Long Blacked Poems
Long Blacked Poems. Below are the most popular long Blacked by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Blacked poems by poem length and keyword.
Long after first light
night yet clings to the slick highway.
Lungs steer the wheel;
breathe out and the wave-riding shocks
follows their beamed lights,
the road adjusts to unseen rapids,
curves around blacked-out river bends.
Breathe in, and eyes shutter out,
yet what was seen sails on.
I am scaffolding for water,
knowing this I have faith in
in the flow, the roads ability
to avoid Niagara or deluged rest stops,
the low flying raids of sky-drenched winds.
Mind rides its rafts, skims undercurrents
weaves in and out of dreaming sailors,
the drunk rocking of back axles
as they negotiate one Rubicon
after another.
Night parts its dim waves,
runs downhill into landscapes,
structures rebuilt only moments ago.
It might be raining, or it might be
spume and spindrift,
intermittent splashes of shorelines
just beyond the off-ramps.
My arrival beat the sunrise;
it was still dark at the small jetty.
I dried the wet skiff, mind alert
to the soon to be lifting light.
Nearby,
an unseen water bird
clattered into the darkness.
Startled, I looked up,
there above me
a hole in that lightless sky
a circle of glowing orange
surrounded by the dim dawn.
‘I am blessed’ I thought.
As I gazed, the heavens opened,
a deluge of blacked-out rain smashed down
upon the sleeping land.
I got under the down-turned boat
and lay down
as the Ohio river faded away
replaced by a raging waterfall,
one that obliterated
that same sunrise
that had yet to show up -
until at last
that early bird I had heard
flew back to my ears and minds-eye.
Emerging from my makeshift shelter
I watched a rare black swan
settle and preen, drying its feathers,
as if it was perfectly natural
for a river to drown itself
under a small, up-side-down skiff.
Watered Down
Tiny mirrors, iridescent light
aged salt on my skin
Mother of Pearl
inlaid earrings reflect the
seashell skull MASK
I wear below the surface.
No longer able to carry
life's miseries and mistakes
the inevitable misfortunes
the chaos above
the crushing sound of the surf
I sink, no anchor
WATERED DOWN
my pulse dissolves
into the water and
rhythmic movement
Released.
No one can hear
my muffled screams
the silent anguish of age
the dark underwater shadows
We all live with
blacked thoughts
I have kept only to myself.
Diving headfirst
into the vast silence
I place each piece of hidden shame inside
the colored clam shells
I collect
between green seaweed waves.
One White, One Grey, One Pink
So....This is how Pearls are made.................................
Life takes its own eternity to create beauty
Kicking upward
I push leaving the
sandy bottom
tiny bubbles of rainbows
fill my lungs with freedom
I carry my handmade
human heart
I rise toward the filtered sunlight
there is no other choice
leaving this poem
Buried under the seawater’s door.
A loud whooshing came quickly upon me
I did not have to turn to know he was there
He has been able to invade my body since I was little
I had not seen him for years, but recognized him instantly.
My hands began itching to put themselves around another throat.
I have not had the urge to kill for many seasons, yet here she was.
Back in my gray matter, insistent and persistent.
I telephoned my closest friend to come over for a visit.
If I am going to murder again, it must at least be someone I like.
It feels better after a kill if I know what I have completely squelched.
I heard the demon laughing, right before I blacked out.
I feel relieved to not know what my hands do during these kills.
It is bad enough when the demon wakes me to clean up the mess.
“I’ll be right over,” my friend said, not realizing to whom she was speaking.
Wish I was dumb
easily amused
Too thick to get hurt
not care if confused
Walk around half-gone
stare at the whole truth
Shrug my shoulders
right before I shoot
Being dumb’s simple
takes boredom away
too dizzy to feel down
or deflated in any way
Gazes at a cellphone
giggles at silly memes
More so the same sh!t
a billion times seen
Dumb has it good
needs little to do
Stares at the sky
never dawns why it’s blue
Sees a vivid sunset
pulls down the blind
Quickly falls asleep
with a blacked out mind
Dumb wears the T-shirt
gets soaking wet
Catches a fever
believes it’s no sweat
Eats crap all day
doesn’t care if sick
Ends up on a drip
watches it for a kick
Dumb and numb
guitars that won’t strum
A vacant skull
muffled out drum
Won’t beat itself up
as a rule of thumb
My world’s so f•ucked
dumb’s remains plumb
* * *
the world’s cleverest man once said ~ nothing to me ~ he wanted a life
By
David Kavanagh
THE BANDANA AND THE HAT
R.I.P Big Poppa,
Biggie Smallz Junior mafia,
One & only shot-stopper.
R.I.P Pac the Makavelli,
Amaru Shakur the legendary.
The two were a force, others secondary.
Notorious B.I.G was riding high 94,
Tracks rolling in and more in store.
The world was waiting for the outcome,
"Ready to Die" was the album,
But was he actually ready to die,
take a bow and cross the Nile
especially when he was conquering the world?
Their demise, to the entire universe, was odd.
Woe to the Compton gangs,
Orlando Anderson culpable of death fangs.
