Long Assimilate Poems
Long Assimilate Poems. Below are the most popular long Assimilate by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Assimilate poems by poem length and keyword.
I ponder
throw away
my ancient
machine
of writing...
Rumple
the papers,
accomplices
of mine
tare ...
I even
stop
writing...!
but how :?
the words
pass by
my head
as models
on the catwalks ...
demanding attention!
I desire on going
complete blind...
(I perceive poorly!),
not to assimilate anymore
colors, paintings ...!
but my mind
have secret files
containing
all beauties
of the world !
I stopped eating...
Never
I was hungry ...
I stopped drinking,
I saw myself free
from headquarters ...
I am further
healthy than
before...
My literally hunger
rose ...!
nor devouring
mountain ranges of ideas
going hungry
of verses ...
nor drinking
an amazon
of words,
satisfy my my
hungriness for poetry ...!
“Counting age is like counting syllables, one needs a pencil. Releasing age, one needs nothing” : Poet
______________________
Age-time exists only in Third Dimension
our core within each cell imageless, timeless, cosmic
contains no memories, knowledge or wisdom
these concepts of mind
moon, sun, oceans, tools to use
happiness, sorrow
alternative avatars gather fresh
sunrises, sunsets appear, seasons cyclical
for to be gridless no assignments can be imbibed
baby, toddler, teen, adult
mid-aged, elderly
every entity to eventual wean
powerful, free, solitary, impartial
humans have to birth
return to crystal buried
divinity linked …
assimilate experiences, age lessons learnt
know mistakes were predefined
to master skills, talents, character
for optimal tone
roughly at half century
embodied Self hears a call
softening heart, opening mind, explore all
One Love _____ oaks, mountains
oceans, multiple cultures connected keen
across dotage, dimensions ~
advice to younger self, another, is to
articulate completed chapters, then graft
vitality understood
climbing each rung is
advancement to BE
pungency no space in core
regretfulness, bitterness will occasion
a relearn of curriculum faulted, failed
rapture unqualified is ageless peace found
numeral similar to race, culture, class
gradual hours, dewy mornings pass by
emphasises mentality, flesh desires
relinquishing power to stone tracked matrix
holds no aces sought ____
let departure be timeless
eminent essence bottled
with this lens digits vanish meaningless, float
away each birthday gathered ~
eat cake even so
____________________________
Placed 2nd : Standard Contest
Sponsor: Silent One
May ‘26
You better believe what your bringing
Cause I'm cracking out these lyrics and leaving your ears ringing
I'm like the angels that sing on high
See all of humanity and ask why
Cause I'll give you a reason to believe
Bring all hope and let all this doubt just leave
I'm relieved to see that your carrying your weight now
So lift it up high as the waters rise up how
you better remember you can swim
Your failure is vast while your success is slim
Be ready to assimilate what they sell you
See how they got you and control what you do
No way is this close to finish tho
I'll flex my mind and break you out of these chains so
I Theme To List Toward Secular Humanism ©ø¥
Mine excel leant
powerfully pointed
nonestablishmentarian
outlook accesses
prolix laced threads, whereat
aye weave with zeal
spinning, sans metaphorical
loom min esse
cent invisible wheel
finagling, incorporating, and lurching
sesquipedalian ward webbing,
sans existential warp and weft
asthma trademark seal
begetting poetic offspring
for no rhyme, nor
reason and less real
than an actual progeny,
(das papa percolates,
per predilection toward prolix)
as poor substitute
to apply seminal seal
if only...grace with
a younger fecund wife,
where becoming
pregnant would ap peal
and be chronologically viable
plus said mother
hood ambition would,
(asper this
hypothetical scenario)
might warrant me to inculcate,
and if necessary
take a knee to kneel
yet stopping short
of any Machiavellian
(cut throat...er rather
umbilical cord) tactics to activate
no explanation why
hankering to create
additional "NO FAKE"
fallacy aye in inflate
cuz, nothing compares
to sire (with love)
heir or Harris heiress,
and coveting father hood again
a son or daughter
even though pushing late
fifties, which age finds me
to instagram, shutterfly,
or snapchat with disbelief
aware that divulgence to experience
such poignant pang mate
be attributed to absence
of mine deux darling daughters
ah...juiced a small
pipe (petty filed)
whet dream wracking ma pate
no great expectations
by dick ends
for any physically
intimate tete a tete
thus assimilate call
of the wild crafting writings
with my huff firm mitt heave
gen till loin that doth undulate.
In the dirty hands of poverty,
Scavengers of the Republic of Enlightenment
Quench their thirst under the eyelids of the proletarians.
A sinecure of hard drugs
To silence the lamentations of these birds of ill omen.
The crosses are upside down in the furnaces of hell;
Lucifer, the egregore of these bloodthirsty criminals,
Has no distinction against the sickles of the angel of death.
The Earth is allergic to love;
It is the war that invigorates all these hearts of stone.
I have hated justice since I waddled on the edge of the spiral precipice,
My attachment to dirty money, which is similar to a fanatic's devotion to spiritual beliefs.
Sleepless nights leafing through the black pages of my legal pedigree,
I love the silence of darkness, like the darkness of a sequestered coffin in a cemetery.
My reflexes are monetary and my passions are deadly.
I only have partners;
I'm not your brother, I'm lonely as death.
