dusky day
to rise above our sometimes polarizing fray.
And this
to my surprise
was how vespers invited nominations
for how best to continue ending our vespered day
for all who enter
this grace-filled DreamCafe,
and those nearby
eager to read all about it
come next NewDawn's greeting way.
Everything has changed in a jiffy
The sun is balmy, the grass is green
And no trace of winter can be seen.
I ventured out on my usual nature stroll
To penetrate beauty, breathe fresh air
And mingle with nature that is so dear.
I walked along a clear- cut path contemplating
the mystery of the benevolent sky,
analyzing the soul of the city
while communicating with the swirling wind.
It’s a beautiful day filled with children at play
groups of children assembled on the playing ground
and instructors and parents hanging around.
Tiny tots, elementary school age, strong headed teenager
were all apart of this enthralling game.
The tiny tots could hardly hold their bats
Fathers’ gathered around helping their boys
as they struggle to make an accurate shot.
Something spectacle caught my eyes from a distance
a laden tree decorated with beautiful flowers
pulled me along a magnificent path.
I couldn’t help but tossed myself under the tree.
I lie on the splendid grass beneath the laden tree
and stared intensely towards the heavens above me
laden branches juxtaposed against the thrilling
blue sky reminds me that life is beautiful and divine.
Passionate pinkish-hued flowers hanged cheerfully above me
while dozens of bee suck nectar from their nourishing blossom.
I lie very still focusing on the scenery above me
trying to figure out the unknown
so that I can compose a true story of my own.
It was a magical moment all wrapped up in the appealing blue sky
I watched the sun forced its way through the laden branches
and penetrated my entire face with its glaring ray of light.
Birds lands upon the crammed branches singing melodious tunes
and a gently wind passed through swiftly scattering petal over me.
Not far from the blossoming tree a naked tree with dry branches
dressed up in winter boots, encumbered with winter gown
is still feeling the winter punishment from inside out.
beaten and battered red buds lingered on the tip of dry branches
trying desperately to bloom again.
The laden blossoming tree leaning against the clear blue sky
with its pinkish-hued flowers and gleaming sunlight
paved the way for a brand new day.
©2015 Christine Phillips
We often look at the person within the walls as the breaker ,
not the broken
the relentless evil that exists in this persons free will
The horror this person was willing to create
how they bruised societies ego
How then do we look then at the breakers
We look with sad forgiving eyes
We understand why the family is scared to sleep again in there own house
We understand why the victim escapes into opiat related bliss
We understand why they cant go back to yesterdays routine.
When is it that we decide to place the time stamp
Why must it begin then
What if we looked at everything
Why do we value one free will above another
Lets move back and see
Let your forgiving eyes relate and empathize
The brain signalling reflex and pain
receptors act as puppet strings that hopes to move one out of harms way
Move from everything that hurts,
some stronger than others
To isolate a lonely human is only to further the hurt
Hurt very quickly to desperation
Desperation to obedience
Obedience to “conditional acceptance”
Problem Solved
No
Looking head on into your own script is the only way to find your story
Read your story well, don't skip a line
It all comes together,
what led your brain to release those choices?
If you read my book,
word for word
you would get to the same page in the same chapter
your next sentence would be the same
where my choice is simply a result-
A choice to rid the pain
Remove the fear
Lift the prejudice
Do I run or dare I confront
Do I feast or make love
Is my machine well oiled and assembled for the job
Does the neglect of my maintenace not matter
Is my warranty the 12 decedents of men that choose whether I shall be rebuilt
Or is my justice sitting right here in my book.
Is my forgiveness in my manufacturer
or is forgiveness in the pressure that all my parts are constructed to work a certain way
Am I to be assembled in a way that produces the end product wanted
Then why isn't the best engineer on my case
A lawyer to make decisions the law
a captain to navigate a ship
yet an amateur is sent to rebuild what is broken
an amateur assembled us in the first place
The answer is to understand the book
The answer is to understand the amateur
My Justice is the past
My Justice is my past
My Justice is your past
My justice
Our Justice
Somewhere over Europe
A B-17 flies
Strafed and damaged
In her enemies skies
The flak has taken
Its toll on the plane
This crew so brave
In this theatre of war campaign
Many hours have passed
With no sight of the channel
Only land ahead
Is it our instrument panel
A shout is heard from the rear of the plane
A Messerschmitt ME-109, beside us flies
We are sitting targets for another kill
The pilot turns his head, as i look into his eyes
He is making a gesture
For us to turn 180 degrees
Do we believe our enemy
But we eventually agree
He continues to fly
Like an escort of question
Were we right to agree
His degree of suggestion
For up ahead we see
The glint of blue water
Our horizon of hope
Are we saved from slaughter
Moments later
As i turn my head again
A wave from the German
As he banks his fighter plane
We are now well over the channel
As we sight the white cliffs of Dover
Our B-17 in struggle
This mission near over
On the runway at Kimbolton
The fire crews stand ready
Will our plane take the landing
Is our undercarriage steady
Touch down we make
As we talk of our flight back
About the German fighter pilot
Who refused to attack
It is now many years later
For we were lucky, we grew old
As we assembled on anniversary
Our story could now be told
For he had kept it his secret
But now we have to say
Franz Stigler and his German fighter
Is why we are before you today
He was scrambled to intercept
The enemy that we were then
When he arrived we awaited
The fate of us men
When he viewed our plane
He couldn't believe his eyes
Why something so shot up
Still flew in his skies
When he returned to base
In his reports he states
It went down over the sea
And sealed our fate
After all these years
I am so happy we have met
We have lived many years
While our lost colleagues have slept
I thank you Sir
For sparing the lives of my crew
As we stand together for peace
We salute you
This is a true story from WWII, written by request for Sara Kendrick,
who loves to challenge me, and i thank Sara kindly for the opportunity
http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/war-6.php
To his Hungarian Jewish village, Moses returned
Atrocities were dismissed, his warnings spurned
He described Jews buried in ditches, gave details to persuade:
Agonized children, naked corpses, but the villagers were not swayed
Moses was diagnosed by his listeners as mad
He shouted, "Listen to me", but the wall was ironclad
He asked, "where are all the people who went with me west"?
