Long Blanched Poems
Long Blanched Poems. Below are the most popular long Blanched by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Blanched poems by poem length and keyword.
‘Twas close to the day when Buba Claus,
His red nose and Bowie knife shining,
Would be off to fill the manly's hearths,
With bacon for their frying.
The ground was bare of snow or ice,
The sky was clear of reindeer.
But Buba Claus was loading his sleigh,
Real high, with good stout Yule beer?
Buba Claus was out in force,
His NRA cronies in tow,
To fill naughty radicals stockings,
With tiny bits of coal.
Cigars dangled from their lips,
A spittoon he placed by their feet,
And, before the sleigh rose off the ground;
They tossed in another side of beef.
Each carnivore, they laughingly swore;
Would have their fill this year,
And Bambi blanched as He flew by,
While Teddy Bears ran in fear!
Over New Canaan His courses flew,
Past the homes of vegetarians;
And down their chimneys they did toss;
The views of Libertarians!
And when the last haunch was placed,
Upon the spits of the mighty,
His spat his cud of gnarly gum,
Into the spittoon real tidy!
Then he flew off with a Ho, Ho, Ho,
And, not the ones for plowing
Cause Buba Claus had his own ideas
Of all Santa's sissy endowings!
I have spilled all of it out, it seems
Shushed it away
Now I stare at it like you would some black-and-white photo
I’m soldiering on
I can’t find the field
I don’t want this weapon
I’ve lost myself
But holding onto me wasn’t in the plans
I’ve blanched my dreams
When I speak marshmallows fall out of my mouth
I’m dimmed, muted
Placed in a different world again
I’m okay, though
I’m in-through a wondering sky
I’ll find you again
As my feet drift by
And tap you on the forehead
You snap my strings
And I may tackle you to the ground
Good for the both of us
I am the black falling light rushing out of tomorrow’s dream
I am your favorite sorcerer who forced the mirror upon you
Revealing you as the great one
With what wounds we are
Cascading, cascading
I know you, my love
My heart runs wild at the thought of your return
in the corner
of a blanched bungalow
sits a self-portrait:
loose bantu knots
the color of volcanic ash
her living nightmare
it was so much-
stampeding rain
wild winds
the icon of tropical thunder
with summer lightning
but the spite of ash
threatened the fete
smashed the sun
morning had broken
an island smeared
like God had face-palmed us
judgment for another place
another people
resting on your gables
the deadweight of ash
crashing queenie's
garden party
The Lord is come.
handling her Scriptures
squeezing the Holy Spirit
out of print
was she wholly confessed,
to be due robes of white
satin?
the sun reawakened,
ash washed away, passes
through her window
where she sits
cornered
Flood of anonymous agony
inundates the debris of hope,
weed-webbed wasteland
of receding reverie
erodes in delirium
within turbulent essence,
wreckage of life piles up,
unlived,
transforms rapture garden
into winter badland
of foreboding discontent,
perceived.
Future meadow waits
to be sauntered
sanguine,
invents fantasy alchemy,
making magical gold
from ferrous aspirations,
gilding rusted crust
of weathering present,
metamorphosed,
marigold ecstasy blooms
in the Midas-touched mind,
mesmerized.
Wrapped by golden rays
of garnet sun,
setting sublime
beyond the content ocean,
entranced mind rolls
in twilight zone
on sapphire life waves,
broken,
yearning psyche is drawn
within the anguish trough,
crashes on existential shore,
shaped by the shadow
of pearlescent past,
petrified
in the collapsed sandcastle
on the beleaguered beach
of the stilled time,
enfolding the blanched grains
of aureate dreams,
d i s i n t e g r a t e d…..
‘Twas close to the day when Buba Claus,
His red nose and Bowie knife shining,
Would be off to fill the manly's hearths,
With bacon for their frying.
The ground was bare of snow or ice,
The sky was clear of reindeer.