The mood of a Palestinian in the shoes of a Pharisee,
Suicidal like these Africans
Which cross the Sahara and the Mediterranean.
A Kalashnikov in the brain,
I proudly accept the darkness of my words.
I am angry like all these child soldiers from the cradle.
I fiercely adore freedom in the bowels of a France filled with fascists.
Negrophobes have the right to be angry;
After all, I'm just an ungrateful who always cheated.
I didn't come to assimilate,
Just amass without calculating before being expelled.
Flashes of macabre memories to erase my nightmares,
I'm starving, thirsty for hemoglobin like a vampire.
I have been walking on death row since I arrived on Earth;
For all my blasphemy, I will end up in flames.
Dear Mr. Pound,
Your holiday in Italy
Has besmirched your legacy.
Your Cantos, they plead,
But don’t exonerate,
Not as far as I can see.
Dear Mr. Pound,
Did praise from Hemingway
Whet your narcissistic thirst?
As an ex-pat abroad,
Did you assimilate
What enlightened nations curse?
Dear Mr. Pound,
You made Il Duce smile.
There’s evidence that proves it.
Was your Republic of Utopia
Bi-polar by design?
Or was it simply hubris?
Dear Mr. Pound,
You strain my intellect
With your imagery of life,
And turn my conscience
Hard on itself
With a keen, dissecting knife.
Dear Mr. Pound,
Your lyrics sing to me,
But your politics offend.
You peddled fascist ideology.
If you want my true opinion,
I refuse to condescend.
When
a part
of body does
not function properly it can
be repaired, replaced. We are neither
body nor a part of body
We are
soul
When
we find
it difficult
to breathe, artificial
respiration keeps us alive.
This proves we are not the breath. When soul leaves
our body we are declared dead
We are
soul
Our
body
does not work on
its own. Soul seated in
the heart manages all internal
activities of body. Our soul is
fragmental part of God's body
We are
soul
When
we die
our body does
not go away. All can
see it with their eyes. All organs
can be reused in another body.
Body does not die but we die.
We are
soul
Our
body
is a garment
worn by soul. When soul leaves
our body, the body dies. Soul
gets a new body, a new birth. This goes
on until we get salvation
We are
soul
References from Bhagvad Gita
BG 15.7: The embodied souls in this material world are My eternal fragmental parts. But bound by material nature, they are struggling with the six senses including the mind.
BG 15.14: It is I who take the form of the fire of digestion in the stomachs of all living beings, and combine with the incoming and outgoing breaths, to digest and assimilate the four kinds of foods.
BG 2.22: As a person sheds worn-out garments and wears new ones, likewise, at the time of death, the soul casts off its worn-out body and enters a new body
1 Corinthians 3:16 : Do you not know that you are a temple of God and that the Spirit of God dwells in you
28.06.2021
Submitted to Ring My Bell contest by John Anderson
Syllable count checked at PS syllables counter
Atomic Canary
Angels seed
The death bell tolls to the masses
Putin ill be your dog
Netanyaho ill be your dog
I love this land
This is where I want yo die
Sing a song
Soul from the Earth
All of us tresspass
Some other country wants your ass
Not direct assimilate
You out on a street leaving your home
Lay down your arms
Leave torture to horror shows and horror shoes
A Cruel subjugation to remain
No name Generals
Agressive canaries
I saw angels renegation
Turn your water on
War be a boring
So make some tea
Innocence of a god prayer word
The innocence of a crime
Defeat me arches back back back
Disposing substance OG
Evil tourists
Fake rich
All in the way
We take your one life away
So much truth in homeless
Cherished mansion
A surreal prosperity
A tattered shack
In front of my fireplace
I read a book
Its not Captain Hook
It's time to see what is
One life and what we give and what we take
Who decides
Our fate
I'm not prone to violence,
but I have no conscience.
I'm aware of happiness, saddness and every emotion,
I just lack the ability to feel any of them.
Every smile and tear I display I always fake.
I study the behaviour of others and assimilate,
but not so much as a conscious deception.
I'm just desperatly attempting to fit in.
My world is one of me surrounded by alians
whose lives are apparently dictated by their emotions.
I cannot make a connection with any of them
and so I live most of my life in isolation.
I have lost my share of so called loved ones
but I never for a moment grieved for any of them.
One cannot grieve when one does not know emotion.
I have an accurate awareness of what is right and wrong
Like so many I strive to be good. I want to belong,
but I'll never know what it feels like to cry or laugh.
I have been diagnosed a psychopath.
A city with the tallest skyscrapers,
many languages spoken by friendly faces,
bridges that are wonders connecting the five boroughs,
and amidst art and folklore, there's always a clown with hysterical laughs.
The mighty towers were suddenly brought down by
a hatred too gruesome to remind all of lost lives;
they were the Motherland's pride: the two jewels of master minds,
the new ones, much prettier, are quickly rising up against the same sky.
Do I feel safe? I definitely do with the beautiful Lady Liberty
holding up the bright torch and needless to say how brave she is,
more than a sentinel who loves her immigrants who assimilate her ways
that they desperately seek in the name of freedom and equality.
A city founded by courageous men escaping religious persecutions by waterways,
even God blessed her for keeping her faith and made her great up to our days;
it's proper to say that this is the world capital for technology, art and trade...
so it's easy to guess where I am living now...the city where fortunes are made.