Even though Pac was fed by Death Row,
he never sign up for that death blow.
Despite "All Eyez On Me" and "Changes",
'cuffs and jail couldn't stop him from rockin' stages.
Despite "Me Against The World",
he still indelibly "Hit em up" like a god.
Woe to the Southside Crips,
Ghost of karma momentarily sleeps
but vows: "my .44 make sho' all y'all kids don't grow!"
Son of the gun, what's reaped is due to what you sow.
Thug Life witnessed a Thug Angel surrender to an attack,
That night, Black devils drove by in white Cardillac.
Cacophonous mongering hint the HAT had to pay.
Los Angeles, City of Angels whisked away
And extinguished B.I.G courtesy Billups,
godfather L.A.P. D officer hired to pull out all the stops...
Leaving all square and lifeless Biggie's corpse.
The world never forget the Bandana & the Hat;
They was young and dumb but they had heart.
September '96 stole the revolutionary from us,
The bandana finally stumbled on lost course
despite Kidada's love & Suge Knight's million dol$.
March '97 blacked-out Brooklyn-born Biggie,
Puffy or Faith couldn't keep him alive,what a pity!
R.I.P Biggie and Makavelli.
Vick Manuel Poetry {VMP}
Copyright©2022
One day I heard someone said
That we get what we deserve
And way down I go
I let my wheels roll wild
The time has come
as we all must fall
Man down
I am hospitalized
Way down I go
I want to meet my father
But I am too late he is dead
And way down I go
I lost my strength
Way down I go
I was knocked down
Coz now I can't crawl no more
Man down
I got what I deserve
And way down I go
For the furthest mile
you dare to look me right in the eye
You ran me down till I fell
Ran me down till I can't crawl anymore
You took me out
Now some officer is calling for help
All I heard was man down and I blacked out
Way down I go…
Form:
Well the house was rock & rolling,
and the dance floor was pulsating,
I had myself too many drinks,
then drank two or three more.
All the ladies, they were moving,
in tight clothes so scintillating,
one looked so hot I couldn’t think
as we walked out the door…
Then I woke up in Australia,
and I don’t know how I got here,
and it’s really kind of funny,
went to sleep in Santa Fe.
And I woke up in Australia,
and I don’t know what I’m doing,
but the folks are nice
and there’s beer on ice,
so what the hell, I’ll stay, mate!
Where the girl went, I do not know,
nor even where we did go
when we left that raging party,
probably to an airport.
Vaguely recall lights turned down low,
did I get with her? I hope so!
Joining the mile high club is
a real fine way to score…
Then I woke up in Australia,
and I don’t know how I got here,
and it’s really kind of funny,
I blacked out in Sante Fe.
And I woke up in Australia,
and I don’t know what to do next,
but the weather’s nice,
and they do shrimp right,
so what the hell, I’ll stay, hey!
The ladies here are so sweet,
and the men all like grilling beef,
the animals want to kill me,
guess you can’t have everything.
Do you know they have ski hills?
And vineyards to drink your fill,
Plus kangaroo is so tasty you
don’t know what your missing!
Yes, I woke up in Australia,
and I don’t know how I got here,
and I wonder when they’ll find me,
send me back to Santa Fe.
Yes, I woke up in Australia,
all because of some strange Sheila,
but I’m doing fine
under southern skies,
so what the hell, I’ll stay, G’day!
10/22/22
They try to get the inside scoop
By beginning to snoop
But they're just full of poop
Like the ground floor of a chicken coop
Rarely intentions honest, too many out to dupe
Pathetic how low they're willing to stoop
Against the opposing group
Regardless if they do it solo or with a troop
This cycle continues to loop
Spinning around in a circle like a cauldron full of soup
Back in the day I use to hoop
But now I hardly give a hoot
They often test close to their death in one fell swoop
It's the root of evil that they continue to bite like fruit
Sorry that it's a hard pill to swallow but it's the truth
Been this way since John Wilkes Booth
Babe Ruth
Also when I was a youth
The same can be said since way before then due to an old tooth
As well as being a sleuth
Continually I just fought
Taking much loss
At what cost?
Continual power shut offs
As well as human contact being cut off
If it does no good then stop giving it much thought
Easiser said than done, when you're recovering from such shock
From here to beyond New Brunswick
Ain't that some s***
That they too often judge quick
Where at all is there any justice?
They stay quiet as a mouse
Or bad mouth
Then drag it out
If there's one thing I know its that all this craps about
As bad as all these damn droughts
Such a sad route
Always passed out
From being blacked out
On top of burning through a half ounce
Inside empty, never a crammed house
Of course at one point I had doubts
Not just words but the truth I rap about
Regardless of if that counts
Admit you lost track
under a blue fever moon
Buckle your seat belt
The hysterical,
the shrinking curse
Chew dog food, gum
it sure smells delicious
Constant tinnitus
Burn aromatic herbs
Dangerous situations
with sparks from the mains
A threat to the electricity pylons
they are blacked out
The street was familiar
as one's own pocket
Mysterious disappearances
Even not Stephen King
understood what had happened