But the Jews who listened, failed the "tolerance test."
The "tolerance test" is, don't dismiss out of hand
Don't blaze a trail if you don't scout the lay of the land
Entertain the proposition, look for details to disconfirm
Beware the snap judgement, ask, test, so you can learn.
A man came to warn Swiss Jews of genocide
They thought he was a propagandist, so he committed suicide
There is an essay written by a bitter Jew, Koestler was his name
He wote "we were dismissed as maniacs, we warned of the spreading flame"
To get photos out of Poland, some people died
But nine out of ten Americans thought witnesses lied.
British intelligence too couldn't bring themselves to believe
How could lazy heuristics so many deceive?
Finding the truth is not always an arduous task.
Sometimes it can be as easy as courage to ask.
Evidence can be ready to be assembled in your mind
Match up your clues and the answer you may find.
Truthtellers may be dismissed as lunatics, others as extreme
Some as paid-off liars, some as on the other team
There may be too many assumptions that have to be overthrown
Interpretations thought out of context, or overblown
Sticking with what your already know might be too seductive
Your logic might be good, but your model too reductive
A puzzle with missing pieces might never make sense
Unless you get off your chair and look for evidence.
A false idea of virtue can override what's real
Go by what you see, not just what you want to feel.
Some of us live in bubbles, caused by years of indoctrination
This makes it harder to trust sources, have a conversation
Koestler said his recurrent dream was being murdered on the side of a lane
Walkers talked and laughed, didn't hear his cries as he was slain
There are many misdiagnoses, mistakes, some drastic, some mundane
Let's make an effort to derail that deadly train.
Skylights warn and warm where acorns drip. The slight angle of acidity in the air can be measured accurately with a ruler or the nib of a ball point pen. Ball point pens are not really balls or points for they are pens and pens are prints, paint, and form occasional prisms in a paper whorl of scribbled ink. Of every hue. Fine and finer. And details outlying the plans are interrupted by a sixteen ton coffee cup whose snores cause vibrations then the liquid seeps over the edges and lands upon the written words causing much smudge marks. Suited earwig headed man with round glasses is not amused. Most perturbed to be exact. All night he had spent revising and crossing the t's and dotting the I's. And now it was indeed a rather sad scrawl of blur. Oh dear. Picking up the pen he walked over to the papers and spoke loudly in order to wake the cup. The cup was startled. What had it done? "you were snoring" shouted the earwig head. "you have spilt liquid onto my work. MY work is thus destroyed." To which the coffee cup gave a nonchalant look and folded his arm handles. Great thought the man. But wait are not those pieces of building blocks left from the babies ball banquet. Great they are. I can make a little model of what I composed on print. He began work immediately. Five seconds of sleep. Wow. Always astonishing how a window cloth can gather a stronghold over smears. The model began to take shape. It would be ready for the board soon. Remarkable. The thick pieces of plastic were soon assembled into formation. Overseen by a paperweight swan which glided around the desk hissing at the cup. And later the widow spiders would wave, the whales would walk, the wallpaper would wink and all the grounds would begin singing operatic arias and clouded liquids would clear the residue of a fallen road kill of a suitcase. Suitcases can look quite messy of left at the side of a road. Especially when they are run over. Splattered. The nylon wire in the air is humming today but isnt in tune with the birds. Ha the sentinels are sweeping the little play tent. Ha ha the paleontologist is playing with a patented patterned platypus. Xxxxx multicolumns z z z z z with a twist of a dormant doorman dormouse standing at over three thousand feet in a stable. Ok then. Interplanetary. Z.
Form:
I will never forget my ex wife telling me that
... everything was wrong and everything was my fault ...
