Long Atomized Poems
Long Atomized Poems. Below are the most popular long Atomized by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Atomized poems by poem length and keyword.
The heavy iron anchors dissolve,
giving up their iron shapes to the black fluidity below.
There is no coast left stubborn enough to anchor this tide.
The currents don’t just pull—they misplace the mind entirely.
We traded the absolute for a handful of the gray shade,
building a gallery of cheap mirrors
where everyone manufactures their own version of the light.
Look up: the sky is relative now,
and the soul’s quiet armor simply unlaces itself under that stare.
We are crowded, yet completely atomized.
Fifty people in a room, each sealed in a drywall box of their own design,
calling the silence peace
while the old, shared altars gather dust in the corner.
The origin story is beginning to rot.
We are intentionally scraping the marrow out of our history,
weeding the damp soil so fiercely
that we kill the very seed that brought us out of the ground.
The big myth split. It shattered into a thousand shallow creeks,
leaving nothing but the raw, tribal friction at our core.
Look at the cathedrals of institutional trust—
they aren’t falling; they are turning quietly to gray powder.
The middle is gone. The edges are frayed like old rope.
Something abstract and unreadable is climbing the numbers in the sky
while the heavy, physical foundations go dark.
An invisible mesh is being woven between the thought and the meat of the hand,
keeping our eyes amused with small lights
while the ground beneath the floorboards shifts an inch to the left.
The macro-rhythm finishes its circle.
It is a simple bending toward the dirt.
Just a tired civilization, sitting in the dark,
breathing on the cold coal,
forgetting the geometry of the spark.
fragments of shelter in ruins
minute reminders of cover
relentless shelling of home
survival for the sake of despair
invocation atomized into dust
shrapnel in macerated skin
he searched for resilience
consulted his prayers beads
relentlessly molten by fire
...and deliver us from evil and hell
yet hatred and anger had torn
dust onto memories and ashes
he sifted through rubble and pain
for remnants of dark consolation
normality squashed by madness
his daughter’s doll amputated at the core
son’s toy cars with one spinning wheel
mother’s veil shredded at her neck
buried deep under sorrow in the yard
a thimble refused to abandon all faith
the needle’s eye narrowed his vision
a crater offered help for a few graves
bare hands performed dutiful homage
vultures had arrived for a fine feast
he found his wife’s intricate flacon
containing love and lavender fragrance
pulverized scent of eternal compassion
devoid meaning and yet he was to live
scrape forgiveness from an olive branch
to acquit drones and invisible foes
08th June 2020
...I think the counterbalance is
our craving for community,
and not the local government,
no, the things we enter freely.
I’m talking about your neighbors,
your churches and your civic clubs,
things we build in the private space,
where you hang out with all your buds.
The joint virtues you stand behind,
those that you submit to by choice,
no human works in solitude,
these things we should not just avoid.
Since when you volunteer to go
along with sets of principles,
you’re less likely to shirk from it,
more disposed to give it you all.
That works with the social pressure
to act as a form of restraint,
keeps you from being atomized,
so ‘free’ that you become deranged.
And there lies the contraction,
we demand the state see the one,
while at the same time seeking out
those who tell us, “That just ain’t done.”
The state sees individuals,
and that keeps tyranny at bay,
while we all seek communities
that subtly guide and constrain.
The tension that’s between those drives
is the thing I am getting at,
when one of them gets out of place
the other side can pull it back.
When we’re so free we loose all sense
the community says, “Conform.”
When we conform so much it’s dull
the individual makes new norms.
It may not be a perfect thing,
nothing human even can be,
but this needed contraction
is what maintains society.
I see a contradiction that
grows clearer with each passing day,
once I think we all one know,
once saw as just part of the game,
a dynamic state of tension
that we should hope is not resolved,
for that be would be unfortunate
for all the parties now involved.
It begins looking at the state,
that should safeguard our liberties,
and, when it steps beyond those bounds,
creates a bloody history.
We’ve seen with Commie, Nazi types
that when states seek too much control,
and try to build their ‘better world,’
millions are buried in graves cold.
We know who power will attract,
we know it always ends the same,
that’s why the Founding Father’s thoughts
to this day in wise mind’s remain.
A nation is not built top-down,
such attempts bring tragedy quick,
no human mind can do that job,
it’s changes must be organic.
That’s why they sought to protect rights,
to check and balance meddlers,
to castrate those men who would rule,
frustrate all who just sought power.
And they were right in doing this,
the job of state they said must be
to serve those living private life,
make sure that they are always free.
Of course, on drawback of this path
that we see in our current age,
is atomized individuals,
whose whims seem to drive them insane.
The men who think they are women,
young children who claim that they’re cats,
women who think we don’t need men…
they think they can be 'free' from fact!
People who say,"Close the prisons,
that killer’s just misunderstood."
Artists who sh-t on a canvas,
then demand you see it as good,
The pedos who claim ‘it’s natural,’
don’t judge us, it’s how we were born!
There’s no shortage of deviants,
and everyday seems to bring more.
It’s tempting to think that our laws
could help resolve all of these things,
but any power the state gets
it always ends up abusing...
CONCLUDES IN PART II.
The sky was an iron skillet
To heaven it crept and filled it
Swallowed the color from every eye
An iron skillet was the sky
The earth no glint of morning touched
Fields swept black, the horizon crushed
To dawn the dark would not give birth
No glint of morning touched the earth
On the galvanized drummed the rain
Rivulets streaked the window pane
The ground it splattered and atomized
The rain drummed on the galvanized
Warm and tight you wrapped around me
In morningtide we could not see
I loved you through that stormy night
You wrapped around me warm and tight
September 10, 2022
Swap Quatrain Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Emile Pinet
awake usual thoughts
failures made imposed
turn others sleep
those like may also awake
guilt not helping light
rest night fears conflicts
wars doubts known not
all prepositioned
keep hope peace joy love
isolated chambered atomized
quarked vanquished
Lord Jesus maybe will
many claim dead still
resurrection appendage
little importance since
not fit soteriology
identity not body
only survives death
timeless eternity reincarnated heaven
space sans time spent looking edge
those not yet arrived
waiting again undiscovering
one another simultaneously
except frozen eternity
Lord be raised embodied ongoing
time continued timely together
see those sleep those cannot
night pray
now three two hours
now one before dawn