But Buba Claus was loading his sleigh,
Real high, with good stout Yule beer?
Buba Claus was out in force,
His NRA cronies in tow,
To fill naughty radicals stockings,
With tiny bits of coal.
Cigars dangled from their lips,
A spittoon he placed by their feet,
And, before the sleigh rose off the ground;
They tossed in another side of beef.
Each carnivore, they laughingly swore;
Would have their fill this year,
And Bambi blanched as He flew by,
While Teddy Bears ran in fear!
Over New Canaan His courses flew,
Past the homes of vegetarians;
And down their chimneys they did toss;
The views of Libertarians!
And when the last haunch was placed,
Upon the spits of the mighty,
His spat his cud of gnarly gum,
Into the spittoon real tidy!
Then he flew off with a Ho, Ho, Ho,
And, not the ones for plowing
Cause Buba Claus had his own ideas
Of all Santa’s sissy endowings!
3.
Or down yet another city street,
This Way down that grand Hiway,
That Third Eye opened:
Random patches of dandelion manifest,
Climbing the overgrown commons by the road;
Disappearing out of sight -
By the cracked, sun-blanched sidewalk;
Golden and deep emerald green dandelion
Over the smog-choked horizon.
Humanity on the brink,
Sliding down that proverbial 'slippery slope" -
To the proverbial abyss of our insouciance, to
Our bourgeois folly, infernal cruelty fed by witless greed,
The more mundane, mere surface of all things, as they may be.
But again, surely, this can't be all that is: So mean, so toxic.
Refreshed, one looks again, looks with eyes wide open with
New Saving Knowledge.
Now the patches of dandelion seem even more startlingly
Alive and vibrant.
They seem, somehow, almost "more real than real".
Illumined, they appear hyper-real, dazzlingly brilliant,
Appear preternatural, mesmerisingly coronal, and
Opulent, yet as though man-made, like ethereal origami,
Like the sun itself, another Saving "Point of Navigation" to
the Hidden Infinite Divine Source behind all things mundane.
*****
"Jesus said [to Judas Iscariot], 'Come and I will teach you ...
about a great realm and a boundlessness whose measure no angelic
race has comprehended. In it is the great Invisible Spirit ...'"
--- The Gospel of Judas 10: 1 - 5
"God is one's very 'own'. It is the eternal relationship. One realizes Him in
direct proportion to the intensity of one's feelings for Him. Don't be afraid.
Always remember that somebody is protecting you."
"He who is really anxious to cross the ocean of the material world will somehow break his bonds. No one can entangle him."
--- The Holy Mother, Sri Saradamani Devi, the divine consort of
Sri Ramakrishna
"Mary [Magdalene] said [to Jesus Christ], 'Lord, is there a place which [lacks truth]? The Lord said, "The place where I am not!'"
--- From the Dialogue of the Savior
"God is a dyer. As the good dyes, which are called 'true', dissolve with
the things dyed in them, so it is with those whom God has dyed. Since his dyes are immortal, they are immortal by means of his colors."
--- From the Gospel of Philip
A windswept meadow neath an ambling Apollo lone journey,
Witnessed the efforts of a crowd studded web of twinkling wished upon stars,
Lose its envious magic that they had cast upon the eyes of star-crossed lovers,
To an army of Cupid's charioteers who pulled its blanched Master Moon,
Whilst guided by the genteel gallops of endless Cherubs whom together,
Unleashed a hailstorm of the heart seeking arrow tips that were dipped,
In honeyed filled molasses of numbingly sweet treasured quietude of,
Desirous lust that burst upon contact and releases its alchemy concoction,
Affecting even the strongest of resistors into fathomless mirth of ecstasy,
Swimming in divination depths whose relentless currents unite the noumenon,
Beyond their measure for its extension enwraps the partnered heart to be as,
The eternal one, inseparable, until twilight, trips into the arms of dawn,
For be it a day, until the fall of dusk the story perpetuates a new page it is,
Now it is a better understanding one realized just beyond a mere mesmerize,
Though blank as before as a pen and a windswept meadow wait for lovers tryst.