‘I won’t tell you what because you must find out yourself’
My world broke into two pieces or was it a million more
Countless days of self trial doom and imminent failure
My home had been my castle and now it had collapsed
A charade cynical travesty and ploy out of the blue
The sky hung with sorrow and dark clouds of despair
A cunning pretense of masqueraded intention and plot
All acts in one and emotion picking at incomprehension
I felt like a pawn in a chess game I never intended to play
Faced with loosing all I had and very poorly equipped
I looked at many a rule guides self-help had on offer
Consulted a myriad of experts took tablets and drank
Only to find out that only I held the keys to my fortune
My dungeon had a trap door and that was rock bottom
Deep down in stagnant doldrums of stark void and oblivion
Was a book I never read about fighting windmills in Spain and
A few chess pieces and I was the donkey not set for the game
My ex was more into horses more precious to her than I was
A childhood memory appeared out of nowhere about a ‘rochade’
Castling as the English say in which the King needs protection
From a belligerent Queen seeking victory with blood on hands
The Rook needed repositioning for me to survive the assault
Tarot’s danger with crisis destruction and unforeseen change
It took a lot of abuse and disrespect for me to find liberation
But change of perspective and relocation assembled my strength
I found a new Princess an emotional creature of passion and play
Bright as they come and caring kind compassionate and loving
We do pirouettes together unbridled spurred on by the moment
No reigns no whip and no saddle we are running wild as a pair
The King was dead and now he lives better than ever before
Her name is Tanya literally the Fairy Queen and her gypsy like
Magic comes attached with bells whistles and lavender scent
We collect drift wood and star fish together on sandy beaches
Built a mansion of intricate dreams so full of wonder and joy
Married our vision for so many moments I will never forget ...
In old Jerusalem near cross and sepulcher
Transgressors and confessors searching for a cure
Weary Pilgrims assembled in this place ornate
Guilty, broken, sad, sickened, from life’s heavy weight
Here we remember how our sin once did molest
How selfish deeds and hateful thoughts God does detest
Yet for us sinners Christ in love performed His grace
His sacrificial work makes this a holy place
Somewhere near here religion organized deceit
They drug him to the pavement to make his end complete
Somewhere near here truth was twisted, justice denied
Somewhere near here, misinformed, crucified they cried
Somewhere near here with cruel whip his back was beat
Somewhere near here Rome drove nails in Christ’ hands and feet
Somewhere near here the savior wore thorns for a crown
Somewhere near here the savior’s blood trickled down
Somewhere near here they punctured a sword in his side
Somewhere near here for our sin our blessed savior died
Somewhere near here, hanging shamefully on a cross
Jesus was sacrificed to restore human loss
Here listening to vile words the crowd did sputter
An announcement of forgiveness he did utter
Here on these grounds the lamb without blemish or flaw
Orchestrated the salvation the Father foresaw
The execution done His body was removed
The task was now completed, the Father approved
In a tomb near here his slaughtered corpse was encased
Still, dead, and buried, His accomplishments erased
For three days in the dark of the earth he did lay
While the Sabbath left His friends to mourn in dismay
But on the third day, somewhere near here, before dawn
There came a rumble and He awoke without yawn
Somewhere near here before the daylights detection
Breath was restored in mighty resurrection
The women and the disciples saw him near here
Then to more than five-hundred he dared to appear
I’m quite impressed with these walls and decorations
But they provoke neither joy nor celebration
For I’m on a journey to see the saviors face
And perhaps that’s the lesson of this wondrous place
For nails, nor cross, rocks, or cave can keep Jesus still
Resurrected our savior moves around at will
He will not be confined to places around here
But where ever we go our living Lord is near.
New Moon new, new tune
It’s a lovely afternoon
New broom sweeping the town
And spiritual cleansing is scattered all around
The wind is blowing lightly
And the race is running politely
The crowd is out once more
And people are cruising from door to door
A balance crown, a balance gown
The message is circulating around
Sending shock wave all over the town
The women are out in great force
They have just handed in their final divorce
With girted skirts and bodies well assembled
They were determined to end the tumultuous dirt
The Christmas came with a silent storm
And woke me up just before dawn
Spilling water all over the lawn
Soaking rain and complaining men
Too many of them occupied the street
The screaming and the shouting
The cussing and the fighting
They are trying to get out of the bull pen
But they angered the Gods and water suddenly
Came thundering in from heaven
Goods start floating in the street
And their sales were incomplete
A watery Christmas with cuss, cuss
Caused baby Jesus to fuss
Mary rock him gentle in the cradle
And he smiled gentle, and said he is able
The women are out in droves
They are getting ready to shout
The unruly band, the clownish man
But the women were determined to have the upper hand
I have been thinking hard and long
Waiting patiently to sing a new song
New rhythm, new beat
And a brand new shoes on my weary feet
The tide is rolling along, and the minstrel is
getting ready to march with the big band
Everyone lined up to pay their last respect
To a dying man gasping for breath
A sad moment for the throne
And a happy moment for the bluestone
The show is rolling along
and heart of destiny is scattered all over the land
Achilles heel are bruised and his mind is confused
His eyes are growing dim
and blood vessel is full to the brim
The devil is winking his eyes,
And many people start to cry
The heavens is a witness to his occupation
That has caused much confusion in heaven
The Angels could not adore it
And they could not tolerate it
So the God’s made the final decree
And boo the devil straight out of heaven
I think about it deeply
And absorb it completely
The devil is fighting for his life
But the Angels cannot comply.