Date: 09/08/2019
This curse has chased him for eternity,
He smashes his mirror so he cant see
He sits alone and howls at the distant moon,
Transformation is coming soon
Waiting on a naive morsel to pass his way,
He now must feed before break of day
He rues the day of his vile creation
Another damned soul in a souless nation.
He bites himself just to savor the blood in his teeth,
The monster rises somewhere from the dark beneath,
There is no doubt he must feed
Its not lust or greed
Just a hellhounds need
He wakes naked in a field blanched by
morning sun,
Surveying atrocities he has done
This full moons sacrifice lay next to him
Another carcass ravaged on a whim
Back in human form he wretches at his state,
Each passing day is a darker fate.
Running with the pack in the nights ebb and flow,
He prays for the silver bullet before he wakes up next to someone he knows.
I see thee yet, mine eyes on thy blade and dudgeon gouts of blood,
Thus to mine eyes, o'er th'one half world 'pon the sacred curtained sleep,
Seek thou sure and firm, set stepp'd earth nigh summon thee to Heaven, for 'twas echoed knell,
Thy very soul hath prate of thy whereabouts, hear it not, 'tis seeming rest,
Was't the bludgeoned torrent that hath 'straught and tarnish the flesh in faith?
Is't the the awakened howl that hath thus cried? Thou shan't look on't again, thou'st darest do nought.
Thou'st which poor malice hath hail th'merry well half hounded soul,
'Tis the keys locked 'pon thy versities, for 'twas once the pungent ghoul,
Cribb'd, confin'd, is't the glowered blood that hath b'come blanched by thy wall,
Hath slept'n stitch, thy valiance hath drunk'n thy blood 'gainst the wear,
Thou wouldst cut deep, for 'tis o'th'world th'hellhound e'er so sharp'n sleepless squalor,
Here hath thee lay, 'tis'n tow for th'clamoured "love-long livelong night" to close,
Thou see so speak, so th'lamentings heard i'th'air, hath clench the hand e'er so badged'n blood,
'Tis the trill of th'obscure bird, Ho! Do pall th'horror, the wine of life is drawn, sun dreamt'n covered in gall,
'Twas a bath bathed within thy tears, so slept'n the affliction, hath bellowed deathless fears,
Thou hushed had it now seen, so scarf upon the eye'n tender brow, hath drench'd th'sun crowned crow,
So lay th'drought o'thy blood,
'Til thy conjured mirth of blade, shalt milk th'bile of human mind,
See to none o'th'blessings,
For whoe'er so high shall fall, so fall, e'er once more.
So, adieu! Adieu! 'Til hither shall callst thy night'n th'gallows,
'Tis a hush, none spoke nor howl,
"Thus thou shall sleep no more."
Thy hath seen, so spoke,
"Thus thou shall sleep no more."
A windswept meadow neath an ambling Apollo lone journey,
Witnessed the efforts of a crowd studded web of twinkling wished upon stars,
Lose its envious magic that they had cast upon the eyes of star-crossed lovers,
To an army of Cupid's charioteers who pulled its blanched Master Moon,
Whilst guided by the genteel gallops of endless Cherubs whom together,
Unleashed a hailstorm of heart seeking arrow tips that were dipped,
In honeyed filled molasses of numbingly sweet treasured quietude of,
Desirous lust that burst upon contact and release its alchemy concoction,
Affecting even the strongest of resistors into a fathomless mirth of ecstacy,
Swimming in divinational depths whose relentless currents unite the noumenon,
Beyond their measure for its extension enwraps the partnered heart to be as,
The eternal one, inseparable, until twilight trips into the arms of dawn,
For be it a day, until the fall of dusk the story perpetuates a new page it be,
Blank as before as a pen and a windswept meadow waits for lovers tryst.
Date: 06/06/2019